Evan and Alice: The Unauthorized What If, What Would Have Been, Bizarro World Story

I give full credit for this idea to my friend. She sent me a screen shot of two older redheads and said she found the very doppelgangers or other world versions of myself and my now ex-husband, on a weekend day at Costco. I told her to go befriend them and ask their names as though they could be possibly close to Eben and Alison, something like Evan and Alice. She told me to write their story, like a futuristic version of what could of been if we'd stayed married. And things started to come together.

I immediately remembered that epic Seinfeld episode, with the "Bizarro Jerry," and for the past couple of weeks the pieces of this "would be" story have just been following me around in bits in pieces.

The screen shot was of this slightly older male and female, similar builds to myself and the ex, in line at Costco and suddenly I saw what would have been my future, through what I'd imagined their day shopping was like. And just like that I am writing again. 

Before we get into this, I need to stress how much of this is a re-imagining. While some moments will be based on past experiences, events, moments, feelings and anxieties, I mean in no way to paint a distinct image that whatever happens in the following is indeed a first person depiction of my actual marriage. The following story is a musing, or rather a way for me to write out what may have been a future path, but by no means is based on anything more than ideas and fictional characters. So while I appreciate you reading, don't read too much into it. If you feel triggered or have questions, just reach out. 

Alice stood in line at Coscto, mask on, with a full cart, zoning out a bit at the end of the shopping experience. As Evan shot past her to leave her to the payment part and him to the part where he got his quintessential Costco Chicken Bake. In their 20's, Evan's obsession with getting a Costco Chicken Bake was cute and fun and you didn't have to care about your health. Now it was one more thing Alice had convinced herself was contributing to her theoretically growing ulcer. She was convinced one day she'd keel over from some silent, stress induced illness, or at least be confined to a padded room for a week or so one day. 

She watched everyone scramble to get their bulk goods and was almost up to the plexi-glass protected pay area. She stared into the cart. She always thought they got so much food and then somehow didn't have anything to eat. She wasn't prepared for the damage. She remembered her uncle calling Costco the $600 dollar store when it first came out. He always said you couldn't walk in there without spending $600.00 and she'd smile at the memory of times with her uncle then see Evan eyeing expensive things and cringe and take a deep breath. 

The whole experience of Coscto, became less and less fun with age. Evan never listened to her about the budget or her list. So as soon as they pulled into the lot, Alice's tension was rising. All week, calculating, recalculating, and reworking the budget. The texts and conversations about, "Okay we can spend this much," went out the door as soon as they walked in together.

Evan always went for the flat screens and technology. "I want, I need, we should have." Alice's stomach started to knot itself up. "Don't say anything sarcastic," she'd hear in her mind. She always wanted to yell, "Well if you made more money you could buy all that shit, but we are in debt because of all the other shit you bought that we didn't have money for." All that ever came out of Alice was "Uh huh, maybe that would be nice," or "Maybe for Christmas, hun."

She'd mentally start calculating how she'd ever find a way to get that for his "Christmas" birthday. Evan's birthday was January 1st and at the forefront of their relationship he'd told her that his parents always lumped it with Christmas so he never got a real party or real celebration. It then became Alice's lot in life to make the distinction and basically make it up to him that his parents let him down. Looking back she knew she'd done this to herself by being such a "good girlfriend" and "people-pleaser," that turned into the complacent wife. Now she mentally noted which TV got the best Evan review. Maybe she would find a good sale.

Fifteen years of marriage was just weird. They knew everything about each other but had nothing in common anymore. They barely watched the same shows. They never liked to meander Costco the same way either, so Alice often just followed Evan's lead to avoid another post-shopping excursion argument. Alice diverted the crowds in Costco much like she diverted years of brewing arguments with Evan, with an eye roll and a change in path for the moment.

They went past the clothes and blankets and Alice scanned quickly. She knew she'd "buyer's remorse" and immediately return anything she got as soon as they got it home and she went other the budget again. Then she'd just have to make another trip. On they went.

The next area was the furniture, which was ripe for the beginnings of an argument. "Ev, I love that dining room table. Isn't it so pretty? That's not even that expensive," Alice commented. "We don't even sit at a table to eat. You barely eat a real meal anyway and you don't cook," Evan responded. Alice felt the sarcasm and sass kick in and put on her game face. "If I had a nicer dining room set up, I might be more inspired to sit down and use it though," Alice replied.

"We're barely home two nights a week together you keep the kid so busy and you never stop until you crawl into bed with a salad and then go to bed early so when would you use this $1,200.00 dining set? You wanna drop $1,200.00 get the damn TV. At least we'd watch the TV. Get you a bigger one for the bedroom so you can eat your salad in front of The Office in peace," Evan went on grumbling while Alice reverted into reviewing the list and pretended the whole conversation never happened.

She shut up then and directed them into the frozen section after what felt like a 5 minute eye roll. He'd beaten her down with truth and now she was tired. They never ate together because Alice was so often depressed she barely had an appetite, but she couldn't really say that out loud. Most nights after work, and after school care for the kid, then sports, and then feeding the kid and doing homework, she could barely remembered to feed herself. Evan might have been right about not needing the dining set but she still wasn't getting him his TV. He wouldn't win that way.

The next few aisles were all stressful commentary by Evan the caterer about what was better priced at Coscto versus Sam's Club, what the kid wouldn't eat, what he refused to meal plan, and what he needed around for late night comfort food. Alice was just hoping she could find some decent snacks for lunches and grab her favorite protein shakes. Evan was always on a mission.

After he loaded the cart with what was on Alice's list, and then another $50 worth of stuff they couldn't afford, Alice wandered the pharmacy aisle. She'd often pause at the weight loss supplements, always wondering if she'd dare to buy and try one. After the mental talk down of why she wouldn't waste money on it, she'd just re-up on kids gummy vitamins and allergy stuff. It was then she spotted the fresh flower end-cap and found herself smiling, but in a sad way. Alice secretly loved getting flowers and she couldn't remember the last time Evan got her some. Maybe a couple years at this point. 

She'd stopped and zoned off again when Evan caught her. "Did you get the Advil?," Evan asked. "Yeah, it's in there," Alice assured him. "Where!?," Evan demanded. "It's in there!," Alice raised her voice and noticed a couple people glanced back. She kept walking with the cart, Evan followed behind making no effort to hide he was annoyed with her. She found her spot in line.

"I'm going," Evan started but Alice interrupted, "The chicken bake, yup. I got it." His ditching out for the grand total was dodging the responsibility, or so Alice had decided. She watched everyone ringing everything up and then started her usual stressing about the entire contents of the cart, secretly planning what she might return if  it came to it. In fifteen years their marriage came down to Costco drama as the best metaphor for their relationship.

They couldn't make it through a single trip to Costco without some kind of disagreement. Alice dreaded these joint shopping days, but it was their futile attempt at quality time. She much preferred to go alone and stick to her exact list. Her world was lists now and she found comfort in them. She made lists of the budget, what they could afford, what they couldn't, where they could go for a vacation, what she needed to clean, what she needed to remind or ask Evan about, where the kid needed to go or what she needed to get done. Alice's life was lists. 

The worst of the lists included the lists of the things Evan did routinely to upset her but she just put on the complacent smile and turned on The Office for the 9,000th time. If she lived through the comedy of Dunder Mifflin life seemed less bleak. She paid the huge bill, on a credit card of course, met Evan with his Chicken Bake and off they went. When they got to the car, Evan decided he couldn't help much because he didn't want his Chicken Bake to get cold.

Alice slowly unloaded the cart and returned it. Evan turned on the car, blasted the air conditioner and picked a CD before Alice could argue. She took a moment of peace walking back from the cart return to the car. It was an amazing 90 degrees out and as much as live frustrated her, she often reminded herself how lucky she was not to live in cold, damp, gray places anymore. She got into the car and immediately got chilly.

"Can you please turn the fan for the air lower?," Alice muttered. "I don't know how you're always cold," Evan said. "Must be your cold, cold heart," he poked her and smiled as if to tease. He said this to her regularly. Around year five of marriage it became less cute and far more mean. She now just smiled and nodded hoping he would just listen to the music peacefully and finish his Chicken Bake. 

When they got home and unloaded everything Alice went and sat on her bed a minute. She heard Evan reorganizing everything she just put away and she fell to her pillow. She was so tired. Evan came in and saw her resting. "Oh Costco wore ya out huh? You're done for the day?," he asked. For a brief moment she'd thought about saying something snarky back. She couldn't handle anything more for today. 

Alice put her hair up and then said, "Yeah, I just needed a minute. Thanks for going to the store with me." Evan gave her a snide smile, "Yeah well if I had stayed home I'd hear about it. I picked the lesser of the evils I guess. You're not that bad to be around." And that was Alice's whole outlook on life from the view of a day with her husband at Costco. Maybe her and her cold heart weren't all that bad to be around. 

Alice started a list for their next Costco trip and stared at the sun again from the kitchen window. These were the moments she held close to her and zoned in on in long lines, traffic and disagreements. Evan propped himself up in his recliner to watch cooking competition shows and Alice sat down to make her lists. 

And so it was their story, that Alice and Evan lived...ever after to be seen combating Coscto for decades more of marriage. 

The Betterment

July has been brutal. I don't mean hot, although sure it's be hot. I don't mean brutal like "bad." We have just been busy non-stop and it flew by so fast. Wasn't yesterday just the 4th? How is summer almost over?

I was texting with a friend last night, needing to catch up because so many little things have fallen through the cracks, especially with vacation prep, and we were doing our normal "how are things going," routine and she specifically asked about the hubby.

Yesterday he had mowed the yard, and mowed the neighbor's too because they have been kind to us that way, and helped an elderly neighbor with their trash bin, all while hosting the neighbor girl for a play date, making me some dinner and getting other chores done too. Last weekend when I had the kids with us, he brought me coffee often, he helped where and when he could, and he was nice even if I wasn't so receptive in that exact moment.

I relayed some of that to her and she says, "It seems like things have been going better this year." I stopped and read it and reread it a bit. Better. Things were better. Betterment. We had entered into some betterment.

A year ago this time we went back to Oregon for the first time together in years. There was a lot of anxiety about the trip and I was mentally struggling, but I was also adamant to make the most out of our first ever dual paid vacation off. When we returned I felt like maybe we could really make things better. That's when a little speed bump in the road of life seemingly left us a flat tire and no cell service. We weren't better, just yet.

After one last bad, bad situation, one last storm of epic proportion, finally a rainbow had appeared. It's been a work in progress. It has been one step, one day at a time. It has been anything but easy and I still move forward, cautiously optimistic. I will say that I feel we are on the right track after it all. We are getting better, bit by bit.

I became really good at struggling. I found my coping mechanisms, my deflections, and my ways to survive, but I didn't like being in that place. I became very much able to handle the storm. I learned to stuff everything down and swallow it so it wouldn't affect anyone but me. This was not a solution, it was just pure survival mode.

When you start learning about trauma, what trauma actually is, and paint-by-numbering your own experiences with it, things can get murky, and then somehow clear. This process is enlightening and frustrating all at once, in my personal experience at least.

I had to throw out my self-sabotage and survival modes and learn about self love and self care. I'm still working on that, even today. I had to find ways to trust again without destroying my intuition and past experiences, invalidating them. I had to learn to accept my flaws and embrace them, also a day to day process.

I had to learn to communicate and speak up, which can still feel uncomfortable at times. Last weekend with extra kiddos my husband and I had a momentary altercation. My exhaustion and maternal instinct kicked in hardcore and while he said he would take care of things, I undermined him and over-spoke because I was so maxed out, I couldn't properly communicate with him and listen or let him in.

I caught myself and apologized. I admitted what I did was crappy and unfair and we didn't have it drag on through the day as this cloud of being annoyed with each other. It passed immediately and was freeing. This was an affirmation of the betterment.

It's the smallest signs of the betterment that I need and love the most. It's the surprise cups of coffee, those favorite dinners ready when I get home. It's the garage being reorganized or a trip to the store done so I don't have to. When you are so used to carrying everything yourself and then your partner helps, it's a new kind of luxury and renewed kind of comfort.

Sometimes I don't want to admit that things were so bad so as to warrant this betterment but lately I have been more conscious of enjoying the journey and being extremely grateful for where we are on the path. Sometimes those sentiments are not simple or easy but more often than not, they are there, I just have to pay attention.

This is the first time in a long time I'm going on a trip and I have good things to report. I can say with confidence that things are generally "okay" and not have some subconscious voice call me out for faking it until I make it. I can be at ease, which honestly makes me feel slightly uneasy just typing that.

Life is difficult. It is stressful. It is so frustrating at times. But we do only actually live once so we gotta make the best of it. Marriage is hard, and anyone who says differently might actually be insane. Parenthood is difficult, rewarding, and maddening simultaneously. When you feel engulfed in the depressive and anxious ways that can take over when life gives you lemons, you're prone to just let them rot rather than making that lemonade stuff as the saying goes. Although I think making that lemonade and adding a little sugar, or extra sugar if necessary, that is the start of the betterment.

With all the cliches and metaphors I hope you find yourself nearing betterment. Or if you're in a rough spot, remember that the betterment can happen. That may be easy to forget! For now, I plan to enjoy my betterment, perhaps with a cold glass of lemonade!

The Vibe And The Tribe Thing

Everyone seems to know this mantra these days. I can tell you over the past 6 months, this little rhyming ideology has been a game changer for me. My best friend used to tell me that I was easily meshed into any group. I didn't fit in a clique per-se but I attract all different kinds of people and I especially am found wanting to be "the good friend."

Motherhood has made my personal friendship stuff rough. Just last week I wrote about losing contact with a friend dear to me that really hurt me. Weirdly enough some of my best and long lasting friend relationships are long distance. It's not about seeing each other or even talking on some regular basis. It's about being there for each other during the best and the worst times and never completely losing touch.

My friend from Kindergarten, also someone I have blogged about, lives in Italy and I had him call me last week just for like a 20 minute phone call. We message each other weekly if not more, but when he called me I realized I hadn't actually heard his voice in like 2 years and I forgot about all the silly things that come with that kind of interaction, the laugh, the sarcasm and such. I got off the phone and just felt so contented having had that "normal" conversation because he's one of those people that just gets me.

It's after a handful of years of stress, darkness, anxiety, depression, anger and all the MUCK that I can now admit "Hey I've been completely lost and horrible," but also that I can clearly see who stuck around and let me be ANY version of me, and are now right there with me celebrating my growth. 

I've felt ashamed. I've been ashamed of myself, my family and my circumstances for seemingly have lost a grip on our stuff. We had some wonderful milestones that we hit in the midst of the dark times and I pushed myself into the "celebratory mode" to try and get myself out of my funk but it's weird how it is only now can I adequately appreciate the journey.

We had friends over for dinner, something I realized we don't do often. I used to blame this on my husband the chef never being home and no one wants anything I could ever cook. Then I realized that we had befriended people who were buying new houses and getting new furniture and shopping and decorating and that wasn't us. Our house is a mix of sentimental hand-me-downs and gifts and a celebration of us actually having a house of our own to paint weird colors and cover in canvases.

Our friends that we hosted last night have hosted us so many times. They have a fabulous home with a great pool and it's clean, kid-friendly, dog-friendly and super great for entertaining. This was the first time we had them over and I was concerned the kids would be bored because we just had toys, no pool. 

Our friends immediately saw our daughters room and were like..."WHOA THIS IS A COOL BEDROOM." Her loft bed was painted in colors she picked much like her walls and ceiling. She had fairy lights wrapped around the edges. She has a Nintendo Wii on a Disney Princess old school tube TV and huge plastic Maximus horse. Her loft bed had a mattress and stuffed animal beneath it to chill with her action figure shelf that she hand painted filled with Disney figurines awaiting to play. The dog has a staircase to get to the top of the loft bed which has My Little Pony "carpeting." Her room has green walls and a purple ceiling.

Then my daughter showed her guests her secret dream-house play-space, also known as the garage. My husband arranged a carpeted area with his drum set, her yoga mat and the heavy bag. So one was punching, one was drumming and everyone was having a blast. My husband later told me that our friends husband said, "It's so creative over here. The piano, the drums, the place is covered in Luna's art and canvases and pictures she made everywhere it's so cool."

I had never thought of it that way. And today it is making my heart calm, happy and ridiculously grateful that we gave off that vibe. It made me think of our upcoming trip and where we are staying. We have a city full of family but I'm crashing with my best friend, her husband and their 3 children in their 3 bedroom, one bathroom house. Why? Because I have always loved staying with her because it feels like a home away from home. The last time we were there, she brought out old Barbie toys and a doll house for my daughter that they still had. They have dogs, cats, bunnies, chickens, you name it. The girls re-decorate and swap rooms often. There are pictures of her mom and family and craft projects everywhere. I'm completely comfortable there and it just makes sense to be around my people.

My house is a place where you can spill without getting yelled at. I didn't spend $2,000 on a dinette set so, if you get glue on my table I could care less. We don't have matching furniture so if you stain something maybe it will actually match another piece. I watched two friends we really enjoy, and their kids, just walk into our house and embrace it. Then I watched my daughter show off all the things she loves about her home from, the guest room to her room, to her garage. It was a weird sort of gratification, in a way.

My husband outed me as only having "the same people," over. We have my cousins and our other close couple friends over. Otherwise we really don't "host." It's strange because I can hostess like a boss, but I think up until yesterday, I just felt so awkward about our house. I think I reflected all my own insecurities onto my poor house and last night it proved itself to be our "home."

The vibe and the tribe thing are real. Even through my worst phases of life, the people that have caused me stress or discomfort, the people who I have been challenged by, the ones who have stuck around to see me push through everything, are enjoying me being in a better place and THAT feels amazing too.

And don't get me wrong, it's not a "happy" thing. This isn't some "Oh yeah because I'm happy now." I'm not that person. I am awake, I am healing, I am growing and I am slowly owning my trauma. I was not able to do that 3 years ago. I was not able to do that 2 years ago. In that process I was not always like-able and I can own that now too.

If anything I'm affirming that all the cliches are completely real. You have to take things "one day at a time." If you can get a day with "no complaints," call it good. The feelings I'm putting out into the universe are being reciprocated as they should be and the things I don't need are falling out of the way.

I am finding that the people that I need to keep up my forward momentum are right there alongside me. My tribe is ridiculously important to me and I hold them dear. This isn't to say anyone who isn't in my "vibe" isn't in my "tribe" either. I feel good in my general surroundings and support system, which is a huge step. I have always felt that feeling lonely when you are alone is natural but feeling lonely when surrounded by people or in the company of friends is the absolute worst feeling ever, so you can afford to be picky about that sometimes.

With all my years with one foot in the hippie door in Oregon, I can tell you that most of their mantras are true and helpful so, I leave you with this for a Monday Musing:

 

Technological Kiddos

My daughter informed me last night in the bath tub that she will be asking for her own computer for Christmas. I JUST got MY own computer this year with my work bonus. Kids today. I'm telling you.

A few months ago she crawled into my bed, all up in arms about it being extremely unfair that her dad has a cell phone, that I have a cell phone and she doesn't get one. She is six and a half.

Technology is just a force to reckon with. She is learning now more than we learned from 4th grade on. We were playing Oregon Trail and always dying from dysentery.

 

I can't believe in my thirties I'm saying "Back in my day," on a regular basis. I thought you had to be retired to use that one!

My generation is one in a weird place. I dislike how much our children depend on technology and miss out on being outside and doing normal kid things, but I also get irritated when older generations don't even attempt to use technology.

We have one customer at my work who I have to read a report to every morning because he refuses to have a computer or smart phone. He then goes to the library and has a librarian print the report for him to review again later. It's a little ridiculous, but I'm as nice as I can be about it.

My dad still has a flip phone but does email well so I don't press on that one. My mom always wants a new Samsung phone but then doesn't use all of the things that a Samsung galaxy whatever is actually good for so I always have to talk her down to not spending money on things we won't actually use.

For my daughter, my husband did one of those "free tablet with new phone" things a few years ago when my phone straight broke, and we make it clear that if she destroys that tablet, there is no other tablet. She's pretty good about it. I also refuse to pay for all the games. It's not like it's a Nintendo.

She's super smart. She could figure out the PlayStation before my dad could at first try. She learns a lot on computers and fast. She has kid games she loves to play. I'm not that mom concerned with screen time. Sure, I don't want her constantly on screens but I'm not weird about how long she is on there because we now live in a time where if you don't get to do screen stuff, you're the odd one out and with rampant mental health issues in kids of all ages.

To me, their little psyches are what is worth the technology battles. When my daughter binges a show that makes her bratty or rude, that show goes away. If she plays a game and I find out there is unnecessary violence, I say no more game. For me, it is all about how she re-acts to all this technology. If she feels entitled to it, I stomp it fast. I am extremely open with her about appreciation, gratitude and knowing that she has privileges others do not.

There is a great deal I love about technology, and a great deal I'm not so into. The whole data-mining stuff can get obnoxious. You look up shoes and find 400 shoe ads in your Instagram feed. You text about tacos and find restaurant ads all over everything. I try not to take it too seriously.

As far as kiddos with technology, I loathe seeing children at a dinner table with a tablet while mom and dad eat. LOATHE IT. Now, I'm an eat in front of the TV mom. It was my dad and I'd bonding after my mom left, and my kid and I indulge both together and separately in this great American tradition, but when we go out to eat, we are talking and coloring and laughing and INTERACTING. If I'm paying to eat, the kid better actually eat.

We actually don't eat out often because of the whole technology wrestling match. It's quite unbearable, especially if you go out with other kids and their tablets. I let my daughter use my phone to text her dad, grandma or a favorite aunt but that's about it. I feel no need for her to "be on my phone," and don't have secret games on there to pacify her.

Mostly she uses the computer lab at school and camp and I like that because we do have an old desk top at home that she can also utilize. Alas, she still wants "her own" computer. I'm pretty sure I'll just give her her own login on my laptop and call it a day. Kids these days are something else and I can't even imagine what her children will contend with. Will they have their own phone at birth?

Technological discussions with other parents are delicate as well. We don't want to feel as though it's a slight against us that other people use technology differently than we see fit. There is always that one really "crunchy" "organic" parent that scares the shit out of you about kids developing horns and being a year behind in school because they played too much Minecraft or were allowed to watch Hulu.

I reinforce that every child, every household and every family is different so, what works for you is good for you and share with caution, because it can be a delicate conversation. I joked with my cousin's wife once about how she just needs to be okay with how much and what kind of "messing up her kid," they will do. We will all "mess up" our kids, you just have to be at peace with how you do it. My kid watches so much Netflix but also watches it all with subtitles so she can read and spell better than most. She's had a huge vocabulary since she started talking and now just doesn't stop. So I'm okay with a "vidiot," as my dad and I named it. I was a "vidiot" too and I'm not completely horrible.

Technology is kind of inevitable. You can reject it as much as you want but I for one look forward to paper-less billing and easily navigating random life things like arguing over whether or not that was that one actor or the other. Hello IMDB.com! It's all a blessing and a curse, I mean hell, I spend 9 hours a day on a computer or phone! That's a lot, but it is what it is and I doubt that will decline.

For now, I'm happy to keep my child away from having her own phone and will share my laptop. After all, she shares her tablet! 

The Cry-O-Meter of Mom-ness

Mothering is exhausting, grueling, rewarding and difficult. Being a mom is an intense experience, period. Sometimes I feel like my mom-ness is off from others and one of those ways is the crying factor.

I'm an angry frustrated crier. Anger comes out of my eyeballs in water form and when I'm infuriated it's almost like a full tantrum. But I don't cry much for other things like first days of school, last days of school, awards and new horizons.

Don't get me wrong, my daughter is my everything and I know I was put on this earth to be her mother, but it's not always a cupcakes and rainbows job. Let's face it, she's probably my only child at this rate, and I work hard to just enjoy every phase with her, but my cry-o-meter seems to be off from other moms.

I don't know if it's because we've had a rough 6 years but I don't cry when I drop her at school on the first day. I may well up a bit, or just feel "Wow, what an incredible milestone," but I'm not weeping with joy and love. Ew, that's not me. I'm not gushy in that way.

I cried when she was being tortured in the hospital for failure to thrive with stomach tubes and blood draws and not being allowed to take her home to heal. I cried after the car accident that she was bruised and cut, bloodied and whining while I looked at the wreckage. I cried when they found out her legs were broken and she kept yelling at the nurses, "leave me alone! Ow! I want my mommy!" I cried when I had to sleep train her and she destroyed my doll house and I had to clean up everything alone but had to stand my ground. That's my mom crying.

I've been up nights crying hoping I could care for her on my own if I needed. I've cried when she has come to comfort me telling me I would be okay or we would be okay. I cried during Irma when we were sleeping in a huge pile of uncertainty ready to face the storm. But no, I didn't cry on her last day of school.

School stuff is cute and cuddly, for sure, but she's still so little. She's not on some path to Harvard. She's just being a kid. I want to let her be as much of a kid as she can. I also work full time and have all kinds of mental health things to work out, a husband to support in more ways than one, and a household to run so volunteering to pass out juice in class isn't a priority.

I don't buy her "first day" outfits. I don't perfectly manicure pictures of her much. I let her be herself as much as possible because she is growing up fast and sometimes I just want to sit back and watch. I don't want to fight over homework or projects, I just want to sit back in awe of her becoming a grown person and know that I helped make that happen.

Any moms that make time to be very hands on are my heroes, but it just ain't me. I'm not the mom that will make fantastic snacks and set up elaborately constructed play dates. I'm not the mom that keeps her in style and up with the cool trends. 

I'm the mom that feels the overwhelming emotion when I see her have a thoughtful reaction to a friend or loved one in need. I'm the mom that wells up when she decides to unload the dishwasher without being asked, because she wants to let mommy rest. I'm the mom that snuggles and does face masks and makes popcorn and lets her do what she wants (within reason).

I'm not sure where that all fits on the Cry-O-Meter for motherhood but it definitely triggers some interesting feelings. When I have other moms ask if I've cried or not I just try to play it off kindly because at this stage in my life, I'm just so happy with how far we've come and so consumed with keeping positive momentum, that I don't have time to cry over how fast time is going, rather I just want to enjoy the fact that I get to be in her life.

This isn't to say that moms that cry out of missing their babies be babies are some how inferior or "wussy" or "soft" in any way! I'm always there to hug you and hand you the tissues! I just don't get hit that way and props to you for letting it all come out!

I think we all have weird Cry-O-Meter dials and some days are better than others. I think all moms feel like they fail regularly, sometimes even daily, but what's important is that we are moms! We just have to mother the crap out of them no matter how many tears! And with those thoughts, I usher in the summer before I have a first grader. Here we go!

I Send My Dad A Mother's Day Card Every Year...And Here's Why

I stopped hiding my insanely broken and messed up relationship with my mom a few years ago after I survived living with her for a year. If I had to say anything, and keep it simple about my relationship with her, I'd Facebook cliche it and stamp it, "it's complicated."

My mom wasn't much of a "mom." Mostly I call her by her given name and not "mom." When I was acting a fool when she lived with me, going through some of the most rough years of my life job-wise, marriage wise and in motherhood, the one moment I asked her to have my back, she said no. And that's when I stopped pretending that we were anything besides biologically related, and realized she was just my child's grandma. In turn, I think I've done better since.

My mom was never a comforting force. She was an erratic, hyper ball of fun and dysfunction. She bought me all the crap I wanted until one day, it all disappeared. She was gone for awhile when I was 12. She came back, things got ugly again and then she left until I was 16. By the time I turned 16 she had carved out a decent environment for me to join her in, and I wanted to try the whole having a mom thing again. It failed in exactly 365 days.

My dad had to be both parents a lot. He physically drove from Oregon to Florida to get me to take me back to Oregon to finish high school and live there. He was the parent that was ALWAYS there. So I send him a Mother's Day card every year.

I still acknowledge my mom, but mostly as a Grandma. If I truly laid out the honest horror of my childhood with her, not only would I ruin my ideas for a book, but I'm pretty sure she'd lose her mind and probably slip into dementia to avoid dealing with all the mental massacre. She side-talks and references the damage sarcastically. We've never had a face off; and never will.

When she was living with me at age 32, I reverted right back to exactly 16 years prior at  age 16 of acting out against her and even my husband because things were completely in disarray. Not my finest hour, or year if you will. My dad told me she used to call and email him complaining about me. What did my dad do in my time of turmoil? Pay my therapy bills like when I was 13, all over again.

My dad was the parent who rubbed my tummy and back when I was uncomfortable, held my hair back over the toilet when I was sick and puking with the flu. My dad was the one who made sure I ate three square meals and didn't inhale junk food. My dad was the parent buying Midol, tampons and pads when I needed them. My dad was the one who reached out to my aunt to help me when I needed my first bra. My dad was the one I cried with at movies and when my mom wasn't around.

My mom has admitted she was a mom until I was about 5 or 6 and then mentally checked out until her physical departure in my older years. I don't think I'd ever just blanket statement claim she was a "shit mom." I just think that she wasn't much of a mom in totality.

My mom and I have gone through good phases, but it wasn't until a decade ago that I had to be her rock bottom in more ways than one. After two years of healing and 3 years of growing up in life and in my marriage, when I became pregnant I had to level with myself, "Okay, so your mom wasn't great to you, but you don't get to take her away from your kid. It's up to her whether she wants to be a Grandmother to her grandchild, and as the child ages, up to her what relationship she has with her Grandma." This was a huge step for me.

My mom has been a good Grandma, so we mostly celebrate Mother's Day that way. But I send my dad a Mother's Day card every year. I call my dad on Mother's Day every year.

My dad was just more of a mom. My dad has been my rock, my sounding board and my reliable parent. He officiated my wedding, he was at the birth of my only child and never missed an important milestone in my life. The same just can't be said for my mom, and I've accepted that.

My dad taught me to sew. My dad helped me set up my first bank account and showed me how to write checks and use credit cards. My dad put me through college. My dad bought my wedding dress and helped me pick it out. My dad always encouraged me in times I needed therapy and was struggling. He's the best Mom and Dad ever and will always be celebrated.

As far as stuff with my mom, we just kind of float on. She drives me nuts but at least she's around. Sometimes I wish she wanted to be more of my mom, but as a mother myself, I can at least now see why it wasn't for her, and it makes me feel grateful I pushed past any genetic dispositions to point me in a direction otherwise.

The times I have been the most selfish in my marriage and my parenthood have mirrored much of my childhood, but I refuse to let that dictate the growth of my daughter. I will be her reliable parent like my dad was for me, no matter what. Her dad seems to be on the right track too so she'll be doubly strong!

My mom has the Grandma spoiling thing down. I hear her and my daughter fight just like she did with me. She often mistakenly calls my daughter by my name. And I'm glad she wants to be a good Grandma, because my daughter deserves that. With the upcoming holiday I wish everyone a great Mother's Day weekend, no matter what baggage you're carrying with you around it. 

I encourage everyone to be sensitive, maybe even overly so. This holiday is rough on many people for many, many reasons and needs to be respected and understood for it's complicated triggers. There are many different kinds of moms and this day is just about celebrating them in appreciation of all they do or have done. So enjoy the weekend, self care if and when you need to, and embrace it however you need. Maybe you have a step-mom you celebrate more, maybe you have mom friends you cherish or maybe you too send your dad a mother's day card! Maybe you have a legit mom that moms like a boss and will celebrate with you! Just have a happy, calm Mother's Day!

The Florida Move - Who, What, When, Where...Maybe Even Why?

We're inching closer to a full decade as Floridians and my husband also has reminded me, I've officially lived in Florida longer than I did in Oregon and I'm 3 years shy of beating out my 13 years in Pennsylvania. The Florida move was a big one for my husband but less so for me, and 10 years later I figure I can better explain the move now, as opposed to before.

When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?

By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.

He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.

I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!

When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.

I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven. 

After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.

My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.

My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach. 

So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't  matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.

My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.

I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place.  I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.

Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together. 

For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.

In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit. 

Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.

Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.

Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.

The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with. 

Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."

It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.

Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!

If I'm Never Asked When I'm Having Another Baby, It Won't Be Soon Enough

I may have referenced this subject in ancient posts, but definitely not recently. And I think it bears repeating. I find it completely crappy and inappropriate when people ask women when they are going to have "another baby," or even "a baby," at all. And here is why:

Much like randomly touching a pregnant woman's belly or telling someone how to birth or raise their child, it's super not okay to put these weird expectations on women. Some women have no desire to have babies, some women cannot have children for various reasons, and some of us just want to live our lives as we have designed them.

"Oh, just the one?" "Really, just one?" "You don't want any more?" When I get these questions my heart begins to cry in my chest, why? You all just have no idea what being a a parent is like...FOR ME. And I stress FOR ME, because everyone has a different experience.

I've come to this place again because recently I found out that two women in my life are having babies, and both of them I thought, had no interest in having babies. And when I found out the blessed news, I felt really badly that I hadn't had a real conversation with them about motherhood and just made my own assumptions. I felt badly that I made assumptions, because similar assumptions have been made about parenthood for me.

This isn't a blog entry to "set the record straight." This is just saying we need to be more compassionate IN GENERAL, but especially in regards to parenting, parenthood, and making babies. Upon further discussion with one of these gorgeous, child-bearing women it became clear that she had kept her journey extremely private, and had an extremely difficult time becoming pregnant. This is not uncommon; I've known many women who have shared this with me, but, it's also very, very delicate.

For me, motherhood has been super tough. A lot of it had to do with working and doing the mothering thing, and a lot had to do with how we've had to arrange schedules and sacrifice to make everything work for our awesome daughter. So when you approach me about when baby number two is coming? Guess what, it's not that simple, and it's not a fair question.

I have two half sisters from my dad's first marriage but was raised in every way, as an only child. It never occurred to me in my youth to ask for a sibling, or that I would ever have one. I just lived my little life.

My daughter has started asking about a brother or sister. I always opt to buy her another dog. We treat the dog as her brother anyway. What's funny is the second child discussion isn't even a closed subject. I mean, anything COULD happen. But again, not an easy question or answer, nor a fair one.

Every single woman, family, and child is completely different and I really wish we could just quit the judgmental assumptions, and this goes for me too. Even small ones are just ridiculous. I remember a close family friend becoming pregnant with her fourth and idolizing her as this super mom that just "must love kids." She then revealed to me she really disliked infancy and infants in general, but loved having kids as a whole. It was sobering to me because I think we are often led to believe that we fall in love with these burping, pooping, milk-draining babies, and just become Martha Stewart in home life, but instead we are mombies, accepting each stage and falling in and out of love with certain aspects of mom life daily. 

The snarky, cynical and mean side of me has not-so-nice responses to that ugly question of "when is the next one," from time to time. But it wasn't until recently that I discovered how much that question negatively affects me. And mostly, my answer just all goes back to that Taylor Swift chorus in her infinite wisdom of, "You don't know, what you don't know."

I feel like in the continuous trend of empowering women, and as I'm raising a fierce little woman, we really need to change our attitude and view of what "should be" part of life in general, and what women "should do." Excuse me but we are laboring under some bullshit expectations, pun intended. 

There was an old episode of Sex and The City that suggested we need to stop "should-ing" all over ourselves. This is still relevant. Sex and The City was actually a series that also handled some of the facets of women and their drive to have kids, or lack there-of, and the complications of all aspects of child-bearing. We need to support each other as people, but especially as women to just do what is right for YOU. 

As Amy Poehler said, "Good for them, but not for me." Make it your mantra! And I think it is every woman's right to design her life as shes fit, share what she wants to, and to not have to answer insensitive questions like, "When are you having a baby, your second baby or your 15th?" Let's take it easy on each other, starting now! On your mark, get set, go!

Your Thirties Are For Saying No To Everything You Got Away With In Your Twenties

With a birthday looming, I'm starting to reflect much more. Does that just come with age? This is also our 10 year mark for moving to Florida as of July. So here I am, getting all philosophical and introspective.

The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.

By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.

For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.

In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.

I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.

As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.

Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.

Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!

Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.

Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.

My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.

I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.

I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.

I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.

As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!

For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.

So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!