Award Goes To....

“Maaaaammmmaaa!”

It is 11:00 pm this means one thing. Our house has contracted another virus. Make this number seven in six weeks. If housing viruses is a sport we place first. I walk into the boys’ bathroom. There is little dude on his throne. His eyes again hollowed. We have a sick one.

I clean him up. I clean up his bed. The back half of the house smells like a dirty dog kennel in the sunshine. What happens inside these kids? It is as if they are rotting away from the inside out.

I plop him back into bed. I walk down the hall and little man is back in the bathroom. I am rubbing his spiny back. He is such a thin boy doing this bare skin gives me the willies.

Boys you have Mom of the year.

I ask if he has been feeling this way all evening or if he woke up because he felt yucky. He tells me he has felt this way. He has felt this way since he was four. He does not believe he has had “diaweea” the entire time. He cannot recall.  

In the awards arena I am three for three.

I snicker. He catches me. All I had, “Laughter is the best medicine”. I was asked to be “more funnier”. He jumped off, grabbed ankles and waited for the wipe. I realize the joke is on me. 

                                                                                                           

I don’t wait for gifts. I never have. Thankfully, I am Mother of The Year. The award presentation is swift.

“Maaaaammmmaaa!”

I stand over Kade as he pukes out everything he has ever eaten. I mean EVER.

I hear no laughter. I am surprised by my voice, “Happy Mothers Day”.

The Big O

Like a school girl I anticipated the night. There is much to prepare. It has been so long since I needed to worry about the small details. You know, the ones giving sparkle to an expected magical night. I calculated everything. I trusted my heart. I was finally ready.

Let me regress.

Mom and I had the talk. Over-and-over she assured me I could not be in safer hands. It was important I trust. Awakening what is there. I would be cared for. A beautiful experience waits. One I was assured to be forever precious. The mental strain is intense. Yet I commit.

It is going to be my first time.

I adore being dressed up. If ever there is an occasion to doll up and get my pretty on this is it. I marched into Nordstrom purchasing five dresses. I use my living room as a runway. After a one-on-one consultation every single one returned. There is not a keeper in the bunch.

I ask Mom to join me in returning to the drawing board. Together we dive in choosing an ink colored dress. It is form fitting in all the “right” places. I really want a dress knee length to compliment the three inch silver/gold glitter heals. Two words: Irresistible and swanky. Pretty much damn hot. I am in LOVE with these heals.  

Next to choose is jewelry. Dress for a wedding. What to wear? I want to shine, but not be overdone. I need a necklace not one cutting off my neckline. If it is to long my perkiness will swallow it up. How will I wear my hair? If it is up the dangle is important. And I wear it down will my hair fall over my face or tangle in swinging earrings? The considerations are endless.

I cannot start in on the unmentionables dilemma.

This covers the background.

I count down the days. It is as if it would never arrive. I basically quit sleeping. Soon enough there will be time to cozy up into bed. As days will do it arrives right on schedule. I am a bundle of worry questioning my preparedness. I go forward in my daily routine. A couple weeks prior I arranged to have a hair appointment. The purpose was to kill two birds with one stone: keep me busy as well as create beautiful.

Forty-five minutes later beauty is accomplished. I chose a swept up style. It is a solid compromise of put together and tousled. If it falls from place it will seem fitting. A lady needs ready for mishaps. Together the dress, hair, makeup, jewelry and heals is alluring. I accomplish the underlying goal. A sophisticated woman (me for one night) on the outside can be muddled on the inside. We stand guard.

It is time.

It is 5:30. We meet. The butterflies start fluttering. Palms are sticky. Mouth is dry. Holy shit! What am I doing? Here I am. Here I will stay until the end. The single thought getting me through is I will finally do it. Finally! It will no longer be hope, but reality. I will leave new and different from when I came. Really, it is thrilling. It is a tease all night.

It is 8:15. I go into the room earlier than expected. It is dark. I mean really dark. There are curtains hiding the space. I am shaking. Repeatedly, I ask myself not to hyperventilate. If ever there is a time not to lose my shit it is now. Everyone says it is in and out. I take comfort in this knowledge that completion from start to finish will not take long. A calmness takes over. 

It is finally the moment. I hope it is not an out of body experience. I do not want to be outside looking in. I want to be present.

The lighting is perfect. I can hardly see past a few feet. The silence makes my heart race. I try holding back tears. I wonder if what I said was clear? All in all, I held it together. Together as in meaning I did not pack it in leaving in the middle. My worst fear!

I could hardly believe it. It is beyond anything I imagined. I had the Big O.

They stood. They clapped. The noise grew in number. I am able to see over the lights enough to make out caring wonderful human beings. I trusted turning over my story to Listen To Your Mother. It was supreme magic.

Tonight changed me. I am braver. In seven minutes all I have been working for arrived: The Open Balance. I felt honored to share freely with strangers and those who came to support little ole me. A night we will not soon forget. Trust me The Big O is transforming.

r 

This is show biz, people.

I left Alberta Rose Theater with a blaze of fire.

I am a story teller. I can call myself a writer. I am found.

I give Listen To Your Mother its very own Big O.

I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

Thank you, Portland. It was in a word: exquisite.

70 Years

Nine years ago (today) I clipped this out of the paper. Strangers to me, yet it has hung on each refrigerator in every one of my homes for nine years. I look at it and smile. I read it and get lost in what this life, their life, has shared. 70 years of marriage. Boy, what a privilege to be a witness to a marriage like Mr.and Mrs. Johnson. These two are blessed in understanding this thing called marriage; and what it truly means. Marriage is not romance as society has us believe. The romance births and grows from commitment. Romance is staying true to your commitment of choosing your person through the beauty and ugly as you journey together. Hardship and the unexpected are a guarantee. Giving and receiving  security and found shelter is rare. This is what I think of every day I see this clipping. It makes me sigh and reflect. I smile and more times than not I have a little clarity. Assuming the announcement stays intact (through your young adult lives) I hold hope it will symbolize something unique to each of you.

May the vulnerability of love find you. May you hold it with grace. Respect the boundaries set forth. Give love back out as you want for yourself. Keep it in good health allowing growth. Above all else remember love works. Here is proof:

i

Lessons from Garth Brooks World Tour

In all of my life I (we) have never spent so much towards one event, EVER:

Tickets $320

Sitter $50

Dinner $36

Max Train $10

Merchandise $80

Drinks $10

Outfit $40

$546

As every item was racking up I found myself asking, “Is this experience worth the cost?” Honestly, the night could finance a whole lotta other things. As I stood in front of (what were prime) seats I looked to my right. Adam stood looking straight ahead mesmerized.

Through the night I was answering questions to a question I had not yet asked:  What did the Garth Brooks World Tour teach me?

I have an emotional attachment to nearly every song in the set.

He started singing “Rodeo” I was back in high school listening to Dad and Binks singing this song together. It was so fast Binks mouth did not move as fast as the words came. The laughter and the entire moments was effortless joy. There has never been a time I do not think of those days when I hear “Rodeo”. It was his second song. I looked at Adam and yelled how I wish Daddy were here to see this. I know he’d of loved it more than I.

“Unanswered Prayers” lyrics can strike a cord with anyone. If I was to have an emotional measure “The Dance” produces the same tie, but at the other end of the scale. The lyrics of both songs tug at reminding us to appreciate Gods plan and keeping gratitude in how we come to receive these gifts. The songs are beautiful. Actually, two of my favorites as both take the audience full circle. I have familiarity in both. I can set apart people of my life to be whom Garth is singing. This is powerful.

He sang and sang. I brought to mind past loves, friendships and experiences. The remembrance ended vastly different than at the time I hoped. The struggles and healing I would repeat. I would not want to miss those chapters. These songs reminded me of my hearts wishes and travels.

Songs linked people to memories that until then had no connection. For instance “The Thunder Rolls” is about a cheating husband and the upset of his wife. As soon as Garth begins:

…Every light is burnin' 
In a house across town 
She's pacin' by the telephone 
In her faded flannel gown…

This song has absolutely zero to do with Grammy Bear. Yet, it strikes a memory of her. Why? I’ve forgotten as I was a child she wore flannel nightgowns. In a millisecond I remembered how it felt. It was comfort and security of being safe in her arms. I long forgot this. The song acted as a boom to a discarded memory.

Trisha came on. She heaved at my memory collection and took me back to the eighth-grade. “She is in love with a Boy” was released and I was young and in love with whom later became my high-school to early adulthood sweetheart. We were madly in love. True blue honest as it gets love. Once it started the fire was undeniable by everyone. Come the 9^th grade we thought we had it all figured out. Trisha took me back to those innocent days of desire, wishes and certainty only felt by a teenage girl in love. My heart runs over with gratefulness for our dance.

Billy Joel sang it first. Garth sang it as a cover: “Shameless”. Adam grabbed me. He was enthralled watching Garth give his all vocally to the lyrics. All of the while Adam held me close. Through the concert he would touch me, rub my hand and put his arm over my shoulder. “Shameless” brought feelings to the surface for Adam. As silly as it may seem this it is an amazing thing!

You see in all my life I've never found
What I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down
I could walk away from anyone I ever knew
But I can't walk away from you

I have never let anything have this much control over me
I worked too hard to call my life my own
Well I made myself a world and it worked so perfectly
But it's your world now, I can't refuse
I've never had so much to lose

Well I'm shameless

You know it should be easy for a man who's strong
To say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong
I never lost anything I ever missed
But I've never been in love like this
It's out of my hands

I know this man loves me with all of who he is. I am certain he has never loved another as he loves me. I have seen and heard our relationship has transformed him from a reckless boy to a man who try-try as he might gives his all. I can say we are shameless for one another.

Seeing him was healing. Music speaks to hope, happiness and wounds. As I watched and listened to Brooks sing “Standing Outside The Fire” it was almost awkward to hear. I imagined everyone taking a looky-loo into my thoughts. Forty thousand eyeballs entering into my secret. I felt embarrassed and shame as I imagined it shared out to the world. Paranoid, much?  Yes, I have moments of needing to be bigger than big. I have an accurate hunger for dramatics. I want to give back in large ways. I want to feel life and I want life to feel me. These words provide me something I need to take notice of.

There’s this love that is burning

Deep in my soul

Constantly yearning to get out of control

Wanting to fly higher and higher

I can’t abide

Standing outside the fire

Music is an art; it is Rembrandt to the ear. The Louvre audience is captivated by Venus de Milo. Sure to some a comparison between Garth and the exquisite Broadway legend Lizza Mineeli is nonexistent. He is this centuries Chopin. Argue my comparisons? Let us scrutinize.

He is the top-selling solo artist in history as well as the only solo artist to surpass three hundred and sixty million (million, people!) albums over six releases. His sold out concerts and TV ratings are high markers too. Garth Brooks ranks among the biggest star of all time. This ranking is kind of a big deal.

Looking at these figures lends a new perspective. He is the best-of-the best in his craft of musical art. He is the Mikhail Baryshnikov of music. Brooks is officially the measure in the world of music. He is a finely tuned Glenn Miller.

We are living in his reign. In time, society will change perception having distance in time. Living in the same point in time with Brooks alters how we view his importance to artists before him. An identifying period of the future will unveil all he has accomplished. It will be then his art will be considered as an immense magnitude in the arts.

I was driving our babysitter home. She asked who we saw. I told her. She asked if it was similar to the Justin Beiber concert she had been. I could not help myself. I laughed allowed. I had to confess I do not know what a teen throb concert entails, but am certain there lays any similarities. She explained her concert. I was right other than a singer the likeness ended.

Again, she asked who “Gerth” is. I looked at her and gave pause. This lovely thirteen-year-old girl has never heard of this icon. ICON! There has been a musical injustice to the youth of our nation. Driving south on the I-205 I felt as though the world engulfed me. I was officially the oldest person alive. I looked at her and all I could say, “I am much too young to feel this darn old.”

I need to recap:

An evening of uninterrupted conversation while eating a complete dinner in an adult restaurant.

Riding on MAX for the first time, alone.

Adam stood looking straight ahead mesmerized.

An energy I thought was ancient history (for us both) was released.

The magic of reconnection was felt.

Memories of forgotten days came alive.

The opportunity to introduce a child to Garth Brooks.

Sharing the same space as an ICON.

Given the ability to open hard truths and own each.

Life goes on while sober living.

An ambiguous time to be home.

I calculate the $540 spent to calculate the return.

Adam’s captivation is worth it all by itself. Everything else is a windfall.

Fiveteen

You are four going on fiveteen. You have a sense of yourself that not many are fortunate to learn at any age well enough at four years of age. Your cognitive thinking and mechanics continually amaze. You create from nothing. Your curiosity fuels you. It exhausts me. Your mind is busy and bright. Your questions are that of a teenager.

You are four going on fiveteen. You have a sense of entitlement that many teenagers feel. You’re stubbornness and desire can break me down. You manipulate your words and  baby browns to meet the here-and-now need. You control the power of what you claim. You are pint size but come with a studs kick. Similar to many teenage boys you too are a big heart hiding behind a no Nancy attitude.

You are four going on fiveteen. You want cell phones and ipads. You want to talk of your babe and girlfriend Pauline. You use words that should not be spoken. The waters are tested. Comparisons between families began. “He doesn’t have to!” is a quip often heard. I want a new house. I am horrified by wearing this. Actions are fewer as you state your embarrassment. You look through the lens of a teenager.

You are four going on fiveteen. Soon will be your birthday. I can hardly wait. I’d rather have your party any where else besides JJ Jump. That being shared, having your party in a warehouse full of jump houses and bouncing balls keeps perspective. You asking for guinea pigs, TMNT bike helmets, a junior basketball and a CARS ice cream cake gives me breath. This wild combination nourishes my heart. I see my baby boy not as fiveteen, but as five. My Dudes giggling, wrinkled nose look, wrestling on everyone, racing and vrooming as though he is a motorcycle, watching him pulling up his size 3t pants, the best Eskimo kiss giver and annoying piggy back rider all despite the fact that there might be potty in his pants.

You are four going on five.  Fiveteen will just have to wait. 

Mom

Mom Lyrics

Little baby told God, hey I'm kind of scared.
Don't really know if I want to go down there.
From here it looks like a little blue ball
That's a great big place and I'm so small.

Why can't I just, stay here with you?
Did I make you mad, don't you want me too?
God said oh child, of course I do
But there's somebody special waiting for you

So hush now baby, don't you cry
'Cause there's someone down there waiting whose only goal in life
Is making sure you're always gonna be alright
A loving angel tender, tough and strong
It's almost time to go and meet your mom.

You'll never have a better friend
Or a warmer touch to tuck you in
She'll kiss your bruises, your bumps and scrapes
And anytime you hurt
Her heart's gonna break

So hush now baby, don't you cry
'Cause there's someone down there waiting whose only goal in life
Is making sure you're always gonna be alright
A loving angel tender, tough and strong
It's almost time to go and meet your mom.

And when she's talking to you make sure you listen close
'Cause she's gonna teach you everything you'll ever need to know
Like how to mind your manners, to love and laugh and dream
She'll put you on the path that bring you back to me

So, hush now little baby, don't you cry
'Cause there's someone down there waiting whose only goal in life
Is making sure you're always gonna be alright
A loving angel tender, tough and strong
Come on child it's time, to meet your mom

--Garth Brooks 2013

The Graduate

This photo may not be around when you are older. Here I am receiving my BALS Degree at NAU. The year was 2004. I look like such a baby as I am sure you boys will when you receive your degrees (**hint**)