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!

It came at me with all the unexpected force of a sudden dust storm. The winds kicked up quickly. The sand stung my eyes, making it impossible to see the force that took me by such surprise. I could only hear the whistle of the wind as tears streamed down my face. Within the cloud, I was bombarded, whipped, made to feel like nothing, reduced to a lonely pile of human remembrance. I was nothing, used up, tossed aside like an old tissue dancing about on the street, only to end up in the gutter. Once full of such hope and joy, the forces of nature sucked away the happiness once felt seeing new life.
 
The winds throw me to the ground. I cannot see. I am weak. I am tired. I want to give up. Why push on? What's the point? The wind thrashes at my skin, the sand hurts at it rips away at my hope for some happiness. I cover my mouth, barely able to breathe. Will it ever relent? 

The loneliness is forever.
The sorrow is forever.
The pain stings forever.
Don't tell me to hope.
Don't tell me to look at the bright side.
Don't tell me this too shall pass.
Let me feel my pain.
Let me search it, explore it, discover it.
Only then will I be able to see the sunlight after the storm on my own.
Start anew.
Still lonely.
Still sorrowful.
Still in pain.
The dust settles.

Meet Spock. Spock is dead. Yes, in an effort to clean the fish tank, I once again killed off the marine life I was trying to help. I do this about every 3 years. No, I clean the fish tank more often than that. But it seems the fish get sick of me messing with them and just croak after about 3 years. Luckily, the kids are getting used to it. There is a definite advantage to the kids getting older....maybe I don't have to do this pet thing too much longer. Don't get me wrong. I love God's creatures...I just don't want to take care of them! Which leads me to the ponderance of the day...Independence.

It's July 3rd. It's been a long, hard day. I woke up sick with the stomach flu and struggled to get 8 hours of work in. I had wanted to go to the fire works on the Lake, but my daughter begged me to allow her to go to a dance class at a studio near our new home. Ironically, it is a studio I am all too familiar with. It is in the same building where I had my mortgage business for more than 10 years. In fact, my now 22 year old son attended a summer camp at the studio shortly after his sister was born.

I strayed up to the third floor of the building while my daughter attended intermediate hip hop. I came upon this door. A door that once had glass and the name of my business etched in it. I felt odd. It didn't seem to penetrate me. I remember so many events there but none of them even seem real anymore. I turned around and walked back down the hall. Ten years I had walked that hallway...bringing both my kids to and from work. Struggling to be an independent business woman. But I wasn't. I had a husband who demanded my time, a business partner who demanded my time, kids who demanded my time....

I walked that hallway slowly...running my hand along the wall. It was all such a distant memory. I had struggled for independence. I stood a moment, looked both ways down the hall. Today I am independent. Today I dictate my own future. If this were a Steven King novel I would definitely have seen my old self, ghost-like at the end of the hall. A meek self...one whom I remember had so much to learn. So, I walked to the elevators and said good-bye to the old self. It was a good ritual for Independence Day. Now...do a buy another fish or not?

To the Mississippi Republican Gov. Phil Bryant, I say enough is enough. It wasn't so much his assumption that women entering the work place was the down fall of the education of our children as much as the assumption that all families have two parents at home and are involved. With divorce at an all time high, maybe we should look at the now common ability for a father to walk away from his wife and children with nothing but a  "I don't want to do this anymore." It is most often the mother, who not only has to work to support those kids but also has to help them with schoolwork. I dare the Governor to care for even just one elementary school-aged child by himself for one week while working 50 hours a week, managing day care, bills, balancing work demands, perhaps even finding time to grocery shop and clean the home. Good luck, Governor! You would drop to your knees and whimper like a school-aged child yourself. Trust me!

My ex left in January, 2005. That May he left me a message on my answering machine that although we were splitting up, I was a good mother to his kids so, "Happy Mother's Day." I should have kept that recording because, like the governor, when it became appropriate fodder for his argument, my ex then said I was an unfit mother. Mind you, I was not unfit enough to retain custody and do "everything" for the kids...driving, feeding, consoling, caring 24/7. Our courts allow such silliness because politicians are stuck in the 1950s.

So, tell me why the same dad now can continue to be late picking up his child, leaving her waiting at school for an entire hour. I'll tell you why...because dads are not shamed the way mothers are, not held to the same standard. But it is shameful. And it is shameful that politicians refuse to acknowledge that the traditional 1950s family is a thing of the past. "Sure, Governor, I'll stay home with my kids. Oh, but that's right, you are also against State and Federal aid. Oops. Hhhhmmm. So, Governor, how do I stay home and support my kids? Do you have any comment on how dads might want to get involved?" I thought not.

If men want to be out of the family equation, then I suggest they own up to that. Is it possible for a Politician to acknowledge that fact? Until then, my children of a single mom continue to show signs of a positive ability to learn and adjust, one just graduating from college and the other graduating from middle school on the honor roll. So, I guess us single, working moms haven't done half bad with the lot we have been dealt by a male dominated society. Now, it is our turn not to be satisfied with the lot dealt. We have to continue towards change where both male and female roles and expectations are more equally defined.

Well, this afternoon and evening were spent rebuilding my endurance. Monday provided me with a 4 mile jog and some weight training while my daughter was in dance class. Tuesday...dance again? Okay, might as well go to the gym again...upped my jog to 6 miles and a half hour of weight training. Yes, the daughter is in dance class all week, so Wednesday saw a 4 mile jog, half hour on the elliptical machine, and another half hour of weight training. Today was my crowning moment. The day to really test if I have it in me to once again compete in a triathlon...8 mile jog, peppered with up hill sprints, one hour on the elliptical, topped off with another hour of boot camp. Didn't lose a pound but feel phenomenal. Feel like the old body is giving me a fighting chance again. Granted I still have the boob issues...I was kind of afraid the boob implant that is "out of its pocket" might end up in my arm pit...or worse yet...migrate down to my ass. I warned my classmates in boot camp that if they see a stray boob to let me know. I'm thinking people do not know how to take my sense of humor sometimes...nervous laughter. Probably thinking, "Poor dear, the cancer and radiation must have done something to her head." But nonetheless, when the ladies my age saw me going like gang busters, they too stepped it up a notch. Today was a day of health, stamina, and proving to myself that I'm alive and well. Time to reclaim some lost time and enjoy being healthy again...even if I do have to move my stray boob back up from my knee cap. Geeez, Folks, just kidding...well, sort of. Thank god for sports bras!

This is how my son addressed his sister on her graduation day.  Have to admit he wasn't far off...head band...long hair...strappy sandals. Yup, that's my daughter! Rock on, Girl! Can't say any girls sported the same look. Most were attempting to look sophisticated in high heels. Ouch. Nothing like watching girls who have never worn high heels try to sport 5 inchers. My daughter, having tried that look at her Uncle's wedding this last July, opted for the more comfortable, bohemian look.  Granted she paid as much in shipping as the shoes cost to get them in time for the special day. But she got the look she was going for. Now, I don't quite understand this whole graduating from 6th grade and then 8th grade. That all seems like nonsense to me. Hell, my kids have had so many graduations in their lives...from preschool, kindergarden, 6th grade, middle school, high school, college.  And then there's the outfit for each one.  Really? No. Enough already.

Here's how it should be. The day your kid gets a paying job and moves out...
Parent Diploma! These kids get accolades every few years. 21 years later, I'm thinking I deserve a badge of honor or at least a diploma for helping this person get to this point. When you wipe someone's butt, feed them, clean their vomit off your face, listen to them complain about what you don't do for them...What, no diploma? Yup, no diploma. You get to hope that someday they remember.

To both my kids... there was singing lullabyes into the wee hours, rocking, snuggling. Oh, my dears, I love you far more than you currently even know possible. When you have children, love expands to something infinitely larger than you have ever experienced before. Unfortunately, the frustrations you feel follow the same exponentially increasing path. To the point where I wonder which is going to explode first...my head or my heart.

Well, since no diploma for me, do you think you two could do the dishes once without being asked or without giving me that look up at the stars like I just asked you to cut off your arm?

 Ah, the little things.

Shame on me for falling into the all too typical trap of putting aside the things I love to do. I think most mothers understand my plight. I look at the last date I blogged, and it confirms it. When mothers have too much on their plate, the first thing to fall by the way side is those things that personally enrich their lives. Oh, don't get me wrong. I love my children to death and would do anything for them...and fairly often do with little energy left for myself.

I love to write, to garden, and to exercise. All of which are things that not only help me cope with the busy schedule but also make me a much more pleasant person for my children to be around. So, why do we fall in that trap? Those items I just mentioned are always the first to go by the wayside. And why is it so hard to get back into that schedule that makes us happiest...one of balance? No, really, I am asking! Because I haven't a clue. So, here I am back to my blog which I really do enjoy submerging myself into every evening. And I look back at the last 2 weeks since I blogged. Between graduations, end of school activities, those delightful half days that the school throws in which get completely forgotten about until the last minute, dance rehearsals, dance performances, birthday parties...oh, and that pesky full-time job....I take a deep breath. And it culminated with my daughter's belated birthday party.

 Now, here is where I went terribly wrong! I granted my daughter's wish to have eight 14 year olds over for a sleep over. She made the invitations a few weeks ago after which I thought little of it as I focused on all the other crazy activities spiraling around me. Then came Friday, the day of the party. Who is coming? We are not quite sure. What're we going to do for food? Oh my god, I have to meet this work deadline, and I haven't even done any grocery shopping. Eight teenage girls? Holy shit! I should have my friggin' head examined. Surely they won't all show up, especially since we now live downtown...a bit of a drive for the parents to make. It's Friday, and they were supposed to start arriving at 5pm. My daughter and I dashed to the grocery store. I think I remember changing out of my PJ bottoms into something more appropriate. But couldn't be sure since I had been up since 3am trying to meet my work deadline. I'm pretty sure my hair did not get brushed. Then the mad quest for a Dairy Queen to get the ice cream cake my daughter HAD to have.  Then I had to find my cooler in the basement to put the ice cream cake in because it would not fit in the freezer, of course.  Aaahhh, then there was the little matter of ice to put in the cooler. Are you kidding me? Another frantic run back to the grocery store and we are back. The door bell rings. They started to arrive one by one...and yes, I ended up with eight 14 year olds in my home, eating, dancing, squealing like pigs. None of them brought a sleeping bag or pillow. Not sure why that was since it was clearly a sleepover. So, another crazy dash to cover the floor with comforters and pillows.

Several of them did not sleep and chose to go out on my balcony at 4am and start singing and laughing...VERY loudly. I corralled them back into the house but in the process one of them managed to fall thru my screen door, tearing the screen, and completely pulling the frame off, bending it in half. Yes, I think I need to think twice about what I agree to.

No sleeping bags and all refused to wear swim suits. You guessed it...they didn't stay as dry as they appear here. So soon we were running back to the house for showers and a request that I dry their clothes because that's all they have. Eight girls taking showers in my one little bathroom. This was getting exhausting. Once they had spent a good couple of hours primping, redoing makeup, and getting their freshly dried clothes back on, we made our way to the Summer Solstice Festival just a couple of blocks from home. I looked down at my I-Phone clock....just 2 more hours. I think I'm going to make it. And we did. That night I do believe I finally brushed my hair and teeth and passed out on the couch.

Time to get back to some me time, walks to the Lake, tending my garden, and telling you more stories about how completely ridiculous I am when I do not think things through. Thank God for watering my plants over the past two weeks, or those might have suffered as well. And as for the exercise...a 4 mile jog this afternoon. Back in the saddle!

I wrote about this book store in March, located just a block from my new home, not realizing what a jewel it was. Slowly I have come to realize the caliber of writers this place draws, hosting book signings several times a week. It has rejuvenated my love of reading and writing. Wouldn't it be wonderful if these places continued to exist all over!

Imagine my excitement that Jim Gaffigan is coming this Saturday. Okay, he's not a huge literary figure, but what a funny comedian. My daughter is hugely upset that she will be performing dance at the same time, missing the book signing. I, on the other hand, get to see her performance the day before and let Dad take the Saturday performance watch. An awesome weekend all in all! A little culture all around. Then maybe we can all catch a little of the Dining Downtown Week where local restaurants offer hugely discounted menus for a week. I could get used to this downtown living

I have a dear friend from work who I have now had the pleasure of knowing for over 4 years. Being a breast cancer survivor herself, she was a huge source of support when I received my diagnosis and helped me navigate the unknown terrain I was heading toward. She and her husband of over 40 years, like most Americans 10 years ago, had stable, long term jobs, and were looking forward to retiring. But as we all know, the down turn in the economy swiped those retirement dreams away from millions of people. My mom still laments having to continue to work well into her 70s. It just doesn't seem right. But like my mom, this couple has done what they have had to do to still live life to the fullest. Then they decided to make a fabulously bold move...a move a 30 year old would make with little thought.  Both still working day jobs, they decided to take their life savings, what was left of it, and invest in a business that might carry them through the rest of their lives and be an enjoyable journey on the way.

Meet Larry and Barb....part of the bold, older population taking the business world by storm. This couple is tireless, working some 12-14 hour days, six days a week to pursue their dream and still pay their mortgage. But when I recently watched this couple at work when I visited their shop in Brookfield, Wisconsin, I did not see an old couple, winding down in life, fatigued by being over-worked. No, this couple appears to have a rejuvenated sense of life and all it has to offer...both relishing the fact that they get to spend so much time meeting interesting people while offering a product they enjoy and believe in.

Larry and Barb chose to invest in purchasing a franchise called "Water to Wine". Check out their business. Their wine selection is fantastic...

Although this couple is working very hard to make their dreams come true, their wisdom in age has them enjoying the journey as much as the potential outcome. They are learning new things, meeting so many new people, and making new friends with local business owners and media outlets. Their hard choice which once seemed hoisted upon them has seemingly become a mecca in their twilight years. Larry and Barb, I wish you all the luck in the world, but I don't believe you two need luck with how hard you work and with how you both embrace life, both the struggles and opportunities. I raise my glass to a beautiful couple I am proud to know!

This is not meant as some kind of a dig at those who are bi-polar, but rather my own way to describe a life that has such ridiculous swings in events that I honestly sometimes wonder which end is up. These things always happen when I think I have a handle on life, like I am moving forward and am going to be able to enjoy myself for a bit. Then the anvil hurtles from the sky while I am fastened in the vice grip of fear unable to escape the falling object....Wham!

This happened to me two years ago when my health insurance called me the Friday afternoon before my scheduled Bi-Lateral surgery. "Hi, Ms. Oliphant, we regret to inform you but that (life saving) surgery you are scheduled to have on Monday morning...yeah, we're not going to cover that. Sorry for the inconvenience." Wham. Panic mode...I felt like life suddenly went into slow motion.

Fast forward to this last Friday. "Hi, Ms. Oliphant, there seems to be some kind of mix up. We have no record of your daughter enrolling in the Milwaukee High Schools for the Arts. There are no spaces available for her. Sorry for the inconvenience." I'm thinking that God has a call center that goes into hyper drive on Friday afternoons where he starts telling his out-sourced telemarketers, "Yup, that person is getting way to comfortable. Give her the Friday afternoon 'Wake Up!' call." Okay, God, first of all, not laughing! And second, "Not awake? I NEVER sleep! Stop it!" Again, panic mode...slow motion.

Friday evening my daughter, having worked so hard to get into the school, was having her graduation ceremony from her old middle school. When I got the call she was luckily still at school. My son was at home and witnessed his mother, once again, go through a metamorphosis into a crazed, panicked, lunatic. I could only think of how disappointed my daughter was going to be, how I had moved our lives downtown for nothing, the expense, the long drives, the money, the hard work, the disappointment, the money, the exhaustion, the upcoming emotional upheaval, the expense..."How do I possibly fix this one!?" My son holds my shaking head as I hyperventilate, speaking calmly, "Mom, it's got to be a mistake. It will all work out. You somehow always make it work out. Take a deep breath." He spoke to me as if I were a little child that had just scraped her knee...speaking in low, calm, comforting tones. He was right. I needed to pull myself together. Damage control mode...slow motion.

I pulled up all my old e-mails and barraged the school administrator who made the call with copies of his own e-mails that stated my daughter was enrolled and that they HAD received the appropriate paperwork. I was on a mission. Within an hour, e-mails, phone calls, messages, attachments sent...and a demand for resolution before the end of business day Friday. I was determined to go to my daughter's graduation with a clear head...comfortable. My cell phone rings. A man's rather timid voice on the other end speaks slowly, "Hi, Ms. Oliphant, I am so sorry for all the confusion. It appears we had your daughter's last name listed as Brown, not Browning. Everything is fine. She is enrolled for Fall of 2013." I finally breathe for the first time in hours. But I do not let the man retreat from the call so quickly. "Mr. W, please confirm that information with an e-mail this afternoon." "Understood," he responds. You see, I know there's always next Friday, when God's callers may get some more funny ideas.