Always friends.
I've mentioned them before. My ALWAYS friends. THEY WILL ALWAYS BE MY FRIENDS. ALWAYS.
I have two hand fulls of ALWAYS friends. Several go without saying. Then there are two - the ALWAYS friends I met one summer. One summer many years ago. Yes, we lost touch. We re-connected. They now have a friendship with my sons I couldn't have imagined. It's a friendship we should always have. With someone.
Only now I realize they are my sons friends. They will forever be my friends, but my boys come first.
I'm very okay with this.
Are these the best role models for two young men? No. Absolutely not.
Would they go to the end of the Earth to get my sons? Drive them back? Not tell me? Make sure they are okay? Yes. Without one moment hesitation.
In fact, my sons now get invited to the camping trips and parties before me. It doesn't make me sad at all - it makes me smile. Only they are stuck with mom for a few more years on these trips - then mom won't go. We will let them journey on without me.
We have an annual trip to Moab, UT. My always friends go. One day I had been out on a motorcycle ride. I get back to camp. Duncan is jumping around. In a red Under Armour Shirt and grey shorts shouting "I got to drive, I GOT TO DRIVE" "ED, taught me how to drive". WHAT? Rich said the look on my face was priceless. "WHAT? You taught him to drive????"
"He's twelve", I thought it was time.
Two years pass. We arrive in Moab again.
Yes, they remembered it was Nolan's turn. It was Nolan's turn to learn to drive. We are on dirt roads in the middle of nowhere and Ed decides it's Nolan's turn - he's 12 after all. Gee, here is an adult whom has been drinking beer all day and a twelve year old whom has never driven before. We are going to wait until the morning.
I then turn my back. Yes, you guessed it. I just shook my head as Nolan appeared back into the campsite driving the Land Rover.
He waited. He hoped. He dreamed. It was his turn. It was his rite of passage.
Tonight, we were having dinner at a house with some of the people from our Moab trip. The youngest son is 11 and turns 12 in April. His mom mentioned how excited he is to be 12 for this Moab trip in the spring. He will get to learn to drive.
First thought: This is a rite of passage for my sons. Not yours. Sorry.
Second thought: When did you say his birthday is? It's TWO weeks AFTER Moab. They aren't going to make an exception. We are going to have to move up his birthday.
He's SO excited that the Quinn brothers will teach him how to drive. I'm only a tad bit possessive that he thinks he's included in this rite of passage. And at the same moment, SO excited that we now have a third boy ready to pass over the "rite of passage".
Of course we will include him. Of course my "brothers" will make sure he gets his turn.
It's his "rite" after all.....
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
That place
"You know that place between dreaming and awake? That's the place I'll always think of you". Said Tinkerbell to Peter Pan.
It's a special spot. Not quite "not" real. Yet, not "real". Was it a dream? Was it true?
It's that special place where our sub-conscience 'talks' to us. We don't always hear it. We don't always remember it.
Sometimes it's clear - very clear. Then we wake up and two seconds later we have no idea what it was. We just know it was powerful and we wanted to remember it. Other times, it's clear and we remember it - it just doesn't make any sense.
THEN, one morning and we wake up. We are in that spot. We heard it and we remember it and everything makes sense. FINALLY. We then think "that's what you haven't been doing!!" "That's what you have been trying to tell me". Only I didn't know what to do with all the pieces of the puzzle. It's finding the last piece of a puzzle. An "Ah-ha" moment.
For me, someone very special holds that spot. ALWAYS. Always will. Not quite real, not quite a dream, yet not awake in the real world either. Drama then always follows.
He was in town this weekend. Peter Pan. He showed up, like he does - every few months. If JM Barrie's story was verbatim - he would show up only once a year. My Peter Pan - he shows up several times a year. Although he did "forget" to show up several years. That's not really true. I just kept the window shut and wouldn't let him in. He was always there to knock on the window asking me to go to Neverland.
No, scratch that - he's never asked me to go to Neverland. He wants to stay here (in part of his conscience). I'm the safe place.
In the Disney version, Peter marries Wendy. - at least in the sequel - "Hook". But he forgot whom he really was. That makes me sad. We don't want Peter forgetting whom he really is. Most of us spend our whole lives trying to figure out whom we really are - don't be happy Peter forgot those ways.....
And I'm here, wanting to go to Neverland.
Sorry, Peter, I will always love you, but you see, you keep thinking you need to escape Neverland. It's just not in you. And that's okay. You will never accept it. And I'll never "fit" into the picture of how it's "supposed" to be in the real world. You are stuck - in between Neverland and the real world. That place between dreaming and awake.
Only you keep trying to wake up.
But me, see I'm not really Wendy. I'm one of the Lost Boys Only, I know right where I'm supposed to be. Not asleep nor awake. I'm supposed to be at that place between dreaming and awake - Loving the real "Pan", whom truly never wanted to grow up. Not you, the Peter Pan, whom keeps trying to grow up.
Pan - you should have believed Tink. She knew what she was talking about.
It's a special spot. Not quite "not" real. Yet, not "real". Was it a dream? Was it true?
It's that special place where our sub-conscience 'talks' to us. We don't always hear it. We don't always remember it.
Sometimes it's clear - very clear. Then we wake up and two seconds later we have no idea what it was. We just know it was powerful and we wanted to remember it. Other times, it's clear and we remember it - it just doesn't make any sense.
THEN, one morning and we wake up. We are in that spot. We heard it and we remember it and everything makes sense. FINALLY. We then think "that's what you haven't been doing!!" "That's what you have been trying to tell me". Only I didn't know what to do with all the pieces of the puzzle. It's finding the last piece of a puzzle. An "Ah-ha" moment.
For me, someone very special holds that spot. ALWAYS. Always will. Not quite real, not quite a dream, yet not awake in the real world either. Drama then always follows.
He was in town this weekend. Peter Pan. He showed up, like he does - every few months. If JM Barrie's story was verbatim - he would show up only once a year. My Peter Pan - he shows up several times a year. Although he did "forget" to show up several years. That's not really true. I just kept the window shut and wouldn't let him in. He was always there to knock on the window asking me to go to Neverland.
No, scratch that - he's never asked me to go to Neverland. He wants to stay here (in part of his conscience). I'm the safe place.
In the Disney version, Peter marries Wendy. - at least in the sequel - "Hook". But he forgot whom he really was. That makes me sad. We don't want Peter forgetting whom he really is. Most of us spend our whole lives trying to figure out whom we really are - don't be happy Peter forgot those ways.....
And I'm here, wanting to go to Neverland.
Sorry, Peter, I will always love you, but you see, you keep thinking you need to escape Neverland. It's just not in you. And that's okay. You will never accept it. And I'll never "fit" into the picture of how it's "supposed" to be in the real world. You are stuck - in between Neverland and the real world. That place between dreaming and awake.
Only you keep trying to wake up.
But me, see I'm not really Wendy. I'm one of the Lost Boys Only, I know right where I'm supposed to be. Not asleep nor awake. I'm supposed to be at that place between dreaming and awake - Loving the real "Pan", whom truly never wanted to grow up. Not you, the Peter Pan, whom keeps trying to grow up.
Pan - you should have believed Tink. She knew what she was talking about.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Olive Juice
Look in the mirror and say the words "Olive Juice". Then say "vacuum". (Go ahead - go do it, the blog will still be here).
Unbeknownst to me, I had no idea what this looked like. Or what it might have meant. Nolan informed me that he learned this in about, oh, second grade. (Ok, maybe it was fourth-ish grade) Doesn't really matter. I'm very comfortable with my "non-hipness".
BUT, this summer I did learn what those words really mean.
If you say, or look like you are saying "Olive Juice" it looks like you are saying "I love you". If you say, or look like you are saying "vacuum", well, it looks like "F**K you".
The words of the summer were born. Olive Juice. Vacuum. It was quite cute.
Vacuum only got used, when, well, I asked them to vacuum (and the only carpet was in Nolan's ohana) - which always caused laughter. I love being the brunt of jokes... ;-)
Olive Juice, on the other hand, was used quite often. What a WONDERFUL way for people whom want to say something, but can't quite do it.
It's hard for most people to express their emotions. No, I'm not suggesting this replace the words, "I love you", it just might make it easier place to start.
I had teenagers on my hands. Telling your mom you love her in front of other people can get to be hard. A teenage girl, whom completely loves you, and doesn't know how to say it, well, it's a perfect way to say it out loud - and by saying "Olive Juice" not feel like you love anyone else less - you just love this person - ALSO.
Arriving back in the mainland, I had dinner with an old friend. We were having cocktails - he ordered a vodka soda, I ordered a Dirty Martini.
Mike: What's in a Dirty Martini?
Me: Vodka and Olive....... I couldn't talk, I froze (and I seriously couldn't remember the next word)
Mike: "Olive Juice?"
Me: Yes. Head nods. Uh-huh. Smile. "Olive Juice"
When I froze, I didn't know why. I really didn't think about it, (we had trouble getting to dinner, missed locations, etc - so by the time we did order drinks, we were both a bit frazzled).
Then "Olive Juice". Hey, he said it first! Then I was smiling. He wouldn't understand. We both say "Olive Juice". Maybe he did know.....
Saying good-bye on the island - made it much easier for a teenage girl with tears running down her face, to say "Olive Juice" to two very cute teenage boys and their mom.
We know what it means.
Olive Juice.
Unbeknownst to me, I had no idea what this looked like. Or what it might have meant. Nolan informed me that he learned this in about, oh, second grade. (Ok, maybe it was fourth-ish grade) Doesn't really matter. I'm very comfortable with my "non-hipness".
BUT, this summer I did learn what those words really mean.
If you say, or look like you are saying "Olive Juice" it looks like you are saying "I love you". If you say, or look like you are saying "vacuum", well, it looks like "F**K you".
The words of the summer were born. Olive Juice. Vacuum. It was quite cute.
Vacuum only got used, when, well, I asked them to vacuum (and the only carpet was in Nolan's ohana) - which always caused laughter. I love being the brunt of jokes... ;-)
Olive Juice, on the other hand, was used quite often. What a WONDERFUL way for people whom want to say something, but can't quite do it.
It's hard for most people to express their emotions. No, I'm not suggesting this replace the words, "I love you", it just might make it easier place to start.
I had teenagers on my hands. Telling your mom you love her in front of other people can get to be hard. A teenage girl, whom completely loves you, and doesn't know how to say it, well, it's a perfect way to say it out loud - and by saying "Olive Juice" not feel like you love anyone else less - you just love this person - ALSO.
Arriving back in the mainland, I had dinner with an old friend. We were having cocktails - he ordered a vodka soda, I ordered a Dirty Martini.
Mike: What's in a Dirty Martini?
Me: Vodka and Olive....... I couldn't talk, I froze (and I seriously couldn't remember the next word)
Mike: "Olive Juice?"
Me: Yes. Head nods. Uh-huh. Smile. "Olive Juice"
When I froze, I didn't know why. I really didn't think about it, (we had trouble getting to dinner, missed locations, etc - so by the time we did order drinks, we were both a bit frazzled).
Then "Olive Juice". Hey, he said it first! Then I was smiling. He wouldn't understand. We both say "Olive Juice". Maybe he did know.....
Saying good-bye on the island - made it much easier for a teenage girl with tears running down her face, to say "Olive Juice" to two very cute teenage boys and their mom.
We know what it means.
Olive Juice.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Expiration Dates and Tattoo's
These words are mutually exclusive.
The really funny thing: I had to look up how to spell both the words. I'm not good with either one. Expiration Dates nor Tattoos. Both link to my commitment issues.
In my mind - everything expires. Even tattoos.
Let's start with expiration dates:
Milk (I don't drink - I don't drink coffee either, but I really like latte's (makes no sense to me either)). Yogurt. Cheese. Eggs. You can buy these things and they are still good LONG after their "expiration date". Are expiration dates arbitrary? Is it a date the government (or whatever regulating agency) decides it will no longer protect you?
Think about medicine. Medicine doesn't expire FOREVER. Neither do condoms? Do these things quit working or is that just the moment that the person whom was in charge is no longer responsible for what they said? I kinda like that theory.
Today - I can say this: "whatever that may be" and on July 1, 2013 - that thought expires. WHATEVER that thought might have been. You can hold me responsible for that thought until a certain date. Maybe we can say something and put on it a disclaimer? I'm saying this - and this thought expires on such and such date. Or maybe, it expires tomorrow. Or yesterday......
Let's take a vote. If you will allow someone else to "recall their vote" on their thought from yesterday - you can have two recall's. Fair Deal. (oh, by the way, this idea expires tomorrow). ;-)
Both my drivers license and passport expire in June. This makes me VERY nervous. I don't say NEVER. EVER. NEVER makes you eat those words. ALWAYS.
I can tell you, I have NEVER had a drivers license expire. EVER. And this one???? Its still has my old address on it. I moved into this house 9 years ago. I have NEVER had a passport expire. EVER. They won't let you leave the country within 6 months of expiration. This will be my third passport.
For years, I've put off getting a new drivers license. I've put off changing the address. ALWAYS. Within a year, I change addresses. ALWAYS. This time it scares me though.
My friends all say - this time it will be different. Even though I've lived in the same house for 9 years. They promise me.... this will be different. I'm going to hold strong - I'm not moving. The boys have attended the same school for the last 9 years. It's the longest I've EVER done anything. Duncan goes to high school - time's are a changing. I pay the mortgage - here.. I LIVE here - my sons live here and so do their friends. So do people whom needed to come find themselves. I've just never committed to this house. Well, obviously, I'm committed (another word I had to look up!!), just can't let the rest of the world know I admit it.
My last house????? I got the drivers license ---- and moved a year later. I was at the last house with the passport too.
Nolan goes to college in 5 years. I have 5 years. I have to change my drivers license by next June. My passport by January. In other words, I expire in 2 years - with a 6.4 month deadline. This time, I'm fighting it. I'm here for 5 years. Help me hang on...
I'll have to tell you about the tattoo's later.....
The really funny thing: I had to look up how to spell both the words. I'm not good with either one. Expiration Dates nor Tattoos. Both link to my commitment issues.
In my mind - everything expires. Even tattoos.
Let's start with expiration dates:
Milk (I don't drink - I don't drink coffee either, but I really like latte's (makes no sense to me either)). Yogurt. Cheese. Eggs. You can buy these things and they are still good LONG after their "expiration date". Are expiration dates arbitrary? Is it a date the government (or whatever regulating agency) decides it will no longer protect you?
Think about medicine. Medicine doesn't expire FOREVER. Neither do condoms? Do these things quit working or is that just the moment that the person whom was in charge is no longer responsible for what they said? I kinda like that theory.
Today - I can say this: "whatever that may be" and on July 1, 2013 - that thought expires. WHATEVER that thought might have been. You can hold me responsible for that thought until a certain date. Maybe we can say something and put on it a disclaimer? I'm saying this - and this thought expires on such and such date. Or maybe, it expires tomorrow. Or yesterday......
Let's take a vote. If you will allow someone else to "recall their vote" on their thought from yesterday - you can have two recall's. Fair Deal. (oh, by the way, this idea expires tomorrow). ;-)
Both my drivers license and passport expire in June. This makes me VERY nervous. I don't say NEVER. EVER. NEVER makes you eat those words. ALWAYS.
I can tell you, I have NEVER had a drivers license expire. EVER. And this one???? Its still has my old address on it. I moved into this house 9 years ago. I have NEVER had a passport expire. EVER. They won't let you leave the country within 6 months of expiration. This will be my third passport.
For years, I've put off getting a new drivers license. I've put off changing the address. ALWAYS. Within a year, I change addresses. ALWAYS. This time it scares me though.
My friends all say - this time it will be different. Even though I've lived in the same house for 9 years. They promise me.... this will be different. I'm going to hold strong - I'm not moving. The boys have attended the same school for the last 9 years. It's the longest I've EVER done anything. Duncan goes to high school - time's are a changing. I pay the mortgage - here.. I LIVE here - my sons live here and so do their friends. So do people whom needed to come find themselves. I've just never committed to this house. Well, obviously, I'm committed (another word I had to look up!!), just can't let the rest of the world know I admit it.
My last house????? I got the drivers license ---- and moved a year later. I was at the last house with the passport too.
Nolan goes to college in 5 years. I have 5 years. I have to change my drivers license by next June. My passport by January. In other words, I expire in 2 years - with a 6.4 month deadline. This time, I'm fighting it. I'm here for 5 years. Help me hang on...
It's impossible said PRIDE
It's risky, said EXPERIENCE
It's pointless said REASON
"Give it a try" - whispered the heart....
I'll have to tell you about the tattoo's later.....
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The land of misfit toys
Ever wanted to be with the "in" group. You know. The group that in some fashion makes you feel inadequate about yourself.
Maybe it's human nature. We all want to belong. Belong to the group that everyone "likes" With the "right" group of people. Only, as we get older - we realize those people aren't any happier than us - it just "appears" that way. "THEY" look like they have it so EASY. SO WONDERFUL. SO MUCH BETTER - than us. Age happens. We know. They don't have it any better than us - it only SEEMS that way. We actually then know, they might be LESS HAPPY than us. They are just pretending.
We have a couple of choices:
Join them.
Be something we aren't. Or maybe we are. We can belong to "that" group. Be something we aren't. Follow along.
OR
Join the group - or the non-group - of where we don't/do belong.. You know that group. The group of "rare birds" - those whom collect other "rare birds". Those whom understand I may not talk to you for years. And yes, you may send my best friend a wedding present, because you noticed her update on my "faceook page". The "I might not call you for a year", but call me, on the side of the road in Chicago, and I won't ask questions. I'll just come get you. Because, you get me.
I've fought it my WHOLE life.
Yes, I look the part. The part of "them". You know. I did too. And I SOOOOOO wanted to be one of them. And I still look like "them". If you don't know me - you think I belong to 'them". BUT YOU. YOU know........
It's the middle of the night - and you are broken down on the side of the road. In Chicago. You know. I'll come get you. MAYBE, you always knew, there was someone to come get you. You just had to let go......
If you ever watch "Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer", the ones that don't "fit" perfectly are sent to their own island. They do okay. They band together and believe in each other.
Be comfortable enough to grab another misfit toy. Take them with you - or let them take you.....
Maybe it's the living on the island???
Maybe it's human nature. We all want to belong. Belong to the group that everyone "likes" With the "right" group of people. Only, as we get older - we realize those people aren't any happier than us - it just "appears" that way. "THEY" look like they have it so EASY. SO WONDERFUL. SO MUCH BETTER - than us. Age happens. We know. They don't have it any better than us - it only SEEMS that way. We actually then know, they might be LESS HAPPY than us. They are just pretending.
We have a couple of choices:
Join them.
Be something we aren't. Or maybe we are. We can belong to "that" group. Be something we aren't. Follow along.
OR
Join the group - or the non-group - of where we don't/do belong.. You know that group. The group of "rare birds" - those whom collect other "rare birds". Those whom understand I may not talk to you for years. And yes, you may send my best friend a wedding present, because you noticed her update on my "faceook page". The "I might not call you for a year", but call me, on the side of the road in Chicago, and I won't ask questions. I'll just come get you. Because, you get me.
I've fought it my WHOLE life.
Yes, I look the part. The part of "them". You know. I did too. And I SOOOOOO wanted to be one of them. And I still look like "them". If you don't know me - you think I belong to 'them". BUT YOU. YOU know........
It's the middle of the night - and you are broken down on the side of the road. In Chicago. You know. I'll come get you. MAYBE, you always knew, there was someone to come get you. You just had to let go......
If you ever watch "Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer", the ones that don't "fit" perfectly are sent to their own island. They do okay. They band together and believe in each other.
Be comfortable enough to grab another misfit toy. Take them with you - or let them take you.....
Maybe it's the living on the island???
Monday, August 20, 2012
Alarm Clock - Part II
When I last left you, it was all about time.
Waiting. Settings. Running on a schedule that doesn't belong to us.
School begins next week for the boys. Cross country begins and hockey try-outs start at the end of the week. We are back to our color coded calendar of events. Routes. Bus schedules. Carpools.
Everything running "on time". Scheduled. Organized.
It's all good. This is how 90% of the world functions. Some of those in the 10% live in a mud hut in Africa. No need for that extreme...... We can function within this reality.
BUT, to follow up from the alarm clock in the hall.......
First thing the next morning: Duncan, please put the alarm clock in the Goodwill pile in the garage. (On a side note here - I'm not a "stuff" person - we stop by Goodwill on a weekly basis to drop things off. The rule around here: if you don't like it, aren't using it and don't want it any more: it goes in the Goodwill pile). Of course, someone else can take what you wanted to "discard" out of the pile. No, there is no "garage sale" pile.) If it's something of real "value", we MIGHT list it on Craigslist.
Alarm clock is the Goodwill pile in the garage. Last I know. Some time last week, I was told I had to "come outside, quick!" (NEVER, a good thing) I've learned.
Two boys (yes, both mine) with hammers. Shattering the "horrible" alarm clock. I just shook my head and smiled. Nolan lectured, "someone could have bought a good alarm clock at a good price". Duncan proclaimed, "we aren't passing this alarm clock forward!" Needless to say, it was already destroyed when I got there.
When the electricity goes out in the house, the alarm clocks in the boys bedrooms blink. (well, at least they both did - now the clock in Nolan's room blinks).
We have destroyed the "evil" clock. Nolan's clock has been blinking since we got back from Hawaii - 27 days ago.... (not that I'm counting)
Hope we make it to school on time Monday.
Waiting. Settings. Running on a schedule that doesn't belong to us.
School begins next week for the boys. Cross country begins and hockey try-outs start at the end of the week. We are back to our color coded calendar of events. Routes. Bus schedules. Carpools.
Everything running "on time". Scheduled. Organized.
It's all good. This is how 90% of the world functions. Some of those in the 10% live in a mud hut in Africa. No need for that extreme...... We can function within this reality.
BUT, to follow up from the alarm clock in the hall.......
First thing the next morning: Duncan, please put the alarm clock in the Goodwill pile in the garage. (On a side note here - I'm not a "stuff" person - we stop by Goodwill on a weekly basis to drop things off. The rule around here: if you don't like it, aren't using it and don't want it any more: it goes in the Goodwill pile). Of course, someone else can take what you wanted to "discard" out of the pile. No, there is no "garage sale" pile.) If it's something of real "value", we MIGHT list it on Craigslist.
Alarm clock is the Goodwill pile in the garage. Last I know. Some time last week, I was told I had to "come outside, quick!" (NEVER, a good thing) I've learned.
Two boys (yes, both mine) with hammers. Shattering the "horrible" alarm clock. I just shook my head and smiled. Nolan lectured, "someone could have bought a good alarm clock at a good price". Duncan proclaimed, "we aren't passing this alarm clock forward!" Needless to say, it was already destroyed when I got there.
When the electricity goes out in the house, the alarm clocks in the boys bedrooms blink. (well, at least they both did - now the clock in Nolan's room blinks).
We have destroyed the "evil" clock. Nolan's clock has been blinking since we got back from Hawaii - 27 days ago.... (not that I'm counting)
Hope we make it to school on time Monday.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Today
Today. Just today. This is my day:
I'm going to wake up. Excited to see what is going to happen.
Work. You know, that thing that pays the bills. Have a job. Well, I don't really have a job. I have to make money in order to support myself and my boys. The one whom pulls it off. I'm very lucky. I've created my own luck.
But, today, I'm going to create my life.
You know, the one that we always wanted. The life we think everyone else is living. It's better than ours, right?
Today. Well, today, is the day....
Today, I'm going to get up and work. I'm going to work out. Or ride my bike. If it's hockey season, I'm going to take my sons to hockey. Come home cook dinner, watch a TV show. Help the boys with their homework. Do some laundry. The house will cleaned up.
OH.......what did you say????? There is a party in Vail? I'm going. A party down the street - and you want the boys to come hang out with their friends? There is a bike ride around the corner? The potluck around the corner?
You have free tickets to an outdoor concert? Oh, by the way, no I don't mind if the pre-party is at my house?.......Yes, you can bring a friend. And they can bring a friend too.
Want to get your nails done? Have you bought your ski pass yet? What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to show up????
Today. WAIT!!!!!
I keep "tri-ing"; I tri and tri again to make my life mold into something that doesn't work for me. Yet, I still fight it.
90% - acceptance rate. That's where I'm at. Pretty darn good.
I'm limiting myself to 21 days in August. Fifteen and a half days scattered during the year. Those are the days weeks every year I can pretend I live like society tells us. 10% of the time.
The other 90% - I'm accepting that this is how my TODAY looks:
My sons
Do what I can to make my life better by spending the time helping the organizations my children are involved in.
Work (3 hours per day)
Work-out
See/visit/talk to family/friends - have lunch, go the movies, network, enjoy my life.
Play - bike ride,ski, surf, run, sit on the couch and watch a movie, holding my breath, attending my Hula Hoop class
The 10% of my life?????? Day in Day out
Kids
Work (6 hours per day)
Hockey/sports/organizational things for other people
36.5 days. I can do the 10% if I can do the other 90%.
Today, I"m playing a grown up, in a real life, created by me. Today. Only 35.5 more days to go.....
I'm going to wake up. Excited to see what is going to happen.
Work. You know, that thing that pays the bills. Have a job. Well, I don't really have a job. I have to make money in order to support myself and my boys. The one whom pulls it off. I'm very lucky. I've created my own luck.
But, today, I'm going to create my life.
You know, the one that we always wanted. The life we think everyone else is living. It's better than ours, right?
Today. Well, today, is the day....
Today, I'm going to get up and work. I'm going to work out. Or ride my bike. If it's hockey season, I'm going to take my sons to hockey. Come home cook dinner, watch a TV show. Help the boys with their homework. Do some laundry. The house will cleaned up.
OH.......what did you say????? There is a party in Vail? I'm going. A party down the street - and you want the boys to come hang out with their friends? There is a bike ride around the corner? The potluck around the corner?
You have free tickets to an outdoor concert? Oh, by the way, no I don't mind if the pre-party is at my house?.......Yes, you can bring a friend. And they can bring a friend too.
Want to get your nails done? Have you bought your ski pass yet? What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to show up????
Today. WAIT!!!!!
I keep "tri-ing"; I tri and tri again to make my life mold into something that doesn't work for me. Yet, I still fight it.
90% - acceptance rate. That's where I'm at. Pretty darn good.
I'm limiting myself to 21 days in August. Fifteen and a half days scattered during the year. Those are the days weeks every year I can pretend I live like society tells us. 10% of the time.
The other 90% - I'm accepting that this is how my TODAY looks:
My sons
Do what I can to make my life better by spending the time helping the organizations my children are involved in.
Work (3 hours per day)
Work-out
See/visit/talk to family/friends - have lunch, go the movies, network, enjoy my life.
Play - bike ride,ski, surf, run, sit on the couch and watch a movie, holding my breath, attending my Hula Hoop class
The 10% of my life?????? Day in Day out
Kids
Work (6 hours per day)
Hockey/sports/organizational things for other people
36.5 days. I can do the 10% if I can do the other 90%.
Today, I"m playing a grown up, in a real life, created by me. Today. Only 35.5 more days to go.....
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