A Day I Will Remember Forever

Not because for the first time ever in the history of the United States an African American man was elected president....

No......... I will remember this day as the day I first heard my daughter call another woman Mom. A woman who hasn't EVEN known my children for a whole year. Does the title Mom MEAN something anymore? Doesn't that title have to be EARNED? I am sad, but even more MAD at the adults that they would teach/support/encourage/allow my children to be so cavalier with this honor. As if it means little or nothing for one to have such a title. As if respecting your Mother and Father above others is not necessary, that they are easily replaced. And maybe I am being a little dramatic here after all it is just a word. But in my heart of hearts it should mean more than that. And I am dissapointed that I have not taught my children the sacred meaning of that word.

To pretend I didn't see this coming would just be naive. But I can say I must have done a really good job of fooling myself into believing it wouldn't happen - because when it did hear it I cannot describe how very much it hurt. Like being hit by a car - no matter how many times I looked before I crossed the street - this one seemly came out of nowhere. Yet in hindsight I know I wasn't looking carefully enough. Wishing that I would be lucky enough to avoid this.

Lately I have struggled to tread water in the swelling river of "the teenage years" - fighting the current of teenage angst - and now I am also feeling the weight of a new step mom for my children.

For as long as I can remember all I ever wanted to be was a Mom. I didn't have career aspirations like the rest of the kids I knew, the only thing I knew for sure was that when I grew up I wanted kids - and more specifically I hoped for a daughter.

Lucky, lucky me.... not only did I get two kids, one of each: a daughter and a son, I am incredibly blessed to have healthy, beautiful, smart children who are growing to make me more proud everyday. And now as I realize just how honored I am to have the title of Mom - I also have to realize that with that title comes some amazingly hard responsibilities. For as selfish as I would like to be about this, I know as their Mom it is my duty to do what is best for them. As much as I would like to be such a giood Mom and have such a solid relationship with my kids that they would never ever consider calling someone selse Mom, as much as I would like to believe that I am irreplaceable - the truth is I cannot make them feel guilty for feeling how they feel. I cannot be mad or insist that I am their only Mom. I must let go and let them decide in their hearts what Mom means to them and accept that sharing that title with another woman is truly their decision - not mine.

God gave me these children because I had lots to learn. I have taken for granted my role and my relationship with my children - assuming it was a given that I am their Mom - and that I alone would have that. When in truth the hardest part about being a Mom is knowing when to let go and let your kids who they are going to be. And that includes allowing them to have whatever relationships they will have in this life with who they will.

Doesn't change that it hurts all the same......................

Binya-Binya

Happy Birthday to you.

Today you are 12. Hard for me to fathom that a dozen years have come and gone. Surely they have slipped right through my fingers like fine sand. Each moment has becoming one more in a string of moments speeding by, before I had the inclination to pay attention. I wish..... that I had paid closer attention to these tangible examples of an intangible concept. That I could go back, remember each and every moment where you have made me smile and brought joy to my heart. That I could somehow list them and describe each one of them to you. For they are many, and unfortunately, my memory is just not that good. But what comes to mind today is the very first moment you brought this joy: the moment I first held you.

You were the gift I didn't even know I wanted until I had you. Your Dad and I were very young, still trying to figure out what we wanted in this life and not even quite sure who we were. I'll never forget the day we found out that we two would become three. The nurse had that look when she came back into the room, and even though I had tried to convince myself that these symptoms were merely the flu, I just knew right then: it was real. Ready or not you were coming. She talked on and on about what, I am not sure, because I could no longer hear what she was saying. I was lost in a daze in my own head asking myself: What now? How will I? What if? It isn't exactly what we hope to write down in that special place in the baby book where it asks "How did you first find out about your pregnancy?" So many emotions were swimming around in my head, but mostly I was afraid.

Of course, I had nine whole months to get used to the idea that I was going to have a baby and be a Mom. I tried to plan, to prepare myself: I read books, took classes, and of course I thought about it all the time. But as with anything one has never done before, it is never quite how you think it is going to be. I labored hard with you. 23 hours in fact. I can remember how much it hurt, and how I wished the contractions would be fewer and shorter, but also knowing it was a necessary pain, I just wanted to get through it because I knew it would culminate in your arrival. I passed the hours, the time between contractions, thinking of what it would be like to finally have you here, to hold you, and talk to you. I visualized what you would look like: How big you would be, your nose, your mouth, your 10 little fingers and 10 little toes. I even worried you would have a head full of thick, dark, curly hair just like your Dad. (Actually, in my mind, it looked more like Elvis) These minor worries kept the nurses amused and my mind off the pain for a little while. When they finally said I could push, I was glad it wouldn't be much longer before I would see you. And with every push I prayed that it would be my last, and this would be done. Again and again, bearing down, I believed through sheer force I would bring you into this world. But after laboring for so long, the doctors became concerned because I was not progressing. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't seem to push you out. They gave me my options: I could try a little longer or I could have a C-Section. As if somehow I was in control of this process. "Whatever we need to do." I said, "Just get her here." Nothing I did was working, because the truth is, I was so not in control. But I was afraid.

A lot of the complications I read/learned about were now happening. No one could take this from me, no one could do this for me. I had no choice. I just kept telling myself, whatever I need to do to have you in my arms, I would do. I never knew I would have to be this brave. They prepped me and moved me into another room for surgery. It went relatively quick because what I didn't fully comprehend was, you were struggling and they were worried. I didn't let myself think about the surgery, so when they draped me, I looked away and closed my eyes, hoping this part would go quick. Up until this point I had never had surgery, never been under anesthesia, never been cut into. And I was afraid.

You didn't cry right away when they pulled your little, wrinkled, curled body from me. The longest few minutes were waiting for the doctor to finish suctioning your lungs. The previous 23 hours were a blink of an eye compared to this. And then finally you cried. That sound... I couldn't even comprehend before that moment how my heart would feel hearing your tiny, yet intense noise fill the room. And then I cried. Oh how I longed for you in that moment. When they placed you on my chest - wrapped in a blanket with a small knit cap over your misshapen head (you seriously could have won a part in the Coneheads movie), your arms and legs tightly drawn to your chest, I gently pulled your hat off (whew, no hair) and kissed your head. In that moment I was forever changed. My heart was unable to contain this feeling, tears streaming down my face. You were real. You were here. And what I could never have imagined before now was just how beautiful you would be to me. I was yours and you were mine. How will I ever be everything I need to be for you? Again, I was afraid.

How could I know what this would feel like? How can I tell you now what this felt like then? To all at once be so utterly amazed and terrified. Never before and never again would it feel just like this. Overwhelming and incredible. See, you were the first for everything. I had no idea what to expect. Up until that moment, I didn't understand that what you get in life is rarely what you envision:

actually, it is so much more.

I truly understood the power of an unknown future. You, nestled there on my chest making little baby noises, surely mesmerized by the beating of my heart which you had grown accustomed to inside of me, were the most amazing thing I could never have planned for. You were so delicate, everything so soft and tiny. My mind could never have dreamed you up, let alone, this perfection. And this feeling in my chest. I was unprepared for this joy. And I'm glad I didn't know what it would be like, because for the first time, in that moment I learned no matter what my hopes and fears were, that I couldn't possibly imagine or plan for all that lay before me on this journey. And I have come to understand that the unknown is so much better than what we foresee.

Through the years of being your mother I have had many more moments like this. Where I have come to understand things that I never understood before. Where you have brought me pride and joy through just being your Mother. Because just like I couldn't predict then what it would be like to be a Mother, I certainly couldn't have predicted how you would grow into what you have become. How I am still amazed that the tiny little baby wrapped in that blanket asleep on my chest now stands almost as tall as me. How did it all happen so fast? I wish I could put some memories of you in a bottle and keep them there, forever. Taking them out, on occasion, reliving each of the moments again and again. So that when I am afraid, like I am today that soon you will be grown and no longer my little girl, I can remember all that you have given me, all that you have taught me, all the joy that I could never have conceived, just by you being born to me as my first and only daughter.
I love you Binya-Binya. My wish for you is that you come to understand the possibilities of the future and all that lay before you. Don't be too afraid of the things to come. Don't try too hard to have everything planned and figured out. Because even when you believe you are in control, you aren't, so relax and let go a little. Believe that life will be infinitely better than even you can imagine. And I hope that you can enjoy the moments for what they are: gifts you didn't know you wanted until you had them.

Love, Your Mom

Balloons - A Lesson in Letting Go

How do you do it? How did you just let go?

Teach me this lesson.

When the kidlets were young they loved balloons. Anytime they were presented with an opportunity to have one of their own, they eagerly grasped the string in their chubby digits, not letting go for anything. They would drag them home to their rooms to keep. Always these balloons were soon forgotten until, while cleaning, I happened upon the sad deflated carcass behind some piece of furniture, hovering only slightly above the ground, small and wilted, waiting to be popped and thrown away. It seemed hard to believe something once so full and vibrant, joyful, bouncing at the end of its string would become so faded, dusty and even wrinkly to touch.

On one occasion I became determined not to have this big bright ball bouncing off the ceiling of the car on our long trip home. Of course reasoning with DQ that her balloon made it hard for me to see out the back window of the car, was futile, but remembering a book we had read a few nights before, I came up with a quick plan.

"Let's send the balloon up to the baby angels."

She was, of course, reluctant to let go of her balloon.

"Before we take this home, where it will fall, lets let it fly and let the Baby Angels enjoy it too! Image how excited they will be to have this balloon!"

She smiled and I knew I had her.... We counted together and slowly her little fingers opened and the balloon drifted from her hand up into the sky. We watched it until we could no longer make out the dot in the sky.

Sometimes we don't want to let go, but we need to. Our fingers are grasped tightly around the string, afraid to even loosen, fearing it will slip away. Hoping that by holding tight it will be forever ours. But today, I want to remember a light, bright thing that in its moment brought happiness.... not keep it until it becomes sad and wilted, long past it pleasure, and just done being what it once was.

So I am closing my eyes, taking one last look, counting to myself, and against my childish nature of wanting to keep this, I'm gonna let this fly away.

Halloween

This is perhaps the end of an era. Probably the last year I will be able to talk the kidlets into having some sort of combo costume. (And hopefully the last that I am up for hours and hours hunched over a sewing machine trying to pull it off without REALLY knowing how to sew!) Let's take a moment to pause while I wipe the tears from my eye. Its been a good run. But alas, sad, but true, they are growing up and no longer easily manipulated convinced to do what Mom wants.

So I am taking a walk down memory lane, back to when they were young and cute and had no idea how embarrassing it would be that someday I would be posting these pictures of them on the internet oh so innocent and trusting.

There was the first Halloween I had two. Yeah, DQ had a few cute Halloweens before the arrival of DP Joe. But nothing is more fun than couple costumes!!! I was so EXCITED to have two! But apparently I wasn't quite over the fact that I had a son, not another daughter. D begged me not to emasculate his new son in this way, but I thought it was adorable....



Oh it's gets better! The next year it was even more brilliant! Being 7, DQ wanted to be something much more regal (and worthy of her Queen status). No prob says Mom! I modify someone's old prom dress (Thank you Value Village!) to make her the cutest princess - complete with the garniture and pointy tall hat. Notice how utterly happy she is! DP Joe gets to be the frog with the red lips on his cheek where he's been kissed! tee hee. Notice he looks less thrilled than last year. Yeah, quick learner. He knows now, last year wasn't a fluke, this shit's gonna continue.



Now, year three was by far my personal favorite. I actually sewed both costumes with the MIL's help AND it just so happens that this combo was near and dear to my heart because once upon a LONG time ago, my brother and I were this combo. Raggedy Ann and Andy with Cody being Teddy E. Bear. Come on, let me here you say it, ahhhhh...This picture (of course) does not do justice to DQ's costume with red rick rack and full pantaloons. Other than the fact that most of her friends had NO IDEA what she was, she liked the attention from all of the adults who TOTALLY knew who she was and appropriately ohh'd and ahhh'd. I'm sure I will hear from DP Joe some day, "Mom... A doll? WTF?" Again, deep under that red wig I'm sure he's thinking.... is this mockery ever going to end? Answer: No, probably not. After all, isn't this WHY I had kids?

The Angel vs. the Devil. Ah, how true it is! The truth is these two really should have been reversed! But again, trying not to scar the poor boy for life. Notice the increase in his excitement? He's practically going to burst if he has to be still for one more picture. Yippy, maybe I finally scored with this one! Oh yeah, forgot, it wasn't the costume that had him excited, he was at MIL's and totally hopped up on sugar from all the Halloween candy. Surprised this picture even turned out and he wasn't just a blur in my lens! What you can't see is the awesome red tights with flames he's wearing under his cape! Yeah the debauchery!

But fear not DP Joe, your year is finally here! No longer can Mom assume since you are little you will not understand how sissy her costume picks have been for you. You are now old enough to say, "Not so much." Well the truth is, you learned NO a long time ago, but this year, lucky for you, you perfected the oh so cute and adorable doe eyes look combined with the sweet, sappy, "Please, mom, wouldn't this be so cool?" plea. Yeah that one STILL gets me. Again, quick learner! How could I say no!

And this was the costume of all costumes for him. Complete with the dragon tattoo on the chest. Still the one he remembers the most, the one he goes back to every year and wants to be again. But aside from the fact that EVERYONE is on the pirate bandwagon (or should I say ship.. argg!) these days, I was a little concerned about how he kept veering off to the right, into the street while we were trick-or-treating. Apparently, although the eye patch looks cool, it affects his equilibrium. YEAH! Turns out the patches in the medical supply section of Wally World aren't the best costume accessory for a child who uses BOTH eyes to see! (Don't tell the folks judging the 'Mother of the Year contest!) DQ was his pirate bride. Wasn't too creative in figuring out how to make that obvious. It didn't hurt that just a few weeks prior she was the flower girl in The Gnome's wedding.

So, I had to come up with something cool enough to convince DP Joe to let go of his pirate obsession. (NO REPEATS!) Not easy feat, trust me! Years later he is STILL dressing up in full pirate garb on occasion! This glow in the dark skeleton barely cut it. DQ is wearing a lovely woman's dress shirt which I fixed up with some gauze to be ghoulish. The wig filled with plastic bugs was the capstone and her fav!

But the home made costumes are not quite as cool as the store bought super hero variety...... I knew this day would come.....Finally we move away from Mom's homemade creations to the more main stream cool choices with (GASP!) masks. What you can't see is DP Joe's fake chest muscles and DQ's mini skirt and boots... MEOW! Yeah a little frightening when you darling little girl goes from baggy sweats to knee high boots and a black leather mini skirt... HOLY Kitty Cat Batman!

So that brings us to this year... when amazingly enough I have once again managed to pull this off. The sewing machine was still going Halloween morning as I apparently have yet to understand that I lost the Mother of the Year contest a long time ago fervently finished DQ's costume (yes, I drug my sewing machine to work!) And in the end, as it always manages to do, it came together without a hitch.

Little DQ Riding Hood and the Big Bad Joe!

Gremlins

"It's the most beautiful time of year!" Yep School's back! Look at these monkeys..... wait, not monkeys, more like gremlins. The sweet smiles are very deceiving.

The Egyptian's trainer hit the nail on the head. In a moment of self loathing about her body, he reminds her "It's ok, don't be so hard on yourself. You spit those 4 kids out like gremlins." tee hee. We got a laugh about this, but I had to remind her... " Our kids were Mogwai when we spit them out. Should have followed the care and feeding instructions that came with and they wouldn't have turned into gremlins!"

The Measure of a Man

The X has a very "special" relationship with his mother. It is an on going joke that she is his Wother (Wife/Mother). She cooks for him, cleans his house, does his laundry. Recently while we were chatting about his recent relationship ending, we talked about the "wother" effect. I told him, "It was very hard while we were married to compete with your relationship with your Mother. No one could ever take care of you as good as she could." It was frustrating, to say the least, that she felt this was a women role. And when I didn't do this good enough, she stepped in.

I know that many men are "mamma's boys" and having a son of my own I hope I have a good bond with my son. But I DON'T want to "take care" of him for the rest of his life. I want him to be a good husband and father someday. I hope to teach him to take care of himself and one step further, to "man up" and take care of the women in his life. Somehow as women we get something from taking care of people, after all it is our role as Mothers to take care of our children. But the problem is we sometime forget that our job is to also teach our children to take care of themselves. Even though we CAN do it for them, it is best to stand back and let them do it for themselves. Now, don't get me wrong, the X can certainly take care of himself. He does well for himself professionally, he can cook, do laundry, take care of his house and kids. The problem is he LETS his mother do these things because, well, she will. And for me, standing back and looking at this dynamic all of these years later, I know that I didn't want a man that needed to be taken care of. I wanted a partner. Women were not put on this earth to take care of you. It was my hope that WE would take care of each other. Hence, why he is the X.

In my opinion (and of course just like assholes everyone has one) the measure of a man is getting to the place where you don't LET people take care of you when you don't need it, just because they will. It feels incredibly lazy and selfish.

The true measure of a man is a son who says "Mom, I can do this. You sit down. After all, all the years you spent taking care of me, let me take care of you." And if this were me, I would know I taught my son well.

Because as Mother's, Wives, Caretakers it is nice to be taken care of sometimes too.

Chinese Kissing

This weekend Dread Pirate Joe decided to up his "Kissing Ante". Apparently all the Axe (Bow-chicka-bow-wow) he's been wearing has him thinking this baby "peck" kissing is no longer good enough. He climbed into my lap and proceeded to give me the longest kiss. Ever. And by this I mean, he grabbed my face with his little hands tilted his head slightly, closed his eyes and leaned in slowly until our lips met and moved his head back and forth for effect. He pulled away with a big smile and proceeded to try to "rinse and repeat". I stop him, "Hey what's up?" I ask. He giggles. I wonder where he learned this new move. And then I remember the moment, when I was his age, that I too, decided to "Up the Kissing Ante" with my mother.

My mom almost always had soap operas playing on the TV while she busied herself around the house. (I can vividly remember crying during General Hospital when Luke and Laura were reunited after everyone thought she was dead and Christopher Cross's "Think of Laura" played to a montage of Luke and Laura moments. My mom even bought me the 45 I liked that song so much! Can you say sappy? So where most little girls learn everything from Fairy Tales, I learned from Soap Operas!) So I saw a lot of soap opera "action" when I was young (which was mild by today's standards!) and decided this long wet kissing with tongue looked kind of fun. So who better to test this new "French kiss" on than my mother. So the first chance I got, I laid one one her: Opened wide and inserted tongue. Shocked my Mom grabbed my by the shoulder and pushed me back. Shock and Awe had nothing on my Mom's reaction! I learned right then and there not to try that again.

I tried not to be so shocked with Dread Pirate Joe. I explained that this type of kissing wasn't appropriate for someone his age. I laughed at his innocence and told him my "French kissing" story. He laughed and laughed (and I mean big belly laughing that is so adorable when you are 7!), until his face was red. Apparently, me kissing my mother WITH TONGUE was the funniest thing he has ever heard! When The Alaskan walked into our conversation, DP Joe can't wait to share my story. He says "Did you know my Mom Chinese kissed her Mom when she was little?" the Alaskan smiled and raised his eyebrow. Once I explained, he said "Maybe I can get a little Chinese action over here?"

Not a Slight Thing

"It is not a slight thing, when they, who are so fresh from God,
love us."....Dickens

We won't always be the best Moms we can be. Among the many mistakes we will make as mothers, we will set bad examples, say things in haste and anger we later regret, we will make bad choices, and sometimes we will fall down. And those sweet little cherub faces will look to us so trusting and innocent, wanting us to make it better. They will love us and forgive us of our mistakes and misgivings. In their eyes, we are loved, no matter what. That is both the joy and ache of being a parent. A joy to have this love, but an ache to feel at times we don’t deserve it. So it is, that we must get back up and keep pressing on. For them. Even if we don't know the right thing or the best thing to do. We must just keep trying. Because even at our worst we learn from these children and we teach these children, about unconditional love….. Who even love us when we are at our worst. And they are counting on us. So no matter how hard it is, if for nothing else, for them. Because sometimes, we get it absolutely right. And it is those moments, when they say, “I love you Mom you’re the best” that we know it is all worth it.

I made the mistake of striving to be a perfect Mom. But the Egyptian reminds me that being imperfect is really the perfect way to be. It is this that our kids will learn from, and hopefully they will feel safe to make their own mistakes in life. And just as they will look to us for comfort and reassurance in these times, we must also look to them, for they are the reason we do what we do.

Happy Mother's Day.

An Orgasm

DQ asked me what this is... Oh Boy... here we go.

Slack-jawed, bug-eyed, she sat there with an ever so slight smile on her face as I gave what is possibly THE WORST explanation of an orgasm. Where is the Egyptian when I need her. She would have handled this SO MUCH better!

I start, "Well you see it happens when you have sex...."
She replies, "Yeah..."
(oh shit! You mean that wasn't enough?)
"When a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina, and moves it in and out..." (and yes I acknowledge that there are MANY ways to achieve an orgasm here folks, the least of which is penal penetration, sorry boys!, but in the moment, I could barley wrap my brain around the fact that I needed to answer the question, let alone try to encompass every possible scenario)
"He puts that inside me!!!" (well I wasn't specifically thinking of you here dear, in fact COMPLETELY NOT YOU, you cannot have sex until you are 40!) "That has to hurt!" (Good, yes, IT DOES HURT, so don't do it!!!)
"Well yes it would hurt if you had sex when you are young, but when you are older and your body has grown it feels good." (OK, so that wasn't so bad, right? Maybe this Mom thing isn't so hard...)
"And then what?" (Oh, you mean I'm not finished, shit!)
"Well then it feels so good that your body has to release all of the tension, boys ejaculate from there penis in spasms, and for girls, well it's mainly the spasms. And that in a nut shell is an orgasm."
"Oh." (Uncomfortable silence, shit did I do it wrong, must call the Egyptian...)
"Mom, don't you dare tell anyone I asked you this not even..." (Yeah right!)

The Purple SunFish Cruiser

It finally arrived!

I've wanted one of these bikes for some time and when I found one online that was purple, I knew it was destined to be mine! It arrived on Thursday, and lucky me, it was half assembled (Thanks to The Alaskan) by the time I got home. I would be cruzin' in no time! My excitement vanished, however, as he scratched his head with that look of frustration... "Look at the box this came in..." I look over to see a box that appeared to have been shipped around the world before it ended up on my door step. The box was badly beaten up, with get this, what appeared to be a hole the size of a basketball in the side that was covered by another piece of cardboard and taped up. Dented and dinged, it looked like it fell off the UPS truck (a few times) en route. Well, what do I expect for $100 from Wally World? He continues to rain on my parade, "And, there are parts missing, and look at the fenders, they're scratched and bent." Bummer all the way around. But since it was half way put together, he'd see if he could make it work.

As I am making dinner, I just happened to catch a glance of him out the front window test driving the cruiser. It's kind of like a guy who's brave enough to hold your purse for you in public (a purple purse with flowers no less!!). I smiled with a bit of pride at the sillyness of him in the saddle of the purple cruiser. And after all, since he tightened the screws, so I suppose he better be the first to try it out!

An hour later, I had my Purple SunFish Cruiser parked in the driveway waiting for it's maiden voyage. I gathered up the kids and their bikes and we were ready. I climbed aboard (Literally! It's bigger than I expected!) and the bike swayed and I balanced. WHOA! The Alaskan calls out, "Sure you'll be OK? Be careful!" I turn back and give him the look of death that says "Fack you! I've ridden a bike or two in my time!" only to smack right into my car. Look of death turns into sheepish grin, "Well, it's big..." Off we went down the street. I immediately notice that the fenders are both rubbing making a loud sound, but I am just too happy to be deterred from my jaunt around the block. I think I might LOVE this!

It breaks on a dime, which is good because steering is a bit different on this hulking thing. I think the handle bars being so wide is something to get used to. I managed to avoid a few collisions but when forced to navigate between two poles (we all know that my depth perception is a bit of an issue! Trying riding in a minivan with me if I have to park that thing! Try having me be a passenger while YOU try to park that thing! Yeah, I have spacial issues!), So, I am unable to negotiate the space. Another words, I WHACKED right into one of the poles! And there it was. DQ throughly embarrassed by my "uncool" behavior on the open road yells, "MMOOMM!" (If you have/had a teen ager, you know exactly the tone)

Back on the side street by the house and in the middle of the road (away from any possible obstacles) and feeling a little more confident (no more tight spaces), DQ calls out, "Mom you look funny." Yeah, well you look like Kermit the Frog all skinny and long legged on that tall adult bike! Sheesh! leave it to the kids to remind you that you are getting old and looking geeky! And considering the racket I was making cruzin' down the street, I'm sure she was right, I did look a little funny.

But oh well! It felt great! OK not the crashing part, but the cruzin' part!

The cast and crew

There are so many people in our lives that add to and enrich us in so many ways and I though it would be cute to come up with nicknames for the ones in my life. Partly to protect their privacy as I post stories, etc. and partly because, well, it's fun.

So lets start with the kids:

My Son We'll call him the "Dread Pirate Joe" At almost 7 now, my baby boy isn't really a baby anymore. Especially evident when he beats me down the ski slope! He is athletic and smart, and I mean wicked smart. And he's still oh so cute, in a little boy way that makes my heart melt. Especially when he says "You're the best Mom I ever had"

My Daughter, we'll call her DQ. And not after Dairy Queen, although she LOVES Dairy Queen too... but no, this is actually in reference to the "other" queen that more closely represents her: "Drama Queen". Being a Scorpio and my daughter, well lets just say sometimes it isn't pretty! She is all girl, she loves horses and dogs, pink and purple, and she is starting to like boys (well sort of). She thinks being 11 is hard. I say, just wait! She is beautiful, she is smart, she is funny and I am so proud to say she is mine.

Other folks:

The Teacher. She's more like family than a friend, but a best friend at that. The title so fits. She is always teaching me something and always encouraging me to grow and learn. When the two of us are together we rarely stop talking. And when we aren't taking about our lives, we are taking about the "dumb" people in this world that constantly frustrate us. She "gets me" in ways I sometime don't even get myself. She is the sister of my soul.

The Egyptian. A best friend that has been there with me through so much. I struggle here to even describe our relationship. We've shared a lot. I trust her, with everything. And that is so invaluable to me. She has 4 kids that keep her so busy, she works full time, attends college classes and watching her has helped me to relax and not sweat the small stuff. She is a goddess in my book and she is beautiful, lest you think she got this name from some corny dance move or something.

Daddy. The Egyptian's husband. One time, The Egyptian and I, in our attempt to understand this "male" way of being with oneself, asked him, "What do you think about when you are out in the garage all by yourself" And his reply: " Thinking about mowing the lawn and then what I need to do next." So much for that idea. He can build a house from the ground up and he can fix a computer and... well, lets just stop there before we stroke that ego much more.

ps. there is more to come on this...