Day 20: When you live in an abusive relationship for over 20 years, you quickly learn to adapt out of self preservation. Little things, actions, events become frightening. Take cooking for example. I used to love cooking with my mom when I was young and especially became good at baking desserts for friends and parties in my teenage years. Seventeen Magazine used to publish a monthly recipe which I always waited for anxiously...along with the make up tips.

When I met my husband, he was quick to assure me that not only could I not cook, but I did not want to, and would never be very good at it anyway. I was just 16, so what did I know!? After trying to make cooking a joint venture, a fun couple's experience when we moved into together when I was 18, I was quickly relegated to setting the table and cleanup duty after the meal...I got the joy of cleaning not only the dirty dishes but his mess from preparing the meal. After trying to "enter" the kitchen, only to be chased out with a knife, I acquiesced and accepted the boring role of cleanup.  And because he cooked such "gourmet" meals it also followed logical thinking that I should do all the laundry in the household as well as the house cleaning, vacuuming, dusting, child rearing, etcetera, etcetera.  As years progressed I became actually afraid of making a mistake in the kitchen, putting dishes or food in the wrong place, myself being in the wrong place at the wrong time, turning the stove on incorrectly...still not sure how that is possible, but if it could be screwed up, he made sure I knew it was my fault and that I was just no good in the kitchen.

I do not bring this up to dwell on the past but to show why I am very thankful to be cooking...I'm loving it! The transition was scary, no question. When my ex moved out and the kids and I moved into an apartment, I actually had a physical reaction of fear when I entered the kitchen to cook dinner for the first time...in my own kitchen. Ironically, I got the kids but the ex insisted he get all the cookware because, after all, "She can't cook anyway!" So, I delivered 3 large garbage bags of expensive cookware to his parents' home where he was living, and the kids and I went and bought the cheapest set of pots and pans I could find. And there began my new found joy...or should I say rekindled joy, which had been squelched since I was 16.

For the first few months, my anxiety level still shot through the roof when I went in the kitchen. I was conditioned like Pavlov's dog. I constantly heard the Ex berating me, "What the hell are you doing? Get out, you don't even know how the fuck to boil water!" I started out very simple, microwaving just about everything. The stove had become my nemesis...that scary appliance that I simply was not smart enough to operate properly. But slowly I graduated from the microwave, and the oven/stove and I began our struggle to make things right.

Today I am thankful, and maybe even a little proud, to say that I can cook. And to honor that joy and achievement of overcoming my fears, I am introducing recipes on my Intermission page. These are recipes that fit into a tight budget, a tight schedule, and are kid tested and approved...new ones coming weekly. 

And if any man ever questions my cooking ability again...Well, I'm the one with the knife now.

Day 19: So, so, so thankful I can still dream. Yup, Kids, Momma can still dream about what she is going to be when she grows up. Forget growing old...just growing forward! I am inspired with the knowledge that I have the chance to still do things in my second half of life. Time to don a title other than Momma! Mid-life crisis? No crisis here...just thoroughly embracing the possibilities.

I may not be able to afford a sports car, but I can most certainly afford to follow some long yearned for dreams that I have shelved for eons.  An old high school friend , you know who you are DB, just announced he is switching careers to follow his passion. Must be the time in life when we all get that itch to do something more. I won't be switching careers, but I most certainly am focused on switchin' up things in my life...ready to ride some new waves...follow some dreams! Watch out, kids, Momma may just have a thing or two to teach you about surfing life! No rocker by the fireplace for me...Unless he sings and plays a guitar. That's what I'm saying!

Day 18:

The warm night breeze blows through the curtains in the darkened bedroom.

 I catch my breath.

Your tendrils delicately touching my limbs.

I am not scared but curious.

Are you friend or foe? Are you me or are you...just you?

Your vine wraps tightly, restricting me, becoming one with me.

You pull me back yet make me grow with you, reaching for the dim sunlight that has followed the warm breeze into the small room.

You awaken me from my slumber.

With you I find thankfulness for the new day...

A new day to right some wrongs...

Strive for joy...

And be content with the simple warm breeze and rays of sunshine.

Day 17: FaceBook dedicated today to #TBT, or Throw Back Thursday, I guess.  Being that today was going to be my 26th wedding anniversary, I pulled out some old photos from the day. It's fun to see yourself young and vibrant and hopeful. Only it feels a little like posting a picture on Match.com that does not exactly resemble you anymore.  I suppose I wanted to clarify my choice of day to celebrate. Certainly the fact that the marriage ended in an earlier demise than intended was not my point in the posting.

I have come to realize over the years that it is truly important to celebrate important anniversaries in our lives. Birthdays are the accepted norm, but when you celebrate old unsuccessful marriages or deaths, people tend to get weirded out and think you are living in the past. The opposite could not be more true. I find that celebrating milestones in my life, good or bad, keep me on track. I have a chance to regroup and re-evaluate my current path. Am I making the same mistakes I did then? Have I grown since then? I feel if I bury such huge parts of my life I am denying a part of me, a part that struggled, fell down, made mistakes, got back up, and survived.

I look at this picture in particular because this little girl, my flower girl Elizabeth, is now a grown woman who has travelled the world, is successful, and now navigating her own path in life, searching just like the rest of us.  Life is so tough but also so absolutely incredibly beautiful when we take stock in where we were, how far we have come, and where we may still have the opportunity to go.

Today I am very grateful to have such anniversaries to celebrate, and ironically, my divorce happened 18 years later, only 2 days shy of the actual 18th wedding anniversary. So, today I celebrate.

Day 16: Well, you were Clair Bear when the first of these pictures were taken. You have grown into quite a young woman! I know you are now spreading your wings, getting ready to fly on your own...but you will always be my Clair Bear (deep in my own heart). I am proud of you! Today I am very thankful that 15 years ago the universe gave me a little baby girl. It has been a joy as I have watched you and your brother grow into two amazing human beings! Stay true to yourself and always maintain that incredible style you have! Happy Birthday!

Day 15: That look of disgust from your own teen-age child when you are already disgusted with yourself is possibly the most heart wrenching feeling. Well, maybe one of many we grow to feel as parents.

But today I give thanks for the unconscious uncoupling that is happening with my 2nd kid.  Like child birth, the pain associated with your child entering the teenage years is very hard to describe until you have experienced it first hand. Whoopi Goldberg calls it the "teenage tunnel". I had coined the term the "teenage wormhole" years back when my son turned 14 and disappeared into the abyss known as puberty. Oh, their bodies and mouths are still around, consuming your food, yelling at you for being alive, demanding clothes, cab rides, the list goes on. But that baby you brought home from the hospital who grew into the young kid that ran into your arms, saying "I love you, Momma!", and thought you were the greatest...wormhole. The carcass that remains is often times a crabby, disinterested, unreachable creature that would just assume pretend you did not exist for the next 6+ years. 

Often times the descent into the wormhole happens much faster than any of us anticipate. I believe the suddenness of the change is what makes the transition the most difficult for parents. We don't want to let go of that person we remember. And we sure don't want that sweet young kid to be replaced suddenly by this thing with horns. It is important to mourn but not for too long because, as a parent it is paramount to realize the kid is now entering far more dangerous territory than ever before. It makes keeping them from running across the street or eating dirt seem easy.  Now we have to be more vigilant than ever but can't let them know we care TOO much. It's another new parent dance we must learn.

So, why be thankful? Well, for one, it is a healthy uncoupling. Children have to find their own identity by breaking ties with their parents, and, in doing so, have to often make us the villain...or the stupid one...or whatever nasty term they can muster that makes them feel they are not like us in anyway. No question that it hurts like hell. And I can honestly say it doesn't get easier with the second kid. But when I sat back and distanced myself from her rancor, I reminded myself that this is a necessary step towards her becoming a self sufficient adult who hopefully becomes secure in her own identity. 

And I believe Mother Nature is wickedly clever in how she has children come into this world and develop. Think of it...babies are so adorable. Why? Because I believe it makes it easier for us to forsake our sleep and ourselves for such a helpless, sweet looking being.  Then when kids become teenagers...they often become so rotten that we as parents are not that distraught when they move on into their own lives. It's a curious twist of fate. Ingenious, really...but also a little sadistic on the part of Mother Nature.

Day 14: After watching my son start his own animation business this last year, I am thankful that I had the mentorship of some very savvy sales people when I was younger. And it dawned on me how very much we learn from other people in life if we are open to it. While talking with my son about "getting the business", memories of so many people flooded my mind. Fond memories, some awkward, some obnoxious, certainly lots of politically incorrect events and conversations by today's standard. I "grew up" in the financial industry starting in the mid 80s which was predominantly male. Let's just say that I was told "sex sells" on more than one occasion..."never hurts to show some cleavage and some thigh". I laugh to myself now when I remember those conversations. How very absurd. But something interesting dawned on me...

When I knew I was being seen as a "pretty thing to look at", I realized I had to know more than my male peers about the product I was selling.  And I had to keep asking for the business....and keep asking...and then ask again. Oh, I showed cleavage and thigh when I knew it would get me in the door, and I am not ashamed of it. Let's be honest, I wish I had those knockers and tight thighs now. But I digress. My point is that we use what we have, but it doesn't have to be all that we have...men or women. Sometimes I feel we hide behind out political correctness and are not given the vital life lessons to survive a still very incorrect world. I had my share of being cornered in elevators by men who thought it was okay to invade my space. Those men saw stars and usually ended up on the elevator floor...strong thighs and knees! But truth be told, most of the men and women I met in the business world respected you if you pushed your way in, constantly asked for the business, and then knew what the hell you were talking about. Regardless of how we communicate, by phone, e-mail, text, FaceBook, LinkedIn, etc, maintaining that human, real contact will close the sale every time. I feel like we need to impart to the next generation that just because there are rules of political correctness, it doesn't automatically afford you the right to be respected. Respect is something earned...and it's only earned if you do your job, do it well, and care about the people you are dealing with....and ask for the business...and ask for the business...and ask again for the business.

Day 13: 

The tracks of life slide through my face like a knife through butter.

Every crease tells a story of the years lived and lost.

Tears now roll in different directions because the landscape has change.

It seems fewer tears roll because life's cruelty numbs the soul.

But the eyes do tell a story...

I once was a girl who loved her kitty,

who loved playing in mud and making mud pies,

who loved big boxes because they became secret worlds,

who loved turning her bike upside down to run grass though the wheel well and pretend I was actually making ice cream.

Then I grew up and allowed events to suck the life out of my eyes.

I sat idly by as if waiting for a bus to offer me a ride to the remainder of my life.

Then one day I woke up,

finding myself still sitting on that bench at the bus stop,

as several busses sped by, not even slowing to acknowledge my presence.


Today I am thankful for having the option to walk...

the light of life returning to my eyes.

I now know I have the choice to live the 2nd half or just continue to sit and watch life go by.

Day 12:  I'm afraid I have to admit I still use a check register to balance my finances. Yes, I have braved the electronic age and have most of my bills debited automatically. I probably only write 2 checks a month at most, but I always feel the need to double check the bank's integrity.

Do you ever have it when you look at your bank account balance and think something just isn't right? It has been bugging me for the past few weeks. I kept wondering how I could have possibly spent so far above my budget...almost to the point of panic. So, this morning I sat down at the computer, ready to wrestle with the bank's electronic version of my account. Yeah, that is when I realized I was the idiot. Fortunately for me, I had made a subtraction error. I can now breath easy and, for once, be thankful for my own stupidity.