thirty days with a grateful heart. day nineteen.

day nineteen.  o holy night.

I love Glee.

I even love this season when things are all discombobulated and there are a gazillion new characters and I'm having a really hard time figuring out where they're going storyline-wise, anyone else??

I either laugh or cry with each episode, I mean, seriously - there's so much going on - but with.out.fail - I sing.  Oftentimes at the top of my lungs to the great annoyance of anyone who happens to be watching along with me.

Lately, though, I've taken to recording it and watching it by myself while the house is quiet during the day, simply to avoid the inevitable begging and pleading from the littles... will you please stop singing???

Just recently, I watched one of the shows I had taped and although it is past Christmas, and the title of the episode, Swan Song, doesn't really sound Christmasy at all - imagine my i-lovelovelove-christmas-nusic delight when Rachel sang O Holy Night.

Sooooo good.

It made me wish I could sing like that just once in my life.  And grateful, since me becoming a singing diva is about as likely as hell freezing over, that I can at least listen to her do it.  On Glee.   Over and over again.  As many times as I like thanks to the magic of Direct TV.

Have you seen the Grease episode?

xoxo,
momo



thirty days with a grateful heart. day eighteen.

day eighteen.  morning, momo!

This girl and me, we have history. 

 



History that spans decades.  And friendships.  And believe it or not, men.

In the beginning, I was a little afraid of her.  Some of our history made it that way. 

And then one day, we sat on the beach, just the two of us, talking, and I realized just how very much I wanted her in my life.  Needed her in my life.

Partly because she made me laugh, like pee my pants kind of laughing. 

Partly because she is no drama, ever.  And in a town where drama reigns supreme, she is an anomaly.

Partly because she's so damn cute, I mean look at her.  I just want to squeeze her.

Partly because I can tell her anything and she will never judge me.  Ever.

Partly because she lets me wear her clothes.  And omg, are they cool! 

Partly because, every single morning for years, she has greeted me via text with morning, momo!  Every single morning. For years.

Partly because she believed in me when I needed someone to believe in me.

But mostly I love her just because she just gets me.  Really gets me.

And for that, I will be ever grateful.

I love you, Murph.  Marry me?  ;)

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day seventeen.

day seventeen.  out of the mouth of babes.

There are days when I, like most parents, think my littles have to have been abducted by aliens, their actions so contrary to what I know I have spent their lifetimes trying to teach them. 

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, I get so incredibly frustrated, wondering why, oh why do they not understand?  Why do they not see?

And just when I think I must be at the very end of my rope with them, they do something that surprises me.  That encourages me.  That gives me... hope that they will be the compassionate and loving adults I have taught them to be.

It is on days like that, on days like Christmas, when for the first time ever, my littles gave me a gift that they not only sought out, but purchased and wrapped all on their own.  And when that gift is opened, it reveals the truth.  That what I have been hoping and praying for, for them, for so many years, has become reality.

They see. 

But not only do they see, they also get... me.  Which, in my humble opinion, is more than any parent could ever hope for, don't you agree?

I am...
capable
acceptable
forgivable
valuable
lovable

I am... enough.

So grateful for their lesson today, my friends.  Merry Christmas.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day sixteen.

day sixteen.  talking 'bout my guy.

Last year, during my thirty days, I wrote about my dad. 

I wrote about what an incredible father he has been to me, what an incredible husband and grandfather and patriot and friend.

I wrote about how much I love him and how proud I am, every day, to be his daughter.

I wrote about the lessons he has taught me, about love and commitment.  And about the values he instilled in me, like honesty and integrity and kindness and loyalty.

I wrote about the way he loved my mother, with his entire heart and soul.  And about how he cared for her when she was dying, with gentleness and patience and gratitude for her presence in his life.

All those things are no less true today than they were last year.  If anything, the feelings and emotions I have for my father have been magnified by his gentle presence by my side these last few months.

Because even at this age, I am still learning new lessons from him.  Lessons about love.  About family.  About parenting.  And patience. 

I cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for him and for his belief in me - especially lately when there have been more than a few moments when I haven't really had much faith in myself.

Thank you, daddy.  You are my heart.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day fifteen.

day fifteen.  angels we have heard on high.

 

 

Every year, my mother would purchase three Christmas ornaments.  They were always angels and there were always three of them.  I don't believe my sisters and I put two and two together, at least I know I did not, until my father decorated his Christmas tree for the first time after she passed away.

 

He pulled the angels out, divided them up, and gave each of my sisters and me a box. 

 

She'd been buying them for us. 

 

One for each of us. 

 

Every single year.

 

We do that, you know.  Mommas.  We do... things for our children that they never even realize we are doing.  Some big, some small.  Some obvious.  Some not so.  My momma's angels were one of those things.

 

Without really discussing it, my sisters and I have continued the tradition.  One year, Teresa bought them. A few years, Crista.  Last year I bought ceramic angels for the three of us - with hair painted the color of each of our own.  We never discuss whose turn it is.  We never even really talk about it, but every single year, there are always three new angels.

This year, I didn't forget, exactly.  I thought about them.  I thought as the oldest, I should buy them this year, it might make me feel better.  I even went as far as to put three angels into my cart from a store online.  I just... never completed the purchase. 

I don't know why exactly.  Maybe I figured it wasn't so bad if we skipped a year.  Maybe I figured we all had so much going on that they might forget this year too, and that would be ok, I mean - its not like this year is all that... normal, you know?

But, my sisters?  They didn't forget.  No, they wouldn't forget. 

So thankful.  So grateful, for this beautiful angel that came in the mail when I needed her most, but even more so today for those other angels my momma left me, my sisters. 

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day fourteen.

day fourteen.  the white house.

I love running in the Phoenix Mountain Preserve, the pmp, as we affectionately call it, because there is so much wonderful running to be had.  Flats and climbs and rocks and sand, you can literally (and I have) run for hours back in there and incredibly enough, you're also smack dab in the heart of the city. 

And although each of the trails has an actual name I believe, as I've run with friends back there, I've learned the local nicknames as well.  We have jj out and back and the rachel loop and honey ridge  and reunion point, the devil's backbone and four peaks.  I love them all, but for some reason, the white house holds a special place in my heart.

Just to the east of the first peak off the 32nd street trail, high up in the preserve is this white house.  I don't think anyone lives there now, and she just sits up on a mountain by herself - acting as somewhat of a landmark to runners who might not be sure which way to turn once they're inside the preserve.

We don't run that way very often unfortunately, but on days when I want a little extra mileage or days when I just need to clear my head a bit - I head up her way. 

Maybe it is the little climb up to where she is.  Maybe it is that suddenly the air seems a little bit clearer once you're there.

Whatever it is - her magic always does the trick - and today was no exception. 

Grateful.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day thirteen.

day thirteen.  the thinker.

Little J is my thinker. 

With a worldview that tends toward the black and white. 

And as much as I would like to believe that he is just like me, that the apple doesn't fall far from the proverbial tree, in this respect, we differ a bit.

But when we disagree, when the possibility looms that the differences between us could begin to create a wedge, that is when I do what I must do, as his mother, and... step back.

Take a deep breath, and listen.  Validate, and respect.

And simply assure him that no matter what he says, no matter how it hurts, no matter how we may disagree, no matter what - that I love him, that I am ever grateful for him, that his place, in my heart, is safe. 

And maybe, in the end, that is all he really needs to know.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day twelve.

day twelve.  thanks for the memories.

This ornament was given to me many years ago by someone who is not speaking to me any longer.

Sadly, sometimes that happens in divorce.  A couple splits and for whatever reason, friends and family feel that they need to choose a side. 

Perhaps it is to show their loyalty?  Or perhaps its just easier that way, to align yourself with a side, Team Momo or Team Johnny, and play judge, jury and executioner.

I don't understand it and I won't pretend that I do.  

Over the years, I have had friends who have divorced and although my natural tendency would obviously be to gravitate toward one or the other, I would like to believe I have never, would never, be intentionally... hurtful.  Intentionally... absent. 

But it happens.  And it has happened. 

And try as I might to make it otherwise, I guess in the end all I can do is accept it.

What I find incredible however, is that no one knows my side of the story just as no one can fully know Johnny's.  Neither of us is fully right, as neither of us is fully wrong.  Fully culpable nor fully innocent. 

So, how can you judge?  Why should you judge?

And, just so we're clear, you will never hear the whole story from me, neither here nor in any other public forum simply because, it is private.  It is my business, as it is Johnny's business.  Not yours and certainly not facebook's. 

The bottom line is not who was right or who was wrong., who said what, who didn't say, who did what or who didn't do.  No, the bottom line and the only thing that matters is our littles, and our combined attempt to salvage our ability to remain good parents.

The truth of the matter is that not only am I Team Momo, I am also Team Johnny.  I want his happiness.  I want him to find his joy.  Just as I desperately want those things for not only myself, but our littles as well.  The rest?  Well the rest is just... noise.

So, I will let you choose if you must.  I will let you judge if you think you have any right whatsoever.

And today I will simply be grateful for those who have not.  

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day eleven.

day eleven.  wednesday girls.

A few months ago, I started meeting a few sweet girls on Wednesday mornings to run the trails by my house. 

Initially it was simply because my girl, Jill, wanted to learn to trail run.

Although now it has become somewhat of a lifeline for me.  A safe place with just one non-negotiable ground rule - what is said on the trail stays on the trail. 

It is funny how I can spend years trying to build friendships with people, trying to connect in some meaningful and important way, but then I get out with them on the road or on the trail, where we have nothing to prove and all the time in the world, and suddenly they are simply... part of me.

I've had a few of them over the years.  My runner girls.  Women with whom I have shared miles and miles of joys as well as great sorrows with.  And even though we may not be running at all together now - they are as much a part of my soul as running itself. 

I am grateful for the time I had with those girls then. Just as I am grateful for my time with my Wednesday girls now.

And even more grateful that my Wednesday girls became Sunday girls and spent some time with some wine and me yesterday. 

Truly, truly grateful.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day ten.

day ten.  her heart.

This morning I had a little early morning talk with my girl.

I told her that there are people in our world that can be hurtful.  That can do harm.  We never understand why, and yet as sad as it is, it is a fact of life. 

Look around, I told her, read the news.  You will see them every single day.  And as you regard them, think about how sad they must feel inside.  How difficult that must be to carry that pain and anger around, day in and day out.  How lonely they must feel.

Then I told her that there are also people in this world who love.  Who do no harm.  Whose hearts expand more and more every single day to embrace those around, to honor them, to protect them, to love them.

You won't see many of those people in the news.  But you'll be drawn to them because that love that they share is what draws bees to honey.  It is intoxicating.  It is powerful.  It is sweet blood, my momma would say.

She is one of those rare ones, my girl.

She loves.  With everything that she is...  everything that she has.  She loves.  And as she does, she shows those around her how to feel good...  and happy...  whole.  Believe me, because I know.  She does this for me, every single day.

I am so grateful for her today.

So grateful for her love.  So grateful for her heart.  So grateful for her strength and her passion and her belief in all that is right and good in this world.

So incredibly grateful.

thirty days with a grateful heart. day nine.

day nine.  rain.

Last night it rained like hell at my house.

omg.

it.was.awesome.

I love the rain, especially in Arizona.

My father loves it, too.  When I was a child, my whole family would sit in our carport at Luke AFB and watch the rain.  And then at some point, usually when it was raining the very hardest, we would climb up into our old orange station wagon and drive to Baskin Robbins.  Where funnily enough, my dad always ordered vanilla. 

I'm think I am learning to appreciate that about him. 

Such a good memory.  I'd almost forgotten how cool it was just to sit there, my sisters and my parents and me, in our lawn chairs in the garage... waiting.  Anticipating the sweet reward that was waiting for us - just down the street.

Last night, I sat in the cabana for awhile and just watched it fall... listening to the thunder and breathing in the smell.  It reminded me of that time made me ever so grateful for all the simple traditions I have been blessed to have and to share with my family and loved ones over the years. 

Didn't quite make it to Baskin Robbins, although I am fairly certain there will be a next time.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day eight.

day eight.  wise men.

I have not been sleeping well lately. 

I think the issue for me is two-fold.  On one hand, my sweet girl has decided to take up residence on the left side of my bed, which definitely messes with my sleep patterns since she likes to leave the television on till all hours of the night and inevitably, I wake to some sort of infomercial telling me there is some product I absolutely cannot live without. 

The bras are great.  The facelift in a bottle?  Not so much.

On the other hand, I think it is partly because, for the first time in a very long time, if ever, I have to be... responsible.

Not that I haven't been somewhat responsible the past twenty years because I have!  At least I think I have.  I've held a good job, I've helped plan for the future, I've raised two incredible littles, I've managed a home, a business, done laundry and grocery shopping and changed the lightbulbs and painted the walls and fed the dogs and you know, all the usual stuff we do in our daily lives.

It is just that now, all of a sudden, I find myself with all those same day in and day out responsibilities, the things we simply have to do to keep the wheels on the bus for those that we love, with nobody to rely upon but... me.

It stresses me out.

It keeps me up at night.

I wake and I start thinking and I can't go back to sleep and before I know it - hours have passed and I'm still... not sleeping, not solving... just stewing. 

At the end of my rope, I finally broke down the other night and... reached out.  In the middle of the night, after hours of thinking and thinking and thinking, I phoned a friend.

Ok, I didn't really phone a friend, I texted, but you get the idea.


1:52 am

What are you thinking about?

stuff i need to do.  work, christmas...  i am a planner so i start thinking about the future.

I think part of your issue is that you are trying to plan things that aren't necessarily things YOU can plan.  Then you perseverate on it and that's no fun.

(after i looked up perseverate) yup.

In the beginning of this transition... you were forcing a difficult situation and you had no idea what it would bring about.  Now you are near the end and the future, although its what you've been working toward, holds lots of unknowns... and its real now.  Kinda scary I'd imagine.

yes, maybe you are right.  i'm used to order.  to having "knowns".  there a lot of unknowns right now, it makes me uncomfortable.  and i feel wholly responsible for making all these decisions for everyone, me, littles.  and i don't feel like i am doing them all well.

Bullshit.  I don't see it that way. 
Nor does anyone else.
Guaranteed.

i spread myself too thin sometimes.   and i get stuck in the minutiae.

I think for the first time in your life you have to LEAD.  I mean really lead for real.  You're like a brand new second lieutenant, charging up some hill with her platoon... you've got the basic knowledge of what you have to do and you even have some training behind you that you can draw upon... but this time, right here and now, for the first time, you are truly alone and you are truly accountable for these lives that are assigned to you.  Scary as shit.  Leadership is intuition, supported by training and experience.  For the first time in your life, your "troops" are looking for you for leadership.  That's a lot of pressure.  Know what makes a good leader?

hm?

All sorts of shit.   Thousands of books have been written on it.

maybe i should get one.

No, maybe you should trust yourself.

i will try.

Leading folks is just plain and simple scary.  Any good leader is going to have moments of self doubt and consternation.  And that's ok.  Every good leader is scared.  Feels fear.  But not debilitated by fear.  Fear is good.  It focuses you into doing what is essential, what is good, what is right, right now.  Fear allows you to analyze then decide on a course of action with the best possible outcome for you and most importantly for your folks looking at you for guidance and direction.

its very scary.

It's very uncomfortable in the beginning, but soon, you learn to rely on your gut instinct.  That instinct plus courage based upon training and experience will guide you.  Listen to your gut.  Be confident in your instinct... your intuition.  Leadership isn't about knowing ALL the answers.  Its impossible to plan for everything so that's why you just have to press forward with a good game plan and trust that you'll do what is right when those challenging unknowns pop up along the way.  Trust yourself to know you'll do well when the time comes.

i appreciate being able to bounce ideas off you.

Absolutely.  Part of being a good leader is knowing your limitations and more importantly, NOT being afraid to ask for guidance or direction from those of whom you trust.  A lot of people think that is a sign of weakness but that's just false pride.  And it gets people dead... in the big scheme of life...

ack! i don't want to get my people dead! ;)

That's called accountability.  You just need to understand that you're not alone.  Good leaders surround themselves with a cadre of folks what will help guide their decisions.  YOU are solely accountable for your troops but you listen and you learn from those you trust.  Like REALLY trust, the ones who REALLY matter. 

Now go back to bed.

After the exchange was over, I reread it. 

And then I reread it again.  A few times.  And as with most things with me, slowly the truth of it started to sink in. 

I am afraid but I am not in this alone.  I might feel alone some days, but in reality, I have people.  Many people.  People that I trust, who have taught me, who believe in me and support me and love me all at the same time.  People who have been there, people who only want to be there, people I look up to and respect, who, although they love me, will not hesitate to tell me like it is, whether I want to hear it or not.

I have people.  Lots and lots of people.  People who, like my phone a friend, who are oh, so very... wise.

What a gift those people have been to me these past few months!  They have helped even when they didn't know that they were helping - letting me vent, letting me cry, letting me be afraid, letting me... be.  I'm not sure I would emotionally where I am today if it were not for those people. 

So, today, day eight, for those people, and in particular for the few I can wake at 1:52 am when I cannot sleep and I am going round and round and round the same ground mentally getting absolutely nowhere, I am so very, very grateful.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day seven.

day seven.  i run.

Hello, I know you all know that I run. 

But do you know iRun?

iRun is a local running store owned by a wonderful couple I met, unsurprisingly enough, running.  The store has been open a few years now and has become the place to go if you need trail running shoes, advice, help, a group run or just want to kick back a bit in the cozy chairs and chat running with people who do it.  A lot. 

No, really, I'm talking a lot.  A crazy lot.  Like Western States and Hardrock a lot.  A hundred miles at a time and more lot.  A lot.

When I started putting my feelers out a bit looking for something to do now that Four Seasons is quickly coming to an end, Mark, emailed me and asked if I would think about working part-time at the shop, as many or as few hours as I like, to help them...  sell running bras. 

No, seriously, that's what he said.

And although I did not know one thing about running shoes, or running clothes or cash registers or anything sales related for that matter, I do know what I like and I have always loved iRun, so I said yes.

And that was even before I realized that me and my sweet girls live on the run wall.  See those hineys?  Yep, that's us.  :)   And believe it or not, and I'm sure you believe it, it was even before I asked him what he was going to be paying me. 

So, right now I'm working two days a week, three hours at a time, and it is an absolute blast.  Really.  I get to work with Mark and Katie and James, who is crazy sweet and lets me feed him all my baked good experiments, the more sugary and chocolaty, the better. 

I get to play with new baby, Cade, who come visits now and again.   I fold stuff.  Organize.  File.  And every once in awhile, I'll model a jacket or two.  Although, imho, the single best part of the whole gig is that each time I am there, I get to talk what I love - running and the local trails - with anyone and everyone who comes in the door.

And while I've yet to sell someone a pair of shoes all by myself, I do now know about the new North Face line so if you're looking for some winter weather gear, come on down and see me.  ;-)

Oh, and sports bras.  I totally got that one covered. 

Grateful!

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day six.

day six.  graham higgs.

Before Little J was born, there was no way I could have even imagined how much I would love him.  Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the breadth, the depth, the sheer and utter magnitude of emotion, of love, that overcame me when I held him for the first time.  My baby.  My boy. 

My heart swells and my eyes fill when I remember that day.  How incredible, really, that day I became... a mother.

I must be honest, I was worried when I learned I was pregnant with Frankie.  I'd given my heart to Little J.  Was there room for her?  How on earth could it be possible to love, to love them both, like that?  Wholly?  Completely?  With every ounce of my being?

And then, well, and then, she arrived.  And in that instant, I knew what mothers forever have known.  There is no occupancy limit on a mother's heart, it simply expands and makes room. 

Of the myriad titles that I hold... daughter, friend, employee, wife, runner, aunt... mother is the one that I covet above all others.  Because stripped down to my very core, a mother is what I am.  What I have always wanted to be.  What I always will be. 

I look at my littles and I see the incredible young adults they are becoming. I study them when they are not aware. I watch them as they interact with others. I ask them questions and I listen to them respond. Sometimes their answers are as I imagine they will be.  And sometimes, their insight, the depth of their thought simply blows my modest hopes away. 

I am so amazed sometimes, so proud and full of them, I cannot even contain it.  And I know that I cannot take all the credit, I know that as the old adage goes - it takes a village - but as I watch them, I cannot help but be filled with such... gratitude.  That maybe I haven't done such a bad job after all.  That maybe, just maybe, I might even be halfway decent at this mothering thing. 

Oh, how I hope so. 

Oh, how much added importance it has.

Because just as my heart grew to make space for my own, incredibly it has expanded even more, to make room for this little one...

my godbaby, Graham, who was born last week.

I have loved his momma for a long time.  And when she and his daddy found out he was to be, they paid me the highest compliment a mother could ever hope to receive... they asked me to be his godmomma, to help them to watch over him, to protect and help teach him, to do what I do because it is, most simply, what I do.

So honored.  So grateful.  So crazy in love with this new little life.

My heart is... full. 

xoxo,
m

thirty days with a grateful heart. day five.

day five.  the wolf you feed.

A few years back, my bff, rp, sent me a poem.  It made such an impact on me that I printed it out and it hangs above my computer where I can see it every day as I work.

It's kind of funny, though.  As with many things we see each and every day, I think I became a bit desensitized to the message.  So accustomed to seeing the words, to seeing them hanging above my desk, that I really didn't see them, you know what I mean?

As I sat down this morning, I glanced at the words and the magnitude of their simple truth hit me. 

Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.  He said, "My son, the battle is between the two 'wolves' inside us all. 

One wolf is evil.  It is anger, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other wolf is good.  It is joy, peace, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith."

The grandson thought about this for awhile and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."


With everything going on in my life right now, I probably could have chosen to forgo the gratitude project this year.  I have an fairly good excuse - I'm getting divorced, I'm losing my job, I need to find some place to live.   I imagine no one would have even thought twice, in fact it would have been totally acceptable, totally expected. 

But then, wouldn't that be, according to the old Cherokee, feeding the evil wolf? Self-pity? Sorrow? Anger? Yes, it would have been acceptable, but would it have been right?

I am learning that happiness is not something that simply happens to us.  It is not something that we just have, or are, or find.  If it were, it would only be fleeting because as we all know - along with happiness, there is also much sadness in this world.  And oftentimes, unfortunately, that sadness is more in abundance than we would like.  Than sometimes we think we can even handle.

No, I am finding that each and every day, happiness is a conscious decision I must make before my feet even hit the floor in the morning.  My eyes open, my heart begins to speak...

Today, I choose happy.  Today, I choose kindness.  Today, I choose joy.  Today, I choose hope and faith and serenity.

Today, I choose... grateful.

Which wolf are you feeding?

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day four.

day four.  cloth napkins.

When I still lived at home, family dinner was a non-negotiable.  At least five days a week, my family gathered around the kitchen table to something my momma home cooked.  We ate and we caught up.  Looking back, I realize now that it wasn't the meal that was the important piece - it was the time together.  It was generally the only time the five of us were together, that we had a chance to catch up, to talk about our days, to reconnect - as a family.

Johnny's family, being Italian and all, was the very much the same but with probably a little better food because trust me, his mom can really cook.  When we first were married, we lived with Johnny's parents for about six months while our home was being completed and never fail, at least five nights a week,  the four of us would sit down to Jeri's cooking and enjoy dinnertime together.  We'd eat, there'd be wine, we'd talk and laugh.  But there was always one caveat to the meal - Papa had to have cloth napkins.

New bride that I was, I asked my mother-in-law one day what she really thought of that.  Whether it was a pain, having to wash the napkins every single day and she said something along the lines of, no -  you get used to it, and my husband likes it - so I do it for him.

I liked that.  It somehow made dinner time, not just a meal, but something special, something to be looked forward to.  An event.  And so, as we had children and as we implemented the tradition of family dinner in our own home, we too used cloth napkins. 

As the littles got older, and more active in sports and all the myriad of things that kids do these days, finding that time to sit down together, to share a meal, to talk, got more and more difficult.  But we continued, whenever we could find a free evening, because both Johnny and I feel it is important.

Last weekend, after being out with his friends in the evening, Little J brought a few back to the house.  One of the young girls was hungry.  I offered to make her something eat and after a few, no, really, its ok, i'm fines, we settled on grilled cheese and I set about making her a few.

As she sat at the kitchen table and devoured her sandwich, I cleaned up and eavesdropped a bit on the conversation between her and her friend.

This is really good, my mom doesn't make anything that isn't out of a box.
My mom hasn't cooked since I was in the fourth grade.
We always eat off paper plates with paper towels.
We all eat in front of the tv at different, never at the table.
I don't think my mom even likes cooking for us.

I could not believe it, and to be honest, it made me both a little sad and a whole lot grateful.  Sad for the sweet girls sitting at my counter who were so crazy appreciative of a simple grilled cheese - well and the banana bread which is to die for, imho - and incredibly grateful that Johnny and I have always made family dinner a priority. 

We have so little time to reconnect with our growing and busy kids these days.  In the blink of an eye, they'll be in college, then off to create lives of their own.  A meal.  Once a day.  How difficult can that be?  What greater reward for a parent could there possibly be than a little time, with your littles?

My greatest hope is that when my littles do go, when they are off in the world with homes and spouses and littles of their own, that they too will see how special it is, how important, really, to sit down, enjoy a nice dinner, to talk and laugh and catch up with each other...  all with cloth napkins, of course.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day three.

day three.  i need a hug.

I'm sorry, my friends.  It has so been one of those days.  I have been beat up, chewed up and spit out today.  Repeatedly.

But I know tomorrow will be better because today, I am choosing to take the high road.  Today, I am choosing to be grateful.

Grateful...

for your drop bys and check ins and texts and emails and fb posts and phone calls and can we have coffee and hang in there and i love you, and we want you full time and i miss you momo and come visit us and this is the best banana bread i've ever had and no way you've had two kids and great job on that back squat and omg, really and... and... and...

grateful.

xoxo,
momo

nothing is a waste of time if you use the experience wisely. ~ auguste rodin

thirty days with a grateful heart. day two.

day two.  oh, come all ye faithful.

I was listening to the radio the other day and happened to  hear an interview with Miranda Lambert.  For those of you who might be living under a rock recently, Miranda is married to Blake Shelton, which is a story in itself and one that I will leave for another day, for now just know that they are both wildly talented and successful country music artists.  The interviewer asked Miranda if she would ever consider putting out a Christmas album and her response was, no.  She explained that Blake plays Christmas music all year long so by the time December rolls around, she's kind of over Christmas music.

And while on one level I understand her thinking, and omg, endears that sweek hunk o'man, Blake, to me even more than ever before, I did feel a slight twinge of sadness at her reply.  Miranda has this... thing about her.  I appreciate her music because at its core, it is nothing if not honest and true.  She sings from her experience, she puts everything she has, heart and soul, joy and despair, into weaving the stories she tells.

What an incredible loss for people like me.  People who love the story of Christmas.  People who believe in the hope of the season, who have faith in the story of Christ.  I can only imagine what it would be like to hear her sing it.

Maybe one day she'll change her mind. 

In the meantime, I have my favorites.  The Little Drummer Boy.  Silent Night.  The hymns of the season we all know by heart.  I well up each and every time I hear them.  I can be in my car, in a grocery store, it really doesn't matter - one of them comes on and I'm... happy.  hopeful.  grateful.

Last night, I had the chance to hear this woman, Chloe Lowry, sing in person.  Take a moment to listen to her rendition of For the Sake of Our Brother and O Come All Ye Faithful.  I dare you not to be moved.  I have to be honest, I have listened to it half a dozen times this morning already and I cannot listen to it even once without getting choked up.  Her voice is so incredibly powerful - the story so profoundly true. 

 

 

I am so grateful today to have been able to hear her sing, to have been blessed by her voice this Christmas season, but you know what?  I'm even more grateful for the genius of youtube, that allows me to share it with you.

 

xoxo,

momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day one. a new normal.

As much as I'd like to begin my thirty days with a curl your toes, feel good all over story of extreme gratefulness, I am afraid this first one is not going to be quite that.  So, please let this stand as fair warning - if you're looking for warm fuzzies or unicorns and rainbows, you probably won't find any of that here today.  Take a little breather and come on back tomorrow and I promise we'll get back on track.

So, here goes...

I'm certain I am not telling you anything you didn't already know but, bottom line, sometimes life sucks. 

Sometimes you put your heart and soul, everything you feel you have to give, into something, someone, you try and they try and then you both try some more, and it just doesn't work out.  Some days its your fault, as hard a pill as that is to swallow, but some days its not.  Some days its nobody's fault.  Some days, it just is what it is.

And in the end, it doesn't really matter who is to blame, anyway, does it?  The damage has been done.  The hurt too big.  The gap too wide.  The final chapter written. And at that point, the only thing you can do is to try to gather as many of the scattered pieces as you can and move forward.  One foot in front of the other.  One very slow step at a time.  Creating, as Big J has begun calling it... a new normal.

thirty days of gratitude - day one - a new normal

Wait. 

Don't react.  Step back, take a breath and listen for a moment.

Before you go getting your bad self all in a huff and start messaging Big J with...  Did you see what she said?  Can you believe she said she was grateful?  wtf?  Let me try to see if I can explain.

Bottom line?

Divorce... sucks.  For everybody.  Breaking up a family that has been together over eighteen years... sucks.  For everybody. Splitting time with your littles, dividing up stuff, choosing who goes where, wondering what the holidays will bring, hoping your friends don't think they can catch the dreaded d-disease, facing loneliness, realizing that your world is changing, sleeping alone... sucks.  For everybody.

Life sometimes sucks.

But. 

And you know with me, there is always a but... 

Through it all - through the anger and the depression and the confusion, through the sadness and the hurt - through it all... I suddenly find myself - grateful.

Yes, grateful.

I am grateful for all those who have reached out to us both during this time - for the emails, the phone calls, the texts and the shoulders to cry on when we needed them most.  You will never know how much those simple gestures can mean.

I am grateful for all that I have learned the past eighteen years about life, about love, about growth.  I am beyond grateful when I look at our littles and the incredible young people they have become and I realize what good parents Big J and I have been.  Really great parents, actually.

I am grateful because each day brings new hope that the friendship we shared might not be completely lost.  I'm grateful each and and every time I think about and speak to my family and friends, because they reinforce that I would never have become the woman I am today, the mother I am today, the person I am today, had Big J not been part of my life.

Yes, I am grateful.  And as much as life sometimes sucks, and as much as divorce sucks, because believe me it really, truly does suck, being grateful makes it suck just a teensy bit less today.

Grateful.

xoxo,
momo