The ABCs of My Life

A: Attached or single?  Attached.
B: Best friend?  The hubby
C: Cake or pie?  Cake, preferably chocolate with peanut butter frosting
D: Day of choice? Depends on what I am doing, though I do love Sundays
E: Essential item? My phone, sadly.
F: Favorite color?  Blue.
G: Gummy bears or worms?  Worms ;)
H: Hometown?  The Dirty D
I: Favorite indulgence? Going to the beach alone
J: January or July?  July
K: Kids?  Two. 
L: Life isn’t complete without?  My family.
M: Marriage date? February 24, 2007
N: Number of siblings? One younger brother
O: Oranges or apples?  Oranges.
P: Phobias? Toads. YUCK.
Q: Quotes? Love them. Live by, "Everything happens for a reason."
R: Reasons to smile? My kids make me smile every day.
S: Season of choice? Fall.
T: Tag 5 people. I am pleading the 5th on this one.
U: Unknown fact about me. I never eat the last bite of anything.
V: Vegetable? Squash
W: Worst habit? Cracking my toes 
X: x-ray or ultrasound? I would say ultrasound, hubby would prefer me to have an x-ray. ;)
Y: Your favorite food? Depends on the day and the mood...but Godiva Dark Chocolate and Vanilla truffles would pretty much work any day.
Z: Zodiac sign? Scorpio (not surprising, huh?)

Feeling and Dealing with The Sting

It's summertime and we are loving the sunshine, the ocean, and the carefree days. But sadly, you can still get stung in the summertime...and not by a bee.

I got a job rejection letter today -- one I was NOT expecting. For some reason, I was feeling pretty good about my chances. I had made it through the 1st round (Q&A session with the nominating committee, followed up by teaching a lesson) and was called in to meet the Dean of Instruction for my second round. It was great. He and I are approximately the same age, had a lot in common, he said he liked my answers, thought I was a really good candidate...and then today I got the "thanks, but no thanks" letter.

I was floored. I mean, this job was to run the local community college's Writing Center and teach writing classes. The school is 2 minutes down the road from my house. I already adjunct there twice a week, and have for the past 3 years. Seriously, I couldn't have created a more perfect job if I had done it myself.

Obviously I didn't fit the mold. I read that rejection letter and just started crying. We were on our way to (surprise, surprise) Starbucks...and I could not stop the tears. They continued as I ordered my vanilla chai, as I waited for my drink, and all the way home. The anger was boiling up inside....then the depression set in. I could sense that familiar feeling of self-hatred making its way back into my heart.

You're such an idiot. How can you not get a job at a community college teaching YOUR subject? What is wrong with you? Look at some of these people who teach there full-time and YOU can't get a job there? What a loser. Face it, you are not destined to do more than what you do. Why do you think you can ever move "up"? Stupid. That rejection is a personal one. He didn't like you, didn't think you could do the job. Time to hang up the ambitions of moving on and just be happy with the hand you've been dealt.

This is the third time this year I have put myself out there and been turned down. A few months ago I applied for a teaching position at the same community college. Rejected. But the most painful one was back in November at my current high school. They needed a new department chair. Being reasonably seasoned, mature, responsible, smart, friendly, I thought I was a shoo-in. Little did I know that the principal had already asked the 28-year-old cheerleading coach if she would do it. They weren't expecting me to apply. Therefore, we had to go through the motions of an interview process...only for me to find out later that they were just placating me. The cheerleaders knew their coach was getting the position before I even interviewed. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and angry.

How many times do we have to get slapped in the face before we finally turn and walk away? How do we not take it personally?

Top 5 List - Summer Mode (aka My Favorite Places)

5. Bailey's Island, ME - This is always one of our "must go" stops each year. Back when my grandfather was alive, he would take the entire family (his 3 daughters, their husbands and kids) up to Cook's Lobster House for my mom and aunt's birthday dinner (they were born on the same day, 16 years apart). Before dinner, we would all head to Bailey's Island to walk the rocks and shop at the kitschy Land's End store. My grandfather loved this statue of the lobsterman. This is the one place where I get very emotional thinking about him.

4. Cape Henlopen Beach, DE - We are very lucky to live an hour from the Delaware beaches. Dewey, Rehoboth, Bethany, Fenwick Island, Lewes....all have their own unique characteristics. All are extremely popular. But my favorite is Cape Henlopen. Tucked away from everything else, it is a state park that doesn't host too many from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York. I love going early, digging my toes in, and watching the surf.

3. Naples, ME - This town has been our family's summer vacation since before I was born. My grandparents honeymooned there in the 1930s. They continued to bring their children up every August, a tradition that I now share with my own family. It is a place that connects me to my grandmother and grandfather, two people I miss greatly.

2. The National Cathedral - I love cathedrals and old churches, but this one takes the cake. It is in my favorite city, is majestic, and has all sorts of cool nooks and crannies. I was in middle school when I read Margaret Truman's "Murder at the National Cathedral", thus starting my love for the gargoyle-covered edifice. Going to a Christmas Eve service there is on my Bucket List...since my royal wedding didn't happen there. *sigh*

1. Cape Elizabeth, ME - I could sit here for hours, watching the waves crash on the rocks. There are plenty of spaces to sit quietly and think. Not that I have ever been able to do that since I am always with two active kids and a gets-bored-quickly husband. But you know, if I could...

Could I Feel Any More Inadequate as a Mom???

I was perusing some FB pages of some "friends" I don't see often. Imagine my dismay when I saw these lunchbox pictures:

I mean, I admire her but HOLY HELL. Every day? How do you have the time and patience to be so freaking creative????

I am a horrible mom.

Living on Starbucks as a Single Working Mom (for 9 days)

I've been out of touch with everyone and everything for the past week. The hubby was in Kansas City for 9 days, leaving me with the kids and the house and the laundy and the dishes and the cat and two jobs. I kept repeating the mantra "Just keep swimming."

My legs are so tired from treading water.

How do single working moms do it? Seriously? Perhaps I am the laziest person on the planet, but I found it nearly impossible to juggle everything. I definitely had no energy and lots of things took a backseat. I only washed the laundry we needed. I used paper plates and plastic utensils. The inside of the house looked like it had been hit by a tornado. I had to buy our neighbor a 12-pack of Bud Light to get him to cut the grass so it didn't look like our house had been foreclosed on.

And the kids? The poor things were shuttled from one person or place to the next all week. Daycare at 6:30, picked up from daycare at 3:30, driven to Grandmom's at 4, picked up from Grandmom's at 8:30, in bed by 9:30. Rinse and repeat. I felt like the only times I saw them was when we were getting dressed in the morning or undressed in the evenings. And 90% of that "quality" time was spent with me screaming. Because. I. Was. So. Freaking. Exhausted.

Conclusion? I would be a terrible single working mom.

There are many women (and men) out there who do a helluva lot better job at raising kids on their own than I would. And I give them all of the credit in the world.

Wanted: Comments

If you stop by and grab a Starbucks with me (translation: you read my blog), please take a moment to leave a comment. Motivation is difficult for me to maintain, but knowing there are people reading my words may encourage me to keep going. Doesn't have to be anything profound or fancy...just let me know you're there. In return, I will do the same for you. And then we'll be one big, happy blog family.

Operation Fabulous by 40

I turned 38 in November. Getting older never bothered me until this year. I was fine with 30 and even threw myself a big party. I wasn't married, didn't have a steady career path, rented a house with a friend...not exactly where I thought I would be at 30. But who cared? I was having fun. When I turned 35 I joked about getting old but it wasn't really an issue to me. At that point I was married, a mom, had a house, had a career. Life was good. And we were still planning on having Baby #2. I was in a great place. Birthdays #36 and #37 were a blur. Insignificant.

So why, at 38, did I suddenly have this weird anxiety about my age? Panic started to set in. Perhaps because I was now in my "late 30s"? Perhaps because the kids at school often gasp and say, "I didn't realize you were that old"? Maybe it's because I realize I will be 53 when my son graduates high school. Was the number 40 really that bad?

Or maybe, just maybe, I realize how quickly time is passing and I see doors closing - no, make that slamming shut - every day.

My entire life I have been a dreamer. There were always things I wanted to pursue -- not that I ever really DID any of them. I had a "Bucket List" of life goals. I always figured I had time. Some examples:

1. Journalist - Ok, I did that for a while but it didn't pay the bills too well. And I worked in Glen Burnie, Maryland...not exactly a news hotspot. It provided some interesting stories down the road but I knew I couldn't afford to work my way up to Katie Couric status. A $21,000 salary in the DC/Baltimore/Annapolis suburbs wasn't easy.

2. Travel - Heading to Savannah and Hilton Head Island were not exactly my ideas of "traveling". I was thinking more along the lines of London, Morocco, and New Zealand. As a kid, we were always going places but in the U.S. I wanted to do more. I wanted to see the world.

3. Marry Rich - Ha. Ha ha ha ha. Oh this one is so superficial. But honest. I envisioned marrying a handsome, affluent, preppy breadwinner. We would have an amazing house in someplace other than my homestate. He would be a professional, an athlete, a great dad, a romantic. I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to. He would find me smart, sexy, and the perfect wife. (Oh God, I can't stop laughing...)

4. Write A Book - Isn't this on everyone's bucket list?

5. Perfect my Tennis Skills (aka Be in Amazing Physical Shape, as a result) - Back in high school, I was the tennis girl. I lived and breathed tennis. I was good, too. Not amazing, but good. I was offered a chance to walk-on at the University of Delaware with a good shot at making the team. I didn't do it. My knees were really messed up and required surgery (which I also never did). I didn't want to go to 6am practices. So I quit the sport I loved most. After college I came back to my hometown and started dating the local tennis pro. He was 16 years older, never been married, no kids. All we had in common was tennis. He got me to a playing level that was even better than I was in high school. I was one of the top women in the state. But just like everything else, I quit that too. I have since tried to get back to that level, but it hasn't happened. Maybe next year.

My life didn't turn out the way I expected. I am an English teacher, married to a history teacher. We travel to Maine every summer and take day trips to DC or Philly. The most "news" I ever cover is re-posting a status on Facebook from the Today Show. My tennis skills have dropped from a 4.5 rating to an embarrassing 3.5 level. I have written a few chapters of a few books....but they never get anywhere. And lastly, I am FAR from being rich.

I am not complaining at all. Trust me. Life is good. Very good. But as I get closer to the big 4-0, I see that my goals have to change. And it is a wake-up call to realize that half of your life has passed already. The goals you had when you were 24 are not the goals you can realistically have now. Even if I wanted to pursue a journalism career, it wouldn't happen the way I wanted. Oh sure, I could work for a newspaper making $25,000. Realistic? Nope. I could go back and get my Master's in journalism but who would hire a 40-year-old woman when they could hire a 22-year-old hot shot? Door #1: CLOSED.

Rich hubby? That door closed on February 24, 2007. And I am ok with that. Do I occasionally dream about winning the $600 million PowerBall? Absolutely. But my hubby is who I was meant to marry. He is smart and professional and handsome and preppy. He's a great dad and an athlete. We live a good life.

Tennis? The last time I picked up a racket was a month ago when I went out to hit with Sissy. Before that, it was when I was coaching the local high school team a year ago. Competitively speaking, I would not dare step onto a court now because it would be pure embarrassment. I'm 30 lbs heavier than I should be (I have no tennis skirts that even fit), my knees are likely to give out at any moment, and my body probably couldn't twist into the tennis positions it was used to oh so many years ago. And if I did make it through a match, I probably wouldn't be able to walk for a week afterwards.

There's still time to travel, yes, but realistically who has the money or time? Two college tuitions loom in the future, mortgage payments to make, and work tends to get in the way. Those exotic locales may not be visited until I hit 65. And even then it is doubtful.

All of these thoughts have been going through my head for the past few months. I can hear doors closing all around me. Don't get me wrong: I am extremely grateful and blessed. My life is good. But different.

If I were to talk to a shrink, they would probably tell me that the reason I am depressed about 40 is because we have decided that we are done having kids. Hubby is adamant that we are good with two. I am 99% ok with it. I can't get to 100% because that means another chapter has officially ended. But it has. And that realization is smacking me in the face.

So now I am trying to embrace my fourth decade and focus on ME. I decided that I have two years and, instead of falling into a pit of despair, I am going to make myself fabulous. The goal is to be more fabulous at 40 than I was at 25. (I was going to say 20, but at 20 I was still in college. Life wasn't real then.)

As I get older, I feel myself changing into a woman who is letting herself go. I've gained weight, but who cares? I am not on the market anymore. Hubby loves me. But I'm falling into the "mommy jeans" category. Not that I actually wear Mommy Jeans, but my mentality is there. Yoga pants on the weekends, very little make-up, no fun dates or nights out. I am all MOM. I am conservative, careful, dull, lifeless.

I see all of these amazing women in their 40s, 50s, and 60s. I envy them but I never really thought I could be one of them.

Until Operation Fabulous by 40 took hold.

I think I see myself going downhill and it scares me. I want to grab myself by the ankles and pull myself back to the summit. And when I get to that summit, I want to be able to stand up there and shout, "I AM FABULOUS!"

The basic premise of this mantra is: to look and feel better/healthier/stronger/more confident than I ever have in my life. I want to be a HOT 40-year-old. A healthy 40-year-old. I want to be noticed, not dismissed as a "middle-aged woman".

Major Hurdle #1 is happening on June 25. Stay tuned....

What Does Your Playlist Say About You?

I think you can learn a lot about a person by looking at their iTunes playlist. 

Today's Soundtrack

I Can Cry if I Want To

Now that I am a mom, I find myself extremely emotional when it comes to news reports about kids. And by emotional I mean sobbing uncontrollably as I look at pictures of the Oklahoma tornado aftermath. You can only imagine how I was when I heard about Sandy Hook Elementary. (Let's just say, I had to pull over during rush hour traffic because I thought I was going to puke.)

I have always been an emotional person, especially when I feel like I did something wrong. One sour word or unkind look from someone and I was done. The tears would form, the panic would set in. What did I do? What can I do to make it better? Why are they mad at me?

I was, for lack of a better term, thin-skinned.

Nowadays there is a lot less drama in my life (thank God). This allows me to focus on other things. And the things that make me cry now are usually news reports about children. Kids being killed, molested, kidnapped. I can't handle it. I cry.

As my mother likes to say, a shrink would probably blame my emotional instability on my parents because they "blame everything on the parents". In this case, I think it is true.

I grew up in a very non-affectionate, non-emotional household. I have never seen my parents cry. Ever. In 38 years, I have never seen a tear from either one. Not when their parents passed away, not when my cousin was almost killed in a car accident, not when my brother was shipped off to Iraq three times, not when my kids were born. Never. Needless to say, the words "I love you" were not common in our home. My parents will say "love you" to my kids (only because my kids say it first)...and when they do, part of me recoils in awkwardness. It is so odd to hear those words come out of their mouths. Now, as a mom, I want to make sure I don't do the same thing. I tell my kids I love them every day. I will even stop what we are doing and make them look at me so I can say, "Hey. Guess what? I love you."

My daughter is a tough nut. She does not show her feelings. Try getting a hug or a kiss out of her. Impossible. She will fall down and then stand up with blood on her knees - no tears. I can yell at her until I am blue in the face...no tears. My son, on the other hand, will come up to me while he is playing Power Rangers and kiss me for no reason. If I look at him disapprovingly, he falls apart. I hear that is a girl/boy thing, especially with their mamas. But I am hoping I can get Sissy to show a little more emotion than just her PMS-like anger. I do not want her to be as cold as her grandparents.

Hubby and I got pregnant unexpectedly after a month of dating. Oops. But it happens. Seven years later we are still together and have built a happy little family. When my parents found out that I was going to have their first grandchild, they cut me off for 6 months. No phone calls, no emails, no contact at all. I was essentially disowned for 6 months. It made me angry. And much more thick-skinned. And determined to never be like that with my own children. I can understand being shocked, being upset, being disappointed. However, to walk out of your daughter's life during a time like that is unacceptable. They almost missed out on seeing their granddaughter grow up. Even after all was said and done, we have never discussed what happened. That would involve emotions.

Those 6 months changed me forever. No longer did I feel obligated to make sure I never disappointed anyone, especially my parents. I choose who to show my emotions to...my kids. They've seen me cry. They've seen me laugh hysterically. They've seen me angry. True, I am tougher than I used to be (I would cry, on average, 4-5 times a week) but I am also not afraid to let my kids see tears stream down my face as I watch the news. And when they ask, I tell them why I am sad.

It is true that we learn a lot from our parents, including how not to act.

Faking It Like I'm Making It

It's Monday. I'm at work. Hubby is at work. Little Man is at my parents' (like every Monday) and Sissy is at school.

It was a hell of a time getting out the door this morning. Hubby takes Little Man to my mom and dad's house, which is on the other side of town. He then has to come back past our house to go to work. Doesn't make sense, but Little Man enjoys the one-on-one time with Grandmom and Grampy. So we do it.

That leaves me with the Drama Princess. At 6 years old, she has become quite the pain in the ass. She doesn't want to get up in the mornings, then she doesn't like what we picked out for her to wear. Combing her rat's nest is torture for both of us.

The final meltdown right before we walk out the door? Footwear. The socks feel funny. I don't like the knots in the toes. My shoes are too tight/big/small/ugly.  This usually turns into a full-out tantrum complete with tears, screaming, and name-calling. And she isn't all that nice, either.

Tuesdays through Fridays I can walk away and leave the drama to my hubby. After all, I work 35 minutes from home and he is the one to drop the kids off. I have to go, right? Not on Mondays.

Luckily, Sissy was somewhat ok today with only a minimal meltdown. I think she was excited because she is Student of the Week and gets to be treated like the princess she thinks she is for a whole 5 days. I counted my lucky stars and we headed to the car. I checked off my list of items that I normally forget: cell phone? Check. Quarters for tolls? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Laptop and cord? Check and check. Feeling pretty damn proud of myself, I pulled out of the driveway and headed to the highway.

That's when I heard the DING.

Almost empty gas tank....the gas tank that Hubby SAID he would fill up last night.

I have no cash with me and no debit or credit cards.

And we're already 15 minutes behind schedule.

Thus is my life. Totally unorganized, chaotic, crazy, and ill-prepared. I don't know how we make it sometimes. Sadly, this is a normal Monday. And Mondays are usually the days when the depression and anger set in. Why am forced to be a working mom? Why can't I stay home like all of the other mothers who I see casually dropping kids off at school before heading to the gym? Why couldn't I have a more flexible job? Why do I spend 8 hours a day taking care of OTHER people's children?

How did my life get so out of control? This is NOT what I envisioned.

So I fake it.

I guess I am doing a pretty good job because when I mention that my life is nuts I've had people say, "Really? You always look so calm and put-together." Ha. Ha, ha, and more ha. Thank you Mr. Paxil and Ms. Xanax.

About 7 years ago, I would've been in the fetal position 6 days a week. I would blow off work. I would cry. I would rage. I would drink. I would sleep non-stop. Obviously, I can't do that anymore. On the rare days that I have time to really think about Life, I feel that bitterness seeping back in. I allow it to consume me.

So I keep on faking it. And every morning I fear that I can't fake it anymore. Will today be the day? Will today be the day that I can't handle my life anymore?Will today be the day that I lose my mind and drive to Maine without a word to anyone? Will today be the day that I can't get out of bed?

Going through the motions is a great way to keep moving, to not let Life grab ahold and drown you. But the days that are the scariest are the days when I can let down the facade and just "be". You would think that I would revere those sacred nothing days...weekends, summers, minor holidays...but no.

As much as I resent working and dislike my job, the most dangerous days are the ones when I don't have to "fake it". As long as people are watching, I can make it. Or at least pretend to.