A Pact

People tell me all of the time

that I'm a good mom

but I don't ever really tell myself that.

I know what our life must look like

from the outside

but I also intimately know the reality.

I know my self doubt,

the feelings of failure that the boys have existed in a two home family,

the rapid fire schedule we keep,

the feeling that there just isn't enough time to just be.

Sometimes my patience is so short.

"Hurry let's go!"

"Get in the shower!"

"Stop fighting!"

"Stop crying!"

"Stop yelling!"

"Stop!"

"Stop!"

"Stop!"

And then I realize

that I'm the one yelling

and I should be the one stopping

and we're all crying on the floor

because I'm overwhelmed with them

and they're overwhelmed with me.

So Friday I made a promise

to myself

on the drive home from work.

I promised myself

 I would not yell at the boys

and that I would slow down.

All weekend.

No excuses.

So I did.

I picked them up Friday afternoon

and we went to the park

of James' choosing.

I stayed back

and let them do them.

On Saturday I worked until noon

and when I got home

I packed a backpack full of snacks,

a few water bottles,

some hand sanitizer and warm hats;

and we got on the train

to the Natural History Museum.

A girlfriend of mine

bought us a family pass last April (thanks Adriana!)

and I still hadn't used it,

which is totally depressing

and proof positive

that I've been running hard

in all the wrong directions.

I left Lucas to the map

and the itinerary

and just went along for the ride.

It was glorious.

Later that night

we snuggled under blankets with hot tea

and "Lord of the Rings"

and fell asleep together

in my heating pad warmed bed.

Sunday morning

Paul brought breakfast over

and the boys sword fought in their room

while we chatted like humans

with our coffee in hand.

I didn't scream once which...unheard of.

We made it to the mall

and to the Apple store

and then to Grandma's without incident

and the zen was so obvious

my mom even commented

on how calm and happy we all were.

When I was pregnant with Lucas

I had so many ideas about

the kind of mother I wanted to be

and then he came out

and a lot of my mothering

has stemmed from adrenaline

and a need for survival.

As the hours became days

became months and years

I've fallen and scraped my knees,

held on until fingers were cramped and bloodied,

slept less,

then more,

cried and pled

and then stood up

and started over.

It's been a journey

and a lesson

and a tireless exercise

in these two little boys

making a woman out of me.

They are my greatest weakness

and my greatest teachers.

As we piled into the warm train on Saturday,

the doors closing off the frigid, biting air,

I went to snap a picture of us

and Lucas said,

"Mom...we're in this together!"

Yes love...we are. 

Two Roads to the Same Spot

I met Paul at our Senior Luau

in September of 1999.

I was 16 years old  and had a crush on another guy

but I still remember meeting him that night

and thinking that given his 6'5" stature

and my love of high heels
he'd be the perfect prom date.

By February of 2000 we were a couple.

High school sweethearts in a big way;

first loves and everythings.

Sitting next to one another

on the bench seats of his '83 Caprice Classic.

And we went to Prom

and he left for college

and it was la la la la love.

Prom 2000

But like most good, sweet,
and innocent things

it came to an end.

Because I needed fixing

and he tried but he couldn't.

Because I needed loving

and he tried but it wasn't enough.

Because I was a bottomless pit

convinced an 18 year old boy

could solve all my emptiness

and he tried but he finally gave up

when he knew I'd drown us both.

And it was sad and I was devastated.

And we tried to keep dancing

and stay friends

but it was too painful.

And our lives had become too different

and I threw myself into a lifestyle

that had no place for him.

And I sunk myself in a counterfeit place

where I could forget about him and he moved on.
He chose his own path in his own wood

and we didn't speak for about a year.

Until we did.

Until I found myself
wounded from my life and so very lost

and needing to speak to someone who knew

who I was before I was what I had become.

And he answered the call and he came,

because that is who he has always been.

And because sadness and loneliness

and being 20 is super confusing

and fraught with impulse and irresponsibility

I found myself pregnant.

And we had two different ideas

about what needed to happen

and I felt alone

and resentful

and angry

and rejected.

And it was so hard

and it was so painful

and I crucified him

in thought and action

to myself and to anyone who would listen

because the wound was so deep.

And it took me a million years

times a million years

to realize that I hadn't been the only one

having an experience.

That he had had plans and ideas too

and now they were changed.

And in April 2004
our beautiful boy was born and Paul was there.

 

And that baby came home to furniture

his dad had put together.

And the first time Lucas was sick,

Paul drove him around in his Suburban until 6am
 because the noise lulled him to sleep.

And we weren't together

but we managed to be parents.

We did birthday parties and doctors appointments.

Picked schools and insurance.

And it was still hard and it was still complicated

and we made mistakes aplenty

but we limped along.

Limped off into separate personal lives;

mine which lead to another child 4 years later

and his into his own story to tell.

And anyone who knows me can tell you

that I really never stopped loving him. 

And it was years of hating instead of hurting

and stabbing each other in the back and in the front.

And if you ask him,

(which I have)

he stopped loving me for a very long time.

Always the more logical one,

he had closed the door and moved on,

placing me comfortably in the category of "Lucas' Mom"

and getting on with his own life.

And so we traveled for years,

each on their own path

but still in the same forest.

Peeking out every so often

to make sure the other was still safe,

even when we weren't meaning to.

And I don't know what happened

but suddenly we were back in front of one another.

Totally different but still the same.

And we circled one another suspiciously for months

and it was still painful

and it was still complicated

and there was still baggage.

And I kept saying, "Come on!"

and he kept saying, "Hold on!",

and there was a lot of "Slow down!"

and "What do you want?!?!"

until one day

there wasn't.

Until one day we must have said,

"The hell with it!"

and got on with giving each other a chance.

Buried old hurts and old selves

and got on with a new history.

This last year has not been perfect

and it has not been painful.

We've stayed out of the highs and the lows

and remained pretty much camped out

in Quiet No Drama Land.

Even in the rough patches and the growth spurts

we've managed to behave like grown-ups most of the time.

I think I only stamped away twice

which I'm pretty sure is a record.

I cannot describe the precious gift it has been

to love someone in a new way.

To burn it all down and rebuild it,

to be with someone whose worst

you've already seen

and bring out the best in one another.

Turns out those two roads led to the same spot.

I didn't know

it could be this sweet.

See Ya '12

The week before Thanksgiving I was

almost done with my Christmas cards

and half-way done with my gift shopping.

I was pretty impressed with myself.

And then I blinked and I was wrapping gifts

on Christmas Eve

because I don't know what happened

but suddenly I was way behind schedule.

The holidays were a blur

and I've been near death with the flu

since Monday

so here

(3 days late)

is my end of 2012 post.

January:

was for my 29th birthday

And February:

 was for flying

March:

 was for a retreat in the snow

And April was:

 for starting a new job

and art museum adventures

May was a month for:

roaming in L.A.

and falling for this guy

June:

 was a visit from this lady

a lost job,

and a trip to Palm Springs

July:

 was for frozen peanut butter pie

And August:

 was for splashing

and sunsets

September:

 we went to Sequoia

and pre-school

and third grade

In October:

my favorite girl and I ran from zombies

I threw a party

and my mom remained

the most awesome grandma

of all time.

November:

 was for turkey

and voting

Not in that order

And December was spent:

in early Christmas with the cousins

setting up dad's old train set

tracking Santa

and having everything I've ever wanted.

We got all dolled up

and watched one of our favorites

get married

and we rang in the new year just like last year...

on the couch.

Last year I left a NYE party early to go home to Paul,

and there on my couch

right around midnight

is when we decided to give this,

to give us,

just the slightest try.

This year I felt pretty crappy at the party we were at,

and we ended up home around 11.

I passed out on the couch

and Paul kissed me awake at midnight

before putting me to bed.

I love him.

This year has been charmed.

Magic and joy from our family to yours.

Huzzah!