Right Here, Right Now

I'm a protective mother. I try not to be overly protective...but it doesn't always work.
One of the hardest parts of going through my divorce has been letting go of that over protectiveness when they aren't with me.
I got the call Saturday afternoon. Myles was crying (that something is really wrong cry) and his father was explaining that he had fallen at a birthday party and they were going to the ER for x-rays.
My heart stopped. I had to remind myself not to yell at his dad, that these things happen, and if it had been my weekend we would have been at the same birthday party.
I was a couple of hours away from home. I had forgotten my phone charger. My battery was low. If I headed back and it was a simple break it would be over when I got there, if it was broken at all. His dad didn't indicate how bad he thought it was, not that I would have listened.
I simply told him, "let me know when you find something out. Thank you for letting me know."
And I waited. (And got a charger for my beloved iPhone.)
It was broken.
And required surgery.
I was on my way. And hopeful that the broken plans didn't bother anyone too much.
I may have set a land speed record on the way home. I did have the presence of mind to call my boss. When I explained everything she said,"Who worries about Monday right now, you're in crises?!?"
I didn't really get it. Not then.
She stayed on the phone with me until I was near the hospital. She asked questions and got me thinking about things I hadn't thought of in my flustered state of mind.
When I arrived, the world stopped outside of that room. My daughter had been picked up by my mom and was on her way. Everything else was unimportant.
Myles went into surgery about an hour after I got there.
If I hadn't been completely there, completely in the moment, even though it was a moment I didn't want to be in, I would have missed so much.
I would have missed the fear and sadness in my daughters eyes when she sat on his bed and held his hand.
I would have not noticed the way his left toe wiggled in his sleep when the pain started to come back.
I would have missed how much my family did for us while we were there.
I would have not noticed or appreciated the bag of "comfort items" my friend delivered to me, which included food because she knew I wouldn't have eaten, and the toothbrush and toothpaste I had forgotten with my charger.
And Saturday night, after everyone but my ex-husband and I had left the hospital, I would have not noticed that my ex-husband was sitting across the room with his phone and iPod and hadnt looked up for over an hour...until his battery died.
I offered him my charger, I didn't need it.

Getting Over the "B" Word

The "B" word...Yep, it's a bitch.

It comes once a year to remind me all that I haven't accomplished and all that I'm not. I can't remember actually celebrating the day of my birth since I turned 16. Sure, there were dinners and cakes on April 21st every year after my "sweet sixteen"...but I mean really celebrating.

The kind of celebration that comes from genuine joy, gratitude, and acceptance.

So, with some coaching from the lovely Andrea Maurer , I have decided that I am going to have a fabulous birthday. I'm going to let go of the irrational fear of someone knowing my age. I have no expiration date and the things I have done, or not done, do not define me.

I am something more than some damn number....and to prove to myself that I deserve to celebrate my presence on this planet, here are 30 reasons I am celebrating, one for every year I've been a student to the universe:

1.       I believe that everything will line up. Always. Perfectly.

2.       I am no longer willing to wait for happiness to start.

3.       I am blessed with two amazing, beautiful, little humans who have pushed me to survive the darkest of dark days.

4.       I have the ability to create my own happiness.

5.       I can, and I was created to, follow my heart, my soul, and my dreams.

6.       I don’t have to stop dreaming…ever.

7.       I have parents that don’t always agree with my opinion, or my choices, but will love me anyway.

8.       I choose to believe that I am enough. I am good enough, smart enough, and pretty enough. Always and in every situation.

9.       I can ask for help and still be enough.

10.   I understand what faith is.

11.   I have been to my personal hell and made it back, better than ever.

12.   I am not defined by my body, my bank account, or my actions.

13.   Every negative situation I have been in has led to something of absolute perfection.

14.   I am a work in progress.

15.   I am exactly where I should be.

16.   I choose to be overwhelmed to the point of near paralysis by the feelings of love, gratitude, and acceptance rather than fear, guilt, and shame.

17.   I am guided by cosmic forces unseen, but felt so strongly.

18.   I choose to love my spirit.

19.   I am not, nor do I need to be, perfect, right, or even graceful.

20.   I have made peace with not knowing the outcome of every step I take.

21.   I am grateful and happy with what I have.

22.   I am so excited about, grateful for, and looking forward to all the things I don’t have yet.

23.   I have the ability to love…fully, truly and unconditionally love myself and others.

24.   I am flawed in the ways I am meant to be flawed.

25.   I will continue to heal, learn, and grow…even when it hurts.

26.   I understand there is no finish line, just a great journey.

27.   I am grateful for every moment I spent in my hell and how sweet it makes everything feel now.

28.   I have the most amazing, supportive, beautiful friends ever.

29.   I have learned how to trust myself and navigate my way to the right path every time.

30.   I am empowered in every way I once thought I wasn’t.

And as if those reasons weren't enough....I am one year closer to wearing red with purple, high heels with track suits, dunking cheese balls in Pepsi as if it is a gourmet meal for breakfast, and not giving a damn what anyone else thinks about it. Gotta love that!

I'm Forever Her Fool



For my Mahalia Ann, who made me her fool when she entered this world April 1, 2004, and who continues to do so every single day. Happy Birthday Snuggle Bear. I love you to the Moon and back, and back, and back, and back...

 April Fool's Day, 2004.....I had so hoped it wouldn't be that day. The day before would have been acceptable. The day after would have worked too. Really, any day would have been better. Or so I thought.
After labor was induced and every possible visualization exercise was completed, and nearly 24 hours had passed since my water was broken, I was ready to take April Fool's Day.
But I wasn't the least bit prepared for the way it was about about to take me. I mean in a practical sense, we were ready. We had the cradle, the rocking chair, the funky multi-color paint design in her bedroom, the John Lennon bedding that "she just has to have," and a stockpile of diapers and wipes. But in the non-practical sense - I was clueless about what was about to happen.
I had this image in my head....like the heavens were going to sing, the sun was going to shine, birds would chirp, and this happy hippie music would fill the room as a doctor quietly and gracefully lay this beautiful, baby girl on my stomach and I would cry uncontrollable tears of joy.
But Mother Nature must have been feeling the spirit of April 1st in every way imaginable, because that was not at all what happened....except for the tears...they were not joyful, but they sure were there.
I wasn't supposed to be induced. I wasn't supposed to be worried. It was supposed to be perfect.
The reality was, it wasn't perfect. She may not be perfect. I had to be induced, earlier than the doctor wanted, because they suspected a heart defect that could have required surgery immediately, if not later. But, somehow between the last ultra sound and this day, Mother Nature and her sick sense of humor had resolved that issue...(THANK GOD!) she just forgot to tell the mess of a soon-to-be-mother laying at a big hospital in a lot of pain.
And, I was only having one child...as far as we knew. But sometime in the 9 or so months leading up to the week that the doctor said it was safer outside than inside, we had been having two children. I haven't accepted that this was part of the April Fool's joke....nor do I believe that Mother Nature could ever be that cruel. But it was definitely among the shocking news I received on 4/1/04.
The surprises didn't stop there either.
She was so tiny. I assumed I was having a chunky, solid, baby....one suited for a Michelin Tire commerical. Instead, I remember seeing her across the room, NICU nurses surrounding her, and each of their hands seemed so close to the same size, or bigger than, her entire body. She looked like a bird. A little baby bird......Helpless. And strapped to a bed across the room with oxygen and tubes going in my nose and arms, freshly made gash across my stomach, shaking and crying, I was pretty damn helpless myself.  Realizing how helpless I actually was in the coming days would be another joke (and way too painful and gross to re-hash in writing.) 
Leaving the hospital made this all the more clear. We had this tiny little person strapped in an infant seat and we had to take the interstate home....sick joke. I cried....or continued crying I should say, since I 'm not sure that the tears ever actually stopped.  This life was just given to us and we were going to take all 4 lbs., 11 oz. of it to chance on I-65? REALLY? I remember asking, "Can't we take backroads? Isn't there another way home?" No dice. So I cried. She cried. And we had to have her back the next morning for bloodwork. How could I do this again? How was I going to survive this car ride, let alone wake up and do it all again?
Yep, I was hooked. This 5 lb. miracle had my by the throat. I was her fool. The funniest thing is that it just never stops. Each day I am more hooked than the next. At 3 months she rolled off my bed. I was there, tears and all, to pick her up. At 10 months, I guided her first steps. At doctor appointments for shots I held her hand, and cried with her. At 5 I signed her up for kindergarten. Each moment like this, and every seemingly non-important one too, for the next 7 years, has made me that much more her fool.
When I think about my relationship with my mom...how I know there's no place too far, nothing too hard, and no way she could love me less, I know there's no way it could be different...so I'm content if not over-joyed to stay forever her fool.

Are You Being Served?

I am completely grateful for each person in my life. I believe that each of you serves a purpose....each of you has been guided so that our paths would cross. Life is funny like that.

But I also have to admit that I am at least a tiny bit grateful for the relationships that have ended. Grateful in some cases that they are no more. But grateful also of what I received from them. My ability to feel at least a little cute in glasses or when my hair is a mess comes from one. My children from another. The ability to ask questions when I don't understand comes from a former boss. The knowledge that "pushing up the twins" may get me a little further in the door than starting out appearing as a confident, assertive businesswoman comes from a co-worker. And laughing til I pee from all those friends I don't talk to anymore for whatever reason.

I wouldn't be the same, wouldn't experience life the same, without all these gifts. All relationships serve a purpose. If they don't, there's no point. My grandma used to watch this show late nights on PBS. It was called "Are You Being Served". I never really understood the humor, but it is what came to mind as I was thinking about relationships....Am I being served? Absolutely. How about you?

The Truth

So, you might have noticed that Lilly has been MIA for a couple weeks...a few of you asked about it. I blew off the questions mostly, I’ve been busy planning some other things and preparing for some things and just hadn’t concentrated on it. Well, the bottom line is, I was lying to myself and to those people that asked.

Don’t get me wrong. I was super busy and pretty overwhelmed. I was being pulled several ways and just plain ran out of daylight every day before I got everything on my list for the day done. In a way, it was more of an excuse than a lie, but, the issue wasn’t about time. I knew it was about me. So, I took some time and did some searching within myself. And I believe I have arrived at the truth.

The truth is, writing in general, but even more so on this blog in front of everyone else, is something very therapeutic for me. It makes me feel good. It makes me happy. It brings me a level of peace that I can’t explain. I want to do it. And I could sit on my bed Indian style and do it all damn day….just let it all flow out, every topic, every thought, every whim explored in text. So why wasn’t I able to post even just once a week?

The deeper truth is that I wasn’t doing it because it made me happy. I wanted to do it, so I wasn’t doing it. Epic fail….I know.

Do you know why I wasn’t doing it? I have had ideas every day. I have thought about doing it every day. But I always found some way to make it less important that whatever else I was doing because my happiness is somehow less important than organizing Girl Scout cookie sales or laundry or you name it and I’ll guarantee I can find a way to make it more important than me.

My happiness, my peace, my general contentment with life is not as important as laundry. The value I put on myself and my well being is so low that I will clean my bathroom sink with an old toothbrush before I’ll do something I enjoy, even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it helps me in more ways than I have discovered so far. There’s the real issue...I don’t value myself enough to invest in me. But I want to make me happy. I need to be happy. And I will.

A "Sparkling" Idea

I was having a conversation via email with a friend the other day. She had forwarded something rather inspiring. For those of you who don’t know me personally, you may not know that my mind has a habit of rearranging things and making associations that are, well, at best unique, and occasionally absurd.

That particular day, inspire led my mind to transpire….and perspire. (Gross, especially since girls don’t sweat, we sparkle.) So, since that day, these three words have been replaying in my mind: inspire, transpire, and perspire.

I tried in fleeting moments of quiet and thought to make the association. No such luck. Until I noticed a quote that the absolutely lovely Andrea Maurer shared this.....

"We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action." - Frank Tibolt

There was my light bulb! When you want change to transpire, be prepared to perspire (or sparkle for us girls) a little first. Then, and only then, will you be inspired.

Stop planning it. Start doing it....let the world see your "sparkle."

Amazing Women, Amazing Love



A dear friend of mine recently lost her grandmother. I understood her pain, having lost two amazing women not that long ago. All three of our grandmothers were amazing women. Absolutley amazing. One was from Oklahoma and had astonishing sewing capability. One was born in Ohio and joined the US Marines at the age of 18. One was a small town Indiana girl who became a mother of 5.

As I cried for my friend, and the pain I knew she was feeling, I was trying to decipher what is it exactly, that makes a woman amazing….Whatever it is, they all three possessed it without a shadow of a doubt. Sociologically speaking, these women were from various backgrounds, had differing traditions, and different ideals and views. How could these women be so different, yet so wonderfully amazing?

Then it hit me.

It wasn’t in something they possessed. It was in everything they did.

It was the way they made you feel about yourself that made these women so special. It was that they loved so fully, so completely, that in their presence you were the only thing that mattered. Time stood still, whatever you needed or wanted you were provided with, all for the sake of showering you with their love and adoration for the little soul you were born, the child you grew to and the adult you had or would become. It was the way they lit up when you walked in the room. It was the way they really did care how your day was or how you were. It was the genuine, unconditional love that they poured into everything they did for you.

I don’t believe for a minute that these humble women thought of themselves as amazing. I don’t believe they thought they had left some great mark on humanity, nor did they probably ever believe they themselves were capable of such a feat.

But what I do believe, is that being amazing doesn’t mean that you climbed some mountain or cured a disease or won some award….Instead, being amazing means you made someone feel as if all there was and all there would ever was within them. Being amazing means taking the time to see what matters to someone, and trying to understand it, even if you didn’t agree. It means that you accept them, and that you see beauty in their flaws. It means that you protect them from what you can, and lift them up from whatever knocks them down when you can’t shield them. It means focusing your energy on allowing someone else to see how perfect they are in your eyes. It means never expecting more than they are willing to give, while giving your all to them. It means opening your heart.

Being amazing means teaching someone to love…fully, courageously, deeply, and with the realization that they will never forget how you made them feel.

Who are you amazing to?

Decisions, Decisions

Isn’t it strange how we behave in times of trouble, stress or conflict? We say things we wouldn’t normal say. We do things we wouldn’t normally do…..at least not in front of someone anyway.

Think back to the last day that you weren’t feeling well…..when you were standing in line behind the blue haired lady taking an hour to pay for her coffee with change….when you tapped your foot and rolled your eyes…..Was that you, the real you? Or was that you reacting, rather than responding, to the situation at hand?

So, in tough times, you have a decision to make. You could respond, by staying in your own element…being the hero….separating yourself from the rest of the herd. Or, you could grit your teeth, flake out, behave rudely and be less than understanding to the people around you (who are likely innocent bystanders.)

Either decision will be how those around you will forever remember you. Make a good choice…

Walk by Faith.....Blind Faith

When you wake up, and think to yourself that staying in bed sounds a freaking gggaaaazzziiiiillion (yes, that's a technical term) ways better than facing the world, there is something wrong....deep down, in-your-soul wrong. Especially when staying in bed sounds so alluring not because of some circumstance in particular, but just because barely functioning and dodging the next road block is easier than expecting amazing things and figuring out how to get around the road block.

Someone very wise let me in on the secret that something good comes from all bad experiences….that no experience is really completely “bad” because it will put you exactly where you need to be for the next good thing to happen. That nothing is ever negative except your perception, and it is something you can change in the blink of an eye.

Well, I sit here in a rental house in the small town I grew up in, mid-divorce, with no money in the bank, two beautiful children, and an empty tank of gas. And I’m not proud of an ounce of it. In my heart, I know that I want all things amazing. BUT, I know that the road blocks I'm experiencing are only here to send me on my next adventure.

So, right now, this very moment, I am turning it all over to the higher powers in this Universe and proclaiming loudly, and in a “pee-my-pants” kind of excited way, that I can’t control anything but my perception and deep down I know, by way of my newly discovered blind faith in the journey itself, that wherever this road takes me, it’s all for good.

Mine, theirs, yours….it’s all for good. I am so ready for this. Road trip, anyone?!?!