Yet, I don’t know that it matters. I’m talking about personal blogging. I have spent the last two years telling people that personal blogging isn’t dead. In the moment, I’m not even sure I believe it myself. Maybe it’s just my version of personal blogging that’s dead.
I’ve found in the last few months that I rarely have much to say. Or at least not much which I feel like I can talk about on here. At least not yet. I’m not saying I’m done with blogging, but I feel like I need to make it where I do it only when I want too.
My life has changed a lot in this past six months. However, as I’ve gotten more sure of myself and started feeling more emotionally secure, I don’t find that I have as much to say here. I don’t really need to use this space as therapy most of the time. On top of that, my daughters are too old for me to be sharing most of their lives online. My son isn’t there yet, but I know not many people care to hear about him all the time. At the present time, I don’t know what else I’ll write about.
I have been struggling with this site for a while. Do I leave it? Do I try and do something different with it? I’m not sure what the answer is. Memes are not the answer, this I know. I also know I need to stop feeling guilty if I don’t post. I know I need to get to where I only post when I want too.
I hear people say that Twitter killed personal blogging. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. I’ll tell you though, I’ve never felt more supported in my life than I have since meeting all the amazing people I met on Twitter.
Today I’m going to take down my BlogHer Ads. They’ve been here for awhile and while I adore BlogHer, I don’t need the pressure of ads on my site. It makes me check my stats after every post, which really is pressure I don’t need. Yes, it’s pressure only I am putting on myself, but it’s there. This is not about them, it’s about me.
I’m not done with blogging. This is not a goodbye. It’s just a post about my reality in this moment. I’ll still post when I want and I hope you guys will still read it when that happens. It just may be longer in-between posts.
I adore personal blogging and I hope it’s not dead. Maybe it’s just a bit dormant at the moment? I suppose only time will tell.
Is there a prize for that? For making it six weeks off of anti-depressants? There should be, although I’m not exactly sure what it could be. Maybe a nice pretty gift box of treats from Harry & David. WHAT? A girl can dream can’t she?
It’s weird, making it this far. I know six weeks isn’t far. However after four years, it seems like a big step in the right direction. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that there were many times I wondered if I would make it this far. I wasn’t sure I’d make it a week, much less six. I’m not sure what will happen long term. I’m honestly not sure. However, I know I’ve made it this far.
A lot of people asked me why I did this. Why risk falling into a major depression? Why deal with side effects if you may have to go right back on it? Why now? I’m not sure I’m willing to answer that in the moment. I had my reasons and I’m not really ready to share them with the world. But I do promise you that I thought about this very carefully. I weighted all my options and made lists of pros and cons. Will I make it through winter? Hell if I know. It’s a goal though.
As you all well know, I’m an emotional person. High maintenance you could even call me. (Trust me, I’m aware.) I have problems with anxiety, depression and a very over active mind. I’ve had some really exhausting days in the past six weeks. Days where I let myself get too upset over nothing. I’ve had days where I’ve ended up weeping at night until I fall asleep. I’ve had a few days where I’ve been mildly depressed. I’ve been angry a few times. Really seriously angry. (Which is a new one for me. I’ve never really done angry.) Yet, I’ve managed it. I’ve made it through whatever was going on and gotten up the next day knowing it would be better.
I’ll tell you the weirdest thing. There was a day at BlogHer where I thought, fuck this, I can’t do this. I am falling apart. My anxiety was through the roof. Everything I ate made me sick. Every fiber of my being wanted to crawl into bed at 4pm on Friday. So I did the only thing I could think of in that moment. I called one of my best friends and talked to her about laundry. Literally for ten minutes I talked to her about cleaning clothes. I called her, because I knew I could bring up anything and she’d roll with it. I didn’t call my other two best friends, because I knew if I did, I’d fall apart. I could have fallen apart with her, but I also knew I could manage not too. So I talked about laundry and then I was able to continue on with my day. Because I heard her voice and she calmed me down without even knowing it. (Later I told her this and she did know, but like I said, she rolls with whatever.)
BlogHer was a hard one for me this year. Not because of the conference at all. Just because I was un-medicated. Plain and simple. I had no help for my social anxiety. It was a big test and I managed to make it through. Barely, but I did it.
Six weeks. I’ve made it six weeks. My goal in the moment? Is to make it six more. I have to be realistic. I am me and I know myself. If I think long term, I will psych myself out and call my doctor in a week. If I think more short term, it seems more manageable.
It’s been a weird, yet good six weeks. I think I can do this. I really believe I can.
Now….where’s my gift?? 
Last night was the final day of summer. It was also the first day of school for Morgan and Bailey. I am now the mother of fifth and second graders. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but it did anyway.
Last night was one of those magical evenings. The kind that only seem to happen in the summer. 15 random family members and a few random friends all gathered at a Frozen yogurt place at dusk. Where I’d normally have been getting my kids ready for bed, I was letting them choose their own flavors and add toppings. We all sat outside on the curb and ate frozen yogurt and watched lightening in the distance. For and hour and a half, time stopped. For that hour and a half, it was still summer. Bedtimes didn’t matter, crazy toddlers doing break dancing on concrete didn’t matter. There was no homework to do or baths to take. No one was sad about the two going off to college the following morning. We all got lost in that moment. It was magical.
On the way home, the kids and I tried to list all the great things we did this summer. Movies we saw, trips we took, small fun activities that made it fun. It was a long list. They added things I’d forgotten I’d done. Having it given back to me in list form was neat. It made me realize that my goal of doing this summer right, happened. Even though I had to work all summer and the kids were in daycare/camp all summer, we still had a great summer. I made it happen.
We’ve been to the mountains twice. I painted the inside of my house. The kids have been camping in Wyoming and seen half of Chicago. We’ve bought cupcakes and made cupcakes on many occasions. We’ve been to the park late in the evening and been the only ones playing on swings. We’ve had movie dates and movie parties at the house. We’ve gone to cosmic bowling and black light mini golf. We’ve been to amusement parks and museums. I went to BlogHer and to LA for a BFF trip. I’ve cooked on the grill all summer and my house has been full of summer fruit and ice cream for months. For the first time in years, I hosted the 4th of July. We’ve had ice cream for dinner on more than one occasion and made breakfast for dinner a regular occurrence. We’ve played with glow in the dark sidewalk chalk and I’ve perfected cherry pie. This past weekend, we even went to our first Rockies Game.
This has been a great summer. I’ve had a good time and my kids have had an even better time. This may have been the best summer in years. So Fall? Bring it. We’re ready. Summer is in our bones. We’ve enjoyed every second and we’re ready for whatever’s next.
She’s my easiest child. Oh Bailey? Yeah she’s the easy one.
I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I’ve said that. In truth it’s always been that she’s more easy going than her siblings. More willing to give in to what they want. She’s the only one who can play by herself for hours. Compared to Morgan, she has always been easy. Until recently when she suddenly switched to being my hardest. Which is funny considering the amount of toddler attitude and tantrums that I deal with on a daily basis.
Suddenly she is full of attitude. She argues with me about everything. She’s taken to trowing fits at the drop of a hat. Nothing is ever fair, I am out to get her and I only love her siblings best. She pushes Harrison around and picks fights with Morgan for kicks.
And I know it’s my fault. I’ve let it get this far. I did it by thinking she was okay. I did it by still believing that she was my easiest. Morgan is loud and very upfront with her needs. Harrison is too. It’s in their personalities. They need anything and they will make sure you know it right away. Bailey is not like that. She never has been.
It’s not easy finding one on one time with my kids. I can and do, do it. Yet this summer, it’s all been for Morgan and Harrison. Somehow I never made that time for Bailey. I thought I had, but this weekend in thinking about it, I realize I haven’t. No lunches just us. No dinners just us. No full day mommy time. Nothing.
This summer has been hard for her. She’s been in the same camp group with Morgan, since they go by age. She’s had to be with her sister and play by her sisters rules 24/7. I will guarantee you it’s not easy to be Morgan’s little sister and that is the role she’s been put in all summer long.
What sucks is I know this is my fault. Some days I feel like such a failure when it comes to this single parent gig. I know in the grand scheme of life, that isn’t true. However right now, I also know I’ve failed my daughter this summer. It’s so easy to fix this. It really is. Even letting her pick a movie and have a sleepover in my bed Friday night, made her behavior better all weekend. I just feel dumb for not having realized it sooner.
School started today *cheers* and that will help some things. Our schedule will be more set. She will be in her class, with her friends. Morgan won’t even have the same recess times as her. Next weekend, I’m going to keep her while her siblings go to their dad’s house….something that will hopefully help as well.
I know this is fixable. I know it’s not even a big deal. What kills me is that it took me all summer to figure it out. It took talking to a friend about it, to realize what I’d done wrong and how to fix it. I have to remember that even though she isn’t as loud about her needs, she still deserves the same amount of time her siblings do.
This parenting gig isn’t easy. We all know that. But single parenting with kids you only have half time? It’s hard. It’s so very hard at times to fully know what’s going on and finding time to deal with it.
I guess I need to stop calling her my easiest child.
I figure if Nic, Miss and Adam do it, I can too. This may actually be a hard one, seeing how I’ve been online for six years. What can I possibly not have told you? We’ll see how well I do.
1. I drink everything with tons of ice. If it’s lukewarm, chances are good I will not drink it.
2. When I was ten I had my first paid baby-sitting job. It was for my piano teachers kids.She adored me and thought I was responsible enough to handle her two kids. Once a week she paid me to watch them for three hours. She always told me, if you need anything go to the house two doors down. It took me six months to need to do that…when I finally did, for some odd reason, I found them having dinner with their friends. Yep. They went there once a week. Two doors down.
3. I am a channel flipper. I watch three shows at one time. It makes most people insane. However, my girls do it too. They so get me.
4. I have to be pretty much dead to nap. No really. I mean it. 103 fever and I can sometimes nap. But that’s pretty much it.
5. I organize my mother’s trips for her. Business and pleasure. She tells everyone it’s because I am Internet gifted and she isn’t. But mostly? It’s because I feel like if I do it, she will somehow be safe and magically end up home just fine on her scheduled flight. It’s lame, I know…but I’ve been doing it since I was 16 years old.
6. I am not afraid of flying, yet I’m terrified of heights.
7. When I get angry, I cry. Every dang time.
8. I am allergic to paper. And Ink. My hands rash and swell when I touch paper for too long.
9. I used to surf. My dad taught me how when I was seven years old.
10. I can water ski and jet ski. I love water sports.
11. I will never be able to deep sea dive. I have the ears of a four year old. Or specifically one very bad ear.
12. I despise winter sports. Which is funny since I now live in a state with 6 months of winter.
13. I hate talking on the phone to 99.9 percent of people. I’m pretty sure texting is the greatest invention ever. I average 4,000 texts a month.
14. I have an addictive personality. It’s why I am very careful to not drink. If I will listen to a song for a week on repeat, order the same thing every time I go to a certain restaurant or eat the same thing for lunch for years, imagine how quickly I could become an alcoholic.
15. I am a neurotic kitchen cleaner. I clean as I go and my dishes never sit there for long. However it’s the only thing that is clean in my house most of the time.
16. I have an inability to own an umbrella. I think it’s likely because I rarely mind getting wet.
17. I will hand pick mushrooms and green peas out of food before eating it, however any other thing I will leave even if I’m not overly fond of it. I can eat around most anything except those two nasty vegetables.
18. I listen to music from the second I wake up until I go to bed. It’s on most of the day, unless the TV happens to be on.
19. I have a turtle tattoo on my left calf. I don’t regret getting it, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get another one.
20. I once broke my butt by falling on the beach. Literally.
21. I sleep with ear plugs. Even when I have newborns. I have phenomenal hearing. I hear my kids through the ear plugs. Without wearing them, I can’t sleep because I hear every noise in a mile radius.
22. I never wear make-up. I never have either.
23. I name everything. My iPhone, iPad, car, desktop and Kindle all have names.
24. I have never grown out of my love for kid food. I love PB&J, hot dogs, Cheetos and Popsicles. However I will also eat most anything.
25. I always have trouble thinking of the last item on a list. It’s like a disease. Yet at the same time, my light organizational OCD won’t let me send an incomplete list.
Mama WAIT! STOP! I watch dat pwease.
What is it?
Power Rangers. Dey go Hi Ya! I wike dem.
Okay my bud. You can watch Power Rangers. But we don’t hi ya people, right?
I know mama, I know.
Power Rangers. Funny that it’s still on 20 years later. They’re a bit different than I remember. No more bright yellow tights. Same effed up looking bad monsters though.
I remember having the same conversation with my cousin that I had with my son the other day. He was four maybe. I was eleven and babysitting at the time. Nicky we don’t hi ya the dog, I kept having to remind him. He wore that yellow Power Rangers Halloween costume for an entire year. My aunt bought him five of them, just so she didn’t have to wash it each night.
Four year old boy back then is now a 23 year old man with a baby girl of his own. A strong solid chef whose had to deal with more baby health issues in his daughter’s 18 months of life, than anyone should ever have to.
I look over at my not yet three old son watching the same show and realize he will one day grow up to be a man.
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Are we going to the pool now, he kept asking me. Dude. It’s an ocean, not a pool. Oh yeah, I remember now.
He held my hand all the way from the restaurant on the pier, until the edge of the board walk where we sat and took off our shoes. The second we made it to the water, he wanted to go in. We didn’t bring swim suits I told him. We’ll just get our feet in okay? We walked into the water and the wave came in. It wasn’t even a big wave. Yet the second it started pulling out, he did a face plant. The look on his face was priceless.
We played in the sand, built “porcupine castle” and buried our feet.
Just me and my best friends son. One hour. The same beach that I grew up on.
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Melissa has anyone told you to watch your feet yet?
No. Why, I asked him.
Well because of the gators. You see a long time ago this one guy thought that baby gators were tiny and cute and he bought like six dozen of them home. But they got to big for the cage and he had to let them go. The dummy put them in this very lake. That’s why Grandpa makes us wear life vests when we’re in the water. The lake is deep enough…but those gators hang out on the bottom. Just waiting for kid toes to get close enough to snatch. They sure love them some toes.
I spent the remaining days curled up in a ball every time I was in the water. Couldn’t let the gators get me.
I was seven and dumb. My cousin was seventeen and a brat. I only believed him that one summer. The following one, I told the same thing to my cousin who was a year younger than me. The year after that, I told one of my brothers and my cousin told the other. One of those stories you can’t help but pass on. Cousin torture at it’s finest.
I was sixteen the last year my grandparents owned that lake house. I hadn’t heard the gator story in years, but low and behold I happened to over hear my then eight year old cousin telling the youngest cousin the same story.
Little kids in life vest for years and years curling up their feet while attempting to swim. It’s quite the funny sight.
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The four of us sitting on a couch for the first time ever. Covered in blankets in her arctic temperature house. All four of us were on our phones but it didn’t seem to matter. When you meet people through the Internet, you never seem to notice other peoples addiction to it.
Billy the Exterminator on TV. I’m hooked now. Watching that crazy man wrestle an alligator was the coolest thing I’d seen on TV in a long time.
Somehow now, I don’t believe my toes were the only thing I should have been worried about as a kid.
My home life is small. I lead a small life. Friends are few and far between. I have more acquaintances here than friends. Don’t get me wrong, I do fun things. I shop, I go out to eat, I see movies. My kids and I play mini-golf and we check out parks. We have been to amusement parks and seen numerous movies this summer. A few times a year, we do mini vacations. Yet, more often than not, you’ll find me at home. I don’t mind it. I’m a homebody.
My social life is mostly led online. I work full time and mother full time; I have three children, a house and a dog. This, for me, makes social media the easiest way to connect with people. It’s because of social media that I have any friends at all. I tell you that because it’s true. I’m also lucky enough to tell you that I have tons of amazing friends. Friends I can count on, friends who always support me. I’ve long since stopped caring that most of them live elsewhere.
People ask me all the time if going to BlogHer is worth it and I always tell them HELL YES! You want to know why? Because I got see my friends. For the past three years I’ve gone to BlogHer to be with the people I love and adore. At times I fit more living into those four days than I do in a regular six month time period. I come back horse each year from talking so much. I come home full of love, from all the amazing hugs and conservations. It holds me over until the next time I can go, or the next time I can go see my best friends.
My trip this year was both a BH trip and a BFF trip. Two for the price of one. Heh.
People ask me why they should spend the money and time to go to BlogHer and I can’t always explain it. It’s hard to put it into words. The best I can try and do is tell you some of the highlights of my weekend. Then…well you can decide for yourself.
I do this for dinners spent with nine people. For round tables at seafood places, and long rectangular ones at Mexican places. For tables where everyone talks at once together and others where a small intimate conversation manages to take place in the midst of a crazy loud one.
I do this to make connections. To introduce people I feel like I’ve known forever, to other people who I’ve known for years. To find someone a bed last second and to meet someone new at an airport at 6am on day one.
I do this to laugh at how four people can sit on a couch on their phones and still chat non-stop, without anyone thinking they are being ignored. I do this to be amazed at how a room full of people at a Blogging conference can spend three hours without anyone checking their phone.
I do this to check out a new city. Or at times to get to explore a part of a city that I’d been to before.
I do this for lunches the first day, where you start off with a group of 5 and end up getting a table for 9. For texts from people saying: I AM HERE! Midnight chats in bed. 8am chats in bed. Ha. Breakfasts of bagels and Starbucks for three days in a row.
I do this to finally meet someone at a party the last night and hug them eight times in a row. This amazing person who you’ve been friends with for six years and never managed to meet. Because each time something like this happens, I spend the next day wishing I’d had two more days to spend with this person.
Literally running into someone in the hallway and then spending the next two hours chatting with them and others who turned up.
I do this for: Sparklecorn. Cake balls. Serenity Suite. The Hallmark store that let me send a card to someone. Meeting people in the lobby.
I do this because we sit and chat about the people who are missing. The ones who were going to come and couldn’t last minute. The ones of you who wanted to be there. Even those of you who never want to come. We talk about you too. We share your blogs with each other. We gossip in the good way, the best way. The way that makes it seem like you are all there in a way.
I do this to watch the community keynote each year. To see 12-15 brave people stand up and read their posts. To laugh with them, to cry with them and sometimes laugh until I cry. This year, I had the pleasure of watching a very dear friend of mine read her post. Not the post I’d put in for her to read, but an even better one. It’s powerful and I hope you’ll take a few minutes to listen to it. (Please ignore the poor quality. I took it on my phone. You can hear it perfectly though.)
Each year I go in thinking that maybe next year I’ll pick a smaller conference. I say, this is my last one. By the end, I’m plotting how to get to next years. And this? This is all why.
This is why I do this.
I have an entire post in my head. A post about my amazing experience at BlogHer; about old friends and new friends; about taking a little boy to the beach and the experience of sitting on a couch for the first time ever with my three best friends. This will all be said. Just not today.
Today I’d like to talk about how I managed to get to BlogHer this year. Or rather how you may want to think about how you can get there next year.
The conference location for next year was announced before I’d even left my hotel room Friday morning. What can I say, I’m slow to get ready. The tweets started immediately. People pissed at where it was. People thrilled at where it was. People wondering why it wasn’t in their city. No offense to anyone, but Kentucky, Nevada or Texas are not places I want to go in August. I was a bit annoyed in the moment by people, but I decided to shut down Twitter and move on with my day. BlogHer does the best they can with it. The location will never make everyone happy. They need places near good airports. They need huge convention centers near multiple hotels and tons of restaurants. They look for cities that people will enjoy. Mostly? They have to find some place that will take us. This is just a guess, but bloggers aren’t known for being nice. Social media has made us all big complainers every time we dislike anything. If you were a big hotel/convention center, are you sure you’d want us there?
That all said and done, the real thing I’d like to talk about is the reality of cost in going to BH. I think people make it out to be much more than it really is. I’ve heard people claim you need $3000 to attend. If that were true? I’d never of gone. I think going to BlogHer is possible for most people. Not all. I won’t claim that anyone can save the money for it. I do know though that if you want to go next year? Why not start trying to save now? It’s easier than just complaining about how horrible expensive it is on Twitter during the entire conference. (And the entire month prior.) It’s easier that admitting defeat the second the next years location is announced.
I want to try and break it down for you, if I can. I want to take a bit of the mystery out of it. Maybe then, you can come next year. Or the following year at least. Maybe then you won’t be that person on Twitter complaining about the #BlogHer11 tweets, while never bothering to mute the hashtag. We all know curiosity and jealousy and sadness some how all get jumbled up together. However, when you say you can’t go the second the following year is announced, most of us do not feel bad for you.
Sorry. I know I’m being harsh. I’ve also been doing this blogging thing for six years. That’s six conferences. I’ve only been to three of them. I get what it’s like to sit home and wish you were there. I do. But I’d made the choice to not go those years so I had to just let it go.
Anyway….here’s what I know:
Plane tickets are generally cheapest if you buy them on a Tuesday or Wednesday. Two months out is best. Mine cost me $156. I had a lovely friend who was stalking all airline websites for us to find tickets. Now, please note that I flew out at 7am on Thursday morning. That meant getting up at 4am, yet I did it for a cheap flight. Last year my flight to NYC cost me $256. That’s pretty dam good for NYC. I also got up super early that year.
A full BlogHer conference pass costs $160 if bought today. It will go up to $200 around February. You can also look into volunteering for them, which means working about 6-8 hours over two days and they’ll give you a full pass for free. There are student rates if you are in school. There are also Party/Expo only passes which I believe are pretty cheap. Under $70 I believe. I’m considering doing that next year.
BlogHer always get a certain number of rooms at a discounted rate. They filled up about two month prior to the conference. They are $199 a night. Sounds horrible, I know….however Hilton/Marriott/Sheraton are the hotels they pick and to stay there is always higher than that. My hotel room this year cost $340. That was three nights and I didn’t share my bed. We only had two to a room. Next year, I will likely do 4 to a room, which would be $170. That’s the cheapest way to do it and it’s always like a big slumber party. Pick your roommates wisely and it will be the best three nights of your year.
I saved money to eat out at nice restaurants. You don’t have too. I know someone who only spent $7 on food this year. She’s like the BH food wizard or something. She ate the meals the conference provided. She drank the coffee they provided. She made her dinner out of the appetizers served at parties and snacked at the Expo and in the hallways of the convention center. There was always food out somewhere this year.
It’s doable people. It’s possible if you want it enough.
To go this year, I gave up going to Starbucks every day. I took up making coffee at home. I took a hundred dollars a month and put it aside. Please know that I went to California for a week, so I needed to save more money. That included me renting a car and driving to LA to spend three more nights with best friends. That included me eating out at phenomenal and somewhat pricey restaurants.
I probably spent around a thousand dollars total. Which is insanely expensive. I understand that. However? I lived big. I took tons of spending money. You don’t have too. You can still go and do it small. Hell, I still have money in my wallet to replace my car battery which is completely dead.
If you want to go next year or even the following year, start saving now. Put $50 aside at the beginning of each month. You don’t have to put $100 aside. Stop going to Starbucks or using RedBox. Downgrade your cable one tiny step or turn off Netflix. Put down the shoes that you don’t need a few times. Eat in one more time a month. Eat cereal or grilled cheese that one night instead of ordering pizza. Each time you do that, take that money and put it in a jar. You’d be surprised how quick it adds up. Don’t use your change when you use cash. I put all change in a large Pepsi tin. All year, I put any change in there. That was how I had spending money for this trip.
If you want this, you can make it happen. If not? If you’re not willing to at least try, then you feel free to complain about each tweet next summer too. But at least be willing to try, if it’s something you want to do.
Eight months? You’re marrying a man you just met eight months ago? Didn’t you learn from this the last time around?
I can still hear those words my grandma yelled at my mom 23 ish years ago. I was seven. Maybe close to eight. I don’t exactly remember. I just remember my mom’s response. It’s different this time. I’m different this time. He’s different.
He was. He is. Different from my dad. Different from the men she dated in-between. The first time they met is a story that gets told every now and then. My brother asked him out. He said, well are you going to ask her out now or not? He was five and they’d been talking for a few minutes in a grocery store. Needless to say, he asked my mom out right then. Yes ladies and gentlemen, my mom married the man she met in the grocery store. The man whose first date with her, included fishing plastic Easter eggs out of couch cushions he sat on. It’s one of those stories you don’t believe. The ones you think only happens in romantic comedy movies staring Meg Ryan.
He never tried to be our dad, as he knew we already had one. He left parenting choices up to my mom. He never yelled at us. He didn’t take crap either. But he had this way of talking to us on our level until we all understood each other. He wasn’t always home a lot. He had his own business and would work 12-14 hour days often. Yet at the same time he was always there. He was a good solid guy. The guy who can fix anything and do just about anything. The kind of guy you want your mom to be married too. The kind of guy who looks at her like she hung the moon, even all these years later.
They lived their lives. They were both incredibly busy people. They enjoyed family time. They enjoyed couple time. They didn’t begrudge each other alone time. Last fall he sold his business. In April of this year they finally sold their house in California and purchased one here. They live two hours away from me in a small mountain town in their dream house. It’s close, but not right here and that’s proven to be perfect.
I watch them more now. Like I said, he was an unobtrusive part of my childhood. He was there, but not overly involved. He thought of us as his kids, yet he knew we had enough to deal with without his adding too it negatively. I’m just now realizing how wonderful that was for me. I’m just now realizing how important a piece he did play in my childhood.
You know where I see it? In his relationship with my kids.
He and my mom call every other day. They talk to all of us. When they are here, he wrestles with Harrison and plays with modeling clay with the girls. He takes the kids in the backyard the second he shows up. He looks at them the way he always looked at me. Like they are each something special and he can’t wait to see what comes out of their mouths next. He’s that man who actually listens to what kids are saying.
It made me remember dinner nights. Before him, we ate watching cartoons. My mom was a busy single mom and by dinner she was worn out. Cartoons were her way of getting peace. Once he was around that stopped. Not because he insisted on it. Just because he always took his plate of food into the dining room. Eventually we all started doing it too. Dinner was a time to talk. Dinner was a time to share stories. It’s something I’ve always done, because of him.
He was there to help teach me to drive. He was there to watch me play the piano in front of huge crowds of people. Instead of the roses my dad gave me after, he gave me a small musical note pendant on a purple string. I still have it. I remember that he waited until we were home to give it too me. To not take away from any one elses moment. He listened to me worry when I was pregnant with Morgan and 9/11 happened. He listened to me scream when Logan left. He’s bought me new cookbooks over the past year, as I’ve learned to cook. He even “brought down” a brand new grill and neglected to take it home. He prints me out gorgeous photographs he took of flowers to hang in my bedroom.
He is not my dad, but he is my dad if that makes sense.
This next week, while I’m at BlogHer and then at a friends house for a few days, my kids will be camping with their grandparents. Cabin camping. Because as my mother says, she may be adventurous, but she’s not nuts. They’ll go to Wyoming and see Tetons and wildlife and stuff. They’ll fish, ride horses and swim in lakes.
My mom and my step-dad worked hard for us. For me. For my brother. They both still work. Albeit in different ways than they used to. They worked very, very hard for us, to give us a better life. I believe that they did. I was given a great education. I was taught a love of fine foods. I can name art from more random dead people than most. I have a love of music like you wouldn’t believe.
Now they teach my kids. Now they spend ample time with my kids. This I love. My kids need this and they deserve this. Time was one thing my parents didn’t always have for me and I’ll be honest I don’t have tons of it for my kids either. I’m thankful that my parents have some now.
Their marriage gives me hope. I see the way they are and I know that there may be someone out there for me. One day maybe I will love another man. My mom did. So there is hope for me. I have three kids, but so did she. One day, a man in a supermarket asked her out in front of those little kids. That same man who has been there holding her hand ever since. The same man who will hold her hand until she dies.
Hope. Grateful. Thankful. Love. They make me feel this and more.
Today is not their anniversary. It is not either of their birthdays. Today is just a Tuesday in August during their 23rd year of marriage. Just a random day that I wanted to talk about them. I rarely do. But today it was time.
I’m going to leave this open until Thursday morning. If you are a part of my book club please vote. If you aren’t and would like to be, please leave me a comment and I’ll add you to the email list. I’m not sure of the Book Club meeting date yet. I’ll figure that out after BlogHer. Figure sometime the first week of September.
Which would you like to read for book #2?
- The Help (25%, 6 Votes)
- Bossy Pants (17%, 4 Votes)
- Sisterhood Everlasting (13%, 3 Votes)
- Hunger Series, book 1 (13%, 3 Votes)
- The 19th Wife (13%, 3 Votes)
- The Paris Wife (8%, 2 Votes)
- The Glass Castle (8%, 2 Votes)
- Cutting for Stone (3%, 1 Votes)
Total Voters: 24
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