I Just Want to Be Superwoman

For Anton.....

2013-05-22T11:25:00.000-04:00

Once upon on time I knew I could fly. If I closed my eyes,wished hard enough, and said the magic words, I could fly. I knew because Anton told me I could.

Once upon a time, I knew I'd be the best prima ballerina, an Oscar winning actress and a millionaire. I knew I could do it, because Anton told me I would.

When we were young, my uncle Anton was my life coach, my playmate, my teacher, my inspiration and my partner in crime. He assumed in the most nonchalant way, that we would always succeed in whatever we had planned. So I had no reason to doubt it, as long as he was right next to me. I knew was good enough, probably better than most, because he told me. I knew I was smart enough, talented enough, because he told me. We played together, learned together and fought together. We finished each other's sentences, if we felt the need to talk at all. Whatever the other was feeling we just knew. At only 2 years apart we were twins in our souls. Inseparable for our entire childhood, now matter how crazy it got, he was my home.

When Anton left for college in Arizona I was 16. It felt as some vital organ in my body was being amputated. It was my first real heartbreak. I know my hysterical tears in the airport must have embarrassed him but he he didn't say anything. I felt lost those first few months without him so close by, like a phantom limb you keep trying to use. I was incomplete, not myself. I didn't know who I was, when I wasn't us. It was really hard to learn.

By the time he returned to the east coast, we weren't twins anymore but still more brother and sister than uncle and niece. I felt right again. But I had learned a little bit about being on my own. Not enough to like it, but enough to know I'd survive. Anton told me I would,

And then he left again, This time to Europe to perform in a musical. I was so very proud and so very sad. I was even angry. How could he leave me? These were our dreams, we were supposed to live them together. And I was afraid. I didn't dance the same after that. I kept feeling like I couldn't find the rhythm. Maybe I couldn't dance without my partner. Or maybe I just needed to look at his face to know that I had done it right. Eventually I stopped dancing and found new dreams, separate from the the kind of life we had planned as children.

Now we have totally opposite lives. I stayed close to family, he left the country. I got married, he came out. I drive carpools while he jet-sets through Europe. I don't regret our choices, only that we lost our friendship with them. We see each other on every other Christmas or if he comes to here to work. We aren't twins, but we can still finish each other's sentences. I don't talk to him nearly as much as I want to, but I think about him all the time. I know this isn't a tragedy, we grew up, we grew apart. It's just .....Anton never told me we would.

Bad Mommy Moment #3062

2013-05-06T09:59:00.000-04:00

For the most part I think I'm a good mom...At least my kids seem to think so. Well at least they rarely throw tomatoes and scream "you suck!" So I'm taking that as a win . But there is one mommy duty in which I consistently receive a fail! It hurts me to have to admit this to you all.

I am the absolutely worst tooth fairy in the entire world. I never remember to do my toothy thing. This is the third kid losing teeth so you'd think I'd have this down to a science by now. I mean how hard is it, kids puts tooth under pillow, I wait until kid falls asleep and replace tooth with money easy peasy right?? WRONG!! I always, always, always, forget. I don't know why. I get excited for them when they lose their teeth, maybe slightly queasy when they insist on showing the bloody hole(gag!) But by the time they go to bed and out that precious tiny tooth under their pillows... I completely zone out.

So last week on Sunday Syd loses another tooth at this point she's losing them way faster than they are growing back and I'm beginning to research baby dentures. And we do the whole "Omigosh! That's so awesome routine". And then we go on about our day. apparently she puts under her pillow Sunday night, and Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday night as I'm kissing her good night she says "Maybe I should sleep with my tooth next to me on my pillow because the tooth fairy can't find it. I keep putting my tooth under my pillow but it's still there everyday when I wake up. Maybe she can't see it?"

I'm thinking F%&K me, I can't believe I did it again! But I say don't worry I'll text her tonight and remind her and tell her where to look She says in wide eyed wonder" You have her phone number?" Of course I do, now get to bed!

I go to to tell hubby. I screwed up the fairy thing again. He reassures me that I'm a good mom and it's not a big deal and then says I'll make sure we remember tonight.
He reminds me, Syd gets her dollar. Thursday when she wakes up and we are all smiles.

And then Syd comes home from school Thursday with...Ta dahhh!! Another freakin baby tooth in a little envelope. We do the that's so awesome dance and get on with the day and night...and of course I forget to even tell Hubby so obviously the tooth fairy doesn't show up...except that Sydney wakes up singing I got another dollar from the tooth fairy...and I'm all like holy crap I forgot..ohh wait maybe I guess I didn't..I go to Hubby Did you give Sydney a dollar for her tooth, he's all like..wha?? And so that's when I start thinking , maybe cut out that half glass a wine at night I "occasionally" sip.... I rush about the morning routine with the mysterious tooth fairy still nagging in the back of my mind. And then as I drop off Summer for school as she removes her ear buds just long enough to say "oh by the way you owe me a dollar,,I gave it to Sydney for her tooth and I put the tooth on your dresser because I knew you would forget."

I give her an extra dollar and tell her she can most definitely take over tooth fairy duties from now on to which she agrees to by saying "swag" as she put her music back on and hops out of the car.

Everybody is happy, Sydney's got her dollar, Summer has a new job, and Mommy gets to keep her wine Whew!!! Crisis averted for today at least..

What mommy job can you just not get right???

Allow me to reintroduce myself...

2013-04-30T21:29:00.002-04:00

You know that feeling when you have when you've neglected a good friend, maybe you've forgotten a birthday or missed an important event. Not purposely of course, just life got in the way, you just got caught up in well...life. And then more times go by and now it's too late to casually mention it, so it gets more and more awkward...yeah well so here I am...back..I could give you 10 million reasons why I was on a hiatus but really life is my only excuse... So what have I been doing?....Bunch a stuff I promise to write all about soon, but for now let me just say hello, I've missed you, and I hope you missed me too....

P.S. All my readers know how dear Autism Awareness is to my heart...here's a link to my interview with Parenting Magazine about Autism: What we know right now...check it out

http://www.cnn.com/2013/04/16/health/autism-facts

Talk to you soon..Buh Bye

Finding Sydney's Heart

2012-09-28T16:55:00.003-04:00

I guess you could say I am an affectionate mom. My kids and I are very physical and verbal with our love. We say I love you, like a lot. I didn't think I would be this way, I definitely didn't grow up that way. So I probably over do it a bit.It's very lucky for me that my kids suck it up. It's can be slightly weird. I have a love affair with my kids, I mean this in the most pure way. They aren't babies anymore, usually kids this age start to push mommy away right? At least that's what I keep hearing. Thank God no one told my kids.

Summer's an official teenager now. 13!! Yikes right? And she's almost as tall as I am! Thirteen-year-olds are so not into mommy time and snuggles right? WRONG Not mine! At least a couple of nights a week you'll find us snuggled in my big bed pushing my poor hubby to the couch.Heads together, hands intertwined watching a movie or browsing YouTube until we fall asleep her head on my shoulder. She loves it, I live for it. She never leaves the house without hugging me, I need it. I rely on it.

DJ is the most romantic ten-year-old ever! Seriously....he's going to make some lucky girl's day, every day.
At an age when most boys wouldn't caught dead giving their mom a kiss in front of their class. He holds my face when he kisses me at the school bus stop and looks me dead in the eye when he says, have a good day Mommy, I'll be back soon. It's like he's going off to fight is some war, every day he's that intense. It's hysterical to me, and necessary for me.

And Spike, I can admit he may border on obsessive Everyday when he wakes up, he says Mommy you're here! As if he's afraid I disappeared the night before. For a child on the spectrum, showing affection isn't common but with me Spike is different, He actually offers hugs and kisses rather than grudgingly accepting them. I admit while I love how he expresses his love, It can be almost suffocating, sometimes I feel like he wants back in the womb!!

Every day and night in all these loving rituals, one person is missing.....Sydney.

She's just not that into me.

I think I only noticed it about a 6 months ago. That's terrible right? But once I did, I realized she's always been a bit let's call it..hmm.... reserved. I think someone had bought her a gift and I had to practically push her in to hug them. Or rather let them hug her, she looked trapped and she could not wait to escape.
When the kids come off the bus and I hug them and kiss them she kind of stands there and looks slightly pained as if she is trying to do me a favor. If someone says I love you , like out of the blue or unprovoked, she'll stammer out an "Okay". So after she said that to me for millionth time, I said but Syd I said I love you what do you say " She says umm Thank you?" I think she's always been this way. And so I went on a mission to find out why. I tried to analyze where I went wrong,. I cuddled, I hugged, I breastfed until she self weaned, I couldn't figure out where I failed. I obsessed on this ( I admit I tend to do that) And got some great advice from my dad "Man Syd ain't about that life" (This was his actual answer) After a while I figured I'll just have to deal with it.

Then one day I was cleaning out the kids old art projects to get ready for the millions of handprint turkeys and stick figure drawings sure to take over my house every school year and I come across Sydney's big Red Valentines Heart with the Cheerios glued on it from preschool, it says "Sydney loves mommy" in her crooked and backward lettered handwriting. And tears sprung to my eyes. Then I find a construction paper candy cane that says "I love U mom". These make me smile, I wanna dance a victory dance, see she does like me! Maybe I'm onto something..I take a walk (okay maybe I ran)to our overcrowded refrigerator/ art gallery . In the flutter of DJ's superheroes and aliens and Summer's water color sunsets, and Spike's weird egg shaped guy he repeatedly draws, I notice all of Sydney's pictures have a theme..Me! We are on the swings, we are at the park, we are being chased by a rabbit..I'm not gonna even ask about that, and she writes notes on them, "I love Mom", "Sydney and Mom", "Sydney loves Mom". So of course now I am relieved and overjoyed.

I'm also reminded of a lesson I thought I had learned, everybody doesn't express love the same. I know I can't expect Syd to love me the way Summer does or Spike does or even the way I love her. So I will love her my way and be forever grateful that she loves me in hers. And if I'm ever in doubt I'll always have that red Cheerios heart.

Is It Ever Okay to Settle in Marriage?

2012-09-23T15:39:00.002-04:00

Is it okay to settle in marriage? And what does that even mean? I am trying to figure that out. I have a lot of single girlfriends, many more single girlfriends than married ones. So I am often a source for advice on relationships (although I have no idea why anyone would think I have any idea what I'm doing!) So here goes my take on the subject.

For whatever reason, settling has been a topic of conversation lately. Why? I think when women get to certain age they may start to feel like if they haven't found the one, he isn't out there, so they start changing what they are looking for. Which isn't always a bad thing. I have one girlfriend who always said she would never date a man with children, and she didn't. For years, no amount of convincing could change her mind. After a few unsatisfactory relationships with "unencumbered" men, she found out that some of them can carry baggage a lot more dangerous than a meddling baby momma. Today she is married to great guy and has two step-children she adores. Did she settle for less because she changed her standards of what's acceptable and what's not? I don't think so. It's okay to put away your idealistic views of happily ever after in order to find your true Prince Charming.

Now I have other friends who are tired of looking for Mr. Right and are willing to settle for Mr. Alright. Should a woman commit and even marry a man she isn't attracted to at all, because he happens to be willing and able and financially stable? If he's a great guy and she doesn't love him, should she bite the bullet and take a chance that in time she can learn to love him? In this case my advice is a great big No! Since when did love and physical attraction in a marriage become optional? While I'm sure you may be able to trudge through for a while, aren't you setting yourself up for failure, inviting the temptation to cheat with a man you actually are attracted to? And what about Mr. Alright doesn't he deserve a woman who thinks he's the Grand Prize and not the consolation one?!?

Bottom line, it's okay to be a bit flexible when searching for your ideal spouse as long as it doesn't compromise the very basic yet important needs of your heart, mind, body or soul. And true love? I can't think of anything more important than that.

It's the first day of school!! How did I do???

2012-08-21T01:37:00.000-04:00

How was your summer? I must have asked and answered that question fifty times over the last few days during the countdown to school. And what can I say? It was ....regular.I had my usual high hopes for the summer. Family trips. Gourmet picnics. Lazy Beach Days. Summer play-dates. Planned educational activities. Making scrapbook worthy childhood memories that my kids would remember for ever. So how did I do? Ehhh...not so good.

I mean we hit the beach..and the parks. And we did a picnic or two although I'm not sure if Lunchables count as gourmet. But for the most part we did a lot of nothing...We slept in ridiculously late and stayed up into the wee hours. We watched hours of Nickelodeon and rented every movie we missed in the last two years. They played video games and I cheered. I played video games and they laughed at me. We blew bubbles in the yard and drew chalk characters on the sidewalk. And after a lazy eight weeks doing Nada, I have to say I am exhausted!!

I was starting to miss the structured school days with early bedtimes and strict schedules. The days of summer tend to blend one into another and I find myself behind on work, on writing, even on housework. So although the last week before school was uber stressful trying to outfit four kids with new clothes, shoes and freaking a Office Depot worth of school supplies (seriously I went to school with a few composition notebooks, pencils and crayons) I spent days organizing all the schedules in my favorite new planner It's so awesome because it has a mom space and pace for up to four kids, space to menu plan, keep track of doctor's appointments, it's my best friend! (you can find it here www.momagenda.com).

I even planned a new work, writing and work out schedules. I planned meals, outfits, EVERYTHING. I was so ready to get every day life back in order. I was ready to send the kids to bed early and was so ready for a smooth and organized start this morning.

And then my A/C decided that this 90+ degree weather would be a GREAT time to cut out and the repair man won't be here until tomorrow the morning, yes, I'm glistening as I type this. ( I won't say sweating because I'm a freakin lady and I don't sweat) So Sunday night had us all cranky, hot and just discombobulated. And so of course Spikey wakes up at 3:26 AM, climbs in my bed and proceeds to do full episodes of Pocoyo complete with British accent and the commercial breaks. I am not saying this for comic relief. This is my real life. I put him in his own room twice but he wakes up his older brother so I bring him back and suffer in (almost) silence. Sometimes he stops doing scenes and asks for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I want to cry. My husband rolls over and snores. None of this is in my planner.

At 5:45 my alarm goes off. I turn it off right away because I am still awake glistening like a freakin pig and listening to baby boy be British. I drag myself to the kitchen and start to gulp coffee like it's some Greek God's elixir. I want to reach for a box of cheerios, But I promised pancakes and pancakes are in the planner IN PEN!! So I wake my Big Girl and start the batter. Spikey is still being British, only now along with the TV. Big Girl is now having a conniption because the oven we have just spent the night in has frizzed her Hair that I spent 2 hours flat ironing the night before and she looks something like a Chia pet, so as I attempt to wrestle with her hair I burn the whole first batch of the homemade blueberry pancakes. So I have to start over and baby boy is whining for a pop tart. Here is where I say you will eat these pancakes if it kills you or me. Now I wake up Junior and Hurricane as per the planner's schedule. He asks for a few more minutes and Hurricane decides she'd rather wear a different outfit...wtf is wrong with this kid, doesn't she know I already wrote it in the planner???? Who does this? After some negotiating and foot stomping ( by me) we agree on an outfit. Which means she wins. Now I have burned another batch of pancakes.

I have to use all the super powers in my arsenal to get everybody fed, dressed and myself in my workout clothes, because although I haven't slept, a mile walk is in my planner's schedule. So I'm doing it. Big girl goes off without anymore trouble. So I feel it should be smooth sailing from here. Spikey, his cherry Pop-tart and I walk Big Boy and the Hurricane to their bus stop on the corner, where I proceed to get bit by six hundred million mosquitoes. And the bus takes forever, so I am covered with bite marks. By the time it comes I practically throw them on the bus and run like a mad woman back to the house. Once inside I have to change Spikey into a non-planner sanctioned outfit because the current one has smashed cherry pop-tarts all over it. And then we wait for the bus, and wait.... and wait and I get bit some more so we come inside and wait. And I call the school and the school bus company because the bus is 30 minutes late and school is going to start soon. As I reasonably discuss the situation on the phone (maybe I yell a little) I notice Spikey is now snoring and sweating because I mean it's 8:45 and he's been up since 3:30 so he's a little tired and it's 380 degrees in my house. They apologize say he will be picked up tomorrow and I can bring him in if I want to. Yeah right, I debate for half of a second before I get his sleeping body undressed and put him back to bed. and as I make my way to clean up the tornado swept kitchen, I hear loud annoying beeping outside. Of course, it's the school bus for Spike. The one they just told me wasn't coming. So I rush and tell them give me five minutes as I dress him for the third time and carry his half sleeping British butt onto the bus. Cars are backed up down my street honking. I don't give a half you know what.

Finally I walked back in the house and look at my planner open on the counter with smashed pancakes on the page. I see my to-do list of exercise, work and chores, I make a left into my bedroom peel of my sweat soaked sports bra and shorts and go directly to sleep in my oven hot house.... for four hours.

Maybe I'll try my planner again tomorrow, and next time I'll write in pencil.

Before it's too late......

2012-08-05T23:13:00.000-04:00

In life and in relationships with your friends and family there are lots of ups and downs. Times when you are close and times when you are distant. Friends have arguments, families have fall-outs, spouses have disagreements.

Most times you make up pretty quickly and then sometimes you don't. And you let some time go by , and you tell yourself I'm just gonna let it cool down. And then life happens and you may tell yourself I'll get to it one day. I'll get to it when I see them again. Or maybe you thought some thing was unforgivable at the time and later you change your mind and you may forgive them in head and heart but you never get around to saying the words. And sometimes there is no disagreement at all, you just drift apart you promise to catch up one day and yet that particular task never makes it to the top of your to do list, because it doesn't seem as urgent as that laundry pile or that important project.

We should always take the position that there may not be time tomorrow. Sometimes the last time you saw someone becomes the last time you ever do. Or that this last petty argument could have been resolved with a simple apology, but now you've lost someone forever. That the most important thing you can do today is let someone important to you know that you love them. You may not get another chance.

Rest in peace Aunt Deborah. You will be missed !

2012-07-10T02:20:00.001-04:00

I've been chosen as "Black Blog of the Day"

I'm honored, Thanks so much!!!

http://www.blackbloggernetwork.com/category/black-blog-of-the-day/

Happy Birthday??? Whatever...

2012-07-10T02:16:00.000-04:00

Despite the Hallmark's constant reassurances, birthdays aren't usually all that magical. After 21, I haven't found anything to be really excited about. They aren't sad occasions per say. I don't cry or get tragically depressed. They are just rather blah, like whatever another year closer to menopause. But the last few birthdays have made me rather nostalgic. I don't feel sad so much as disappointed. I started to feel like time is flying past and I have so many things left I want to do and not as much time to do them. I used to feel like, I'll start that novel next year, or finish that screen play in a few months. I'll go on that trip one day, etc. I have time...but do I really? Personally and professionally, I have about a hundred things, I figure do one day.

I know most people use New Year's Eve to make resolutions and major commitments and changes to their lives. But that's awfully generic isn't it? maybe that's why so many people (including myself) relapse into old behavior so quickly. I've decided to use my birthday from now on to review and renew my own life. After all that's a day that's really about me! A day to explore where I've been and where I'm going and if I want to change course, what better day to start!

So for this upcoming birthday and all the rest to come, (July 11th, send presents!!) I am going to celebrate myself, my birth and rebirth. Make my personal new year's resolutions, because hey it's my new year! So I'm working on a list of birthday resolutions.... what I want to have accomplished before I am thirty-mindyabusiness years old. This feels so much more personal and doable than that New Years Eve, lets go on a diet/workout more/save more money /follow your dream bull.

So what am I resolved to do? I dunno, probably go on a diet, work out more, save more money, and oh yeah follow my dreams. Don't judge me...

Waiting for the Green

2012-06-29T01:33:00.000-04:00

A simple foray into my overstuffed closet to put away laundry triggered some self-realization and has inspired me to make some changes in my life.

As I struggled to make room for the same sweats and shorts I wore last week and will probably throw on again this week, I stopped to admire of many dresses with a tag still attached. It wasn't a recent purchase, I've probably had it about a year. As is my habit, I styled it in my head, recalling some cute wedges I bought last summer that also haven't been worn yet and chunky bangles. I've always done this. I plan outfits, looks, ensembles, down to the eye shadow. But I never wear these stunning creations.Well rarely since becoming a WAHM. But I keep buying. I don't think I'm a compulsive shopper or a clothes hoarder (though Hubby might argue this point). I'm just waiting for the right reason to wear the outfits. I started to straighten up my desk and I see two brochures and applications from two film courses I want to take. I'm just waiting for my life to slow down, finances to speed up,etc, to apply to the schools. After I cleared my desk, I went through my inbox and read emails from two charitable organizations I did actually join, but have yet to attend a meeting or function to, because I'm waiting... waiting....for the right time.

Yeah, I see the pattern too. I'm always waiting for "something" to begin the life I want to live. I can't remember who told me that I need the right moment, or a clear path in order to make a positive change. But I'm guessing somebody must have. But I'm beginning to suspect I've been scammed, While I'm waiting for a green light, somebody else is taking my spot in that class, wearing that outfit, heading that new project, writing that story and I'm thinking no one told them ready, set, GO! They just went.

This will be hard habit to break. But It can only help me. I promise myself today to stop waiting for the green light, the clear path, the right omen. I'll blow my own whistle and start the race now.....maybe

My Soapy Past...Ode to Soaps

2012-06-13T23:28:00.002-04:00

Tonight's premiere of the new Dallas has me nostalgic for my soaps, All My Children, One Life To Live, Dynasty, Knots Landing. Televisions line up is chock full of talk shows and reality shows. They can be entertaining, but it can get tiresome. I miss the days of scripted dramas, with twists and turns and ball gowns with shoulder pads. In honor of tonight's Dallas comeback. I am re-blogging a post I wrote a while ago about my soap love.

An Ode to Classic Television Soaps and 41 Years of “All My Children”

So, in addition to my many varied entertainment addictions, is my sometimes secret shame.... Daytime Soaps. Yes that's right, I said it. Most people who know me, would call me a TV snob. I'd like to say I'm a connoisseur of sorts. I respect the art of good storytelling and cannot be convinced to watch a show because it's popular, if it's just not there.

This is why I've always found it hard to defend my 30 year love affair with Pine Valley. I mean I've heard all the complaints, they're too predictable, too far-fetched, the writing is bad, the acting is bad. Then there are the stereotypes for soap watchers, I recently came across one study that said “Typically, soap viewers have been equally condemned and stereotyped for their addiction to this so-called mindless form of entertainment. Early accounts of the radio-soap listeners envisage groups of educationally backward, emotionally and socially deprived women, all eagerly tuning in to their favourite serial. The typical listener was thought to be a lower-class housewife, using soaps as a form of escapism from mundane isolation in the home and an indisputable source of advise on personal problems” [Buckingham, 1987 : 5] Seriously? This doesn't make you want to wave your Soap Fan Flag. I will admit I have occasionally had the same complaints about my beloved soaps. I've laughed derisively at ridiculous plots and thrown the remote down in disgust and vowed at least 2 times a week, to never watch this bull^&*@ again!

So why did the prospect of soap (that I've watched maybe weekly at best for the last few years) leave me in genuine tears? This is before I even tuned in to watch the last two weeks of episodes. Now that I've had a few days to recover and analyze it, I think I've figured out why. Of course, I love it for all the typical reasons: mindless entertainment, the escapism, melodramatic romances, all the corniness you expect from a soap. But its been more than that to me. Soaps were always on in my house when I was young, My mother and grandmother were both ABC soap fans ( though they've both long since stopped watching). I can remember the first day I actually paid attention to them. In November 1981 my mom picked me up from Kindergarten, and she rushed back to my grandmother's house, I can remember my mother and grandmother shushing me repeatedly, while they stared at the screen as they watched Luke and Laura's iconic wedding. Out of boredom and maybe some curiosity I watched too. I'd like to say I was so blown away by what I saw that it made me a fan for life, but that's a lie. Gimme a break I was five years old. What I do remember is the connection I felt between them as they watched and discussed the epic episode. They bonded as they watched “their show”. I wanted to be a part of that. So I pretended it was my show too. Until one day it actually was. I turned to ABC Channel 7 everyday at 1 pm on every summer vacation, every sick day, every school holiday.

By the time I got to high school I started taping them. They became a part of my life through their sheer consistency. Even if I ignored them, for weeks or months at at time, while I became engrossed in new friends, new boyfriends and new activities whenever I looked for them, they were still there waiting, as if they knew eventually, I’d be back. I didn' t need a reintroduction. There was no awkward reunion. In the space of a day or maybe two, It would be like I never left. I've heard people reminisce on the music soundtrack of their youth. I think I have a ABC Soap film reel of my youth.

And as fantastical and over the top as they were, they taught me so much, I was pulled from my seemingly important teenage dramas of grades and cheer-leading and boyfriends, into stories involving serious issues, my school and friends and family weren't talking about, like cancer, mental illness, rape, drug addiction and homophobia. As I raged and cried and suffered along with my favorite characters, I was exposed to issues that would one day touch my life. And I wouldn't be lying if I said it gave me empathy and a perspective at an earlier age than a lot of my peers. But I didn't just learn from their tragedies. I watched characters go from enemies to super couples and I learned to give people second chances. I watched the under dog characters that no one believes in anymore climb out of well or save the day and shock ( well not really) everyone and I learned perseverance. I watched con men, murderers and rapists save lives, selflessly sacrifice themselves or bring another beloved character back from the dead and I learned the power of redemption. I watched soul mates die ( sometimes 2 or 3 times) and come back to each other and I saw love's undying devotion. And they never let me down. They were always there, waiting to give me exactly what I didn’t even know I needed on that particular day. So I cried for more than an entertaining TV show, more than a deeply ingrained habit, I cried for my friends, these characters that have lived in my head and heart for thirty years, making me laugh, cry and throw the remote.

Good Bye “All My Children” I'll miss you.

Super Mom Guilt

2012-06-12T11:55:00.000-04:00

In the internal (and sometimes external battle) of Stay at Home versus Work Outside the Home moms. I was pretty sure I had won the war when I became a Work at Home mom. I figured that a flexible schedule and a low minimum of time requirements would allow me to contribute financially to the household, take care of my family and leave some time to pursue my writing. I win right? Umm Nope. I wonder if everyone isn't losing.

When I'm working, I feel like I should be playing with the kids (actually they are standing there telling be I should be playing with them). So I never put in the time I promise myself I'm going to put in. When I am spending time with the kids, my mind constantly wanders to that pile of dirty laundry that's been giving me the evil eye for two days or the scene I promised my writing partner I'd have finished tonight. And if I buckle down to write that scene, I'm haunted by the money I'm not making chasing a dream instead of putting in hours at my "real job". And since I am obviously a glutton for punishment, I then start a blog so I can feel guilty about not posting regularly. Oh and I did I mention my parents have started a new family business. How much is it for that cloning thingy? I need like three. After I run on this guilt treadmill for about a week, I spaz out and do nothing for a full 24 hours, which will only give me more guilt fuel for doing nothing when there's so much to be done.

I've seen WAHMs who juggle everything without dropping a ball. How the hell do they do that??? They are scheduled and structured and manage their time all efficient-like. That's how I imagined myself to be. I can barely manage to find time for a shower. I try so hard. I make to do lists, I meal plan, I schedule time for everything and I write it all in my cute way too expensive planner, and I stick to it for 3 days at the most then I can't find the lists, forgo the meal plan for grilled cheese and forget to crack the planner open for days at a time. Then I start all over again at which time I see that I missed my daughter's eye doctor appointment, a writing deadline and didn't send the cable payment.

I'm so tired of being tired, so I promise this to myself today. The guilt stops now. I will not make to-do lists that are longer than my supermarket receipts. I will not flog myself if a Martha Stewart dinner isn't on the table every night. I will not trade sleep for work. I will not expect two novels a month. I will not make activity filled mind stimulating playdates with my kids.

I will do what I can on the list, and give the finger to what I can't. Laundry be damned! When the kitchen starts to look like a prison, I will serve PBJ with a smile. I'll just hang with my kids and veg out. I will write my movie, my novel and this blog, when I feel inspired. And I will sleep, at least sometimes. I will learn how to say No, I can't do that! Even to myself. And I will not feel guilty ( or at least I'm really, really going to try). And now I have to sign off because that evil laundry pile is starting send me death threats.

My Life in Films

2012-05-29T01:07:00.003-04:00

Films That Remind Me of Childhood

Annie - I was (am) in love with this movie. First, it's a musical, You'll notice this will become a theme. My uncle, my cousins and I would dance and sing the entire movie back to back, much to the chagrin of my mom. I even had the soundtrack album. I seriously considered the benefits of being an orphan

The Neverending Story - I was a total bookworm, so the idea that I could enter into a story and live it and manipulate the characters ( I'm so NOT a control-freak) was intoxicating. I watched it until the VCR tape broke. I still watch it every time it comes on. I tried passing it onto my kids. They like it but they don't love it like I did. Maybe good taste isn't hereditary.

Fame - ( Musical) I wanted nothing more to wear leg warmers to school everyday. I still watch it at least twice a year and feel all sad and has-beenish and yet thrilled to see it all at the same time. However, when I wanted to share it with my kids, I found the very questionable content in some areas also put it in the next category.

Childhood Films Where Removal was Necessary

I don't think my mom ever bothered to remove me from any movies. For some reason she didn't feel the need that I do to prescreen everything my kids will watch. Maybe she should I have because I can think of a few movies where removal was probably smart. 1. Nightmare on Elm Street: Johnny Depp hotness aside. I was terrified of that movie, I had multiple Freddie nightmares, where I barely escaped death. I occasionally still do. 2. The Godfather 1 and 2: I don't know if many other children watch this. I did multiple times. I think it totally desensitized me to movie violence. So I never blinked at Fight Club or Boondock Saints, go figure. It also started my lifelong obsession with all things mob and mafia related. I tried to name my son Santino. Don't judge me.

Films that Defined My Teens

Heathers- Before Mean Girls and the seven trillion sequels to "Bring It On, there was Heathers. Who didn't secretly think about offing their high school's Queen Bee? Wait maybe that was just me. Anyway heather's was seriously deranged and funny and seriously smart at the same time. And I loved the idea of a signature color and adopted mine way back then.

School Daze - Yes another Musical! Well It has important social issues like apartheid and racism within the black community. So is that why I loved it? Nope there were black people that looked like me and real music that played on the radio and great dance sequences and Tisha Campbell and Jasmine Guy had crazy big hair.

Films Seen Multiple Times at Theaters

I can't think of any. I never saw the appeal of paying multiple times to see a movie in the theater. Is this a real thing people do?

First Date Film

Shawn and I went on a double date to see Beverly Hills Cop 4 Oops I mean Metro with Eddie Murphy. The movie was terrible. We each sat next to our friend instead of each other. His friend threw his beer at the screen when it ended. Ahhh the joys of a new romance....
Nightmares from Films

I mentioned Nightmare on Elm Street above. Others were: The Exorcist, really just the vomit I have serious gag issues. The Ring, that kid came out of the well and I screamed like out loud. Also I had the very bad idea to watch Rosemary's Baby for the first time while I was pregnant with my first child. I was ruined. For 2 weeks I gave birth to a hooved baby in my dreams every night.

Films that are Guilty Pleasures

The Golden Child - funniest ish ever. It never gets old.

The Wizard of Oz - Just because

All Twilight movies (no I don't read the books). It's the most ridiculous story ever, He sparkles for cheese sakes. I like my vampires mean and ugly like Nosferatu or elegant and debonair like Lestat or sexy and tortured like Louie or Angel. or even just really funny like Spike. But I keep watching these insane Twilight dudes. It's like being a deer caught in the headlights. I can't look away.

Last Film I Saw at the Theater

I just saw The Avengers. I LOVED it. I'm kind of a Comic-Con geek kinda girl on the low, well maybe not that low since I just told all of you. Whatever,,,bite me

Film Everybody Else Seems to Know About That I've Never Seen

Confession, I've never seen The Deer Hunter, for a movie buff and TV addict I know this is insane. People always look at me weird when I say I never saw it. Which makes me not want to see it , just to be contrary.

The Giving Tree.... Gives Me A Much Needed Lesson

2012-05-19T00:59:00.001-04:00

"The Giving Tree" is one of my favorite children's books. I must have read it a million times to my three older kids over the years, but Spike is just getting into story time so we never read it.

I had mixed feelings when Spike's school announced that the school would be putting on a production of The Giving Tree as a musical. Happy because I love that story and I would get to share it with another one of my children and surprised and worried because his school hasn't had anything like this before and I wondered what it would be like. Let me explain.

While Spike is very verbal and pretty high functioning, at least half of his school's student body is not. He attends a PK-3 all the way through 12th grade special education school. The student's disabilities range from mild learning disorders to kids on the spectrum to blind or deaf and severely physically and mentally disabled children. Please don't get me wrong, the school has been AMAZING for Spike. He has thrived there and made unbelievable progress in just 8 months. I love and appreciate all his teachers and therapists. BUT, the school gives me a migraine every time I'm there. It took me almost a year to get Spike admitted to this school, a year of doctor's visits, testing sessions, numerous applications, recommendations, etc. It was exhausting. So you think I'd be ecstatic when he was finally ready to go. WRONG! On his very first day of school, I had already thrown up twice before I even got in the car to drive him there. At the time he suffered from severe separation anxiety and his anxiety usually triggers mine. My husband was my back up in case, I decided to grab him and make a run for it. As I walked him to the cafeteria where the the students are dropped off, I don't know who was trembling more, me or him. When I stepped inside it seemed extremely chaotic. It was so loud. So many children, in all sizes, shapes and disabilities. In wheelchairs, with canes, on crutches, I could see them struggling to feed themselves, making huge messes, banging on the tables. I watched the aides calmly navigating the aisles attempting to stop this child from smacking himself silly, that child from spinning aimlessly in a circle, or trying to gently pry another screaming child from his mother's tearful embrace. This is where hubby had to physically restrain both Spike and myself as we tried to make a quick getaway. You see I thought that getting Spike in a school where everyone was "special" would make him seem more normal. Even though I thought I had accepted his diagnosis, faced with the reality of this room and these students, I felt like I was kicked in the gut. I thought "My kid doesn't belong here, he's not like these kids". Yes I know how horrible that sounds, but I have to be honest even if it makes me ashamed. My mind quickly ran through alternatives to walking out of here without him. Homeschooling, private school, anything than leave him here. Because if he goes here, than he belongs here. And that hurt me to my soul.
It took a long time and a lot of reassurances from his very nice and patient teacher for me to let go of his hand. He cried all the way to his class. I cried the entire way home. Even though the school has been great for him, I have such anxiety every time I'm there. I can't really explain why, except to say, it feels like finding out he is autistic all over again.

So as my husband and I entered the school cafeteria to see the production, I was very tense to say the least. And I was greeted with pretty much the scene I expected. There were already 3 kids having tantrums in the audience although my own child sat swinging his feet oblivious to everything around him. I felt anxious and I thought this is going to be sad to watch. I thought I'd end up feeling sorry for them. I was in for a big surprise.

They broke my heart wide open. But not with pity, with pride. I loved every minute of it and not just because Spike sang his song adorably (of course) but because, they all put their whole being into every minute of it. The kids with autism who have trouble with eye contact danced their part facing to the stage wings and they did it beautifully and with perfect rhythm. The wheel chair bound child with cerebral palsy said his lines perfectly with a voice output device. Every child there played their part big or small with more joy and enthusiasm than I've ever seen. They got a standing ovation.

On a daily basis these children fight to live beyond people's expectations. They refuse to be bound by other's (myself included) prejudices, doubts, fears and preconceived notions on what they are capable of. I can honestly say I left that morning extremely proud to say, this is my son's school, he does belong here and I'm so lucky that he's just like these kids.

A Letter to My Younger Self

2012-05-12T02:07:00.000-04:00

A recent conversation with a girlfriend led down that oft traveled road of "If I knew then what I know now". Of course hindsight is 20/20 but I started to wonder if I could go back and give myself advice or guidance to help navigate the pitfalls to come, what would I say? After careful consideration, this is what I'd say:

Let's see, I'm sure I would stress the importance of middle school education. I would have to advise myself to least try a little harder to conquer long division and multiplying fractions, because with four kids and their ridiculously confusing homework, Mr. Tang my Math Teacher is clearly having the last laugh.

I would have paid attention to high-school sports a bit more. You'd think as a cheerleader, I might have paid attention to the sports I supported, than maybe I could comment intelligently to my son and nephew about their performances on the field instead of clapping when everyone else does and whispering to my hubby "What just happened?"

I would definitely advise against both attempts at that Halle Berry cut. Instead of a sexy pixie look, I resembled Woody Wood Pecker. And no I will NEVER post a picture of that, they have all been destroyed. I hope....

After a good laugh my friend did agree these tidbits would be helpful to my youngerself. But she wondered what about the big stuff,the huge disasters, big life choices that went all wrong. She was surprised I wouldn't warn myself about those upcomng minefields. But I stand by my choice.

If I hadn't made terrible career choices or had failed ventures, how would I know for sure, that this career,as a writer, is what I was mean to do?

If I hadn't lost some very close friends to gossip, betrayal, distance and even death, how would I know to cherish the ones I have left?

If I hadn't had horrible dysfunctional relationships,with the wrong guys, how would I know to hold on for dear life to the right one?

Every mistake or wrong choice or badly timed event in my life has put me on the path where I stand now. Every painful failure, set back, delay and wrong turn made me into the woman I am right now today, with this husband, these kids, these dreams, this purpose. Why would I ever want to change any of that?

On second thought, maybe I'd go back and tell my younger self just hold on it's gonna be a hell of ride.

Letting Go of Happily Ever After and Embracing Happy Now

2012-05-07T01:40:00.001-04:00

Like most young girls, I was enthralled with romantic fairy tales. Who wouldn't want to have Prince Charming to show up with that glass slipper that would undoubtedly fit just right? Or maybe have him ride up on his noble steed and wake you from some mysterious illness with true love's kiss? These ideas of romantic bliss are drilled into little girl's heads from very early on. There's nothing wrong with fairy tales, they are entertaining and fun and they make great Disney movies.

While I outgrew my princess obsession, I didn't quite give up on Prince Charming. Why would I? Every movie I loved assured me he existed. Of course as I grew up, my ideal prince changed too. So while I didn't expect him to show up at my door with a glass slipper, or rescue me from some isolated tower. I was pretty sure my high school crush would serenade me with his boombox outside my window like in "Say Anything", or maybe I'd ride off on the back of his lawn mower into the sunset like "Can't Buy Me Love". I kept waiting. I was usually disappointed. When I got a a little bit older, I figured maybe he'd climb up my fire escape (as soon as I managed to get one) with a rose and some obscure opera playing on a limo's system like "Pretty Woman". Of course my prince would declare his love and renounce his throne on a public train like "Coming to America". Or at the very least sweep me off my feet and carry me away from some mundane job, like "An Officer and a Gentlemen" even if he just took me to lunch!

Somehow with all this in my head, I still managed to fall in love with my husband. But I still didn't really give up on my ideal Prince Charming. I was always waiting for that silver screen moment, secretly, silently hoping for that perfect tear jerking scene, where he says or does the perfect thing, in the perfect setting, ideally while I have perfect hair. I mean decades of movies have very clearly portrayed what love and romance are supposed to look like but somehow nobody told my hubby his lines! I can't tell you how many anniversaries, birthdays and especially Valentine's days were ruined by my quiet (or maybe not so quiet) disappointment in my hubby's lack of Hollywood-like romance. I mean hadn't the man ever seen a movie???

I spent so much time resenting the lack of movie style romantic moments that. I was missing the real life romance in my marriage all around me. Romance isn't always a Hallmark card or candle-lit dinners. It's what makes you feel loved, cherished and special. Maybe he doesn't write me poetry, but he changes the lyrics in songs to my name.And sings them, loudly. He rarely surprises me with flowers, but he surprises me with Swedish Fish all the time (Seriously those things are like crack to me I eat a few bags a week). He has not challenged anyone to duel but he killed a pretty nasty looking spider while I stood on the bed shrieking in fear. He hasn't yet climbed that fire escape with the rose in his teeth, but he regular climbs on the roof for the kid's lost toys. How could I have ever doubted it? He's my perfect leading man.

Prince Charming, eat your heart out.

Guess What!?!

2012-05-02T12:29:00.001-04:00

I'm featured in today's Top 9! Thanks

@dailybuzzmoms! http://bit.ly/K9po0Y

Thanks everyone for all your support!!

The Mom Who Does Not Play Well With Others

2012-04-29T01:23:00.001-04:00

"Go outside and play with the other kids!" That's something I heard too frequently growing up. They are probably words I hated hearing the most. Way more than " You're grounded" or "No TV", nothing filled me with more dread than that horrid phrase. I was a strange kid I suppose. You see, on stage at a dance recital or in a play, I was at home, I felt good. I felt safe. But eight six-year-olds in Brownie uniforms could induce cold sweats and projectile vomiting. Needless to say, my first Girl Scout meeting was my last.

I don't really know why, I suppose that's a question for a psychologist someday. I do know that I just preferred to be alone. I come from a big family that was very close, with lots of birthday parties, BBQ's and family reunions. I have literally dozens of cousins. So at least twice a month all the families would find some reason to gather all together. Food, Music, Family, sounds great right? Yeah not to me. Why? Because inevitably someone would spot me content in my corner lost in a book, and force me to "Go outside and have fun with the other kids". I could never get anyone to understand , that I was having fun. I wasn't lonely. I wasn't sad. I wasn't feeling left out. I was perfectly happy. Being forced to play age appropriate games and jump rope with my peers made me unhappy. Oh I wasn't a total loner. I had a few childhood playmates and I was okay fine one-on-one with them. But a large group of loud children screaming "Ready or not here I come" sounded like torture.

As I hit my teen years and early twenties I started to feel social pressure to belong to a group. I managed to suppress my naturally introverted side and attempt to be part of the in-crowd, be a cheerleader, go to parties, etc. I ignored all my natural instincts and attempted transform into a party girl. But I never really got the hang of it. It was an act. I don't really know how to be the life of the party. And I don't enjoy it. When my babies were small, I never joined playgroups ,after I realized that I'd have to converse with the other mothers. When my kids had scout meetings I would read in the car so I wouldn't be forced to talk to people I don't know. And now as an adult I find that I am kind of socially awkward. Any interaction with more than three unknowns can often be hive inducing for me. It can be a PTA meeting or my husband's company holiday party. I'd rather read a book. I have a small group of close friends and I'm good with that. I just don't know how to make new friends. I was okay with that. I mean it's not hurting anybody.

Now as I watch my children attempt to navigate socially in the world. I worry that they have inherited my hermit-like tendencies. And I definitely don't want that. I notice that they never introduce themselves to other children. They stick with each other or tried and true friends they already know. A new group of children will usually have them hiding behind me... while I'm hiding behind my book...from their parents. And I was determined to never use that hated phrase "go out and play with the other kids". I never pushed them to do anything socially they found uncomfortable. And then I had this very real conversation with my ten-year-old son and six-year-old daughter when our mostly child-free block had some visitors.

Son: Mom, there are some new kids playing in the yard on the other side of ours.
Mom: Really? That's nice
Son: The boy has the same skateboard I do.
Mom: ( I notice that my children are actually peeking at the kids from behind the fence) Why don't you go talk to them?
Daughter: What should we say?
Mom: I don't know, say hi?!?
Son: Okay we will

I watch as the kids leave the yard holding hands, their faces looking like, they're walking the plank!
30 seconds later they burst back in our yard.

Both Kids: We said Hi!
Mom: Okay? and?
Son: They said Hi back..
Daughter: What do we say now?
Mom: Are you serious? I don't know ask them their names..

Kids run back next door. I hear children's voices talking so I thought I was off the hook so I am reaching for the remote when they burst back in..

Daughter: Their names are Minnie and Mickey ( Okay this is a lie I have no idea what their names were).
Son: We told them ours too!
Mom: That's really nice. So why are you back?
Son: What do we say now?
Mom: Try asking if they want to play with you?
Daughter: Okay I'll try, but I'm scared...
Son: Don't be scared I'll hold your hand and you say it.

They leave again. And I'm staring at them as if they are aliens...but I figure they are okay now, they'll go play like semi-normal kids now..but the door is flung open once more.

Both Kids: They said yes!!!
Mom: So why are you here??
Son: Oh I was so excited I wanted to tell you!
Mom: Thanks for the update, go play jeez

I will admit I called my husband and my parents and laughed hysterically at first. I mean it was really weird but also really cute. Until I started to think about it. They both have a lot of friends in their classes and seem pretty popular. They have the occasional play-date. So what made these kids so different? Nothing, except they were new and in an unfamiliar situation. I had to wonder if they learned this freakish behavior from me. I had hoped their father's naturally gregarious personality would mask my perpetual shyness. I wondered do they notice that their mom likes sits alone at the baseball game or the musical recital while the other moms chat. That I tend to zip in and out of the after-school pick-up line while the other parents hang out and talk. It's hard when you see how your own hang-ups directly affect your children negatively. I promised myself to do better.

Recently my son had a birthday party with our large extended family and I extended an invitation to his classmates and their parents. Previously if I even had the party I would have hid behind my husband or mom for the day. But guess what? I talked to people. Everyone! Even the ones I didn't know! And it wasn't horrible! I felt uncomfortable at first, but I got over it and I had a great time. And the kids had a great time, The other parents even had a great time. The best part was when my son said "Mom you looked like you had a lot of fun today too!"
And I didn't even bring a book....

Ewwwww I think I love my sister

2012-04-20T15:32:00.001-04:00

I don't know when or how it happened but I think my baby sister is my best friend. I know, I know, it makes me nauseous too.

When I was little, and maybe not so little my mom would often have to break up my younger sister and I rolling on the floor, pulling hair and screaming and basically trying to kill each other. When I would try to rationally explain to my family exactly why she was evil incarnate and deserved to die, I would often be met with " One day she'll be your best friend". Let's just say I was pretty convinced otherwise. We had way more than the usual dose of sibling rivalry and although we aren't wrestling over the turkey at the Thanksgiving table anymore (well except for that one time), we still feel the after shocks of those early explosions today. Our journey from sisters to friends is a bumpy and cautious ride. We tread carefully.

My baby sister on the other hand didn't really register on the sibling rivalry scale with me. We are 14 years apart, so she seems more like background scenery than a player in all that childhood/teenage angst, that my other sister and I share. I think that is probably why our friendship works. We share just enough of that familial bond to say, remember when Mommy said "insert insanely funny thing here" without any of the resentment or jealousy issues that come along with it.

To see us together on the street, you wouldn't think we were friends much less sisters. Where I am lean and angular, she's all voluptuous curves. My ponytail, oxford shirt and pleated skirts, look almost alien next to her cheetah printed Mohawk, ripped jeans and combat boots. Although we both have multiple tattoos, mine are discreet and easily hidden, while you' be hard pressed to find more than a few inches of my baby sister not covered with ink. It seems like we have nothing in common, but we do have certain similarities. We are moms, we are both artists although in very different ways, we both love reality tv and are confessed and unrepentant shopaholics. For all our differences we have become inseparable. We have ridiculous nicknames for each other she calls me "G'vner" complete with a British accent and I call her "Bunni". We see each other at least once a week and our daily phone call average seems to be about 7 (this is not an exaggeration I checked my call log) and this is not including the multiple random BBMs. We discuss every details of our lives, the essential and the inane. Our phone calls range from "I just had an argument with my boyfriend/husband/mother and now I'm crying" to " What is the origin of beef stroganoff?" (Seriously this was our real conversation at 1 a.m this morning). Somewhere along the way, this quiet toddler with a constant Kool-Aid mustache has become my shopping partner, life coach and confidante. She's become my best friend. I would go on with how great I think she is but I've just seen the funniest sh&t on Maury and I gotta call her.....

"G'vner"

" Bunni"

The Girl in the Bubble

2012-04-17T21:02:00.000-04:00

For the last three years, I have watched my first born daughter blossom from a child into a young lady. At thirteen she's strikingly beautiful and not in that I'm her mother so I have to say that way, but in that strangers stop me on the street way. And as I've watched her bloom, along with feeling proud I've also been fighting this irresistible urge to lock her in her room, block all technology and home-school her until she's oh, about 25.

It's not because she is some problem child. She's on the honor roll in her gifted classes. She helps out at home. She is loving, affectionate and probably a little too innocent for her age. I bet you're saying if she's such a good kid, why then would I want to lock her up? It's precisely because she's such a good kid! I live in constant fear of someone or something corrupting her.

Last week as is our daily tradition, she curled up in my bed after school to chat about her day as I work. After discussing her classes and an upcoming band concert she mentioned not wanting to go for a smoothie after school because of some trouble makers that hang around the local McDonald's. So of course, I go into straight lioness mode, who are these kids? What did they say to you? Are they in your classes? My daughter attempts to calm me down by reassuring me that the "bad" kids never pay much attention to her, they aren't in her classes and besides "that pregnant eighth grader that fights all the time finally got expelled"

This is where I began to have esophageal seizures, because I haven't the slightest idea what to say. It's not only that there are pregnant eighth graders at her small middle school, but that she mentioned it so casually. As if were no big deal, and that's what scared the shit out of me. So naturally I began freaking out, I told my husband Summer was being home-schooled from now on to which he just replied, "don't get crazy Shev". I complained to my mom and she asked me "If I would like to lock Summer in a bubble for her whole life, so she never sees anything?" I replied that's exactly what I wanted and "Do you know where I could get one cheap?" She hung up on me.. But what my father said really scared me. In his easygoing way, he tried to reassure me by saying "You've done your job, Summer's a good girl, she'll be alright." Why was that terrifying? Because how do you KNOW if you've really done your job? There's no test at the end of each year or stage to let you know you've passed that particular parenting hurdle. Drugs, sex, education, social responsibility, you can try to instill all these lessons into your children but how do you know when they have learned them? Unfortunately, you certainly will know when they didn't learn them. Parenting can be a terrifying gamble and the odds aren't always in your favor. I suppose if I can't get this bubble thing to work out, I'm going to have to learn to trust my daughter and more importantly myself as a mom. but just in case, I'm gonna go Google that bubble...

Lucky

2012-04-10T19:59:00.000-04:00

I know I'm married to a good guy. I know I have a good marriage. But sometimes in the crazy pace of life, I forget just how lucky I am. Thank God I am often reminded

My good friend and business partner Felicia came to pick me up on a hectic morning, I was running late and we were behind schedule for an important meeting. As I gathered my things she made small talk with my hubby, who was making breakfast for the kids and starting some of our regular weekend chores. She praised him for being such a good husband and made a mention of how lucky I was, a comment to which at her I rolled my eyes. To my husband I simply reminded him that he forgot again to take out the garbage, and that I would probably kill him if he forgot again. I rushed out to my meeting without giving our exchange a second thought.

However, my friend wasn't letting me off that easy. She is a single mother who constantly struggles with her son's father after a long relationship ruined by his inability to recognize how lucky he was. She isn't the type of girl who minces words at all. And she let me have it with both barrels. First she told me" I need you married women to act right, so us single girls can get a chance, try not to F*#k it up for us!" I tried to laugh it off, but I had to take a step back and look at it from another perspective. She wasn't alone in her opinion, most of my single girlfriends say I'm lucky or admire my relationship with my husband. I wondered would anyone say the same to my husband? I thought about my attitude that morning and a lot of other mornings and had to think, probably not. And just to rub it in further, she says "You don' realize how rare what you have is. You got to marry the man you fell in love with, the man you had children with, the one you actually wanted to marry. Not the man that stuck around, not the man that just happened to have some health insurance, or could maybe help with your bills. You married your dream man, and that's some special shit" Obviously my dear friend has a way with words. But she was right on every count.

As busy moms, we can get so caught up with kids and careers and chores and bills, that we get tunnel vision and forget to glance to the side and see the partner who is always down in that tunnel digging through with us. It's easy to get so caught up in your routine that you take your partner for granted. We need to take some time out to make our husbands feel lucky. Especially if you have a great one like mine.

After being so thoroughly chastised, I made a point to text my husband after my meeting to let him know how much I appreciate him and how lucky I am to have him in my life. And that if he didn't take out the garbage I'd choke him...

Trayvon Martin..A Lesson I'm Not Ready to Teach

2012-04-08T03:31:00.001-04:00

Like every Black mother who read or watched the story of Trayvon Martin unfold, immediately following the anger, sadness and outrage, I felt fear. That not-so irrational fear of "Will my son be next?".

I watch my nine-year-old running around the backyard pretending to be the hero from whatever new cartoon he's obsessing about this week and I wonder how can anyone think he's dangerous, suspicious? Not my son. But every Black mom thinks, not my son, don't they?

As the story continued to unfold and the media storm reached full crescendo, I knew a conversation with my inquisitive children would be unavoidable. This is unfortunately a required lesson for a male black child. How do you explain the what you cannot understand? How do you make sense of what isn't sensible? I debated on what to tell my very sheltered, very sensitive son. He's one of those children that insist on everything being fair and equal. After all nine is way to young to understand the complexities of racism and racial profiling right?

So as the evening news flashed Travyon Martin's face across the screen once more I readied myself to broach subject with my son. To my surprise, he beat me to the punch. He says "Mommy have you heard about Trayvon Martin?". When I replied yes, my baby began explain to me the intrinsic details of the case! He expressed such outrage and sadness. He sounded so mature, I was proud. Then as he takes his Oreos to kitchen table, he says "I hope I don't get 'racial profiled' Mommy". And my heart breaks.

As proud as I was initially for having a child so knowledgeable and informed, I was now equally devastated. At a time when my son's most pressing fear should be his spelling test on Friday, why should he carry this extra burden? I thought to myself "he's way too young to know this". But when is the right age? What is the right age to let my son know that as a black male he is never safe? At what age is it to say you will be forever fighting a negative image that isn't a reflection who you are? How old should he be before I tell him, that police are here to protect and serve everyone who isn't you? When do I let him know that the judicial system doesn't work for you dear?

How can it be my duty as the mother of this child who looks at the world as this bright open place full of promise and opportunity and teach him that it's an active landmine that he'll spend his life trying not to detonate?

I may be naive, but that's a lesson I'm just not ready to teach.

Before Autism.....

2012-04-02T23:50:00.001-04:00

Before Autism touched my life, I considered myself the kind of mother who pretty much had it together. Before Autism, I worked a full-time executive position, where my obsessive and control freak tendencies served me well. My three children were used to the daily routine of full-time school or daycare. Weaning, potty-training, bedtime issues, discipline, those were things OTHER mothers struggled with, for me it never seemed like a huge deal. I managed to sail through the first 9 years of motherhood without wrinkling my designer clothes, mussing my perfectly relaxed hair, or chipping a french manicured nail. I could never understand what other parents complained about. I was so smug and arrogant. I could not imagine what must go on in the houses of the lady behind me in the check out line with the screaming, rebelling children. I would think to my myself "home girl needs to get it together".

I thought I was done having kids, so my fourth pregnancy was a huge surprise in the midst of a tumultuous time in my career. I was at a crossroads and very uncertain on where I would go professionally. So although my new son was unexpected, I did feel some comfort in the fact that in this at least, I know what I'm doing. What's that saying "If you want to see God laugh, tell him your plans"? I assure you it must have been comedy hour in heaven.

Everything with Spike was different from the start. It was also my first attempt at being a full-time stay at home mom. I was so sure it was going to be a breeze. I imagined myself a cocoa-colored Donna Reed and Mrs. Huxtable rolled into one. I'd spend all day calmly breastfeeding my adorable infant, selflessly volunteer in my older kid's classrooms, never miss school assemblies and cook gourmet dinners every night. I would greet my husband at the door with a kiss after work and in my spare time start writing that bestseller. My house would be spotless. My life would be spotless. Right?? WRONG!

Breastfeeding was a disaster, Spike seemed to be allergic to everything I managed to swallow and at 6 weeks we were in ICU getting his intestines biopsied as they tried to deal with his severe milk and soy allergies. It only got more chaotic from there. He was an exhausting infant, instead of having more time for my other children and husband I had less. It didn't get any easier as he became a toddler. I fought with my husband and myself daily on whether or not he was really as different from other kids as he seemed to be. I struggled with what was "normal".

By the time Spike was two, between dealing with all the trials and tribulations that come with a child on the spectrum, two highly sensitive yet extremely gifted children, an older toddler doomed to suffer from perpetual middle-child syndrome, a half-neglected husband and a stagnant career, I was a hot mess. I didn't recognize myself in the mirror. Who was this woman with the sloppy ponytail, ragged cuticles and chocolate milk on her sweats? I didn't recognize her. I had no confidence in myself as a mother, as a wife or as a writer.

Still in the midst of chaos and half on autopilot, I managed to trudge on through dozens of doctor's visits and hundreds of therapy sessions. I stopped predicting the outcome and just delved into the process. And then, just when I stopped waiting for them, small miracles began to happen. I figured out just the right ingredients to make it through a grocery trip without a meltdown. Spike made eye contact with a stranger without running in fear. My mom was able to pick him up and hold him. These seemingly small feats felt like climbing Mt. Everest to me. I had started to accept Spike for who he is and not who I wanted him to be. Slowly through this process, the patience and acceptance I learned from Spike started to carry over into my relationships with my other children, my husband, and most of all myself. As Spike learned structure, I learned to be less rigid. As he learned boundaries, I learned to be more open. We've both learned a lot.

After Autism, my pursuit of perfect is a lot more realistic these days. I know my life will never be spotless. I am much more concerned with how things feel rather than how they look. In discovering who Spike is, I've found myself. I've found a fierce determination, an unwavering patience and a capacity for a deep all-encompassing love that I never knew was possible. I know in my heart God blessed me with Spike to mold me into the mother, the woman and the writer, I was always meant to be.

SPARKLE - Official Trailer - In Theaters 8/17

2012-04-02T14:18:00.001-04:00

2012-04-01T19:46:00.000-04:00

I have been debating on whether or not to write a blog for quite awhile. Trying to balance the having an unrestricted creative outlet I desperately need, against the stress and time constraints of my already hectic life.

I wondered, what would I write about? I decided I’d write about myself because it would be easy,until I tried to figure out which “self” that would be. What story would matter? What would my readers-to-be relate to? Which story could I tell? I have so many and that’s when it hit me! I’ll tell them all.

So what will my blog be about? Love and Marriage. Friendships and Family. Parenting the Gifted Child and the Special Needs Child. My career and my home life. I’ll invite you to peek inside the madness, while I figure out the method.

Let’s go……