Sunday, July 29, 2012

Friday Fotos 7/27 (It's Sunday...same diff)

Last weekend
my parents went to
my dad's 40 year high reunion.

Wasn't he adorable times 300?

I started a new job this week
and it is awesome.

Worked an event here.  Memory overload.

Admittedly I am a little gun shy
about the whole deal
as it's been a tough road
in the employment department this year.

But here's hoping.

I kept to my goal
of exercising 3 times this week
and almost died on the elliptical machine.

This was Day 1.  I didn't die until Day 3.

This ol' mare ain't
what she used to be
but she will be soon.

In fact she'll
be better.


I haven't always known
what defined joy for me;
always chasing
counterfit happiness.

That job,
those shoes,
that weight,
those friends,
that guy.

On Thursday
I woke to the sound
of Paul making breakfast

and Lucas singing in the shower
and I think I exploded
into a pile of glitter.

My bliss is finally here.

It is
in working with my guy
on his pet project,

It's a bed. He did all of the manly stuff.  I helped stain.

in following behind James
as he rides his bike in the setting sun,

in holding hands with Lucas
as we travel through an average Sunday.

Fawn-cy new drive thru car wash

My truest joy
is in the here and now.

With this life.

These friends.

These boys.

This man.

This body.

All I have is all I need;
and I have so very much.

New lipstick still makes me giddy.

Pretty in love with this song:

Purity Ring - Fineshrine

Weekends over folks,
and tonight I see Fiona.

Happy week ya'll. xo.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012



That is how many pounds
I weighed yesterday
when I got on my parents' scale.

It is only 6 pounds less
than what I weighed
the day I brought James home 
from the hospital.

It is 42 pounds heavier 
than the weight 
I put on  my license
when I was 17.

143 pounds.

A lie by the way.

I think I weighed
somewhere in the 150s.

My 29 year old self wants to punch my 16 year old self for hating this bod.

I have struggled with my weight
my entire life.

Always hating something
about my body.

My stomach has always been soft,
my shoulders broad,
my feet too big.

I love vintage clothes
but have never been able 
to really fit into them
I think the last time
I felt comfortable in a bikini
I was 5.

I put myself 
on my first real diet 
when I was in 5th grade.

Skipping breakfast and lunch
and jumping on a ski machine 
after dinner.

High school was much
of the same
and my unhealthy body image
fueled unhealthy habits.

I'm pretty sure I've been
on every single diet ever.


4-hour body.

"Eat nothing and Drink only lemon water" diet.
(I think I made that one up)

In college I subsisted
on caffeine, nicotine, and diet pills.

And I was genuinely disappointed
when they outlawed my favorite
weight loss go to.

Strokes and death be damned,
I needed to be summer ready.

The first time I remember 
really loving every inch of my body
was when I was pregnant with Lucas.

Yeah I gained 75 pounds 
and got lost in a triple-chinned,
swollen foot,
moon face haze,
but I was growing a baby dammit
and I loved myself for it.

3 days before he was born.  Fat and happy.

I was barely 21
and my body bounced back.

By his 1st birthday
I had lost all of the weight
on Weight Watchers
and running 4 to 5 times a week.

When I got pregnant with James
I was somewhere in the low 160s
which sounds like a lot,
but my clothes were fitting well
and I was feeling good.

I gained 60 pounds with him
and lost most of it quickly.

However by the his 1st birthday
the depression of my failing relationship
had ballooned me 
to almost my pregnancy weight.

Yesterday as I looked for pictures for this post 
 the boys and I came across images
from his birthday party
and James didn't recognize me.

I have yo-yoed ever since
and cannot seem to get where 
I like the size of my clothes.

I no longer hate my body
but I know it should be healthier.

One of my worst habits
is that I hate to exercise
and another 
is my love affair with cake.

My 30th birthday is
5 months and 1 week away
and I would like to feel
hotter, healthier, and stronger.

Yes in that order.

The goal:
lose 30 pounds by January 29th.

Bring myself down
to a weight I remember feeling 
good about.

I know from past experiences
that if I set up a big elaborate plan
I will fall short and give up
so I'm starting with small goals.

Yesterday I weighed myself
and took measurements.

I set a goal of doing something active
for 30 minutes
3 times this week.

I ran intervals on the local track
while Lucas was in swim class
and of course it felt great.

Next week I'd like to do that
and maybe use that exercise ball
collecting dust under the stairs.

The one I constantly yell at the boys
not to bounce in the house.

So here's to 5 months
and 1 week of getting
in better shape.

And for honesty's sake...
I'm not giving up cake.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Friday Fotos 7/20 (aaaaaand 7/13)

Keeping oneself
on a blogging schedule
is tougher business
than I had anticipated.

Especially when
it's summer
and I'm unemployed
and the sunshine
and kiddos beckon.

this one's a doozy.

We've been
bein' places
and seein' people.

So here go 2 weeks
of fotos...

I am typically a homebody.

However a few Saturdays ago
I got a call to head out for adventure.

It was 11:30pm
and I was in my underwear
baking cupcakes.

So I went
and it turned out
to be an adventure

I hope that this is
the last time I see
9am from the nightside.

Silverlake bathroom. 3:30am.

Officially too old and boring for this scene.

The next day we went
to a pool party and
my guy was the only dad
to get in the water
and throw the kids around.

that's one of the reasons
why I think he's
such a dreamboat.

Lucas was stoked to the max.

Last week
my parents rented
a house in Palm Springs.

and posh
and Paul came
and Lucas
was over the moon.

James was able to catch
a few days too.

Paul says he's had enough
Palm Springs for the year.

He hasn't received the memo
that there is no such thing
as enough Palm Springs.

We did a lot of floating.

My guys took me to the movies to escape the heat.

I made this frozen chocolate peanut butter pie and then we all died.

Recipe here.

(except I didn't have dark chocolate so I used semi-sweet,
and I didn't have dark brown sugar so I used light.
And when I made it again this week I used an Oreo crust.
It's a do-anything-you-want-and-it's-still-awesome recipe)

Friday I had the priveledge
of joining my best friend
and a handful of his nearest and dearest
to celebrate the life
of his young nephew
who passed away suddenly
last summer.

It was one of the most
beautiful events I've ever
been a witness to.

Summer storms mean amazing sunsets here in SoCal.

I am officially the paper lantern master.

The randomly purchased lantern was lime green...his nephew's favorite color.
I believe in magic and signs and this was surely all of that.

It pays to have talented friends.  The sax played as the sun set.

This week we've done a lot of this:


and this.

I also ate about
ice pops.

 And listened
to this song a bazillion times
because Lucas thinks
it says his name.

M83 - "Midnight City"

Happy weekend. xo.

Monday, July 16, 2012

The Elephant in the Room

It's the last picture
I have of them
on my phone.

I took it
at the Santa Ana Zoo
and it was
one of the last times
we were together 
as a family.

I don't talk about him
because there is
not much to say.

Or at least...
not much that is not
tainted by my anger,
and resentment.

We were together
on and off for 
almost 5 years
and most of it
was horrible.

The only light...
our beautiful son.

I was my ugliest 
with him.

The most dishonest,
the most insecure,
the most demanding,
the most lost.

And our break-up
was long.

And it claimed 
more hearts
than our own.

I have not known
how to deal
with such 
consistent hostility.

He spews hateful words
in response to simple questions.

Continues to attack me
as a mother.

Fails to meet 
financial obligations.

And still blames me.

In his eyes
it's has always
been me.

And sometimes I wonder
if he even knows
why he hates me.

I took the bait
for so long.

Signed up
for every fight
he sent my way.

I don't do that anymore
but it's still zero fun.

I have asked
for co-parenting counseling.

Outside help to assist
our navigating 
this odd dynamic.

But he refuses.

I hate who we are
as parents.

Paul and I 
did not have
a custody order
until Lucas was 4.

Even then
most of it stated 
that decisions 
would be left to us 
to deal with
on a case by case basis.

The lawyer said
we were the easiest
custody case
she had ever seen.

Even when we
didn't like each other,
we were still able
to discuss and agree upon
schooling, vacations, sports,
and the like.

This is not 
the case with James.

With this round
I stay in bed at night
on the verge of a panic attack
worrying about
how we are failing our son.

He starts school in September,
and if we are not speaking,
how will his homework get checked 
and weekend projects completed?

How will we manage
any discipline issues?

How will we sit
in parent-teacher conferences?

James can be 
so sensitive
and so unsure of himself.

I worry that he
feels unstable
and insecure.

I want to fix it.

I want to love him enough.

I wish we were capable
of a friendly exchange.

An open dialogue.

Really the elephant in the room
is not James' dad,
it is my feeling of failing my son.

It is my awkward silence
when Lucas asks,
why can't my dad
be James' dad?"

What can I possibly say?

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Ready or Not...Here I Come

Recently I heard about a couple
that decided to break up
over their mismatched views
on having children.

One wants them,
one doesn't.

They are lovely and awesome
and I hope they realize
they can't live
without each other
and decide to have
3456398465 babies.

Or at least one.

I also know of one couple "trying"
and one couple getting ready to "try".

All of this got me thinking about
my total non-choice in having children.

I think being a mother was something
I assumed I would do when I grew up.

After college and trips to Europe,
gin soaked vacations,
my own apartment,
and a decked out wedding
with the man of my dreams.

In my mind the idea of motherhood
lived in the land
of Far Far Away.

The last thing I did was plan it.

With Lucas,
I found out I was pregnant on a Sunday.

Labor Day weekend 2003.

It was the middle of the night
and I was high on a cocktail
of too many things
I am still too embarrassed to name.

I was living in a big house
full of drunken strangers.

I wasn't really speaking to my family,
my best friend had just moved away,
and the other half of the chromosomes
wasn't spending any time with me
in the daylight.

I've told this story dozens of times.

About how suddenly at 2am
I realized I hadn't had my period in awhile.

About how mysteriously there was a
pregnancy test under my bathroom sink.

About how when that faint pink line appeared
I blamed the drug haze
and my blurred vision.

About how the next morning
there were two more tests.

Brighter lines.

Clearer vision.

I know the first person I told
was my roommate.

And then maybe I told a few friends.

I know I went to Barnes & Noble
and died a thousand deaths
trying to find a manual
on how the fuck I was ever going to do this.

I settled on
"An Idiot's Guide to Pregnancy & Childbirth".

I know I called my mom
and tried to nonchalantly
request her presence
at an upcoming Dr.'s appointment.

And when she asked why,
my nonchalance crumbled into
whispers and sobs.

I know we were supposed
to meet for coffee that night
but we never made it out of the car.

And within weeks
I moved out of that crazy house
and back into the room I grew up in.

I gave up all of my bad habits.

It was less than ideal
and I have been so painfully imperfect,
but there was never a moment
when I doubted my choice.

Something in me just knew.

And when I started spotting
at 8 weeks,
I experienced that first
ferocious instinct
to protect my child.

My introduction
to the ever present parallel
of fragility
and tigerish indominability.

My pregnancy with James
was a surprise as well.

I do not know
what it is like
to plan for a baby.

Ovulation charts
and schedules,
financial and emotional preparedness
are foreign to this mama.

A part of me
still wishes I had had
that experience.

And another part of me
smiles knowingly
at the false sense of security
those things provide.

Because with all of the planning
no one is ever prepared
for a hurricane.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Friday Fotos 7/6

Things that suck:

a car that refuses to work,

a relationship going through growing pains,
financial insecurity,
a baby daddy that hates you
and tells you so on the regular,
the disease of alcoholism,
an ever present battle against depression,
and the feeling of exasperation.

Things that do not suck:

having all needs met,
having two wonderful boys,

having a job interview on Monday,
having my grandma at my parents all week,

car dance parties,

pool parties,
maiden braids,

4th of July,

s'more cupcakes and flag cake,

cake & frosting recipe here

garnish here

white cake, cool whip, fresh berries YUM!

having a slumber party kinda house,

"Movies Mom Loved When She Was Young" marathons,
(so far we have seen: Beetlejuice, Pee Wee's Big Adventure,
Jumanji, Mrs. Doubtfire, and The Sandlot)

Magic Mike and a theater full of screaming women,


cat-eye liner,
and the ever present belief that this too
shall pass.

Right now would be nice.

I believe we create our own lives,
that we draw circumstances to ourselves,
that the universe will continue to teach a lesson
until it is learned.

I believe we must stay
where we are planted
until we bloom.

I believe that in times like these
when my body and mind give up
my heart must take over,
and I'll be damned if I don't have enough heart.

I forget how much I love these guys:

Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah - Over and Over Again

Happy Weekend. xo

Monday, July 2, 2012


A few years ago
I made a new friend.

I think I can remember
the exact moment 
I knew
she was my people.

It was a summer weeknight
and we went for ice cream at Ride Aid,
her 4 year old daughter in tow,
and we spent an hour perusing 
the aisles.

Of Rite Aid.

And we didn't buy anything.

And it was so much fun.

There is something about this friend
that makes me feel safe.



She has come over
many a late night
to let me talk
and then cry
and then laugh
and then talk some more.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

She and I play tennis
with our thoughts
and feelings
and perceptions;
about this world we live in,
the men we have loved,
the mistakes we have made,
the children that have chosen us
to be their mothers.

She has answered my call
I wanted to go dancing,
when I needed help moving,
when I wanted to hike Runyon,
and a zillion other random requests.

Her soul is just a little older 
than mine,
but we've been friends for lives
past and present.

There really is no one else I know
who I am more myself with
and I am so grateful.

I want to know 
someone understands me
in all my neurotic,

Someone who sees me.

And still loves me.

Someone who reminds me
that all of this is circumstantial.

Our true truths
are of another world entirely.

Saturday we played phone tag a bit
and finally were on the phone 
at nearly 11pm.

I told her I had
a full head and a heavy heart
and she was at my house
in an hour,
her now 6 year old daughter in tow.

She and I were BFF in a past life too.  Swear.

We stayed up late talking
and in the morning
she and her daughter and my boys
all piled into my bed
for chats and giggles
until we got up
and I made breakfast.

The kids played
and we cooked
and then somehow
we all managed to get ready 
and out the door
for an afternoon pool party.

My blood pressure
never rose above zen.

A few months ago
we were talking
about relationships.

About how sometimes 
we want things from the men
in our lives
that they are incapable 
of giving.

She told me about
her belief
that men and women
are like seeds and soil.

The seed cannot 
give anything to the soil
because it has nothing to give.

The soil nurtures the seed
and must get its nourishment 
from other sources.

Other soil.

She said women must be like that,
we must be each other's soil.

And so she is with me.