Welcome to CAB’s Place!

Saturday morning.  Late January.  Cold, foggy, silent.  It is a get up, start the fire, fix a cup of coffee morning. It is a wishing-it-were-Christmas-but-glad-it’s-not winter morning.  It is a morning of gazing out the back sliding glass door, looking at the overwhelming task which improving my yard will be and being grateful it is still just the last day of January.  It is the “Hurry up, Mommy, we have to go do our special day!” kind of energy that hits me before it is even 9:00 and while I’m still getting used to the idea that I’m not running at breakneck speed through the workweek trying to create or be part of some child’s happiest, most secure, childhood memories.  Today, after we get the morning chores done and get ourselves ready it will be a day that is all about her.

My youngest received a gift certificate to one of those stores where you go pick out your stuffed animal and they stuff it right there for you. You can pick your clothes and accessories for the very special one-of-a-kind bear, or duck or whatever.  Life, as a single mom of four, got way too busy and time escaped us and it is now a month later and we are just now taking time for this event.  To further complicate issues, the gift certificate, expired (I think) and so before going in and finding out if this was really the case, I wanted to make sure the funds were in the bank to cover the event should the gift certificate be null and void.  My understanding is it is illegal for a gift certificate to expire, but then, what do I know?  My law career was brief and fleeting and existed merely in my mind.

After the build-your-own-stuffed-animal event, we are going to go to the real movie theatre (not just to the video store) and watch a movie.  We are at a bit of a crossroads here on this one.  Her choice is “Hotel For Dogs” and mine is “Inkheart”.  Since I’m currently reading “Inkheart”, not far into it and hate seeing a movie before I’ve read the book, my daughter will probably win out on this one.  That will be okay. Maybe somewhere in there we will make time to stop in at a thrift store or two.

The fact that I am even in the place at this time of January where I can go to the mall, the movies and maybe even a thrift store is amazing to me.  I opened my bills this morning, one after another, glanced at the totals and said, “I can pay that off. I can pay that off.  I can pay that off.”  Last year, at this time, I had my car in the dealership after dropping its rear differential in the street two months before, awaiting my tax return so I could pay for the repairs.  This year, I haven’t even yet made my appointment to see my tax person, but I know I will be getting some money back.  Not much, but at least, I won’t owe.  I’m in a much, much better place this year than I was last year.  While many are worried about the economy and their jobs and losing their homes, I am rejoicing and so very grateful once again, that I can pay my bills, provide the basics for my family, not be in foreclosure on my home and take my daughter to Build-A-Bear even if the gift certificate might be expired.  I was not in this place at this time last year.  I ponder all of that with a deep sigh of relief and gratitude.  Things are really, really improving for me and my little “at risk” family.  Not dramtically, not overnight, not without incessant and consistent resolve to keep plugging away.  When there is so much around us to discourage, I am encouraged by the fact that the light at the end of my financial tunnel is growing ever brighter.  And, this realization alone will make today a great day, but on top of it all, I will be able to spend a little money for a small bit of fun for a very precious 8-year-old (the daughter of my old age) and not be stressing out internally about which bills I will have to pay late this month to make it happen…and, even better…I don’t have to say, “No, I can’t afford it”.  At least not this time.  Not today.

So the cold, foggy, silent, late January, coffee sipping kind of morning was truly short lived.  The, “Mommy hurry!” is increasing in intensity and that is understandable.  She’s been far more patient about this than most kids could handle.  I’m going to have wonderful, day with my youngest in spite of my intense loathing of the mall.  I wonder if this midwinter Build-A-Bear day could become a bit of a tradition with us?  We’ll have to see.

I don’t feel in the least bit bleak.  I feel pretty great actually.  I could regale you with tales of laughter and strange heartwarming events from my week.  I could stress you out with anecdotes from my dinner hour routine and teenage squabbles.  I could boast of my successes this week (snaking in under the deadline to get my grades posted on time, easily, in spite of technological fails).  I could tell you stories of sex offenders and $500,000,000,  vodka tonics and hole-in-the-wall bars on Wednesdays, but I won’t.

I am, however, feeling like I should be somewhat brief.  Not in my nature to be so, usually, so I’m going to bless the world with it tonight and take advantage of it.  I’m tired.  It is late.  Everyone in my world seems happy or, at least momentarily content, especially the dogs. 

Tonight, that is way more than just good enough for me, it’s ideal!

I’m heading to bed.

Wishing you all the same contentment and sweet memorable dreams.

“Oh my gosh!  What is that smell?”  I asked.  I looked over and noticed that my 8-year-old, in typical fashion learned from her older siblings, had gone to the refrigerator and was standing there with the door open while she gazed in indefinitely. 

“Shut that door!”  I exclaimed.  I usually react this way due to my energy costs skyrocketing as the result of  my four progeny standing for hours with the refrigerator door open as though the mere looking would fix them a snack.  This time, however, the odor emanating from the appliance was something similar to that of the city settling ponds.  I knew it was time to clean out my refrigerator.  In fact, it was long past due.

You know it is time to undertake this particular home improvement project when you suspect that someone replaced the leftovers with your 8th-grader’s Science Fair project.

You know it is time to undertake this project when you are out of dishes to store leftovers in.

You know it is time to undertake this project when shortly (and I mean very shortly) after closing the refrigerator, it smells like someone farted in your kitchen.

There is really only one good way to complete this project once the interior of the refrig has deteriorated to this level:  get someone else to do it. 

Since refrigerator cleaners aren’t exactly the most common service personnel listed in the yellow pages and since I couldn’t afford one even if they were, I have to be especially creative in order to get this task done without doing it myself.  I think I was able to get out of this task once.  I did so by waiting till one of the children was being especially naughty.  I gave one warning.  No improvement in behavior.  I gave another warning.  It fell on deaf ears.  There was no third warning, and maybe two was two too many, but the child landed the refrigerator job securely in their lap, complete with stinky smells, emptying the garbage and cleaning the emptied containers…well…any that were still salvageable.  It was an effective lesson because since then when I threaten punishment with that particular job I receive instantaneous  compliance. 

If you have no naughty children around, then I guess you are simply out of luck.

I’m really not into these things, but since I tend toward the verbose, I thought this might be a good exercise for me.  Let’s see if I can respond using only one word.

Your significant other?  Unmet

Your hair? Long

Your mother?  Dead

Your father? Dead

Your favorite thing?  Computers

Your dream last night?  Unremarkable

Your favorite drink? Cocktail

Your dream/goal?     Love

What room are you in? Dining

Your hobby? Writing

Your fear?  Illness

Where do you want to be in 6 Yrs?  Published

Where were you last night?  Everywhere

Something that you aren’t?  Ill

Muffins?  No!

 Wish list item?  Dishwasher

Last thing you did?  This

What are you wearing?  Jeans

TV?   Music

Your pets?   Dogs

Friends?  Fun

 Your life?  Demanding

Your mood?  Resolved

Missing someone?  Yes

Drinking? Wine

Smoking?  No

Your car?  Two

Thing you’re not wearing?  Nothing

Your favorite store?  Depends

Your favorite color?  Merlot

When is the last time you cried?  Uncertain

Who will respond to this?  Cindy

Where do you go to over and over?  Bathroom

Five people who email me regularly?   Colleagues

 My favorite place to eat?  Restaurants

Favorite place I’d like to be right now? Australia

Four people I think will comment.  Unknown

 Well, I did it.  Not so tough.  Can you do it?  Try it.  Remember, only one word, not merely one idea or title.

I’m staring at the blank, white screen tonight wondering what to write.  It isn’t really that I have nothing to write.  Ideas are within ready to be carried to the page by the millions of words ready and able to convey them.  The question of what to write is really the wrong question for me tonight.  The better question is how to write it. 

Sometimes things are difficult or hard. Sometimes it is tough to know things.  It is sometimes difficult to know what another person is thinking.  Sometimes it  is difficult to know which choice to make.  Sometimes it is hard to do what you know you must inevitably do. Sometimes it can be agonizing to wait when you’d rather go or to go when you’d rather not move.  Sometimes, I make things much harder (more difficult) than they ever need to be.

Sometimes things are easy. Sometimes the clarity, vision and purpose come in an instant. Without warning, unexpectedly there it is: clarity.  Uannounced and unsought, with a suddeness that leaves us stunned and silent,  there are the answers to every secret question, doubt and wondering speculation. It’s just there.  You see it, you know it, there is not a doubt or hesitation.  It’s the way things will unfold.

I’ve had just such an experience fewer times than I have fingers on one hand but every time things ended up transpiring  exactly as I saw it.  Now, I’m not going to debate whether the “seeing” or “knowing”  it predestined the thing to happen or if I saw it because it (whatever “it” was) was already in the works. All I’m saying is that sometimes our gut or some internal sense within in us that is always picking up cues and clues from every interaction sometimes puts a bunch of that collected information in front of us all at once and, like a jigsaw puzzle when the pieces all finally fit, a very clear picture emerges.

I had such an experience recently.  In the midst of the energy, and much as I hate to admit it, chaos that is my weekday life I suddenly experienced this sense of clarity about some areas of my life.   These were areas where I had questions.  Areas that seemed difficult or puzzling to me.  Areas that presented me with choices and left me wondering which choice to pick since I either wanted all options or none of them.  Areas that no one can predict or determine in advance and which we all must wrestle with at various times in our lives.

I can’t and won’t give out the specifics.  This experience did not show me the path I would have liked to travel.  It showed me the path I will travel, however.  Said differently, this instantaneous flash of  insight and clarity revealed to me the likely future of certain affiliations I currently have.  Again, not the future I would necessarily have liked or chosen, but the future that sadly will occur.  Surprisingly, I am not sad…well…maybe a little just on one level.  On another level entirely, I am at peace.   In a way, though it is a huge stretch to phrase it this way, I see the future.  It is not how I want it to be in this instance, however it will be regardless of my preferences or desires.  And, the rationale is sound and justified and true.  When it all goes down, it will be completely understandable, reasonable and, actually, wise for all involved. 

It still isn’t how I’d choose it. 

And, the interesting part about it all is, I need do nothing differently from here on out. All I need to do is to keep doing life the best way I currently know how.  All the events, conversations and whatever will transpire as they transpire and I’m betting I’ll be spot on when everything’s said and done.  I’m finally beginning to trust my gut and my gut is giving me the cheat code to this game in a big way.

Now, I’m just going to sit back and watch the future unfold.  This is the part that will be easy.  Accepting the outcome?  Now, that might be the part that is hard.

P.S.  I know this sounds like a weird and whacked out post, but trust me I’m getting pretty good at making certain predictions (not in a weirdly psychic way, but in an intuitive hunch way  based on facts and past experience)  and I’ve recently made a certain prediction about a certain area of my existence.  It will be interesting to see what happens. I suppose I could have just said that to begin with…but like I said to begin with…I am struggling with how to write it not what to write.

I think it has been over a month since I’ve seen the floor of the portion of my garage I refer to as the laundry room.  I think it might be another month yet, before I see it again.

Four kids with very busy schedules and a mom who teaches, blogs, consults and taxi’s kids around, oh, yeah and has a social life outside her job and her children make it an almost likely, if not certain, reality that I rarely get to the bottom of the laundry pile.  Add to this lifestyle, a hot tub requiring towels to dry off with and a supply of children who, regardless of their good training, still refuse to use a towel more than once before tossing it out the kitchen door thus increasing the already insurmountable laundry pile and it’s a guarantee that when I’m really bored (ha! like that ever happens) and I can’t think of anything to do (again, ha!) then I can always count on having laundry to load, dry, fold or put away. 

Since I’ve been home today with a sick Little Bear, I’ve done three loads, started a fourth, and have three to fold. One load is drying and another is waiting to dry. I probably have four loads left; a fairly small quantity considering I haven’t yet unpacked my bag from the weekend or taken my own laundry out.  This something I suppose I should do soon since the Taxi Mom duties begin shortly and whether I want to or not, I must get dressed.

I keep looking around my little domain here and thinking there is so much I want to do to the place.  Sadly, I’m so busy doing laundry I cannot even begin to think about the home improvement projects unless I were to consider clearing the laundry pile as the first and foremost home improvement project.

I suppose it is.

I also suppose it is time to teach two more children how to do laundry.  It is evident, I can’t keep up on my own.

The following is a conversation between me and my oldest, Number 1.  It is a first draft, unedited, unrehearsed and completely spontaneous.  We did not plan this, we did not discuss this and we did not correct what each other wrote. Although, when we were writing this we did have a bit of a discussion about what direction to take and how to wrap the whole thing up.  Even so, she wrote what she wanted and I responded. No edits, no rewrites.  This is the rough, raw conversation between CAB and Number 1.  CAB appears in blue and Number 1 is in green…funny…that’s how we color code things at home, too.

Music has a way of taking us to other worlds.  It has a way of putting us in touch with all that is beautiful, hopeful and inspiring in us. 

I love Celtic Woman. As I gaze into the computer screen and watch the twirling dresses and hear the beat of the drums, I remember: This is why I love music.

Music takes me places I could never afford to go in real life.  It takes me places that don’t exist, even if I could afford them.  Music fires my imagination, inspires hope, and soothes my soul….

Okay, I simply don’t know if I can write this thing with my daugther, she’s such a dork.

Well thank you, Mommy Dearest.

So much for trying to collaborate with the 18-year-old.  Talented as she may be…she’s a fricken prima donna!!!  Must be her dad’s DNA!

Hey Mom! Que es el opuesto de SUBTRACT?! Anyway, as I was saying…As I watch the glorious youtube screen, I think to myself, I could be doing this someday. Or be a really fricken hot lawyer on the Supreme COURT!!!

Hey, I just want to wear the pretty dress someday…hmmm, with an audience of one!

Shut up. I bet you’d rather not wear anything at all.

No, I bet he’d rather I not wear anything at all…I’d actually  like to start out in the pretty dress and watch his jaw drop to the ground…then after he’s picked up his jaw up off the ground the clothes can fall…

Gross.

Gross!  You freakin’ brought it up!!!! 

NO ONE ELSE thinks that way!

What way????!!!!  You are seriously freaking me out.

Oh. Sorry. So anyway, about that CW, huh?

Yes.  Better topic.  As I was saying, so many of their songs take me away.  For example, I love this one.  It reminds me of the difficulty and also the hope of a long distance relationship and the  important role trust plays in such a love:

Now, I can’t sing, but if The Beau sent me a song…I’d figure out a way to sing.

[laughs hysterically] OH MOM!! THAT IS THE BIGGEST BUNCH OF B.S. I’ve EVER HEARD!

I don’t EVEN know how to respond to that…It was NOT banal superficiality!  I know, but you were going to accuse me of it anyway. Okay, so maybe it was a bit cheesy.

Despite what my mother is encouraging me to do, I am NOT going to say something corny, cheesy, or inspiring. I like Celtic Woman because of the talent of the group. Their tones are flawless and it is obvious that there is more than enough breath support. There is no tension in the neck, but is obvious that the diaphragm does all the work. Here is an example:

Well, I’m certainly glad the voice lessons seem to be paying off for you.  As for me, with no musical background or talent whatsoever, that song just makes me think of The Beau!  LOL!!!  Okay, weak, I know…but sorta true!

STOP THINKING OF THE BEAU!! (My brother is annoying me!) MOM! STOP! Let’s move on to the last song. One of my favorites is Spanish Lady. Okay, so I admit, I really just like the dresses. Aren’t they AMAZING?

Okay, I’ll stop with The Beau…stuff…not!!!! But like I said at the beginning, music brings something out of me…and this last song made me wonder why I wasn’t blessed with a voice like that and it also made me want to wear the dress!  I like the gold and red ones the best, you?

I like the purple one the best, with the red underneath. I was blessed with a voice, and I consider it to be something very precious to me… However, I think that everyone can sing. Some just don’t practice the instrument.

Yeah, well, I didn’t have the people around me encouraging me like you did…and that’s okay.  Your voice blesses me.  Celtic Woman enriches me too…and if you dont’ quit checking that stinking cell phone I’m going to take it away!!!!  We’re trying to do something here!  Aren’t we? 

Sorry. I just really miss my Boy.  You are right. I was so lucky to have such a supportive mother to go to all the concerts and endure the practices at home, which are never quite as beautiful. So thank you.

Sigh…don’t worry about “The Boy”…you know he will call when he gets back in town.  And, I’ve loved all the practices and the concerts.  You somehow knew what your dream was in kindergarten and you’ve never veered from that.  In that way, you, my dear have inspired me.  I didn’t quite know what my dream was…for sure anyway…until recently.  You’re part of it…your siblings are part of it…and The Beau, well, he just inspires me to continue trying to attain it…but, you, you do not have to wait 20 some odd years to figure out what you’re about…you already know and to that, I can only say, “YOU GO  GIRL!”

Awwww…Mom, you are amazing. I love you. I always will.

I love you too, Baby!

I don’t know how moms  in big metropolitan areas do it.  Metro moms must make millions, because they’d have to in order to pay the rent, hire the nanny to do all the feeding and taxi-ing, just so they can commute to and from work to pay the bills.  I don’t get it.  Or maybe I do.  Maybe I am just a wimp.

I think I am a wimp.

Look.  I have a stinking 7-minute commute from my front door to my workplace.  I have one stop, sometimes, to make if I have to take Number #1 to her early bird class. That one stop is, oh, about 5 minutes out of my way and the only reason the kid doesn’t walk is because it is night time out when she has to be there. And, I complain.  I should be ashamed. 

I know there are professional moms out there with worse situations than I and, daily, I wonder how they do it.  I’m barely surviving with my “close in” location.

So here was my day yesterday:

• Work from 7:30 to 4:15 (okay, see already, no one gets it because I get off before 5…never mind that I didn’t get to go to the bathroom the entire day and lunch was a small bit of cafeteria nachos and cheese inhaled in less than 10 minutes).
• Get Number 4 off to her dad, take Number 2 to theatre practice which is 15 minutes away. (See, most people have to drive much further than that for much longer just to get to and from their kids’ schools, let alone music lessons, theatre, dance, etc.  I am a wimp.  I admit it.
• Come back to the house, hang out doing laundry, checking my blog, picking up stuff and basically waiting around for an hour so I can go get Number 1 from her work and take her to the town 30 minutes away so she can have her voice lesson.  If I dare get involved in anything like my presentation that is due tomorrow I might forget her and then I’d be in trouble.
• Pick up Number 1 take her to voice lessons in little trendy town 30 minutes away.  Voice lessons last 45 minutes.  Too short to drive back home, too long to just sit and wait in the car.
• Drive around little trendy town for 15 minutes looking for that Starbuck’s I swear I saw on the way in and hunt for a parking place two blocks away, just to walk all the way in and be told, “Sorry, Maam, we’re closed”.  I mean, what is up with a Starbucks closing at 7:00?!!!  
• Walk all the way back to the car.  I now have less than half an hour until I pick up the kid from voice lessons.  By the time I find another place to park, and find another coffee shop, it will be time to pack up and go get the kid.  Sigh.  I decide to sit in the car and call The Beau and vent to him.  Typical sweet male, he wants to rescue me.  I want to be rescued, believe me, but 90 minutes difference in location makes that option impossible.  I still appreciate his desire to want to save me from it all.  He gets that I can’t.  I vent.  He listens, smart, sensitive man that he is.  We both hope tomorrow is a better day.
• I drive to pick up Number 1 from her voice lesson and sit and wait for about 10 in the freezing cold.
• Number 1 gets in the car, I drive to pick up Number 2 from her theatre rehearsal on the way back.
• I drive to get Number 4 from her dad’s, the car is now overloaded.  I hope we don’t get pulled over.
• I drive home.
• Everyone bails out of the car.  No one says thank-you.
• I hustle the young ones off to bed.  (Number 3 spent the evening with his dad and was dropped off at exactly the time the rest of us arrived home at 8:30 pm.)
• It is 9:15 by the time the house gets quiet enough for me to begin working on my presentation. 
• It is midnight before I can safely come to a point that I can sleep.
• I get up this morning at 5:45 to find out that Number 1 pulled an all nighter and isn’t going to make it to her early bird.  Oh well.
• I start the whole thing over again.

I know that while most people around me can listen to my schedule and become fatigued just thinking about it, there are women out there who do twice or three times what I do in a day.  I want to know what drugs they are on!  I need some.  My hats off to those Metropolitan Moms who commute hours each way to keep their families from being homeless and destitute.  I don’t know how they do it.  I am such a wimp. I think I keep plodding on simply knowing that the Metro Moms out there are doing yeoman’s work with twice or three or four times the travel time and stress I have.  How can I possibly complain? 

But I do.  How woefully human I am.

I wasn’t really there, there, but I was there.

I remember as a kid seeing things on the news, on TV that are now considered pretty significant historical events. 

I remember the astronauts landing on the moon.

I remember the Kennedy assasination.  Well, I actually remember seeing the funeral procession and wondering as a little kid what all the big deal was about. 

I remember Watergate.

Then, or some time after then…I grew up…and I lived as an adult while the significant historical events unfolded.  This adult awareness helped me put into perspective the events and also, in some ways diminished the impact of the individual stories unfolding all around me.  As a child, I tuned into the fact that the adults around me were vitally interested in the unfolding dramas on the political scene.  As an adult, I lost this sensitivity. And, while during my adult years there have been many significant events, it seems there have not been any that quite came close to having the impact or attention of the entire nation that some of the events of the 60’s  and 70’s had…until Inauguration Day this year.

Yesterday, I was glad I was a teacher.  I had an excuse to not only watch the entire Inaguration (until my young students grew weary of the speechmaking) but to discuss why this was an important event.  As we talked, the thought occurred again to me, that many of the foundational events leading to this historical and peaceful transfer of power today were laid way back when I was just a very little girl, even younger than my students.  My students weren’t even alive and this entire thing, in many ways, must seem so foreign to them.  They assume a black man could be president.  They were not alive in the days when a black man was shot for expressing the dream that such a thing might one day occur.

It was an emotional thing to watch for me.  It was a big deal in our district.  You should have seen the techs running around our school campus making sure we had all our TVs cable ready and working the week before.  The Aaron Copeland number, Air and Simple Gifts, arranged by John Williams for the occasion (I hope I have my info correct) was beautiful.   I’m such a big fan of Aaron Copeland anyway. Several of my students commented that the pianist looked like me.  I’m not thinking they’re seeing clearly, okay, I’ll take it.  They love me. 

Anyway, here is exactly the performance I viewed in my 4th grade classroom yesterday, all the while thinking, that just 40 years ago this very inauguration ceremony would have been inconceivable in the minds of so many (I’m sure it still is for some, but too bad for them):

It was so difficult to stifle back the tears and the emotion in front of a room full of 4th graders, but, you’ll be glad to know I did not lose my cool.  I’m so glad, I was there.  I wonder if the six-year-olds of today will look back on this and remember how significant it was to the adults in their world.  Will they remember seeing snippets of the ceremony on TV?  Will they recall the first black American president? 

I wonder.

Presentation went well tonight.  No, it went better than well it went perfectly…well almost perfectly. 

The day was great.

The weather was absolutely wonderful and I wish I could have spent more time outside that I did.

I’m exhaustend though and I’m heading to bed.

A friendly little secret elf left a bunch of wood on my doorstep and now we are warm. I’ll write about that later.

Life is good.

I’m going to bed.