Last Christmas....

So. Here we are. It's amazing what a difference 365 days can make in a person's life. Sometimes, in some ways, it can feel like an entirely different life altogether...but hindsight being what it is, I can also see how it's exactly as it should be.

You may be shaking your head at my decision to rip off the title of the Worst Christmas Song of All Time...but if anything, I think that makes it especially fitting. Last Christmas may have looked pretty in the pictures, but it wasn't real. It felt real. I never imagined this Christmas would turn out this way, but so many lessons in life have to be learned the hard way...getting here was Hell on Earth. But when I think of all I've gained, I am so thankful...

My Girls: Yes, I've always had them...but I can honestly say I am 500% closer to them both than I was even a year ago...Sara and I have always been tight. We can have entire conversations without speaking and read each other's moods. But the thing is...when I hurt, she hurts, and vice versa. When The Fraud revealed himself, the pain was unbearable, and she felt it just as keenly as I did. Now she's the one suffering a hurt I can't fix for her, and facing an uncertain future that she wants no part of...my heart breaks for her every day, but it also has drawn us even closer.

Em and I...well, while I would give my life for her in the blink of an eye, we've always had to work harder to get along...I am happy to say, those days have mostly passed. We enjoy a genuine affection for each other as we continue to find more and more common ground. As it turns out, 14-year-old girls really DO need their mothers...especially when they have boyfriends and the questions that invariably go along with them...and a love of alt - rock...and a sarcastic wit...and the realization that they're smarter than most of the adults they know. We have our moments, of course. She IS 14. But we've covered an enormous amount of ground in the past year, and we actually like hanging out together. I couldn't ask for more.

Incredible Friends: In many ways, The Fraud was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But when I think of what I walked away with, I can honestly say I'd do it again. April is my soul sister in a million different ways. Skip and Monika are a huge blessing, and I never would've gotten to know them well if not for The Fraud. Derek is worth a hundred MC's. Not to mention the friends I've had forever that walked through the fire with me. Ashley has actually done it a few times now. Deanna and Ian had my back at every turn. Adam lent an ear and some elbow grease helping me put things back together. So really...I am lucky, and I am thankful.

Roger: For as long as most of my friends can remember, I was the one that didn't like dogs. Then last year, I met a guy with a dog. The guy turned out to be--as one of my dear friends said--crazier than a shit-house rat, and 10 times meaner, too. But the dog...he had me smitten. And when it was all said and done, I knew my family was missing someone...it just wasn't who I thought. Now, there is a man in the house. He weighs 110 pounds and walks on all fours, and he faithfully loves us all...who would have ever imagined this year I would have a pony sized pup walking around in a red and green scarf, looking like the Sassy Gay Dog? Certainly not I....

Me: It took me about a year and a half to really like myself on my own. Maybe a little longer...but the results are far beyond any intelligent words I could express. I have changed so much, and ultimately, it's been for the better. I feel good about the people in my life. I am okay with the relationships that I outgrew, though I still care deeply for those who I lost. I learned how to let go, and how to forgive the unforgivable...both in myself and in others. More than anything...I am okay with who I am, and I am proud of who I've become...my girls respect me for being true to myself. I know that now, and I am proud of the example I set for them. They look at me and see someone who's smart and strong. (Until I see a mouse, anyway.) They see someone who admits her mistakes and learns from them. They see someone who is doing it on her own terms and doesn't need a guy to complete her or make her happy. That isn't to say there isn't someone that I love. There is...but it's just a bonus for now, because I already have a wonderful life and I'm not ready to change it in any permanent way.

This Christmas is a million miles from where I expected to be last year. I'm a different person. Many of my friends are different...I'm closer to my girls. I have a dog, a new job, and a new church. My life looks completely different. I feel a tremendous sense of peace and love. And it's only getting better. :)

Why Online Dating is a Bad Idea, Vol 2

Okay, okay...this one shouldn't even need any commentary...but that's not why any of us are here, is it? So, with that in mind...first things first. Once again, hats off to A for passing this one along and keeping me entertained on a slow afternoon. Keep them coming, my friend.

While I feel that the new school ratings system is mostly a crock of shit, clearly the education in certain places is subpar. How anyone can not recognize the difference between an auxiliary verb and a noun used to describe a penis in the morning just floors me. 

I realize, of course, that I'm referring to someone who clearly has misspelled his own name, so perhaps it should be expected. I wonder, did he get it wrong in the inquiry message or his username?

I have a question. Is punctuation becoming passe? I see this more and more, but seriously, people...it matters. Missing commas or superfluous apostrophes can totally change the meaning of a sentence. Either way...you appear far more intelligent when you demonstrate an understanding of your native language. So many people in this country are adamant about English being spoken at all times. Okay, super. If you feel that way, start with getting it right yourself. (I could spend a fair amount of time lamenting the fact that the US is pretty much the only developed country where bilingualism is not automatically taught in public schools, but I'll save that one for another time.)

Language arts are not everyone's forte, and I understand that. Some people have to work harder at it than others. Like when you're trying to make an impression on someone in an email...oh, wait...

It's not exactly a secret that the online dating pool in these parts tends to be rather shallow...that isn't to say you can't find a diamond in the rough on occasion. A is one such shining example...but it's rather like digging through the merchandise at Dollar General. 

Finally....is anyone else concerned about Derrick's (or Derrik's) two children? What happens when Dad tries to help them with their homework?

Single is Not a Disease State...

It's fall...fall is good, filled with all the things I enjoy most. Football. Cooler weather. Fireplaces. Football. Soup Sundays. Standard Time. Football. Sweaters. Boots. Football. Parties. Holidays...you get the idea. But here's the concept that continues to elude a handful of people...single people are just as entitled to the joys of the season--any season--as standard nuclear families. Or nontraditional nuclear families. Or people in serious relationships. Or anyone. Really.

I know...it seems like a no-brianer, one that was established by the likes of Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw some 20 years ago, among others. But strange as it may seem, there are still some who look at my family of three--me and my girls--and see something that's incomplete. I can assure you, it's not. There are people who look at me and somehow see me as less of a person because I'm single. (Actually, I'm not single, exactly, but we'll get to that.) I'm not. There are a few people reading this right now who are inwardly (or outwardly, whatever) rolling their eyes, thinking that I'm only saying that because I don't have anyone, and if I did, I would change my tune. To them, I would say this: Just because my family and my relationship doesn't look like yours doesn't mean I'm sitting around wishing I had what you had. In fact, most of the time, the opposite is true, at least for the time being.

Just in case there's any confusion, let me tell you about my family. Of course, there's me. My girls. They're amazing, and they are, without question, my biggest accomplishment. Not my only one...they're actually one of many. But they are the biggest, hands-down. And while we get top billing in this little sitcom, the supporting cast is also stellar...I just don't live with them. My parents. My brother. Beth. Chelsea. Ashley. April. Adrienne. Amanda. Derek and Chad. Deanna an Ian. Lisa. Krystal. Sarah and Rob and Syd. Adam. And The Boy. There are others...the list is long and each person brings something important. Does my family look like yours? Nope. Is it perfect? No. And I wouldn't trade them for anything, either. Not even for a 2-carat diamond and a 4-bedroom, 3 bath house on an acre in town. Not that there's anything wrong with that. At ALL...but my family counts and is every bit as legit.

Single is relative. I don't consider myself single. I'm pretty sure L doesn't see it that way. I'm just not clamoring for a proposal or wanting to shack up anytime soon...I don't know when or if I will reach that point...with anyone. It isn't that I don't adore him. I'm just happy having my own house and my own things and my free time to spend however I want to spend it. One day, when it's right, I'm sure I'll be willing to give it up...but that's not now.

For now, I like things the way they are, and so do the girls. No one should feel sorry for me or assume I'm incomplete or unhappy being--sort of--on my own. And no one should overlook my holiday plans and assume they're unimportant, or that it's less of a Thanksgiving with only the three of us. That little Thanksgiving lunch matters to us, just as much as any family affair with a dozen people. This is our family, and it's pretty perfect the way it is. :)

Wisdom and Shannanigans...

So, it came to my attention the other night when the rest of you were sleeping that apparently both my first AND middle name mean "wise." My first name, of course, is Irish, and means "little wise owl." My daughter's discovery of this fact a couple of years ago led to her owl obsession, which I have adopted as well, because it's cute and so is she. My middle name is German and means "wise protector." So it would seem as though someone was trying to stack the deck...my initial thought was that someone must be fairly disappointed. However, upon further consideration, I concluded that most of the time wisdom takes the form of lessons learned. We're just going to assume that's the case for me...after all, I have learned my share...most of them the hard way. Also, props to L. When I relayed this discovery to him, along with my suspicion that my parents were perhaps attempting to fix the outcome in my favor, he (wisely) responded "Well, it seems to have worked." Well played...

 

I also feel it is my responsibility to impart some of my wisdom on the masses. (And by masses, I mean the couple of dozen of you that read my blog.) Mostly, I figure it will be good for laughs. But who knows...you might find a nugget or two that is pure gold. And to that end, I offer the following bits of general wisdom and advice:

 

25) Birth control makes most girls a little crazy...babies make you crazier.

 

24) When you are en route to your ex-boyfriend's house and discover the exit to his place has been removed permanently by the city planning commission, take it as a sign and just go home.

 

23) When your cycle synchronizes with your teenage daughter's, consider a weeklong vow of silence in each other's presence. If you have the misfortune of living in the same house as the afflicted mother and daughter, keep to yourself and don't look them in the eye.

 

22) If you are going to be drinking, go ahead and surrender your phone along with your keys. It's better for everyone.

 

21) Always leave before the party ends. (This one applies to any number of situations in life, such as relationships and jobs...but not concerts or ballgames)

 

20) Guys, never tell your girlfriend that she sounds like or reminds you of your mother...especially if she is several years older than you. I guarantee this will end badly.

 

19) It's okay to let your people take care of you in the little ways, as long as you can take care of yourself in the big ways.

 

18) That guy who was an asshole to you last year who just started calling you again? He's still an asshole. I promise....

 

17) Regardless of your problem, The Beatles probably have a song that can solve it.

 

16) Gray roots can be temporarily covered with the right mascara. (This trick is especially important if your boyfriend is several years younger than you.)

 

15) A guy generally decides whether or not he would like to sleep with you the very day he meets you. (In most cases, within 10 minutes, according to The Boy.) The longer you wait, the more likely it is that he likes you for who you are rather than what you look like.

 

14) Don't feel bad if Jon Stewart is your primary news source. He's far more sensible than ANYONE on Fox and most (if not all) of the talking heads on CNN and the Big 3. Furthermore, he'll probably force you to think for yourself and form your own opinion. You could do worse.

 

13) Have good friends of both genders. Sometimes you need the other perspective.

 

12) Go easy on people who just don't get it. They can't help that they've never walked in your shoes.

 

11) "Best friend" isn't a person, it's a tier. (Okay, okay...credit for this one actually goes to Mindy Kaling. But it's totally true.)

 

10) Any pictures you send in a text message or an email should be considered a part of your permanent public record. Just think about it....

 

9) Yes. That Corvette IS totally douchey, and we ARE judging you, perhaps unfairly...the same goes for the ridiculously oversized truck, unless you are a farmer or a contractor.

 

8) When you fracture your ankle, it's a good idea to listen to what your doctor and your physical therapist say...or you really COULD end up with chronic pain and swelling. :-/

7) Sometimes pretty girls will hate other pretty girls for no reason whatsoever. Although this isn't right by any means, it IS normal.

6) Always show them who you really are from the start.

5) Sometimes you will go off the rails a little. Be careful who sees you...your real friends won't judge. The others will not only judge, they may get together and discuss your crazy spell over a bottle of wine and a cheese platter...or beer and pizza, depending on the crowd.

4) It's okay not to fit into the box that is "normal" for your environment. The worst thing you can do is try to squeeze yourself into it.

3) New shoes can make almost anything better.

2) Sometimes the apple lands close to the tree. Sometimes it rolls a little. Sometimes it inexplicably ends up in an entirely different orchard. But it's still your tree.

1) The ones who hang in with you during your darkest hour are your family, whether or not you share DNA.

That's it, kids...I hope you weren't expecting anything too profound. But it's Friday night, and I'm home baking cookies and writing, with no plans to speak of and totally content to wait for the storms to roll in with my dog. L is coaching volleyball tonight and will probably call to check in with me on his way home. The girls are at their dad's. My friends are scattered about doing Friday night things with their dates or husbands or other friends. And I am happier than I've been in a decade, by myself, but not...so maybe there is some wisdom to be found here after all. ;)

The United Shame Spiral of America

I admit, I'm not a Crimson Tide fan, but I have to hand it to researchers at the University of Alabama...you guys clearly have a shit-ton of spare time on your hands. This is just the sort of research project that would fascinate me if I had hours upon hours to spend on it...it seems they deemed it important to compile a list of the most shameful statistical facts for each state. (Mississipi really got screwed.) For example, Oklahoma "won" the honors of having the highest rate of female incarceration in the country. Way to go Sooner State...which, I'll remind you again, our state nickname means "the cheater's state." Is it any wonder? Oh, and we also tied for highest number of strokes with 'Bama. Because THAT'S a shocker...next time you go out to eat, look at what's on the plates of the people nearby. Go to any grocery store other than Whole Foods or Sprouts and look in the carts around you. We Okies like our food deep fried and heavily processed. We also still like to smoke. I mean, Eischen's is like a mecca for some people...or at least it used to be. Can you still smoke in there?

Alaska isn't hard to understand with their highest suicide rate...I'm guessing if you dig a little deeper, you'll find that they have the lowest Vitamin D rates in the winter, too. Seriously, that Seasonal Affective Disorder sounds made up, but it isn't. Chin up, Alaska. We still love you.

Also not surprisingly, Utah has the highest rate of online porn subscriptions. At least they get real beer. (Hey, 'Bama, Oklahoma has another fun distinction...the stupidest set of Blue Laws in the country, including watered down beer.) Also, Louisiana wins the honor of having the highest rate of gonorrhea in the country...I think you guys can thank New Orleans for that one.

There were a few surprises...at least to me. What the hell is going on in Rhode Island, for example, and why do they have the highest rate of illicit drug use? And why are 4% of Colorado residents snorting blow? Why does Wisconsin have the highest rate of binge drinkers? Hmmmm....

A good Oklahoma girl (who has never seen the inside of a jail cell, thank you) would be remiss not to point out that Texas has the lowest rate of high school graduation in the nation. (For the love, would it really hurt to let them secede? I think I'd like to watch them try to fend for themselves. We could make it into a big reality show...like The Hunger Games.) And before you guys go getting all offended, of course I know plenty of intelligent people who live in Texas...but really. The secession thing has gone far enough. No one's particularly interested anymore.

And then, of course, we have Mississippi...wow. Let me say, y'all have really outdone yourselves. Mississippi bears the distinction of having the highest rates of obesity, infant mortality, child poverty, and STD's, as well as the highest teen birth rate and the lowest median household income. Seriously, guys? There HAS to be something else to do in the state of Mississippi besides eat and screw...not that I don't enjoy those activities myself, but come on, already! If you guys don't shape up, we're going to give you to Texas.

So there you have it, everyone...just in case you weren't sure what you should be ashamed of, the folks at 'Bama have kindly put together a list of cringe-worthy statistical distinctions for all to enjoy and stereotype accordingly. If you ask me, they missed a few things, but hey. No one asked. (Sweet Brown...I'm just saying.)

http://kfor.com/2013/09/26/united-states-of-shame-most-screwed-up-thing-in-each-of-50-states/

NO, really....

Okay...apparently lately I've strayed away from the funny a little too much...because even when I post something good, people call me in alarm, asking me what's up. Guys, seriously...nothing is up! I'm just really happy...

I have the two best daughters anyone could ask for. Emily is doing well in 8th grade, is starting to overcome her Angsty Dramatic Phase. She has a nice boyfriend and good friends. She makes good grades, and is starting to think for herself and question the universe. She rolls her eyes a little less. All of these things are good. Sara is in 4th grade. She still thinks I'm the coolest thing ever...or at least one of them. She has the sweetest, purest heart for those whom she loves...and looks suspiciously at pretty much everyone else. She relishes her role as baby of the family...to the point that she swears she's going to live with me forever. (Though I'm sure she'll let her dad share in that joy.)

I've got some pretty cool friends...my dear friend Nancy is getting married this Friday, and I'm so excited for her and Rocco! I also had a blast at Gentlemen of the Road in Guthrie a couple weeks ago with April, Derek, and Chad...hey, did you know there are railroad police? Something we learned...when I guess we kinda got pulled over? But walking? We ended up chatting them up and having our picture made with them, so there was no railroad jail for us. And when I ran into MC and he briefly thought the VPO meant he could still come up and say hi, I did not cry or even acknowledge him. April blocked me from his view as best she could, I put my head down, and we found a more appealing place to grab a drink. Also ran into The Nurse, which was fine and not especially upsetting or weird. We talked for a few minutes. I *may* have mentioned out loud that I thought he was kind of an asshole. Which he *may* have agreed with. Then I told him it was nice seeing him and took off back to my people. It was a pretty great weekend, even if it turned in to Ex-boyfriendpalooza. Now that football is underway, and I've gotten to hang out with all of my Norman friends and my Dallas family...and now that we finally have an away game, I can host gameday at my house for Sarah and Rob and Syd. Shana and Blaine are getting ready to relocate to the Big Easy with their sweet girls, and even invited us to visit when they're settled. Ashley is buried in grad school, Beth in her doctoral program, and Krystal in dental school, but we manage to carve out a little time here and there. And now that fall is setting in, Cooking Adventures with the Norris clan will soon resume! I'm excited!

There's someone else who's been getting a fair portion of my time these past six months, too...he's good to me. He shows up within 10 minutes and breaks into my car when I lock the keys in during the middle of the day. He fixes my cable when the dog chews through the wires without my even asking. He helps me when I break an ankle...and probably whatever else I happen to break, though I don't care to test that theory. He's patient and listens to me when I argue with him, and never holds it against me or makes me feel bad about how I feel, which is great. I'm sure he DOES get angry...I've heard stories...but so far I haven't seen it. Oh, and he's cute as hell. But mostly, he just makes me happy and I feel safe and have fun with him. It took awhile and he was patient with me those first few months after MC. He's kind of a tough nut to crack, too. Oddly enough, I met him in part because of my blog. Well, that and my good friend Jae...whom I've thanked more than once for introducing us. I don't know. We'll see what happens. But I like him a lot and I care about him a little more every day...and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way. No one is in a hurry.

So really...when I say something good happened, it's okay to believe it. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be right now, and I feel like I'm on a road I want to be on...and I'm with the people who should be on it with me. I still don't exactly know the destination, but that's okay. I imagine between the lot of us, we'll figure something out...or at least open a bottle of wine and enjoy the trip. <3 <3

Sisters...and Some Sentimentality...

Some people are born with sisters. I gave birth to a pair of them myself, and I'm always telling them how lucky they are, that "your sister is the best friend that God chose for you"....and I believe that, even though it sounds like a load of crap your mother would feed you. So when my ever-inquisitive Sara was asking me the other day if I was sad not to have a sister of my own, I said no without hesitation...and I explained that there are also sisters that God brings to you. I am blessed beyond measure to have FIVE such soul sisters...and I'd like to tell you about them.

Bethie is pretty legit. I may not have grown up with her, but she is every bit as much my sister as if I had, and for a time, she even bore that legal distinction. She was there when my eldest daughter was born. When she and my brother divorced after spending nearly a decade together, she retained unofficial custody of me and my girls, and she has been a constant blessing to us all. It's funny, because people often think we are sisters in the traditional sense, and are always telling us how much we look alike. (Lots of people have dark brown hair, folks. We don't all look alike...but she's gorgeous, so I'll take it, even if it's inaccurate.) She is probably my closest confidante and she has never EVER judged me for anything I've said or done...and trust me, there is plenty of shit I'm NOT proud of...nor have I ever judged her. In so many ways, our recent histories closely parallel one another. That's the thing about Beth...she just GETS it. She's been there and she knows and she loves me, come what may, no questions asked.

Ashley also came to me by way of a break-up...I met her years ago as the new and extremely badass girlfriend of my buddy, Clayton. After a couple of years, she and Clayton imploded, and frankly, I think she was shocked when I called to ask how she was doing. She automatically assumed custody would revert back to Clayton, since I was friends with him first...but in all honesty...I sort of thought he was a jerk to her. So for awhile, I was her sounding board, and we became friends in our own right. She also has never imposed an ounce of judgment on any of my bad decisions...never made me feel bad for going back to The Nurse over and over, and always listened when he broke me, every time. She just helped me put myself back together. Then came Michael...no one had my back quite the way she did. She may have even saved my life, and has never made me feel stupid for any of my choices...even the clearly stupid ones. You don't find that every day.

Adrienne and I essentially grew up together. We met back in the stone age, schlepping overpriced enchiladas for an obscenely small paycheck and drinking cheap beer together on the weekends with our then-boyfriends, who eventually became our husbands. Fast forward nearly 20 years, and between us we've racked up three marriages, three divorces, three children, a string of dating disasters, and a hell of a lot of good stories. We talk almost every day, and I can always count on her for no-holds-barred opinions and advice, because I know she'll still see me as the same girl at the end of the day...older and (hopefully) wiser, but essentially the same girl who could hit the glass every time playing quarters.

Deanna is perhaps my biggest inspiration. She's been through many of the same things I have...she's been through a lot worse than I have in SO many ways...and she found herself along the way, and came out stronger, happier, better, and more beautiful in every possible way. She talks straight. She gives advice when she can, usually based on her own experiences. And when I screw up, she still gives me her love and respect...and that means so much, because she's one of the strongest women I know. She pursues her dreams relentlessly and is 100% true to herself along the way and I love her for it.

Last, but by no means least, there is April. How we met sounds like really bad fiction, as she pretty much hated me on sight...which is a story for another day. Or maybe it's the premise of a great novel...I'm not sure. But while I was understandably wary of her, I could also clearly see that she was one of the most witty, spirited, and intelligent people I had ever encountered. As the frost melted away, and I saw her for who she is, I was even more impressed...not only does she keep me in stitches, she is fun and incredibly loyal, and the best Plus One a girl could ask for. She's not afraid to tell me when I'm being an asshole, and those moments of assholiness don't change her overall opinion of me...which is probably why I value her opinion so much. (Plus, she comes with a seriously cool sister of her own, and who doesn't love a package deal?) I can't even imagine my life without her in it anymore...which is crazy, considering that 12 months ago, she thought I was Satan's mistress. (Actually, wait....I kind of was for awhile...)

 And so, to my beautiful youngest daughter....you are SO lucky to have a sister for life. I was thrilled to have two daughters, because I wanted you both to have that. But I can honestly say, the family you make for yourself and the sisters that the universe puts in your path are every bit as special. You may find them in unexpected places...they may be completely different from you—and from each other—but you'll recognize them by the unconditional love they give you. (Also, if you ever need to hide a body, you can totally call one of them.)

**Obviously, these are not my only friends. I am a lucky, lucky girl with a lot of great people in my life, and everybody brings something amazing to the table, and I in no way want to discount that...and many of them I am also incredibly close to. But there are some things in life that are constant and essentially unchanging, which is the point I was trying to make to my Chicken, and why these five, in particular, came up. Blood or no blood, a sister always has your back, never judges you, and loves you when you make an ass of yourself. These are mine. :)

Sometimes, it's how you get through the day....

http://open.spotify.com/track/2R6Jx4Hd30WrFSsBwfGpDY

Why Online Dating is a Bad Idea...vol. 1

Let me start by saying that while I may have dipped my toe into the slimy brown murk that is the online dating pool back in the early days after my divorce, I haven't gone there in a very long time, and for good reason...you see, I learned a few things during my brief but horrifying tenure on match.com: people are.....well.....they're just ridiculous.

Take this guy:

First, many thanks to my dear friend A for providing this picture from her pof inbox...now, let's discuss. Since when is Gym Shorts Wood (appropriately, GSW) something one wants to advertise? Not only to advertise, but to broadcast to a wide audience of total strangers via your pof profile? Classy. What self-respecting girl isn't going to jump all over THAT?? I mean, okay, maybe you're just dumpster diving for a Miley Cyrus type to hook up with...but GSW in your profile picture?! As if a shirtless profile picture isn't douchey enough, this asshole has to up the ante with a f***ing photo collage of his finest asshattery?

I understand that intimacy in the age of digital media is sort of a joke...people meet online, text for awhile, exchange pictures, and then meet for dinner...riiiiiiiight. At least there's something "real" about meeting someone in a bar. I'll take that any day...but to post a picture of your d*** in your online dating profile, right next to, "hi, my name is....??" I know for a fact there are a few nice girls on there...intelligent, beautiful, nice girls even...girls who might even want to know something about you as a person...not just as the owner of GSW. To these girls, you are a joke. A caricature. Obviously...after all, it was one of those girls who provided your photo as afternoon fodder, and we've been laughing at you since...and in fact, that utter ridiculousness is what landed you here.

After Miley's "performance" at the VMAs I wanted to scream. I'm thankful my daughters do not look up to her, but it is clearly not only girls that are lacking in self-respect. What kills me is this is the shit that awaits them in the dating world. Guys, resist the urge to post your GSW online. At least save it for a text message AFTER you've established some sort of rapport...it's the classy thing to do.

Who Says You Can't Go Home Again?

No one....but the new place just didn't feel quite right. I never settled in like I hoped. I didn't quite adjust to the new digs. And so here I am, in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm, back on familiar ground.

I've had an eventful summer, to say the least. I learned to shoot a rifle...or 3...and a handgun...or 5...I spent the 4th of July in Washington DC with one of my favorites and met some wonderful people. I let an old flame be rekindled in the spring...then snuffed it out immediately when I remembered how being with him was sometimes just as awful as it was wonderful...even though there will always be a part of me that loves him in a way. (And for god's sake, please don't think it was THAT old flame. As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't--or shouldn't--exist.) I also realized what a good thing I had going with someone else...someone who was still fairly new...and just like that, I knew I didn't want to lose it. So I owe him that...I owe him a lot, really. For as much as I've complained about N over the past 2 years, I've learned far more from him. He's actually pretty great in a lot of ways...and one day, he's going to grow up and be amazing...for someone else.

I started running again...then broke my ankle a couple of weeks ago...just a small fracture, but damn, it hurts. I got to take Emily to the Kings of Leon benefit concert the night before it happened, though. I listened patiently as my excited daughter relayed the account of her first kiss. I had a first kiss of my own, too. Two, actually...I met a wonderful guy in the spring who has absolutely no idea that he's wonderful...and if there's one thing I've learned over the past year, self-doubt can really eat your lunch...

As for Michael, he barely crosses my mind. And that's as it should be...that trash was picked up from my curb long ago.

My puppy keeps getting ever larger...he is 85 pounds at the age of 7 months. That means he's been gaining 10.5 pounds a month since I got him. He outweighs Sara by close to 15 pounds...he's tall enough to eat scraps from the sink and food off the stove if you're not careful...he likes potatoes.

And Sara...oh, my little soul sister.  She told me the other day, "Mommy, I really don't want you to ever get remarried." I was surprised. I explained that although I like having a boyfriend, I also like having my own house and my own life, and I can't imagine living with someone else right now.

She sighed, visibly relieved. "Good. Because I really like living in a house of all girls. I never have to wear pants..."

These are the glory days, folks. This is the good stuff. :-)

Moving Day...

This blog used to be like another home for me...a safe place where I could let my hair down and confide in friends. In recent months, however, it has taken on a different life and become a different place. The neighborhood has changed. Too much has happened here, and it no longer feels like home.

This is bittersweet for me, as I am infinitely grateful for the dozens of supportive emails I have received from all across the country...I am thankful for every reader. I am thankful for every comment, whether it was shared on the blog site or privately in an email, regardless of whether or not you agreed with what I had to say. Also, I am proud of this little blog...I've come a long way from the girl who once refused to let anyone read a single word she had written. I found my voice here. I worked through a few problems and made a few people laugh. While I have absolutely no regrets about anything I've shared, after much consideration, I have decided to move to a new home. Sometimes, the best thing you can do in life is start fresh...and since physically relocating to the mountains in Colorado is not an option for me right now, I'm going to start by giving my voice a new home.

For the time being, I have decided NOT to share the link to my new blog publicly...if you wish to continue following me--and I hope you do--please email me at seeksdecember@gmail.com and I will be happy to send you a link. I have no plans to take this site down, just as you don't burn down the house because you're moving. You just pack up your things and leave it behind. See you soon.

First Date

I just sent my eigth-grader off on her first date....her boyfriend is a gangly, dark-haired, freckled boy named Richard. (Yes. His name is actually Richard. And he's also 13.) She was just picked up by Richard and his parents, to be dropped off at Kickingbird Theater for the next two hours and forty-two minutes, because I'm nice enough to allow for preview time. This is nerve-wracking on dozens of different levels and for several reasons...not the least of which is because I remember this exact scenario all too vividly.

Still, I think when we look back on this day, what will best be remembered are the introductions.  I didn't hear the bell, and Emily answered the door to find Richard and his father standing on the front porch. Sara comes running into my room. "He's heeeeeeere!" she whispers at regular volume. I head down the hall to find Emily standing shyly in the entry way, the front door open, and Richard and his father on my front walk.

"Hi, I'm Shannon," I say, shaking hands with The Boy's father. I am knocked slightly aside as Roger, our 6-month-old, 70-something pound puppy, barrels out the front door.

"Oh, shit!" Emily blurts, taking off after the dog.

Can you feel that awkward silence?

I smile at The Boy and his stunned father. She's SO mine.

Insomnia Chronicles Part I

So, it seems sleeping is something I've given up again for the time being...and I guess that's okay. I admit there's a lot on my mind. For example, my daughter is going on her first date this weekend...if that isn't worthy of a little sleep deprivation, what is? Did I mention that her boyfriend's name is Richard? And that he asked for her phone number because they were both wearing deadmau5 shirts? Shit, this kid doesn't stand a chance with me....

She's very cute in her happy bubble. Tonight, she started giggling because of a sweet text he sent. Don't worry, I'm not going to burst it. I'm not going to tell her that it gets a lot more complicated the older you get. The thing is, it's also every bit as wonderful when you meet someone and you click, no matter how old you are. It doesn't matter that you both have a few quirks. It doesn't matter if there's baggage. What matters is that you see something wonderful in someone and you want to be around them so you can find out more. Maybe that starts with a deadmau5 t-shirt. Maybe it's something else...but whatever it is, I hope she doesn't ignore a spark just because she's scared or because it maybe isn't perfect on the surface. I've done that more times than I can count, and you know what? You always wonder. But at the end of the day,  it isn't about everything being perfect...it's about finding someone who still wants to stick around when they know you're NOT...and wanting them with you in spite of the mess. Now THAT'S a beautiful dream.

If only I could sleep....

Eccelsiastes 3

So I've learned more than a FEW hard lessons the past year...and one of the biggest ones I've been struggling with--and for the longest time--is letting go of friendships that have run their course. It's silly, I know. When you love someone so much, and have shared so much with them, of course you want to hang onto a relationship...but here's the thing: hanging onto a friend or a relationship when there isn't really anything to hang onto has to be one of life's most demeaning, soul-crushing experiences. It's been worse than most of the breakups I've had. It IS a breakup...a harder one, in many ways, because there are so many things you love and miss, and you have to accept that they simply don't feel the same way about you or value your friendship the way you do theirs.

It happens for any number of reasons...in my case, it started with the divorce. With most of my married friends, not much changed. They asked me about my dating life, and went out of their way to make me feel included for parties and activities, whether I was seeing someone or not. When I had a breakup or a shitty date, they listened...sometimes offered advice, but never judged, whether I took the advice or not.

And then, there was the other group...and the one I've spent a LOT of money on therapy trying to understand, convinced that I'd somehow failed. It's especially hard, because it was once the single most important non-familial friendship I had...and now, I'm pretty sure if I never text her again, then I may have already spoken to her for the last time. I'm just no longer on her radar and don't fit into her life. How did I get to this point? Where did I go so wrong? I've asked myself--and my therapist--these questions over and over for more than six months.

While most of my friends have made an effort to keep up with me, there are a few that have retreated further away...and it took me awhile to realize that's a reflection of THEM. Not me. When you spend a rare evening with several of them, and realize that not one time did ANYONE ask anything about you, outside of the initial greeting, that's also a reflection on them. When they spend the entire evening talking about things they've done together that you weren't a part of...well, that's just rude...but it's certainly not a reflection of ME. It took $700 in counselor's fees and some wise words from good friends to fully understand that.

Friends come into your life for a reason. Sometimes it's long-term. Occasionally, it's for life. But friends leave your life for a reason, too. And hanging onto one that doesn't want to be there only makes you feel insignificant. Instead, focus on the ones that bring something wonderful to your life--not someone who makes you feel ashamed or unworthy. It's easy to let the one overshadow the others...but don't make that mistake, like I did. Accept that the season has passed...and by all means, go ahead and keep loving them. Keep rooting for them, and keep praying for them, because I promise, they need it. Celebrate the wonderful things about them, not the things that they did or said that made you feel like shit. Chances are, those are the result of their own insecurities, anyway. (Remember, no one has any right to look down on you.) And when you have sent them your very best full-power Care Bear Stare, don't feel bad about turning your attention to the people that actually make you feel loved.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/W4ga_M5Zdn4

Brokenhearted...

As a native Oklahoman, I am no stranger to the relative horrors Mother Nature sometimes doles out in the spring. I have stood in the hallway with my arms around my terrified children as all but one of the windows in our house was shattered by baseball-sized hail. The sound of tornado sirens--while unnerving--does not send me into a panic. Rather, I do what any good native girl does. I go outside. If the funnel is to my right (that's east, folks), I remain outside. To my left--well, that's a different story. That requires a group huddle in the tub of the hall bath...or ideally, a basement or storm shelter, but I don't have one of those. Most people here don't.

The thing about a tornado is, even if you've grown up here and understand how they work and what to do, when it happens, there's nothing to do but let it come and pray for the best. It's not like a hurricane, where you have a few days' warning and the option to evacuate. The best you get is around ten minutes' lead time, and you prepare, knowing in the back of your mind that there is at least some possibility that your house and everything in it could be lost.

What you DO NOT expect is to see is a suburban city with nearly 60,000 residents virtually obliterated. You DO NOT expect to see not one, but TWO elementary schools leveled, with an unknown number of schoolchildren among the dead. There's nothing you can do but put your arm around your best friend and cry with her and watch it on the news as it barrels toward her house where her two young children are. No matter how many times I've seen it, I will NEVER get used to that part of it...and yet, the city of Moore has done this THREE times in 14 years.

Even as the death toll rises and the horrors unfold, I admire the spirit of this community. Although a million and a half people call the Oklahoma City metropolitan area home, when tragedy strikes, the sense of unity is unmistakable, and I am awestruck every time...I never for a minute intended to be a lifetime Oklahoma resident, but here I am. And today, I am nearly as proud as I am brokenhearted.

Remember me?

The past few weeks--and especially the past week--something incredible has happened...I feel almost like MYSELF. For a long time, I've been living under this terrible fog. Then Tuesday (glorious Tuesday!) came, and it was lifted. I feel like ME. I've laughed. I've joked. I've hung out with girlfriends. I've hung out with guy friends. I've played with my kids. I've made plans...and The Fraud has scarcely crossed my mind the past few days...and that's as it should be. The whole reason I did this was so he would be excised from my life, because he never belonged there in the first place. I just didn't realize how quickly and effectively it would actually work!

I spent the weekend with the two best daughters anyone could ask for. Friday night, Em had a friend sleep over. Saturday, I took the girls to the mall. Saturday night, I got together with a bunch of girlfriends and their kids to watch the game and celebrate Mother's Day, and I had a blast, even though our Thunder lost. Today was wonderful...my girls are incredible, and they are the culmination of everything good in my life. How they managed to get the best of everything in us is truly a mystery, but it happened. They have been so strong through this whole mess, and it hasn't been easy on them. You see, they both really liked him. Having to explain that everything about him was a lie was relatively tough. I spared Chicken as much as I could...but Emily, well...she's 13 and nobody's fool. She was angry, and that's okay. We were ALL taken in by a con man. It wasn't just me he was lying to...that's been rough for them. Especially for her.

The beautiful thing is, we're all out from under the cloud. We're looking forward to the summer...we talked about vacation plans. We went out for Mexican food. (Well, we tried to go for Turkish food, but Simply Falafel was closed for Mother's Day.) We just had fun together...which hasn't happened nearly enough in the past six months. It has me happier and more hopeful than I remember being in a long time. Being their mom is the best thing about me...I'm pretty good at it...just talk to them for a few minutes if you're not sure. ;)

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner...

Excuse me. This isn't eloquent, and for that I apologize. To MC...go f*ck yourself. The judge saw through your bullshit. Karma's a bitch, and I'm real sorry....but I've never been happier than today. I was granted a permanent, final no-contact VPO for the state's maximum of 5 years. This is the first time in this judge's history to grant a permanent protective order against a defendant who had not (yet) served time for domestic violence. (Because, let's face it...one day, he will. It's not like he's going to STOP.) But for today, good triumphs over evil, and I am over the moon.

 

And as for you...you should try NOT being such a reprehensible asshole. Try NOT beating up girls half your size. Try being honest about who you really are...with yourself, and with others. At least SEE how it goes. Good luck with your sad existence...I have nothing but pity for you...and far more for any woman who dates you.

On the Ledge...

Tomorrow, I have to face the man who hurt me more than I ever imagined was possible...and I am scared. I'm not scared that something will happen to me in the courtroom...but I am scared of having to relive the awful things he put me through. I have not yet successfully talked about what happened without dissolving into a crying jag that is vaguely reminiscent of Whoopi Goldberg in The Color Purple...and that's just practicing in the mirror. I have no idea how I'll manage it in front of a judge...and the prospect of M's sneering presence turns my stomach.

I don't understand how he can live with the knowledge of what he did to me, and still present himself as the victim...just some guy with a crazy ex, like he did with his last girlfriend to me...does he get a rush from knowing that I'm constantly looking over my shoulder? That I'm scared all the time? That I wrote letters to my daughters in case something happened to me because of HIM? Because of his words. Because of his actions. Because of his threats. Because he stole my confidence and crushed it. Because he took a sick pleasure in pointing out my every flaw, in telling me I wasn't good enough, even as he told me he loved me in the same breath.

The worst part is, he had me believing it. He had me believing THAT was normal. Just count the bruises and wipe up the blood and tell me he loves me and he's sorry he called me those names and said those things. What I really want to know is how did HE get this way? And what gives him the right to play the victim when I finally stand up and say I've had enough? Who taught him that it was okay to systematically tear someone down, piece by piece, until there was nothing left?

Some things, I don't want to understand. This is one of them. Pray for my strength tomorrow. For wisdom and peace for me and my daughters...that we can finally put this nightmare behind us.

The Least Funny Blog Post I Will Ever Write...

I have been debating about whether to write about this. I have such wonderful support from so many people...people I didn't even know followed me. And so many women have written me, thanking me for my honesty when it came to issues dealing with divorce and raising children as a single parent, with some even calling me inspiring. But there is nothing inspiring about what I have to say today...

Last September, I was swept off my feet by an incredibly charming man. A man who showered me with attention and gifts. A man who was intelligent and witty. A man I could talk to all night, who listened with interest to what I had to say. A man who was kind to me, and treated me like I hung the moon. He brought me flowers, just because. He left cards and notes on my windshield for me to find in the morning, just so I would know he was thinking of me. He seemed genuine and honest, and willing to be up front about his flaws...or so it seemed. A man who gave me more positive attention in the first three months than I had ever received in my entire life. He called me his soulmate. After everything I'd been through, I thought my prayers had been answered.

I was wrong.

So, so wrong...

After a few months, the cracks in his foundation began to show. There was a mountain of debt I had no idea he had...and we're not talking a little. We're talking nothing he'll ever pay off in his lifetime. He had depleted his savings and retirement accounts. His truck was repossessed. He had to constantly borrow money to pay bills or get the water or electricity back turned back on, even as he went out every night and dressed in expensive clothes. And then there was how little he saw of his children...as of this time, it's been four months since he laid eyes on ANY of his four kids...the youngest has seen him three times in the past 9 months, once only for an hour. He is tens of thousands in arrears on his child support. I began to realize things weren't as they seemed. Then there was the jealousy...he had mostly female friends, but I wasn't allowed to stay in contact with my guy friends. "Because I know not to trust guys. They all want to have sex with you," he said. Any argument I made was wholly unreasonable--a betrayal of him, even. Guess what, ladies and gentlemen? I had the original con artist. Me...a fairly intelligent girl who makes a decent living and has her life more or less together. A Nice Girl at heart--far from perfect, but generally kind and reasonably responsible. And I missed it...and I put myself and my kids in grave danger because I wasn't bright enough to see it in time.

The controlling behavior slowly escalated. In the final month, if I was upset or bothered by something, it didn't matter how calmly or rationally I brought it up. He turned it into a shouting match almost immediately. The fights were horrific, and always 100% MY FAULT. If only I did this...if only I was more respectful...he would tell our friends I was unstable, when he was the one who threw his phone so hard, he left a hole in my wall. Once, near the end, he screamed in my face, calling me a fucking cunt. When I started to cry, he looked at me with disgust. "There you go again, playing the fucking victim. You're pathetic," he spat.

Never in my life have I been called the names he called me. Cunt. Slut. Bitch. Pathetic. Loser. Liar. I have never experienced so much hatred and vitriol...all from the person who claimed I was "the love of his life" and talked often of marrying me. I have never been so torn down and humiliated, nor treated with so much disdain in my life. It went from being the most loving, affectionate relationship I've ever experienced to exactly the opposite. That isn't to say I did nothing wrong in the relationship...I am human, and I made mistakes, too. But I was honest and loyal throughout. For him, it turned into a game, where he liked to point out my every flaw. He seemed to get joy out of being critical of my appearance and mannerisms. My nose was too big. My singing was abysmal. My laugh was annoying. I needed to do some squats. My hands and feet were ugly. My jaw and lips were all wrong. I really wasn't all that pretty...and I was supposedly the girl of his dreams? And still, I didn't leave.

By then, I loved him...not who he was, but the version he had presented in the beginning...and I thought, maybe if I give it time and walk the line, that guy will come back. What I didn't realize is, that guy never really existed. This one did. This was who he is. The one who had built our relationship on a house of cards...some half-truths, some out-and-out lies. The things I have learned about him since the breakup are simply mind-blowing. Even that term is a grave understatement. Humiliating. Embarrassing. Disgusting. None of that even touches it. This was a man (and I use that term loosely, because he is really not a man at all), quite simply, with NO moral compass or sense of decency, honor, or responsibility to anyone. This was a "man" who feels he is above everyone...above the law...that there are no rules that apply to him. And that is what makes him so terrifying.

As for the breakup itself...I was badly beaten. Not with his fists...just with his ability to throw me around like a rag doll, on account of the 100 pounds he had on me. I sustained a concussion, over 30 bruises, and urinated blood for days. My back was black and blue. I stayed with my parents. My mother cried every time she looked at me. And still I cried and refused to give the name of the attacker to the police...even as the officer told me the level of injuries I sustained warranted a felony assault investigation. I was wrong not to. I know that now. If nothing else, I should've done it to protect his current girlfriend....and all of his future ones. They will end up just like me, just as I'm pretty sure now that I ended up like the last one...it hasn't been hard to fill in the blanks that he left unsaid about his last relationship, the one which he claimed he had been  so honest and up-front about. I'm sure he's saying the same things about me now, as he pulls the wool over this victim's eyes. Because she is a victim, too, every bit as much as I am. She will be abused, whether it's physically, verbally, emotionally, or all of the above. It may take a little time, but it will absolutely happen. She will be hurt by him, and I can't help her. I don't want to feel guilty about that, but I do. I regret that. I wish I could warn every woman in the metropolitan area.

I can't do that. All I can do is tell my story, and hope people read it. All I can do is make people understand that no one is immune to abuse. My YWCA counselor likened his actions to emotional terrorism. It can happen to anyone. Even smart, pretty, together girls...who may be in a slightly vulnerable place. It's the vulnerability he feeds upon. I have lost friends. I have been judged harshly. I have hurt those that I loved. I have lived in fear every day. I have had my life threatened. I have made mistakes. And I have survived. One day, maybe I'll even be okay. One day, maybe I'll trust someone again. I don't know. But it isn't today....

Head Over Heels

I am not, nor have I ever been, what anyone would describe as a Dog Person. I liked some dogs, but always in an I-just-wanna-visit-and-not-live-with-you capacity. To be honest, however, I have long been semi-indifferent to most dogs. I even tend to actively dislike some of the ankle-biter breeds. When I got divorced, I happily settled into a neat, pretty, comfortable-but-small 3-bedroom house with the girls, which I take a great deal of pride in owning. It is by no means fancy, but I maintain it reasonably well and I love that it is MINE. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would share it with anyone but the girls and our two cats, one of whom I have had roughly since the Dawn of Creation.

Then last year, I met a guy. And the guy had a dog. But it wasn't just ANY dog. It was a 160-pound Great Dane, and one of the coolest, most intelligent dog-ponies I have ever encountered. He would bring him to my house when he visited, and we would keep him when he left town. After not quite 6 months, the guy and I were done--a sad end, and a story for another day, because I'm not ready to tell it. But after a couple of months on my own, I realized I missed the dog. I missed having him around, because he is an awesome companion, especially when the girls weren't home. I missed seeing the girls with him, and the joy they took in having a dog in the house.

Soon, I found myself browsing rescue dogs on petfinder...casually, at first. The idea was incredibly abstract. Then, I saw him. And I was smitten.

I found out he was being fostered, and I followed his progress for a week or so before I called and made arrangements to meet him. I didn't tell anyone, because if it didn't work out, I didn't want to disappoint the girls...and besides, who would believe it? Me and a DOG? Me, training a PUPPY? And not just any puppy...over 40 pounds of mystery Dane/Lab/Hound mix. The destructive potential this 3-month-old ball of energy could have on my serene little house was mind-boggling. In spite of all of that, I HAD to meet him.

So I did...and I brought him home with me. And it didn't take long. I was a goner...I was crazy, over-the-moon in love with Roger, the Pony Puppy. Me, the confirmed non-dog person...who managed to housebreak a puppy in a week, and taught him "sit," "stay," and "lie down" within 10 days. (Clearly, he's brilliant. Or I am...but I think it's him. Or the bacon.)

I'm still not sure I'm really a dog person, generally speaking. But I like MY dog an awful lot...it doesn't mean I go up to stranger dogs in the park. (This is kind of how I feel about children, too...love mine. Love the minions of those that I love...but strangers' children I am happy to admire from a distance.) I'm pretty sure this dog was mine from the start. He was sent to me, for us to rescue each other. I think we're both doing a damn good job.

Rescue Dog

Tomorrow--correction--later TODAY, I am rescuing a shelter dog and bringing him home with me. Well, sort of. I'm just bringing him home. As I see it, the animal sanctuary already did the rescuing...not that adopting a new family member isn't cool as hell. I'm excited! This may turn out to be the best relationship I've ever had! But what's funny is he doesn't even know I'm coming. I wasn't sure why I've felt so compelled to do this in recent weeks. I've been following his progress with his foster family for a couple of weeks...today, I understand why. In some ways, I am not unlike a shelter dog. While I know--intellectually speaking--that I am loved, I'm not always wanted. That point was driven home to me in the past 24 hours, more than once. It's the same point that has been driven home repeatedly over the past few years by various people.

I've had sort of a shitty time of things. And no one else has been through it but me. Being flung from a marriage and the family and home I had known for all of my adult life into an unknown situation with only a truncated version of my family still intact is awful. Only a couple of my friends have been through something similar. The rest simply don't understand. They couldn't. While I realize that the relationships I've had were ultimately mistakes, they were mine to make and learn from, just like all romantic relationships...one hopes with their closest friends standing behind you, because it's hard. I mean, only one of those relationships lasts, right? There's a lot of trial and error involved. But that isn't always the case. Sometimes you turn around, like a shelter dog, and discover several of your people aren't there. Sometimes that isn't intentional. Sometimes it is. But either way, it's hard...hard to be The Girl that No Longer Belongs when all of your friends are married...it's hard to be the one that everyone is watching when a relationship ends in the worst possible way, when it was the last thing you expected. (It's actually a hundred times harder to be hurt in such an awful way by the person who claims to love you more than anything, who you thought you would spend your life with...just in case anyone was wondering.) It's hard to be told "I Told You So" by the very few that did suspect something was amiss. It's hard to be told how much stress you've caused everyone, when their stress was only a drop in the bucket compared to yours. It's hard to get conflicting advice from every different direction, and know you hurt or pissed off someone by making a different decision. It's hard to be told your decisions are being judged and your friendship is on the line...especially when it's clearly already been cut off, and you find yourself downgraded to acquaintance by someone who used to have your back. It's hard to have people not reach out to you and not respond to you, whether it's because they're angry or they don't know what to say...or maybe they want to punish you, or maybe they've simply stopped caring...some things I'll never know, and some things I don't want to know. It's hard to be written off. Conditional love and friendship is something I hope I NEVER understand, no matter how many times I experience it from those I love unconditionally. Shelter dogs have only known conditional love...or maybe they're loved, but thrown back anyway, because they behaved in a way that their Person didn't like and it threatened their happiness...their comfort zone...their world. It caused them stress, even though the dog probably hasn't known comfort or happiness or stability in years.

I am blessed to have some stability in my life...but I have a lot less than I used to. And just like I gave everybody warm fuzzy props a week ago, let me now say--to everyone--I am sorry for the stress or disappointment I've caused. It was not intentional. It's the last thing I wanted. And this most recent installment, I certainly didn't ask for. It was NOT my fault, or so the counselor keeps saying. I'm sorry if you see me as a screw-up. I'm really not. This is really f*cking hard, and you've never had to try to do anything like it. I take good care of my girls. I get the privilege of putting them and their happiness first. And they're amazing! They make every day brighter. I am proud of myself for getting through it, even if you're not. I am proud of those battle scars and those lessons learned, because they're harder than what most people have to learn. While everyone else talks about how blessed they are to be living the dream...I feel blessed to have been tested and still be living my own version, even if it doesn't look like everyone else's...even if I don't belong to the club anymore, even if I am persona non grata. I am SO proud of my truncated, patchwork family, but it did seem as though there was someone missing...

With God's Grace, that someone is coming home tomorrow, and he will be my everyday inspiration. Because as hard as my recent existence might have been, you know what? His has been harder. He was abandoned shortly after his birth and didn't even get to know the love of his mother for very long. (I mean, hell, he doesn't even know who his father IS!) He probably hasn't known unconditional love at all, and I am determined to show it to him, no matter how ridiculous his behavior may be at times. I have been blessed to have that in some places in my life. There are a few people that will always hold me up. One of them gets the privilege of taking me to adopt my rescue dog tomorrow...I think I'm sort of her rescue dog sometimes, but it's okay. She lets me call the shots while I figure things out for myself...I won't do that with mine, but he is an actual canine. Isn't everyone a rescue dog at some point? If you haven't had your turn yet, I am so thankful for you...but I promise, I will do whatever it takes to show you love when your time comes. I won't let you feel excluded or left behind or forgotten or judged. Until then, I will keep you close to my heart.

You Never Know...

Sometimes, when you least expect it, she comes back better, stronger, and happier than she was before. Alone and happy might just be the brightest spot in the universe...and it might be the hardest place to reach.

My Cup Runneth Over...

No, I'm not talking about my bra, although let's face it; sometimes that's a problem. I'm talking about my friends. With Easter on the horizon, I've been thinking about how so many incredible people have had an impact on my life...whether it's someone I talk to every day, or someone far away who is a source of unwavering support, or simply someone who continually inspires me. This much I know: I wouldn't have gotten through the past couple of years without you guys. Here is my ode to everyone:

Sword-Buster: You have seen me at my best and my worst over the past several years, and on oh-so-many occasions, you have been a rock. You have my back, no questions asked, no bullshit, no judgment ever, all the time. Not only that, but you will personally hunt down and kick the shit out of anyone who hurts me. I didn't want you to think any of it had gone unnoticed...and I will always return the favor--at least, the being there and the listening and the non-judgey parts. Not the ass-kicking. I'll leave that to you...

E: You've been a part of my life for so long, I don't remember what it is NOT to have you in it.  Thanks for serving as my punching bag from time to time, for putting up with all of my crap, for shaking your head and laughing it off at the end of the day--because, well, that's what we do. Thank you for noticing the shy, awkward tall girl with the huge rack and the bad hair all those years ago, because she never would have had the courage to talk to you herself.

Kiki: My life would in no way be complete without your opinions and sarcasm and (occasional) disapproval, all of which are doled out--somehow--with love. I don't know where I'd be without your unconditional support and friendship...and with you, I have also been blessed with the extension of your own family, whom I love dearly. (Angel and John, that's you, too!) I am SO grateful for all those damn Girl Scout lock-ins we had to chaperone together...and how it never failed that we were still up and giggling long after all of the girls had drifted off. Love you!

Lisa: No matter where I am in the book, you're pretty much always on the same page. It has occurred to me that in four years of working together, we've never ONCE argued...I'm not even sure we've disagreed on anything of note. You always have good ideas, you make me laugh, and you can talk me down from the ledge when necessary. And while we make it all seem like it's no big deal...it is. :)

D: Let's face it, you're the one who makes me beautiful...you obviously get a spot on this list. ;) I'm kidding, of course, although your dedication to my wild locks is certainly admirable in and of itself. Not only are you totally supportive of everything I do, but watching you come into your own in the past few years has been truly inspirational. I have learned so much from you...I am in awe. <3<3

Nan: You're the Mother Hen, who keeps all the chicks in line, but loves them even though they misbehave sometimes. No one--and I mean NO ONE--works harder than you, and you deserve all you have to show for it. (But seriously...take a nap.) Thanks for checking up on me even when I fall off the radar, and for believing in me when I give you no reason to.

Krystal: I'm pretty sure you're the single funniest person I know...and that's high praise, because I know a lot of crazy smart, funny people. (See above and below.) It doesn't matter whether we're making fun of our own ridiculous lives or those of strangers, every obscure reference and deadpan remark hits home, and occasionally even makes me spew tea from my nose. You're like my Obi-Wan.

Sarah: You, too, need to take a nap...but then again, you've always worked too hard. I miss seeing you all the time like we did before I moved to the 'hood. You are one of the coolest, funniest chicks I know, and you always have a smile on your face! Your constant state of positivity is a joy and an inspiration!

Adrienne: At various points, we've worked together, played together, and even (briefly) lived together. You have more good stories about me than anyone, and when we get together, it's like we haven't missed a beat. Thanks for always being there. We'll write that book yet...

Beth: Duh...you're my sister. Absentee sister right now, but I'll take it. I'm so proud of you! I miss you...but am proud nonetheless.

Shananay, Beckie and Cari Jo: Damn, I miss you guys. Like, every day. Talking to you always just makes me feel better about my world. I hate that I don't get to see you and your families as much as I do the others, but rest assured in the knowledge that the door is always wide open, and we pick up easily where we left off. Although you're very different from each other, you've each brought something unique and wonderful to my life.

The Newbies: Yeah, I'm talking to you...April, Derek, Amanda, Nikki, Katie...all of you guys! Although I haven't known you that long, and some of you I met under strange circumstances, you bring a smile to my face, a laugh to my belly, and are always looking out for me and I am grateful. You guys are a blast!

The Rest: There are some of you I seldom see, who have still had a strong influence on my life. Like Mari, who helps keep my writer's block at bay, and is a witty, clever girl...and Kelly, who's in Alaska now, but is still as sweet as she can be...or my other Kelly in PA, a seriously funny girl who follows my writing and always has something positive to say. Like Linz, who is always good for a laugh, two decades after bonding over Strange Brew. To everyone who has taken the time to email me and tell me that something I've written has resonated with them...all of you have helped keep me going at times. I am thankful for each of you. No one in the world could ask for a better support system. Thank you all!!!

WANTED:

One man, aged 30-45 years, preferably above 5'10 in height. Must be gainfully employed--with a regular paycheck--and able to string together an intelligent sentence and hold up roughly one-half of a conversation. Should own a car, have a wicked sense of humor, and be in decent shape. (A six-pack isn't necessary, but you should make some effort, for God's sake. I do.) Must occasionally pick up a book and watch/read the news. Must like children, or at least understand that children exist in actual physical form, and are living, breathing small humans with feelings and ideas. Must be open-minded, honest, and NICE. Nice is imperative. Educated is a plus, but some people are intelligent enough to glean sufficient knowledge from The School of Life. (See gainfully employed, above, for details.) Must be willing to listen when I talk and be able to make a decision. Must have decent manners and tip a minimum of 20%.

Must NOT live with a parent, be chronically underemployed, or think Jackass or Wipeout is quality TV. Must not own an Affliction shirt. Must not constantly quote Will Ferrell, Adam Sandler, or Jim Carrey movies. Must not be so desperate for a relationship that you ask me to stay over and go to church with you the day after meeting me, when you haven't even made it to second base yet. (Because that's pathetic. Really.) Likewise, must not be riddled with committment issues or bitter toward women or relationships. (Just show up. Talk. Have fun. See what happens. We can figure out the details a little later. Is that really so hard?) MUST NOT EVER, under any circumstances, have hit, kicked, or shoved a woman (unless a fast-moving vehicle was bearing down on her), nor screamed obscenities in her face, for I'm not Rihanna and I will not put up with that bullshit. Must not have control issues, because we all know that just boils down to insecurity and poor self esteem and you need to grow up and grow a pair, not find a girlfriend to push around. Must be respectful to your parents, but NOT overly attached to your mother. (You'd better be doing your own cleaning and laundry by this age, unless you're paying someone to do it for you.) Must not lie. (See honesty, above.) Must not think country is the only musical genre. Must not have a Confederate flag depicted in any form anywhere on your vehicle or in your home. Must not live like a f***ing pig. (I don't need to be able to perform brain surgery on your floors, but I should be able to see them.) Must not be intimidated by a smart girl who speaks her mind and is somewhat fond of her independence. (Meaning I have no interest in sharing my bathroom with someone anytime soon. I want that second sink to STAY spotless for awhile.) Must not pout. Ever. Because you just look ridiculous.

In return, you get a sweet, cute thirtysomething girl with dark hair and blue eyes and (obviously) a wicked sense of humor, in reasonably good shape (see above), complete with all original parts. (Wait. I guess that's not entirely true...but I'll explain later.) I'm an excellent mother--okay, I'm a pretty good mother who loves her kids--and I love to cook, even though occasionally my experiments are a disaster. I like loud indie rock bands, books, wine, college football, NBA, and good movies. I like to be treated like a lady, not a possession. I don't care if you want to go hang out with the guys, as long as you let me know what's up. I have a few other skills, but not many people know about them, and you have to be willing to take some time to get to know me--really well--if you ever want to find out what they are. I'll dress up when you take me out, but I'm just as happy hanging out on the couch and watching a movie. I'm far from perfect--I probably swear a little too often, I have a few trust issues, and I get pissy sometimes, but I'm loyal and I have a good heart. Oh, and I'm way too tall and awkward to dance, unless it's a slow song. So if you're looking to spend every other weekend at some club in Bricktown, you'd best just move along. You can find me at a dive bar with good live music.

Interested parties meeting the aforementioned criteria (and Nick Collison) may inquire within. Please note a probationary period will be required for all serious applicants. (Except for Nick Collison.)

She's Not Here.

You're looking for the girl who writes this blog? The funny brunette, right? The sarcastic girl with all the opinions?

She's not here.

I don't know when she'll be back. I don't know when she'll be funny again. I don't know when--or how--she'll pick herself up this time. I don't know how many times one person can be broken and still manage to put herself back together. Maybe she can do it again. Maybe she can't. Maybe she's busy watching an entire television series on netflix in between crying jags. Or maybe she'll become agoraphobic and start collecting cats. Maybe she'll take up knitting and crossword puzzles or start collecting tiny figurines. Maybe she'll disappear into a bottle of wine. Maybe she'll eat her way back, and eventually require a mobility scooter just to get around the grocery store, because her stomach hangs down to her knees.

I know you have faith in her...after all, she's the resourceful type. But this time, she's as broken as she's ever been...her heart, her spirit, and her trust all shattered in one fell swoop. There is no cure for having virtually everything taken, including your pride...

Each time she puts herself back together, she's a little different. The pieces don't quite fit the same way. Maybe you'll recognize her. Maybe you won't.

All I know is, she's not here.

The Luckiest....

I am, you know...I may be the luckiest person who ever lived. Today, I woke up with a fever and a sore throat, and I couldn't be happier about it. After reading 101.2 on the thermometer this morning, I informed Emily that she would need to get her sister up and help her get ready. Em did all of this, without a hint of complaint, before she left for her own bus. Sara told me good morning, and stayed quiet, I presumed reading Little House on the Prairie. Just before she left to walk to the bus stop with our next-door neighbor, she came and gave me a hug and told me to feel better. I promptly fell asleep for another 2 hours. When I got up to get a drink of water, I found this note in a wonderfully familiar third grade scrawl:

Dear Mom:

If your reading this I'm definetly already gone. You know how I like it when you write notes on my napkin and put them in my lunch? Well I didn't get a napkin note today so I thought I'd write to YOU insted.

I hope you have a great day. I hope you feel better soon because I don't want you to be sick on Valentine's Day. I missed you SO much over the weekend while I was at Dad's. I would love to hear what you did over the weekend while I was gone. I got to go out to eat at a restaurant called Sumo on Friday, and I had never been there before. I got this soup called seafood soup and it had everything I love when it comes to seafood. On Saturday we didn't do much. Emily went to the party and we went for fried chicken but that's it. On Sunday we had to go to Dad's work for a few hours and didn't get to do anything else.

Please write back because I would love to hear about your weekend, too. I just love to hear from you.

Love,
Super Chicken

P.S. I love you more than anything.
P.P.S. The cookies you made are very yummy!


Who cares if I'm sick, right? THIS, my friends, is what life is all about...it means I am doing well at my number one job. :)

An Open Letter to Thirteen-Year-Old Girls Around the World

On behalf of Disgruntled Mothers everywhere...

Look, we know things in your world are a little weird right now. We know that you are dealing with some issues you've never had. We know that you're hormonal, and that you're bitchy, and your body is changing every day. We know that you are going to test boundaries no matter what we do. We know that in your mind, the universe revolves around you and you alone. We know that while you're spending hours locked away in your room, you're living out a whole different existence that may well include boys, bad language, stupid decisions, and slamming the very people who raised you and continue to love you and put up with your crap day after day in hopes that one day, they get through, and you figure out that it's not all a big conspiracy against you. We know you can justify anything to yourself, and we know that most of the time, you think we are a ridiculous waste of space, and that we don't have a clue.

WE KNOW.

Here is what else we want you to know...YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T UNDERESTIMATE US.

If you go missing in action for an hour after school, at least do us the courtesy of having something better to offer than "I needed fresh air, so I went for a walk" when it's 34 degrees outside with a bitter wind. (Really?! That's insulting. We know you think no one in the world is smarter than you, but please don't forget who installed that hardware.)

In the event that you really DON'T have anything better to offer, do not even THINK about acting offended when we call you out on your ridiculous bullshit. We may not know where you were--YET--but we know when you're spoonfeeding us total crap, and you can rest assured that we will figure out the answer by virtually any means necessary.

If you bring home a report card with NINE homework zeroes and an 88 in Spanish, then proceed to roll your eyes and say, "no one else's parents get bent out of shape when they get a B on their report card," guess what? Your life--at least as you knew it, complete with sleepovers, Friday nights out with friends, and a cell phone, ipod, and tablet at your fingertips--is effectively over. Getting a B when you've actually worked for it is one thing. Getting a default B because you know you don't have to DO the work to ace the test is a whole different animal. (Guess how we know this?)

Guess how we know everything we know? Because we did it, or else we watched our friends do it and helped them cover their tracks. The world may look a little different in a lot of ways...you may be dealing with a few issues we never even dreamed of having, courtesy of a screwed-up society where Bat-Shit Crazy is the new Normal. Trust me, we're dealing with those same issues ourselves, on a different level. But when it comes to boys, lying, slacking off, and generally feeling superior to everyone around you, we've all been there, and we know your game. Give us a little credit, will you?

What we want you to realize is that the choice is really YOURS. We can be your greatest ally or your worst nightmare, but it's up to you to decide which way we're going to go. We have a job to do, and we're going to get it done, simple as that. You cannot deter us in our mission. Love us or hate us (and we would all prefer the former, but can handle the latter), we will do whatever it takes to turn you into a happy, productive, independent adult. We will do anything we can to help you live up to your potential.

WE WANT YOU TO BE BETTER THAN WE WERE.

That's because we love you more than anything...remember that the next time you've slammed your bedroom door in a fit of tears, because we took your phone away...remember that when you are standing in the hallway at school, telling your friends what a bitch your mom can be...remember that when you think you hate us. I can guarantee none of us knew exactly how hard this job would actually end up BEING...but we still wouldn't trade it--or you--for anything.