Dream Makers

A few weeks ago

Lucas and I were driving home

when fun.'s "Carry On"

started playing on the radio.

He loves that song

so I turned it up

and we began to sing it

at the top of our lungs

"...If you're lost and alone.."

Suddenly
like a ghost from the past,

I remembered.

New Year's Eve night

2007.

6 months pregnant with James

5 days after I'd asked his father to leave.

"...Or you're sinking like a stone..."

I had gone to bed early

wanting to sleep through midnight.

I was so sad

and felt I had nothing to celebrate.

2008 was already breaking my heart.

At midnight
the cheers and fireworks

and welcoming of a new year

pulled me from my dreamless sleep.

I laid there,

one arm around Lucas

while the other held my belly

and I began to sob.

A deep, smothering sadness

pulled tears from my eyes

and forced my shoulders to shake.

When my mom came into to kiss us

she found me crying,

threw her arms around me

and whispered,

"It's going to be ok honey,

you're going to be ok."

But I didn't believe her.

"...Carry on..."

Every Mother's Day

since Lucas was born

has been bittersweet.

I've made it about my mom

and tried to enjoy my children,

but I'd be a liar

if I didn't admit that celebrating

without the boys' fathers

always hurt.

Holidays always made me feel

like I'd failed

at making a family.

"...May your past be the sound..."

As Lucas and I sang

down the 605 freeway

I began to cry.

Not out of sadness

but out of joy.

Because I remember

that New Years Eve

like it was yesterday.

I remember feeling

helpless

and hopeless

and

like I'd never get it right.

"...Of your feet upon the ground..."

Saturday night

as we kissed the boys goodnight,

me to Lucas,
Paul to James

and then a switch,

I heard Paul whispering to them about

Mother's Day.

I didn't know what they had planned,

but knew there was nothing I could want

that I don't already have.

"...carry on..."

I awoke yesterday

to bright faces

and breakfast in bed.

Opened crayon decorated packages

to paintings and drawings and handprints.

I got to sit in bed

with coffee and the paper

while Paul manned the kids

and the house.

We went to Ports O'Call

and ate seafood

and snowcones

and I'm just so love in love

with these guys
I could just melt

into a puddle.

We spent the rest of the day

with family

and ended at home

where I discovered

the newly erected planter

and freshly tilled soil

Paul gifted me.

Because I've been talking about

vegetables and snapdragons

and a zillion hopes
for that little corner on our patio

and he made it happen.

Nothing could make my life sweeter.

This life with my three guys

is beyond

my dreams.

"Not me," I thought for so many years.

Girls like me
don't get the happy ending.

But sometimes,
we do.

You Are Nine

You are tall and lanky.

Eyes the color of chocolate

and permanently tousled hair.

You still crawl into my lap

to watch America's Funniest Home Videos

and your belly laugh

has a domino effect on me.

On Monday you asked if I had heard

about the tragedy in Boston

and then we talked about it.

You said it made you feel confused

and interested and scared

and I didn't know what to say

because it made me feel

all of those things too.

And I didn't have an answer to why

but I wanted you to know that

when terrible things happen

you will always see some good.

There will always be people

who run toward the madness

just so they can help.

There will always be light

and humanity

and for your gentle heart

as with mine

this will offer some peace.

It was our first conversation

about a worldly event

and I found your maturing insight

fascinating and a little sad

because my ability to shield you

lessens more every day.

You lie in bed reading chapter books

and lecture me on the perils of smoking

and I'm mourning the ticking clock

of the little boy years.

Where is my tree climbing

mud slinging rascal?

He's there in your lanky limbs

and broadening shoulders.

He's in your silly jokes

and comforting squeeze

on your little brother's

tantrum throwing shrug.

We have the life I've always wanted for us.

We share a home with your dad and brother

and I tell you all of the time

that I feel happiest

when we are all together.

Feel luckiest

piled on the couch

with my best guys.

The two boys

who handed me the map to joy

and the man

who loves us best.

It is a great life.

A magical life.

And it is all because of you.

I couldn't be me without you.

We couldn't be us.

The story began with you Lucas.

It started with you,

my first mate

and copilot.

You are my north star.

 In the rockiest of waters

you steered us

into the safe harbor.

And before anything else

there was you.

Grandma always said

her wishes

for Uncle Gregory and I

were to have strong roots in who we are

and the wings to fly.

Roots and wings.

Those are my wishes for you too.

My sweet Pan,

This life is frightening and exhilarating

frustrating and joyful.

You will feel and know

all of these things

and because

you are so much like me,

you will feel them deeply.

It is a blessing and curse,

this empathetic spirit of ours,

but it makes

for astounding love and beauty.

Kindred spirits you and I,

forever and ever.

Love that smile baby bird.

Happy nine.

Love,

Mom

My Jamester

I knew I was pregnant with you

on a Sunday morning in August.  

Four years to the day

that I had found out 

I was pregnant 

with your brother.

I don't know how or why

but I just did.

We went to the fair that night
and rode all of the rollercoasters
and I ate deep fried oreos.

One of my favorite pictures
of your dad and I
was taken in a photo booth
that same night. 

We are laughing
and you are there too.

Those months were hard months.

You grew in my belly
beneath my broken heart
and tangled breath
and much of those days
are a blur.

But the night you were born
I woke up.

***

Earlier that week

I had been dismissed 

from the hospital

for false labor,

so that Sunday
I refused to go back

until I knew for certain

that you were really coming.

When I was admitted at 11:30pm
it was too late for an epidural

and so you came into the world

quickly and loudly

at 12:46am on April 7th.

Mine and your screams filling the air
on the same date as Clinton's birthday
at the same hour and minute as your brother
who had also been born at 12:46.

Seven pounds
and seven ounces
on the 7th.

777

My new lucky charm.

They brought you to me,

placed you in my arms

and the moment our eyes met,

I knew we were meant to be.

Later that morning

Grandma brought Lucas

and we sang you happy birthday

over a candle lit cupcake

and I sat there

on the hospital bed

with both of you on my lap

and we were whole.

You had been

the missing puzzle piece

and I hadn't even known it.

***

James Maddox,

My curly-haired sweetheart.

Master of make-believe.

Conductor of giant emotions.

You are funny and fiery

and greet me hello

with an enthusiasm

that feeds my heart.

You are sweet voiced and gentle,

tender hearted,

and tempermental.

My sweet boy...

Sometimes at night I creep into

your room

to watch you sleep.

Becoming drunk

on the small hand

that still grips my finger.

The soft breath,

peaceful face

and curled eyelashes

of the one

who brought the sun.

Happy 5th birthday my love.

You are wonderous and amazing

and I don't know how we ever lived

without you.

Love,

Mommy

From Hair to There

January 2013

For as long as I can remember

my hair has always been 

a prized possession

and an indicator 

of my emotional state.

When I was little 

it hung down to my waist

and my Grandma Maggie would

sit me down every afternoon 

to comb and curl 

and fasten with giant elastic ponytail holders.

The unwieldy holders 

with the big colorful balls

that would regularly snap from around my hair,

hit her knuckles 

and squeeze an "Ay!!!!"

from under her breath.

I'd sit with my drying curls in my hands

and watch "Facts of Life"

before going to play GI Joe

with my cousin Kevin.

My mom kept my hair long

and treated it with 

the most expensive shampoos and conditioners.

A luxury I didn't truly appreciate

until decades later 

when I lived on my own

and could only afford Suave.

The first time my dad took me to get a haircut

I told the girl I wanted it to my shoulders.

My dad begrudgingly gave in

wholly regretting it later 

when my mom met us at the door

with tears and shrieks
and

"Oh my god you're HAIR!!!!!"

I was 11
and it was my first rebellion.

At 14 I dyed it burgundy
with an ancient box of Clairol

and she grounded me for a month,

and when I was a senior in high school

and the cheer coach quit
at the beginning of the year,

I felt angry and abandoned

and like I needed a new identity.

So I cut off a foot and a half of hair

and said goodbye to my cheer ponytail

forever.

The summer before college,

in love with Paul but feeling

like my skin didn't fit,

I left the Newport beach house

my friend's parents rented every summer,

walked to a local salon

and paid $100 to cut it all off.

My poor boyfriend
wondered what had happened to me.

As the years have worn on

it's been every length

and every color.

Long and short and in between.

Dec. 2009 - My favorite 3 year old girl is also in this picture

Jet black and sassy.

February 2006 - mine and my BFF's best hair day ever

A reddish Louis Brooks interpretation.

 

Summer 2011 - Ugh with the cigs

I am secretly addicted

to cutting my own bangs in the mirror

at midnight 

with fabric scissors

and having to get them fixed 

by a professional

when the sun rises

the next day.

With both babies

the mixture of hormones and prenatals

made for long luxurious locks,

but without fail I would come 

to take shears out on myself

when months later
I couldn't make sense of anything

let alone what to do with long hair.

The last time I dramatically cut my hair

James was 10 months old

and my relationship with his father

was a mess of knots.

I wanted to cut away the past,

the energy,

the memories of some pretty tough years.

For months I had pleaded with my girlfriend Renee to chop it,

but believing it only to be a case of the baby insanity,

she refused.

Finally after months of my relentless insistence,

she caved and cut my bra band length hair into a pixie.

March 2009 - That baby face is killig me

It's been growing for almost 4 years

and I can't remember the last time I dyed it.

I'm sprouting grays

and sometimes I fantasize

about doing something crazy

with the cut and color,

but truly the desire is not there.

Sometimes I think it's because now I'm boring

(which I kind of am)

but also I think it may be because I'm content.

R.I.P. Twenties

My two biggest deals from 2003 - 2013

Tomorrow I will be thirty.

3-0

Three decades old.

I spent my 20th birthday in rehab

fresh out of the mental hospital,

so suffice it to say

it's been an interesting 10 years.

I had two babies
and graduated college
and worked 13 jobs.
Fell in love and hate
and like and lust.

I made friends
and lost friends
and fucked up royally
more times than I can name.

Today after work

Paul is taking me

on a surprise birthday getaway

and I can't wait.

My heart is full of the 

"how did I get here's?"

and

gratitude 

and 

joy

and peace.

There's a lot of peace.

***

I started to feel 

kind of sorry for myself last month.

Started to feed into

the fantasy of what my 20's 

should have been

versus 

what they had 

actually been.

And I mourned it.

I mourned that I had not partied,

I had not traveled,

I had not lived with roommates

or alone.

I turned those ideas 

over and over 

in my hands and in my mind.

Reflected on how 

I started getting sober at 20

and had my first baby at 21.

I felt good and sorry
and kind of bummed

until last week

when the pleasure of what actually was

started to settle in.

The lessons and adventures,

regrets and pain,

friendships old and new.

Things that I learned the hard way.

So here
without further adieu,

the top 10 lessons of my 20s.

1. Debt is easy to amass, impossible to evade, and painful to rectify.

The day I turned 18 I got 3 credit cards and a cell phone.

I went to college for 11 years and took loans out the entire time.

There is a very large number listed as my total debt on my credit report,

But I've also payed off a car and no longer receive 10 calls a day from creditors

so I've come a long way baby. 

2.  Being selfish can cost you friendships and/or an apartment, and "I'm sorry" doesn't always fix it.

A few years ago I lost a few of my oldest friends and got evicted from my apartment.

I didn't understand why for a very long time, but I do now.

The fact is if you show up at a friend's wedding without a card
but with your make-up done professionally

you are an asshole.

And if you pay your rent on your own schedule

because you are financially irresponsible

and expect your landlord to just deal,

you are also an asshole.

3. Really, truly sincerely, they ain't lyin' when they say

"You cannot love someone until you love yourself".

Two serious relationships, 4 intense crushes, a booty call,

and one Match.com debacle later, I can say with assurance

that no one was able to love me or fix me or know me

until I stopped needing them to.  

4. The baby stage of motherhood FLYS by.

I cannot remember what it feels like to nurse a baby

or to hear the sounds of my boys' coos and giggles.

It's been 3 years since an infant tub

was parked in my bathroom

and the scent of Johnson & Johnson baby lotion

hung in the air.

A slice of my heart aches with the thought and there is no going back

(especially because Paul votes NO on Baby #3).

5.  My parents' marriage is enviable.

When my grandmother died 5 years ago

each of her sons approached the casket to say goodbye.

When it was my dad's turn he asked my mom to walk with him,

and as he stood tearfully next to his mother's grave

my mom gently placed her hand on his back.

It was in that moment that I saw them for the first time

as the team they've always been.

There union is imperfect, as all unions are, 

but 22 years is not something to balk at and the big secret is the hard work.

The date nights and the laughs and the super intense hard work. 

6.  The best friendships will feed your soul.

They are the women who spent the night at my place
when the boys were at their dads
and I couldn't stand the emptiness of my house.

The ones who took me out for their birthdays
when I couldn't afford the gas to leave my house.

The ones who understand if I don't respond to emails and texts and Facebook messages
because they know I will eventually.

They are the ones who have front row seats to who and what I really am

and love me nonetheless.

7.  Quitting smoking is a bitch.

I picked up smoking 15 years ago.  Ugh.

I've managed to quit with both pregnancies and beyond,

but staying quit has been a beast.

I wish I'd never started and I hope my kids never do.

8.  Being responsible can be freeing.

I was never much of a birth control taker,

(Please meet Lucas and James!)

but last year I got an IUD (TMI sorry!) and hallelujah!!!!

I don't know why I'd never thought of it before

or why I lacked the wherewithal to take care of such matters

but I suppose life was exactly as it was intended to be.
And hello! the reward of a worry free sex life.

9.  You may not find your dream job, deal with it.

I spent 18 months post-graduation trying to find a job
I both loved and made enough money at
to provide the boys and I with the life we wanted.

I finally settled on one I like that comes with health insurance.

Because entry-level PR jobs are a blast

but so are health benefits and pay raises.

10. Practice forgiveness of others and of myself.

If I wanted to hang on to every sorry, miserable thing 

anyone's ever done to me I very well could.

I have the memory of an elephant and am an expert at revenge,

but I don't want to.

I want to be able to move freely about the world,

looking everyone in the eye,

never afraid to run into anyone, anywhere.

I've made so many mistakes but I can't change them,

so why would I torture myself over them.

***

Last week my girlfriend Andrea and I
were chatting about my amazing date night with Paul
and her fantastic weekend away with her husband.
She texted me,
"Are we really allowed to be this happy?"

And the answer is yes.

Yes we are.

Yes I am.

Goodbye angsty twenties
you were worth every drop
of blood, sweat and tears.

Hello thirties...

can't wait to meet you!

xo

Let's Rally

My sweet friend Kristin

has a sweet friend Adam.

A sweet friend who is a musician 

in the band Timonium

and is the founder of 

the Echo Park venue Pehrspace.

A few days ago,

Adam had a brain stem stroke.

He deteriorated for hours

in an emergency room

because 36 year olds 

who run marathons

are not supposed 

to have strokes

and he wasn't 

promptly diagnosed.

He spent a few days in ICU,

is currently recovering

in the neuro-telemetry unit of the hospital,

and Kristin said he is improving

bit by bit every day.

Until today

I was unaware that the costs

associated with strokes

are the highest out-of-pocket medical expenses

in the nation.

A fact not lost on Adam's friends,

and a fact they don't want him to worry about

as he focuses all of his efforts

on getting better.

If you can and want to

go here

and pay it forward.

May the force be with Adam.

xo

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.