I like this....

Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:


¨THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?¨

A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:

Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans). They have an active sex life, they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing
themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia . Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans.
They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don’t exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don’t have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them not to mention how could they have sex? Therefore they do not have kids either. Not to mention who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store? The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale.

P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and a coffee with my
friends.

With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren’t heavy, we are enormously
cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, “Good gosh, look how smart I am.”

The Story of Going Vegan...maybe.

For some reason saying "vegan" is so much more intimidating than saying "plant based diet" and I can't figure out why. Maybe because in my mind, I think about all the foods I would be cutting out of my diet when I hear "vegan" whereas "plant based diet" is more about adding more plants into my diet and less processed foods and less meat. I haven't decided if I want to completely cut all animal products out of my diet, or if I just want to go for like 80%. And I know I won't be getting rid of the boots or belt that I already own that have leather in them because let's face it, I am too damn broke for that noise!

Why the new preoccupation with a plant-based diet, you ask? Well. I recently decided to be more open to the signs, symbols and opportunities that the Universe was sending my way, because in the past, that has only been a good thing. And in doing so, I realized I am SURROUNDED by veganism. And more than that, I can SEE the differences it has made for the people around me. I also have been given or lended several books and cookbooks lately about cleaner food sources that are better for us, the animals, the environment. I had this moment yesterday of extreme excitement when I realized that in one cookbook I was looking through, I could count on fingers how many recipes involved nuts. (I am allergic to several different nuts in varying degrees and it has always been a huge barrier to considering going vegan in the past.)

Also, and this is where we enter into the TMI zone, if I am being quite honest with myself, dairy and meat give me terrible gas when I eat them. I am slightly sad to admit that the last time I ate my favorite, terrible "meat eater" food (bacon) it gave me horrendous stomach pain. But! I am consoled by how good I CAN feel by some possible changes.

On top of all that, I am plagued lately by an overall sluggish feeling. Having cut out gluten for the most part, and being able to have gauged amazing results from that experiment, I started wondering if a plant based diet would yield further results. I want to be one of those really energetic, active, and happy people and I just can't find my mojo. So...here we go!

Staring February 8th, I am going to gradually wean myself off of animal products by adding in more and more plant based foods. I have decided that I want to do most of my own cooking, to make it cheaper, to cut down on processed foods, and to provide less temptation. I feel that if I really want to see how I feel I need to give it a fair shot, but I am not going to throw out all the food in my house that no longer meets (meats? get it?) my preferences. Again, too broke for that noise.

So, I know it has been a while, but I am going to skip right over the part where I talk about why I don't post here as much anymore and launch right into the juiciness that has brought me back to whine and vent and share the trials and tribulations of this mom here.

My 7 year old (almost 8) has her first boyfriend.

Yeah. That silence you felt is the same silence emanating from my shock and total loss at how to react. I mean, the part of me that is pre-emptively angsty about not fitting in or feeling the pain of being on the outside for her before she gets there may be slightly relieved at the fact that somehow, in the social structure of her oh-so mature 2nd grade class, she has a place. And when I stop and think about it, there are times I wish I could go back to having a 2nd grade relationship where you like each other, and send cute notes, and wave across the room and it's sweet and innocent. (Except not because I like my wonderful, adult, healthy relationship that has come into my life.) (And, not to mention, when I was in 2nd grade, boys were still yucky.) But the mom in me that wants to protect her from any sort of pain has already imagined the day she comes home and cries to me because this boy decided he also likes her best friend and wants to be her boyfriend for a while, because let's face it. 2nd grade relationships? Last about as long as any sort of freshly baked good when my daughter and boyfriend are both home. The fierce mother lioness in me can already feel the desire to yell at her friend "WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU, YOU BOYFRIEND STEALING BITTY!" and then shake the boy "DIDN'T ANYONE EVER TEACH YOU SOME TACT AND MANNERS???" And that is when I get escorted off the school grounds for being "that parent" and the kids and parents alike whisper to each other when we pass by and Em no longer gets invited to birthday parties or sleepovers because she has that crazy, emotionally unstable mother, and she becomes that girl in the back of the class that out of loneliness develops the habit of....OH WAIT!

Let's snap back to the present moment where my daughter is standing in front of me, bouncing and grinning out of joy with the note clutched in her hand that says "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Circle one: Yes/No". She is so happy. And more than that, she has the trust in me to confide in me these things. To tell me who she has a crush on, and that she doesn't care if people don't understand it, she likes him anyway. And that she can tell me how happy she is that he sent her this note. And that she can also tell me when she is hurting, or confused. That she can tell me when she needs a moment to herself, and that she has learned enough about herself in this world to know when she needs a hug and that she knows she can always get one from me. The angry lioness of a mom is slowly getting quieter and quieter because I am struck with the thought: Oh damn, I must be doing SOMETHING right...

GO ME!

I love having a dog. I really do. But there are just some mornings when dog owners across the world may wake up and regret that they can claim that title. It has to be a wider phenomena than just my house. Like the mornings when your dog, inexplicably, thinks that it's time to get up at 3am. And 4am. And 5am. Or the nights when your pretty sure the dog has a hair stuck in his throat because he keeps gagging, but then again, he may be deathly ill, so no sleep is had. Or the morning after said dog was left home longer than he likes due to work schedule changes and you discover that he has revenge pissed all over the house. And you step in it. Over and over and over. It was one of those mornings today. I found myself immediately thinking of how much cleaner my house would be without a dog. How much more time I might have, and maybe even a little money. My furniture would be footprint free. My arms and legs would be scratch free. The only teeth marks on the things inside the house would be from my daughter's toddler years. And then I start to feel guilty.


Without doggle, Emily would be without a furry companion to keep her company when she wants solace but to not be completely alone. I wouldn't get out of the house and walk around the neighborhood as much. There would be no holy terror ripping around the house when he gets excited, making us laugh. There would be no one to lick away fallen tears or cuddle up to warm our laps. No one excited enough to pee when we came home, and no one with eyes quite that sad reminding us to come home again when we leave. And when Emily goes to her dad's, I would be oh so lonely.

Yesterday I committed myself to running a half marathon on my 30th birthday in October. 13.1 miles.

A year ago today Grandma Joanne was in the hospital. In about 15 hours, it will have been a year since she died with no one but a nurse holding her hand. (I still don't know who that nurse was, but someday, I would like to tell him how wonderful I think he is for staying with her.) I thought that by now, I would have dealt with more of this. There are times when I feel like I have, but there are also times where it hits me out of no where, like a heavy weight on my chest. Thanksgiving was hard. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was blocks away from her. No one answered the phone when I called so I gave up. I should have gone over there. I should have been there. I should have asked my mom how else to get a hold of her live-in partner/caretaker. But I didn't. I tried once and I gave up. At least she wouldn't have been so alone if I had done something more.

The man held responsible just got out of jail and is playing games on facebook. Why this is sticking in my head, I couldn't tell you. What else he is doing, I don't know. But knowing he is out is enough to keep me thinking twice about visiting the rest of my family over there. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him because I am more angry than I even realize and am afraid of what I would say or do. I don't want to see him because I am afraid of him and what he would say or do. I don't want to go because I am tired of hearing other people's opinions of him, of my grandmother, of the whole situation. I don't put all the blame on him entirely, I feel he is responsible for most of it, but not all. And I try to give respect and the benefit of the doubt. I have to believe that it is possible for good to exist in bad situations. But this by no means makes it ok for people to tell me what a wonderful person he is and how he could not have played any part in her death. It's still too raw.

I miss her.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,
Generally I try not complain about my problems because I KNOW I could have it a lot worse, and I am incredibly grateful for what I do have. But at this moment, I am finding it hard to breath my way through this and see the other side. I feel so stuck and I can't see a way out. I feel like crap for the way I have unintentionally made people feel, and am frustrated that in taking care of myself and my child, I just make it worse. I know that every little step is a good thing, but I am ready to be able to take some big steps too. I am tired of being so broke, I am tired of debt, and I am tired of feeling like a failure. I know I sound like a whiny baby right now, but it would be really nice to feel financially stable at some point in my life.

Thank you for listening to me gripe, and for all the blessings in my life.