It has been quite a week as I watch my children navigate their lives. My daughter had several "firsts", first real date, first dance, first kiss, first fight, first break up. She accomplished more in the span of seven days than many of us achieve in seven years...and none the worse for wear. Unscathed, she shook herself off and stated, "I feel like the weight of the world is off my shoulders." I snicker at her youthful wisdom.

Then I watch my son toil with his life choices, feeling the weight of the world, thinking that every decision he now makes at 22 will somehow be the "end all", wanting to be sure his decision is the "right" one. I pause, I snicker at his youthful wisdom. I yearn for that feeling that somehow my choices will seal my fate and determine what I will be doing and where I will be at in 20 years. I snicker at my own healthy dose of reality.

Perhaps the hardest part of growing up is realizing that the cross roads are all part of the journey...one that is paramount to the journey continuing and being worth living. My mom started telling me when my husband left that "this too shall pass". But what she did not mention is that once the emotional upheaval of passing through one cross road is done, you suddenly find yourself at another cross road, and another, and another. That is, if you allow yourself.

My ex often said I liked change and he did not. There was some truth to that for sure. When young, I sought out excitement...challenges...cross roads.  As I got older I found that life had enough of a roller coaster in store for me that I did not need to search it out. Don't get me wrong. I desperately sought out "normal" in an effort to please. How else do you think I ended up sentenced to life in the Midwest? I made a choice out of trying to determine what would be best for me for the next 20 years, or should I say what I thought was expected of me. I made a choice, one that lingers on the lips. My son is at that age of searching for that "right" decision. I pause and take a deep breath. He doesn't want to make a decision he will "regret". Ahhhh, and therein lies our deepest tormentor. "What if?" And therein lies experience when you realize, if you are lucky, that regret is simply not a useful commodity. If we spend time regretting our choices, we lose valuable time during which we could learn from those choices. I try not to use the work "mistake" because if there is one thing growing older can impart is that we may not make the best choices, but more often than not, those choices build who we are and shape our future ability to be happy no matter what cross road we come upon.

You may think you can chose Purgatory or Paradise here on earth. Nope! We can only try our best, making choices as we go...not over-judging ourselves or those around us. And as long as we have the option to chose our paths...well, then we are alive and very, very lucky. No regrets...just lesson learned and...Next cross road if you please.

Okay...I am going to take this slowly. Yes, this is my daughter's boyfriend. Uuummm.
Whhhhatttttttttt Thhhheee FFF...
Well, now do you see why I have issues...why all moms have issues!!!! Actually, this young man is very good looking and has a kind smile, but when a mom sees this on Facebook, she is going to freak!!!!  

As a mom I entered the weekend from hell on Halloween weekend. I would have much rather spent a half hour in a much dreaded haunted house with cheesy effects than enduring my daughter's advancement into high school life...

"The gateway drug to adulthood!"

Someone must someday do a spoof on that! But until then, suffice it to say that I am trying to remember why "Carrie" the movie was shocking. There is no question that raising a son is easier. Raising a teenage daughter is quite possibly as lethal as navigating a mine field! I think I got blown up at least seven times this weekend.
There should be an app called BUMM...
Blow Up Ma Ma!
I could map it out for you tech folks!

Until then, we are still working on a photo acceptable to all parties that actually shows these people in this story are not Zombies.
Knowing teenagers...we'll get back to you when they are 20! (If I survive!)

This was my balcony jungle at the end of Summer...a triumph in color and texture and fragrance. But, alas, the season has ended and has given way to fallen leaves, cold, brisk winds...and scary spiders...

The jungle is gone, and I made one last attempt at holiday décor in the interest of my children. Then I realized that they have grown beyond the need or even interest in holiday decorating. I had always tried to create an atmosphere for different holidays, creating various traditions along the way. It seemed at the time to inspire their imaginations and create a fun sense of excitement for the next phase of the year. But this year, there remains two untouched pumpkins on the balcony...my famous baked pumpkin seeds a thing of the past. The kids looked sideways at the decorations with polite yet obvious disdain. Today I will remove the decorations...putting them in my new box kept in the basement for next Spring marked "Yard Sale."

As the old gives away to new experiences, I find myself in unchartered waters. For so long I have been defined as "their mom." Now I move towards an empty nest, alone....and I don't know how to do that! Damn it...another manual to life that I am missing. But truly, no one can define your future but yourself. That is what "they" say. How poetic and ridiculously unhelpful! I tend to approach life in a practical, day-to-day, what am I going to do today kind of way.  I develop routines so that I can keep that emptiness at bay, but now what? I can't use the kids to fill that void anymore. Time for Momma to grow up too. Don't get me wrong. I embrace this challenge but am also scared to death. So, I had to look at this in a practical "to-do" way. It's kind of like when I started a family, started a business, got cancer...I had to think about the practical things "to do". You have a baby...well, you buy a crib, paint a room blue or pink. You start a business...well, you write your business plan, implement goals. You get cancer...well, first you freak out, then you find out your options, have surgery, go through treatments.

So, what's my treatment for the next phase...I used a "lifeline" and talked to my 22 year old son. I have been watching him struggle with his next phase in life, so we sat outside on the front stoop one day and just chatted in the cool Autumn air, the fallen leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, both of us looking whistfully at our feet..."Where are our feet going to take us next?"  He had a wonderful idea. A goal...if you will. I had to adjust his premise just slightly to adapt to the practical nature of having a job and still supporting two kids, but I think he is on to something. A clear action to set me on the path to finding what I am going to do with the rest of my life...or with the next few years anyway.

He knows of my boredom with my own circumstance...my constant search for something that will break me out of the predictable nature of my existence. Simply stated..."Mom, try something new everyday and write about it." Knowing that doing that everyday could be slightly daunting and perhaps not practical or achievable, we agreed on the concept, but I will start by finding something new to do and write about once a week. Now, please, Reader, do not get your hopes up! I do not bungee jump or do anything like sky-diving....that just isn't going to happen. But there are some things...this should be fun. Welcome to my next phase....time to put away the Halloween decorations and time to test drive a Porsche! Aahhh, sweet dreams!

Welcome to the life as a mom of a cave woman. We worked so hard for our rights...and here is my daughter! 

I have not written my blog since July, and the entry I read that I wrote that last day seems ironically similar to life now. Perhaps that is why I stopped writing. I got bored. No, not bored of writing. In fact, I always write...always have. I write for myself....pages and pages. I discard. I write again. It's therapeutic. So, bored? Yes, bored. I think that perhaps we have all become bored of life in one way or another as we get older. I watch my kids...the awe inspiring "firsts". It helps us as adults relive the awe of life that perhaps we would have lost earlier had they not been around. But now as they slowly move on....well, I look at life and go, "So, what?" Who cares if you have been through divorce? Who cares if you have been through breast cancer? Who cares if you owned your own businesses? And, really, who cares if you lost it all!? We care for a nano-second....just the amount of time it takes to watch a You Tube video. Let's be honest, I think "Grumpy Cat" has probably had more searches on the internet than Ghandi..

So I took a breather, bored with my own circumstance, bored with my own lament,  bored with chronic pain, and bored with the complaints of single parent hood.  Why was I bored?  It came to me while watching a show of young dance  students at my daughter's new school. The dancers were performing independent  pieces that represented events in their lives. These young men and women were beautiful and amazing. Thought provoking. Emotional. And there it ended. With  such youth performing, I yearned for the positive. Yes, they shared hardships that they had experienced in such powerful ways, but had no one taught them the...well, for lack of a better word....the end game? I thought of how  beautifully these young people had portrayed their sadness, their fights, their hurdles. But where was the joy? The triumph that we all know is there or else  none of us would be dancing, performing, or writing about the despair in the first place.

In Junior High School I wrote an essay called "Why Celebrate the Family" and won some very satisfying awards. What I forgot from that time was what I wrote about was hope and the positive...the end game after living through parents who divorced. So, that is
why I say I was bored. Yes, it is good to share the tough times so others know it's okay, but now...

Well, now I enter a new phase in life. The children are moving on. Oh, let's face it, I have a 14 year old daughter and 22 year old son living under my roof, so the laments will
continue. But now is time for me to regain that focus I used to have...the positive end game. The kids could learn a thing or two from that perspective. So, my next chapter to "Why Celebrate the Family"?  Meet Why Celebrate Life! Because I will definitely be figuring that one out as we go....Let's go....

Post Script: My dear Pappa passed away 40 years ago yesterday on Halloween. He and my Nanna were an amazing pair who survived and "Celebrated Life"! For them I give tribute and persist!  Love you both!