The Crick in my Neck and What Shakespeare Has to do With It

My neck is SO tight tonight from all the driving I have done today, all the looking forward in my car, all the ho'ing I have done on behalf of my kids today. Not a single minute to myself, for myself, until now. I insisted on it. Some 'me time' -- it's after 11:00 at night.

My day started with a Dunkin' Donuts run, fuel for me and then a gas station run, fuel for my car. I was on a mission--Elizabethan garb and groceries. My son needs an Elizabethan-type costume for the opening of his play this weekend, "Midsummer Night's Dream" -- he's the duke. I discovered that in Jacksonville, in the 21st century, not so easy to find clothes of a Shakespearean nature. Furthermore, I don't sew so I'm not that mom who only needs a pattern or a vision in order to belt out garb. No, I buy what someone else has already made -- I'm that mom.

I started the search for clothes at Ross, nothing. Then Famous Footwear and Payless for shoes, nothing. Then Target for either or both, nothing. Then Wal-mart and, do I really have to write it? Nothing. I decided to take a break from the predictable pattern I was caught in and do my grocery shopping. I figured, I'd deal with the costume issue later.

Grocery shopping was oddly fulfilling in the wake of my unsuccessful morning -- more so than usual. To walk into the grocery store and have every 'want' met was exhilarating, I felt so freakin' powerful --I think I got a little high. Golden Classic Chicken Breast? How thick should I slice it? Thick, I say. Bottled green tea? Aisle 12. Carrots? Carrots. I even earned some free cheese when I brought it to their attention that I had been overcharged for my cheese. I didn't chance my luck by asking for bigger things -- I kept it reasonable and stuck to my list.

On my way home from the grocery store and still a little high from all that power, I saw them. Two police officers in the median. Checked my speed--reflex, who doesn't? As I passed them I looked in my rearview mirror to see one patrol car turn onto the roadway from the median--surely not. Then the lights. Maybe in route to an emergency? Perhaps. The car directly behind me moves to the right lane, the patrol car pulls forward and is now directly behind me. I try the same thing and move into the right lane--I pretty much know I'm busted at this point but there's always the chance that he's responding elsewhere. Sure as shit he pulls over behind me. I begin scoping for an appropriate pullover spot while emptying my arsenal of curse words.

I'll spare the details. He cut me some serious slack but I got a ticket. I waited to cry until I pulled away--I will not be that woman.

I made one more stop at a thrift store around the corner from my house, one last ditch attempt to scrounge together a costume for the dress rehearsal, now only a few hours away. The results? Well, in keeping with the theme of my day, nothing. Although, note to self, cool thrift store and I should drop-in more often.

Raced home to feed the munchkins with only two hours to spare before we had to be pulling out of our driveway. Checked my email. Scarfed salad. Sat for about 10 minutes and we were off.

After I dropped my little man and his friend off at their rehearsal, my daughter and I headed out, again, in search of costuming. Found a great frilly top in the girl's section of K-Mart and some dark gray sweat pants that I could manipulate into the balloon-like pants of Shakespeare's time. I wasn't convinced that the top would fit though, so we headed to Marshall's for a back-up and do you believe I actually found one? Quite unexpected in the aftermath of my day, I expected something more along the lines of nothing or something perfect in another size or to be run over the parking lot.

I should be saying that my day was almost over when rehearsals ended at 6:30 but, no. No, then I headed to Panera for a meeting with other party planners from our homeschool group to discuss and plan for our group's upcoming Valentine's Party. We planned, we sipped coffee, we veered off course and landed in other topics--it was cool but I wasn't making my way home until 10:30.

Finally, as we turned onto our street, I explained to the kids that I would love to read with them, like we usually do, but in light of the fact that my day was spent in total service to others, I was going to enjoy some writing and down time. They got it -- they get me.

I'm exhausted and am turning into bed now to rest and restore for another day tomorrow. It's all good.

Oh yeah, the clothes are perfect -- certainly fit for a duke of the Elizabethan era.

How She Does that Thing She Does and Why I Let Her

It all started with the table needing to be wiped off or an unrinsed dish in the sink or some combination of both. Who knows now--see how important this incident was? I've forgotten the genesis yet the effects will linger around us, shaping who we are to each other.

Nevertheless, my strong-willed, independent, lovely daughter was standing at the sink rinsing her dish. I was beside her loudly asserting that her unrinsed dish is not my fault--she stays turned away from me. Augh! She knows what this does to me! I take her arm and turn her to face me, recognizing that my grip is tightening as I yell at her to look at me when I speak. Daggers. Her eyes are hard and her lips are pinched together. She is climbing on my shit list.

The next series of events are irrelevant but needless to say, our hostility toward each other is mounting. I act unreasonable, she acts unreasonable--with a clear cut difference between us. I am the adult.

My daughter is teaching me how to have patience in the face of adversity, she's teaching me to pause in the split second moment I have before I cross a line I cannot step back over. She's teaching me peace...teaching me to be the adult. One day, hopefully soon, I will pass the test of my child.

Accomplishments and Splurges

The previous post, "Cooking with my Daughter" is my column submission this week. I'm determined to get back on track in that respect and this is my start.

The kiddos and I went on a cool field trip this morning at 9:00 which means I had to wake up at 7:00--I NEVER wake up at 7:00, I prefer 10 or 11. Anyway, we visited Sally Corp where they create Animatronics and Dark Rides. It was cool and the kiddos were able to see how artists, engineers, graphic designers, musicians, etc. can co-exist and build off each other's talent to create amazing end results! Who knew? Right here in my little city.

After our field trip, we headed to Panera for breakfast--overpriced in my opinion but worth every cent for our time together. We paid 16.00 for two breakfast sandwiches (sausage, egg and Vermont cheddar on ciabatta bread), a bagel w/cream cheese, large coffee and two hot chocolates. I spent more than I intended but I wanted to treat the kids to a breakfast with mom that was free of financial undertones--so I did. They're always helping me watch our bottom line, it felt good to splurge a little.

They were SO excited--you'd think I was taking them to Disney or something. And I love that. I love that breakfast with mom is a thrill for them. I love that I'm good company in their eyes. I love how they love me, simple as that.

After a few hours at home we headed to son's rehearsals and I started a new book I just received in the mail from Amazon--"Kripalu Yoga." It's super-cool and I can tell a few pages in that this is going to be an asset to my practice and overall well-being. I love when I get lucky with a book!

Following rehearsals we drove home and I practiced yoga for about 45 minutes and warmed some leftovers on the stove. In the spirit of splurging, I decided to have a Coca-Cola with my dinner. *gasp* I haven't had a real soda in months--maybe a year. If I do drink a carbonated beverage, I buy natural sodas sweetened with sugar and not HFCS--I just can't tell a difference. But tonight, I just wanted something other than water with my dinner and there was one Coke in the fridge leftover from family being in town. I pounced on it--I have no regrets.

This is me at peace with myself and at peace with my soda.

Cooking with my Daughter

She walked into the kitchen after her shower, her long, dark-brown hair, still wet, hanging over her shoulders. I was standing at the counter chopping onions and she stood beside me. "Can I help?" I considered my answer. I didn't want to say no, unlike my son, she rarely asks because she's usually busy with activities near dinnertime and not available. I spoke against my inner inclination with an uninspired, "sure".

I let her stir the simmering chicken broth and then measure out the arborio rice to pour into the simmering pot of onions and olive oil. I tell her to stir until the rice is coated in oil and she wants to know why. I think it's for flavor, I tell her. Then, she suggests an all-purpose seasoning that I have begun to use in everything--she loves it. Good idea, I tell her, as I have overlooked this seasoning and it's sure to make the dish.

I add the broth cup by cup and she stirs it in each time until the rice is soft. Then we add our spinach and artichokes and she stirs the pot one final time. While I take over, she pulls some bowls from the cabinets for me to fill with our time-together dish. I suggest a picnic on the living room floor and both kids cheer--"you're the best!"

Spinach-Artichoke Risotto has taken on a new meaning for me. It has become a dish that I made with my daughter one night. The dish we made together when I thought I was too tired to find anymore enjoyment in a long day. We carved out a memory from the mundane and were both filled with more than risotto when our bowls were clean.

Why I couldn't stop smiling today...and still can't

We were leaving the house today heading out to a nearby park for a "Dangerous Insects, Animals and Plants" workshop and then to our favorite used book store. I pulled up to the stop sign that takes us off our street and waited for the oncoming motorcyclist. As he approached, I saw that he was dancing. He had his headphones on, sunglasses (no helmet but I'll save my soapbox bit here) and he was jammin' in his own little world. Smile spread across his face, arms waving up and down to the beat playing in his ears, mouthing the words of the song and bobbing up and down slightly on his seat.

I couldn't help it--I laughed and couldn't stop smiling. This man is my new hero--what moxie! Once we made our turn, we were then behind him and he was still going. The kids were smiling too--they thought it was great! My daughter said she was going to try not to forget him and I thought the same thing to myself. We watched him fade into the distance ahead of us, still dancing and surely still smiling--that was the best part, his smile.

This motorcycle performer will not know what he did for me today, how he lifted our spirits, made us laugh and made us smile. I SO wanted to tell him how I admired him. How he reminded me to stop working so hard on other people's impression of me and just be.

Dance when you feel the music and sing if you know the words or even if you just think you do--why the fuck not and who the fuck cares?

If I don't stop moving...

...it seems I can accomplish a lot. Though I woke as late as I always wake, it's a bit after 12:00 and we've already had lunch and are moving our way forward.

I didn't stop for coffee this morning, didn't allow myself to indulge in internet time or Frasier (my weakness)--I just kept moving. Pulling the pot from the cabinet, opening the canned tomatoes and sauce, opening the canned navy beans and black eyed peas, chopping the onions, adding all to the pot on the stove, spicing it up and finally, upon a good simmer, adding the kale.

Deciding upon corn fritters to accompany what was seemingly a stew on the stove, I quickly grabbed the flour, corn meal and all other "fritter" ingredients and whipped them up in less than 5 minutes. Heated the pan w/oil and set to frying the fritters.

I am off to see what else I can accomplish when I keep putting those feet forward...

Full Moon Writer's Circle

It was three of us, circled in our chairs, nuzzled under our blankets to ward off the chill of the evening, waves crashing in the very near distance and the full moon overhead with cloud cover from time to time.

I had been invited into the forming ritual and was very excited to share my writing--in all of my years, I've never had a venue to share my writing--it had always been my anchor, my release, my therapy, my distance, my wall but never my bond.

The topic was "What have I learned?"--I only knew of this two days prior to the moon circle and could not coerce my mind into cooperation. Plus, I was overwhelming myself with answers to the question that kept leading back to 'nothing'. So I brought a poem I had written about 7 or 8 years ago when I had my first attraction to a woman--a poem that meant a lot to me as it represented a passing over, a new breath, a new facet of myself that I was exploring.

The first of our group read her response to the topic--"What I've learned since yesterday"--ahh, yes. That would make perfect sense now wouldn't it? Narrow the scope of the question into a framework more easily managed. Where was that epiphany when I was drilling my brain for what I had learned? I really liked her response--it was light and funny, humor seemed to come very easy and natural in her writing.

The second of our group read her response and she had broken hers down into categories--a laundry list of things learned. Another brilliant approach to tackling a daunting question. Her response was great as well--little vignettes of lessons along her way.

I was so inspired by talking with them, reading to them and listening to them under the full moon. I was savoring our time together, even after the sharing--sipping tea, nibbling on cookies and exchanging stories of our lives and our families.

We ended our evening with a group hug in the driveway just as the rain began to fall and I sang all the way home.

A few minutes after I walked in the front door my kids were each out of bed wanting to hear about my night. We kissed and hugged and I promised a full report in the morning.

Edit of my ass being kicked into gear

* Made it to the doctor's office--had my physical and all on the outside looks good. I still need to have blood work to have the inside cleared and will try to do that next week.

* Made it the used bookstore w/the kiddos. Daughter-bit bought a book on whales, Son-bit bought "The Box" and "Old Yellar", I bought some stories to read w/them in the evenings. One is "Catherine Called Birdie" to get us thinking in a medieval sort of way--we have a medieval faire coming up in two weeks!

* Did NOT accomplish the letters to our Peace Corps volunteer--on the agenda for tomorrow.

* Tried going without the heat until around 2:30 I could stand it no longer--I was freezing and had to cave. It's still on and I am toasty warm.

* I was extremely open to worthy uses of my time--not sure how many I actually accomplished but I was open. I did take a walk w/my son tonight while my daughter was in her tribal dance class--that was nice.

* I'm about to study the yoga postures I am teaching this weekend--it's why I can't dwell around blogville for too long tonight.

* I was grateful for life today--especially as I am one step closer to confirming my health is good and I have the rest of my life to give to my children.

If there is one theme for my day, I guess it would be blissful chaos. There was a hum all around me, I was sucked in and thrown out of the buzz, moving, going, doing, attending to and overseeing but all the while, I was a fierce core--a center. (And I only lost it once today!)

Kicking my ass into gear

I have had a spell of laziness. We were living a busy life before the holidaze and during the holidaze we caught a break. Well, the holidaze are over and I still can't seem to move my ass so I begin today with a few promises to myself.

* I will make it through my doctor's visit today.

* I will take the kids to the local used bookstore to pick out a book.

* I will FINALLY write our letters to our peace corps volunteer.

* I will turn off my heat for the day--sure it's cozy but a disregard of energy consumption.

* I will continue to be open to worthy uses of my time.

* I will review and study my yoga postures that I am expected to teach this weekend.

* I will be grateful for every moment of this life.

If I can at least stay on track with these, I will feel satisfied and fulfilled. If I decide to take on more throughout the course of our day, gravy.

Now I must go and wake the kids up so we can get our butts out the door for my doctor visit. Ah. There's accomplishment #1!

Evening...

I saw "Evening" tonight--a spectacular movie about an ordinary subject. Vanessa Redgrave's character is in her final stage of life and chooses to reflect on a certain period of her life as she moves toward her end. For more info, check out this link: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0765447/

I love anything that causes me to face my mortality. I am NOT going to live forever and I need those reminders so that I don't waste my time here--so that I am at best, mindful of how I choose it's spending.

Writing Time

The kids are writing in their journals right now so I figured I would be a good example and do some writing myself. Especially because I desperately need another column and have yet to stumble upon inspiration--usually inspiration for my column comes from my bad mothering moments and I haven't had any of those lately. I think for those sort of columns, the beauty is in their raw honesty--they're refreshing because it's comforting to admit, and have others admit, that this mothering gig is hard and we fuck up but we're not alone in our fucking up. And once we've moved past the fuck up, another is sure to follow. Give it time.

That's where I'm at now, not waiting to exhale--waiting to fuck up. But since I am currently dodging fuck ups, I shall share a blissful mothering vignette.

Last night was nice. My son was at rehearsals w/a friend and her family took him out to dinner w/them later in the evening. For some reason, beyond all explanation, I was exhausted--I had slept until 11:00 so there is no worthy excuse for me here. My exhaustion was exacerbated by the fact that I had a dull headache w/a firm grip on my temple region. This made for a sluggish existence and I'm sure my daughter had higher hopes for our evening together. Nevertheless, we stumbled through grocery shopping, had green tea sodas and made our way home. I warned her that I was crashing the second I walked in the door--and crash I did, after the groceries were put away.

She turned on Frasier, Season 3. I crashed on the sofa and she on the floor. Episode by episode we laid in the dark living room lit only by the television. It was a cozy waste of time but 4 episodes later, I was feeling much better. My dear daughter had been talking of jalapeno poppers--an appetizer she had at a family owned Mexican restaurant on her birthday--and was sucking me into her craving. So we scrounged the kitchen for some comparable snack. Turns out, sour cream, shredded cheese and hot sauce w/tortilla chips is not so bad--they're certainly not jalapeno poppers but are tasty nonetheless.

After our munchies, we cuddled on the sofa and watched some cool 'History of Rome' show on TV and later played Wizardology--I let her win *wink*

It was a nice savoring of time--I was not hostage to any preconceived notion of 'time'--what I should do, how much of what, etc.

Sure, there were better uses of the day yesterday. But for me, where I was, how I was feeling, I gave what I had and my daughter enjoyed our "time together"--she told me several times. We made a memory, a simple memory, complete w/green tea sodas, Frasier, Rome and rummaged nibbles.

This is me being at peace with where I'm at and where I've been and it feels damn good. In this place, I am one less critic--the harshest critic of all. Myself.

And the lights came down...

in our home today. Holidaze is over and I have to say, love the minimalist feel of my house--well, most of it. The craft room has to suffer abundance, otherwise, I'd be irresponsible. But the rest of the house says, who needs stuff when you got this family? The only clutter is the parade of frames telling a caption by caption story--the fairytale of family.

We packed away all decorations and put the normal face back on our abode. My little man raked the leaves in the yard and packed them into two paper grocery bags--I paid him $2.00, he worked hard and it was his idea to help. He didn't know he was doing it for money--what a great kid.

I had my Sunday baby over--we danced, had snacks, played a bit of the ole' imitation game, swung on the swing and ran outside. It was a great day! I showered her with kisses and inhaled that sweet baby smell from her soft, delicate cheeks--I just love how my lips sink into her round, fleshy little face. She's my walking, breathing yoga, man. Peace abounds when a babe is near--it quiets my mind, my heart, my soul.

(God I was born to be a mother--I crave children! I can feel this gnawing longing in my core--they bring so much contentment to a life.)

I tossed some espresso grounds over the fence to my neighbor (she uses it for her soil) and she tossed back a big bag of fresh picked (from her tree) organic oranges--nectar of the gods! Oh man--I'm 33 and have only recently eaten a fresh orange (thanks to her). I'll never be able to bring myself to buy them from a produce mart again--I'm ruined but what a way to be ruined!

My daughter has had a rough day. She procrastinated on her virtual classes and has a mother lode right now. I wish so bad that I could save her--she's been working since 10:00 this morning and it's almost 9:00. We stopped for lunch and dinner of course but the poor thing has gone hard core. And you know, she'll be okay. She's gonna pull through.

Things I loved about this day? My Sunday baby, my helpful little man, his sweetness w/my Sunday baby, the way he supports his sister (he was typing for her while she dictated some of her assignment because she was SO tired), my daughter's precious smile, her precious, precious smile, the way she falls into me when we hug, like she's holding onto time...you know, what am I saying? I loved every second.

It just occurred to me that this is what it feels like to really live. I did it man, in the moment. My heart is full and I am peace right now.

I must have been a near saint in my last life because we have our trials but I am blessed beyond the measure of the human potential for goodness...and I deserve every second of the joy.

Where I'm at..

I am guilty of dwelling on what I don't have and not FULLY appreciating what I do. Not that I don't love my life and all it's bounty but I occasionally think of what I still want that I don't have and allow it to sadden me or distract me.

For instance, I want a baby--that's no secret. Everyone who knows me better than a distant cousin knows I want a baby, another child, to experience this beauty all again. At times, the near impossibility of this weighs me down but what I'm forgetting or overlooking are my two wonderful children. They're not gone. They're right here and my focus needs to be on them 100% and come what may, when it might.

At times, I want more money--just enough to be comfortable, I want to travel, I want to be debt-free, I want ceramic tile floors, I want to paint the house, I want new windows, I want a play set in the backyard for the kiddos, I want, I want, I want.

I need an alignment of thinking--I want to be precisely where I'm at so that I don't stray from the one moment I am assured of, the moment I am guaranteed...the moment I am in.

S.O.S

We are sinking financially--can I get a fucking life vest?

There. I said it. I own it. Now really--can I get a life vest?

Oh, the thrill!

So I'm reading NPR tonight and I'm introduced to a book written by a "rogue" sociologist who infiltrated a tough gang in Chicago, even led it for a day and has used his sociological lens to explore his experience and theirs.

Okay, thrilling on two parts man. First, I LOVE sociology--I love the whole exploring social structures and social beings, it's my heart. Second, I also LOVE informal networks and power structures--I've seen the Godfather series more times than I can count and, though I hate violence, you gotta respect the way they get shit done.

Needless to say, this book is in my shopping cart at Amazon. I have dreams of a project of this sort--perhaps an extensive study on homeschooling moms--leaving behind the research I've already collected and speaking as an insider, whereby my status as "insider" affords me a certain, preferable perspective. Perhaps an autoethnography. But are homeschooling moms rouge enough, bad enough, whereby 'bad' implies a certain level of cool, are they gangsta enough? You laugh now but I don't know man. I've seen the claws come out--I've seen the nasty.

Okay, okay, so homeschooling moms are miles from gangsta tough--given. But I can sociologize on my own right?

Am I second-guessing my decision to cease writing my thesis? Was my assertion to stop a necessary step to push back, take a breather and move foward of my own accord, at my own pace?

We shall see.

Yum in the Tum: Peanut Butter & Honey Cookies

1 cup peanut butter
3/4 cup honey
1/4 cup butter
1 egg
1 t vanilla

1 cup flour
1/2 wheat germ
1/2 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
pinch of fresh ground nutmeg

Cream butter and honey together, add peanut butter and mix until creamy. Add beaten egg and vanilla and mix well. Mix dry ingredients together and add to wet.

This mixture is very gooey from the honey so it must be dropped onto the cookie sheet--it makes them delightfully misshapen--then wet a fork to press into the classic criss-cross design on top.

Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes.

Enjoy!

Disconnect: Food

We are disconnected from our source of food--meat, vegetable, grain. The life experience of the animal we consume is an enigma as we flavor it's flesh w/artificial flavors and offer no thanks for its life or its sacrifice. We are ignorant of the soil in which our vegetables and grains grow.

We drive our cars to the pretty brick buildings w/landscaped green space and we pull forth a cart to hold our goods and wares. We inspect the bagged apples, squeeze a melon and weigh the chosen. We smell the bread loaf and match our senses to the black printed date on the package--ah, good.

We pay the unknown behind the machine, collect our purchase and return to the home we left before our modern day scavenge.

Trust

Have you ever considered the amount of tacit trust we are placing in other drivers when we take to the roads?

I was reminded of this tonight when my children and I were almost run off the road by a sidetracked driver. I don't even want to think about what might have happened if she had succeeded--we were driving about 70 mph.

Amid the egregious level of disconnect in our culture, possibly our world, driving brings us together in a way that we are unconscious of until someone or something threatens the order, the harmony.

Extinction

I was listening to NPR tonight on my way home from my son's rehearsals and a writer was sharing the story of his mother's battle w/cancer and ultimate death. When asked if she feared death, he responded with, "I don't think she feared death, I think she feared her own extinction"

A thought I can relate to. I love myself too much to believe that I might one day be over--wow. The finality of that concept stirs me.

When Will She Learn

When will she learn
of her power
When will she learn
of her strength
When will she notice
the difference
When will she suddenly speak

When will she reach
past her limits
When will she reach
for her stars
When will she walk
in humility
When will she open her heart

I'd save her the time if she let me
I'd save her the pain if I could
I'd give her a window to answers
if only I thought that she would.

To my dearest sister, Ashley.

I love my sister and I am waiting for her to find her way out of darkness...

What I'm gonna do and why it's gonna be OK

So, sometimes I just write here to make myself write. Always hoping that something will spill forth that is incredible and moving, soul-stirring and deep, funny and comforting. Most times I end up with words intended as story starters that don't get past their, well, font.

Not tonight--tonight is different. I'm inspired. Or I'm hopped on caffeine and consuming even more as I type this--a homemade white mocha by my side. I'm sitting in the kitchen at the black desk I just moved in here for me. Yes, a desk in my kitchen. I mean, I figure, it's my house, if I want a fucking desk in the kitchen, I'll have a desk in the kitchen. The kitchen is the nucleus of this home and most often where you will find me. And for tonight, let's be honest, because it's the physical center of this house, it's the warmest room in the place on this frigid-ass night.

Anywho, I heard back from the Community Columnist Editor today--I can resume my column. I left off after three columns because my life got crazy but in the wake of the holiday I have been able to recharge and realign myself to my path--my column is important to me right now and I want to maintain a weekly contribution. Who cares if no one ever reads it--at least I can be googled. :-)

I will try to complete a column by the end of this weekend--not sure of the subject matter yet. Hopefully, I'll have material--as if this life could generate anything but.

Moving on, I have a theme song. It's Fergie's, "Big Girls Don't Cry", yeah, I own it. I've moved past the confession stage to assuming it as my theme song--it's playing in my earphones right now. What? I won't buy concert tickets or anything but hey, it resonates with me. I have no shame:

I need some shelter of my own protection
To be w/myself and center, clarity, peace, serenity.

I hope you know, I hope you know, this has nothing to do with you.
It's personal, myself and I, we've got some straightening out to do.
I'm going to miss you like a child misses their blanket,
But I've got to get a move on with my life.
It's time to be a big girl now and big girls don't cry.

The path that I'm walking, I must go alone.
I must take the baby steps until I'm full grown.
Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay.

I hope you know, I hope you know, this has nothing to do with you.
It's personal, myself and I, we've got some straightening out to do.
I'm going to miss you like a child misses their blanket,
But I've got to get a move on with my life.
It's time to be a big girl now and big girls don't cry.

Like the little school mates in the school yard
We'll play jacks and uno cards
I'll be your best friend and you'll be my Valentine
Yes you can hold my hand if you want to
'Cause I want to hold yours too
We'll be playmates and lovers and share our secret worlds
But it's time for me to go home
It's getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and center, clarity
Peace, Serenity

For as long as I can remember, I've evolved--spiritually, emotionally, mentally. It's almost a curse in that, I have no constant except that change...and the love I have for my children of course. But even my mothering has evolved and will continue to. To see the me of 18 and the me of now--for Christ's sake, I'm a fucking walking enigma. The only piece of me that I recognize is my strength--this life force inside of me, my power. I cannot be broken and I've endured enough shit. I've been proving this from my first breath--I should've died in my first week home, I nearly choked to death in my mother's arms. At one week old, all oxygen flow ceased and the color of my infant skin darkened, my eyes went blank--connection lost. Only after CPR from a neighbor who happened to be home and actually opened the door for a screaming mother who must have looked like a lunatic at first glance, only after CPR did I breathe again--my way of throwing my finger up the universe as if to say, yeah right--gotcha.

My grandfather tried to rape the spirit out of me but what that fucking freak never got was that, he couldn't touch me. Despite all of his touching, he never laid a hand on what mattered--he had no idea who he was tampering with.

As a matter of fact, it was during this period of invasive, forced assault on my young body that I began to realize my power. Somehow, I knew I should be crushed or annihilated and sure I was affected in various ways too numerous to mention here but something inside me kicked in and I knew the bastard wouldn't win--he would never win over me.

Time after time, again and again, I have lifted myself from shit piles and every time I know it's all good. I know I'll keep on, I know I'll thrive--there is simply no question, it's like a natural law.

It's how I know that I'll make it through this one--imagine looking at your life, especially at the person you share it with and finally admitting that it's not serving you--it's temporary, a passing period of time in a finite life. Anyone else might be scared. Not me. Me? I'm gonna be just fine, you'll see.