Olive

Olive has arrived!We drove to Tacoma to pick her up and she was the last puppy to go home. We felt a little bad about that since she was all alone in a giant kennel. I'm sure she was questioning her life choices at this point, all 9 weeks of it. We had been delayed in our search for a Krispy Kreme donut.

She is a giant marshmallow with a very small body. And very sharp baby teeth. She is adorable, but really what baby isn't. That is how they get away with murder, the cuteness factor. Olive has it in spades. Herbie "The love pug" is not impressed. He refuses to share his ball or any of his toys or his kitchen or the living room or the plant stand that before today he didn't even know we owned but now it IS HIS MOST FAVORITE THING and she is not to touch it. Or look at it. Or breathe on it.The boy loves her but of course it is not three in morning and she is not whining and needing to go to the out of doors. We will see how much love is flowing at that time. Or when she chews his shoes or his jeans.

She is sweet and brings some new life into our home. Chaos also entered but I knew that going in, so I'm fine with trade off. She has met some neighbors. Frolicked in the front yard. Had lunch. And is now fast asleep on the kid's bed. Not on the pillow for that is where Herbie sleeps but at the end of the bed on the kid's feet. A welcomed addition to a newly built family.

My spring vacation

So tomorrow I head off for vacation. Hooray! I wish it was someplace exotic or warm or had cute pool boys holding fruity umbrella drinks, but alas, it is the Oregon Coast. Still it will be fun, sleeping in, watching the rain from a new vantage point, nice!

I may or may not be incognito for the next week. All the new things I get to do on my own will now include trying to find out how to join up to the Internet.

I love Seaside, don't get me wrong but we are not talking about a huge metropolitan city here. Businesses may or may not be there from one week to the next. I think our phone book is at least 8 years old, which is not a plus point in trying to locate help.

I am hopeful that since it will be a week day, some businesses will be open. This is not a foregone conclusion in Seaside. The local paper comes out once a week and still has a column that includes gossip about long time residents (no one I have ever known). We have a ice-cream social for the fourth of July which also includes a cake walk and bingo.

Our home is slightly famous. It was built in 1940 by the town's newspaper owner. At the time it was a long way from town and sometimes you couldn't go in or our depending on how far the river had risen. Now we have a bridge, no forging rivers for me. It is a lovely white cape cod home and I love it dearly. So do tourists who stop and take pictures of it.

Anyway, I believe the original man passed away and his widow remarried. Her new husband was the owner of the drug store/soda shop. He committed suicide in our home, on a porch that is no longer there.

When we first bought the house, 18 years ago, it was told to us in a throaty whisper with wide opened eyes, in case we believed in ghosts or spirits and thought our house was haunted.

We didn't. Still don't. But I do believe that this house, plain white, no bells or whistles, able to stand the test of time, seasons, and coastal storms without a flinch, has good vibes. It provides a good feeling when I walk in.

My kid learned to walk here, ride a bike here, has spent Birthday's, Christmas's, and most every Summer here. He has done summer camps and has played in the water until his lips turned blue. We have brought home enough sand in our shoes to build our own beach.

We have a garage sale here almost every year. It is one of the greatest things about small towns, garage sales ROCK! Ours is packed. Someone still comes up and tells the tale about the sordid past of our home. I let them talk, I let them walk through the house that has really remained unchanged since 1940. I listen politely and discard everything they say.

And at night when I tuck everyone in bed, I swear the house sighs quietly and is happy that another family loves it passionately.

Goodby - Thank Goodness!

No more in-laws. One of the best things about losing a husband, besides the extra closet space you get, is the family you finally get to get rid off.

My family is no walk in the park. I have a fantastic sister, but I don't really have a relationship with the rest of the family. It is my decision and one I am happy with. I couldn't live without my sister and would do anything to keep that relationship alive and well. The rest, hard to get along with and better when they are not in my life.

My in laws, gone and I am better for it. Finally, holidays that won't end up with crying and someone going home mad. Finally, another meal that won't end up made with food I do not eat, and which they have known about for 23 years and chose to ignore. Pointed digs and sly comments that I won't have to listen to.

With my in laws, we have nothing in common. Not how we feel about politics, or food, or holidays, or fun, or my son. My son, the one person in this world I love unconditionally. The second person in this family that my in-laws can't stand. The first being me.

My ex chose to ignore it. The bad behavior, the veiled insults, the hurtful remarks, were always something I was suppose to disregard. Aimed at my direction, sure. Aimed at my son, no way on earth. The interactions between us and them, became less and less.

Now, there is no interaction at all. For the first time in over 23 years, Christmas was nice. Music played, the food was good, neighbors stopped by with gifts, people were laughing and enjoying themselves. I loved it! My son loved it! His father was no where to be found and we loved that! The in-laws gone and Oh! How We Loved That!

I'm sure it must be hard for my son, for I know deep inside he wants to be part of a family. I can see the way he tries so hard to buy the perfect gift for birthday's and holidays. How he loves when we would have pool parties and his grandparents would come. How his school essays would be written for the grandparents he wished he had, not the ones that he did have. But it is not to be, not for grandparents, not for aunts or uncles, or even cousins. Hell, not even for his own father. Not one of them sent a card, a gift, a email, or a phone message on Christmas or his birthday. His 18Th birthday went unnoticed by people that had been in his life every moment he has been alive.

So, I'm glad they are gone. Maybe that should have been my first clue as to what kind of life I was stepping into. What can I say, I was 22 and pretty stupid.

Would I do it all again?

Yes, in a heart beat! I would still step up and take the disappointment. I would take the betrayal. I would take the humiliation from a man who said he would always love me, protect me, care for me. I would take the horrible in-laws. All of it I would take again, for in doing so, I would also get the one thing I love so much. The one thing that also loves me so much. My son.

It was so worth it.

Be Kind

To Thine Own Self
Be Kind

I saw these words yesterday and they really hit home for me. In my day to day life, I tend to be harsher with myself than with anyone else.

Like most women, I want it all. To be a good mom, to be in shape, to be kind and thoughtful, to be intelligent, to remain on top of stuff, to be a good person. Every day I fall a little short in one area or another.

Last week was a very bad week for me. I have no idea why. Things seemed impossible. I couldn't find peace no matter how hard I searched. I had to have a bunch of tests run and waiting for the results were nerve-wracking, to say the least. My son was having some medical problems as well and I felt that it was too much. I couldn't handle it, at all.

In the last few months, I have had to reach out to all sorts of people. I needed support and help. I was met with kind, compassionate people. People I could call whenever I needed a helping hand. My sister alone has spent more hours on the phone with me than any sister should have too. My friends have delayed their own family life to help with mine.

I didn't feel that I should ask again. So I tried to handle it on my own. I failed. But now I recognize the times I need more support. So I reached out again, and again I was met with kindness and warmth and help. Someone walked with me through a very hard week and everything turned out well.

But I judged myself critically and harshly. I refused to let myself off of the hook for being unable to handle the situations. My mind went over and over my failures, and there were many. I just kept listing them, again and again.

The thing with big life altering changes, is the fact that you have to continue to change. Day after day after day. The changes get easier because you build confidence in your own abilities to handle what is thrown at you. But some days you have to do the change all over again. The same one you already did and you are tired of that change. Tired that every day is yet another thing you need to do.

It was easier this time. Easier to recognize I needed help. Easier to recognize that I am doing a great job. Easier to recognize that I have a lot to handle. Easier to recognize that the last three months have proven I am a strong and capable woman. Easier to recognize the good in myself.

So, while I will let the world judge me, I will not. I will treat myself with kindness, compassion, and love.

And I hope you will judge yourself the same way.

Lovin' that Latte

Starbucks is my coffee house of choice. I love coffee! Could happily drink it all day, I don't because it hard to get anything done if you can't peel yourself from the ceiling. But I love it.

I visit Starbucks once a day. Every day. On my day of pain (Wednesday) twice a day. It is a reward for facing the day of pain. I only face it, I don't make the best of it. And I let everyone around me know it is a day of pain and it is only with the crutch of two lattes, that I do as much as I do on this day. I am humble that way.

One Venti Non-fat Double Cup latte. Every day. It even looks beautiful in type.

For a while, I made them at home in an effort to conserve money. After plunking down a boatload of cash for a lovely espresso maker, which I justified by remembering how much I would be saving. Down the road, of course, since I was already in the hole with the purchase of the machine. Add in coffee. Add in the little metal pitcher to steam the milk. Add in the lovely cup that said "Latte" on the side. This was some serious hole.

The best laid plans and all that. It took friggin' forever to learn how to work the machine. Plus, the machine got hot, very hot, Africa hot, and I spent a lot of time getting bandaged for burns. Steam burns, hot milk burns, hot water burns, I invested in cartoon band-aids to brighten up my hands. I had the whole line up of Cartoon Network on one hand alone.

Then factor in the dish washing time, the readying of the machine time, the cleaning of the machine afterward time, the grinding of the coffee beans time, medical time, cursing time, it was like, forever, to get a coffee. So not worth it.

Moved machine to the garage and trotted back to Starbucks.

This is one of the best things about getting old. The ability to recognize your limitations. Starbucks makes great coffee and I do not. Starbucks wants me to drink great coffee and I want to. It is a true marriage. One of love and respect. Born out of the love for coffee.

And the love of not having second degree burns every day. Sweet!

What is he doing in my home?

I birthed a nut case!

Over eighteen years ago, I awaited the birth of a child. Had I known what I was getting, I would still want to be waiting.

How I got something that is so different from me is a mystery of nature. A very cruel joke. Somewhere, someone is laughing at me and it is quite the belly laugh.

He looks like me, tall, good-looking (ha,ha) and has the same sparkling wit. We wear the same size clothes. And there the similarities end. Yep, that is all we got in common. Oh, and we share the same rare blood type. Yippee! I know that if I need a kidney transplant, I have my very own supply.

That's it.

He is driven. Driven to learn. Driven to succeed. I skipped that drive. I like to learn but it isn't the same overwhelming desire that it is for him. He takes the hard classes at school because he wants to know everything. I took typing in school.

He reads books that are actually thinking books. I can tell you how much weight Jessica Simpson gained because I read People magazine.

I like TV. Goofy shows, Drama shows, anything that involves the word "CSI" I am all over it. He watches shows that actually impart knowledge. I can't even tell you what channel that might be, I have never even slowed down when my remote came into contact with learning stuff.

His blog reader is filled with New York Times feeds, Stock Market feeds, Land Rover feeds. Mine is filled with decorating feeds. And humor feeds.

He is so loud. So very loud. And opinionated about everything. Even things he knows nothing about, he has a side. And will defend it ferociously. I am quiet.

You see, nothing.

And yet, something.

We both like organic cranberry juice. And cheese. And diet mug root beer. And Hollywood week on American Idol. And shopping for jeans. And pugs. And Mario Racing on the Wii. And sleeping in. And each other.

So I will take it. The mammoth differences and the small similarities. Because when it comes right down to it, I won the lottery of kids. For he is funny, honorable, and filled with integrity. He is a kid of his word. He is lanky. He can fall upstairs as well as downstairs. He is the best driver in the world and everyone else is the worst. He will eat me out of house and home unless I post notes on items to say "Please don't eat me." He is awesome and a nut case all in one.

And he is mine, all mine. Lucky, lucky me!

He snores, sheds, takes up most of the bed, and I love him to death!

This is Herbie "The Love Pug" a 5 year old black pug. Having a pug is not for the faint of heart. They are obstinate, shed enough that we could make another pug daily, snore, and must always be on top of you, not just by you, but actually on you!

Don't let that cute face fool you! He has the personality of a thug. "Bring it on!" is his motto and he does. Oh, he is all wind and no substance, but that doesn't stop him. He takes his thug job very seriously. The only reason we have not been attacked by a garbage can, is because he was on the job. Leaves, branches, stray garbage blowing in the wind, have not wrecked havoc on his family, because he stood his ground and said "Not on my watch!" He believes delivery men were sent here just to torment him. Garbage men are truly the work of the devil. Small children laughing down at the park, exist only to annoy his sleep.

But every time we return to the home, he welcomes us as if we have been gone for years. 8 seconds to go and check the mail, requires 10 minutes of a leaping, wiggling pug. Closing the door to take a shower, requires 15 minutes of exclaiming "That we did indeed miss him and thought him gone for ever, and it was our lucky day that we found each other in the hallway!"

So we put up with disemboweled stuffed toys, looking like a yeti in our day to day activities, the fact that he has the ability to bark for 20 minutes at the UPS man who has been gone for 18 of those minutes, the fact that he can climb onto my desk, drink my coffee and eat 1/2 lb. of melty mints and feel no remorse when I return 5 minutes later, all because he believes that his family rocks his world. And in this day and age, that is something pretty spectacular.