Our internal GPS

My best girlfriend is mad at God right now. In her opinion, He has made her life a living hell. She did not ask for these things to happen to her. 

Now I must tell you, that she is a very devoted Christian woman. When her doctor told her she had breast cancer, she never asked, "why me?" Instead she remarked, "why NOT me?" She knew that God had a plan for her, and she never questioned her faith.  But that was three years ago, and a lot has happened to her since. 

On the day of her first chemo treatment, her husband said, "I'm outta here!" and moved out. Their 14-year-old identical twin daughters packed up and decided to go live with him and his new girlfriend (read: "no rules at dad's house!!!"). She had a double-mastectomy and lost all her hair, eyebrows, fingernails, yet wore her head scarves with dignity. Her ex-husband refused to sign paperwork that would keep her in the family home and he let it foreclose. Hoping her daughters would move back in with her, she rented the very house next door and got a roommate to help with expenses. After two years of waiting, the daughters remain with their father.  She still can't afford a bed and sleeps on a cheap futon in the living room. She has sold almost everything she owns. She had reconstructive surgery and the doctor bills are adding up.

Like most families, they had pets--a dog and two cats. Now with no income, she has struggled to take care of them. One of the cats and the dog both died during this time. When they got ill, she couldn't afford to take them to the vet. 

She could no longer afford to stay in the house she was renting, and with nowhere to go, moved in with her mother in the senior citizen.condo complex she lived in. Her mother became ill and died of a heart attack in January. My friend's sister is the rightful owner now and wants it sold ASAP. My friend can't stay there anyway since she's too young. So---when the house sells, yes, my friend will have a little money and in my opinion will save her ass. But we all know how long it takes to sell anything in this economy, so she needs options right now. Her choices are basically live on a friend or family member's couch till she gets the money or a decent job. We all know how poor these choices are. It's our deepest fear--not being able to take care of ourselves. She did everything right for 30 years. Yes, they were married for 30 years. And this is the reward?? 

Since he rarely pays her the alimony he owes her, my friend works odd jobs to keep herself afloat. She had been a stay-at-home mom for the last 14 years and has no training or skills other than her ability to talk to anyone, anywhere, and show up on time neat and ready to work hard. She has been told she doesn't qualify for government assistance because she has a car that runs. In other words, she's not completely pathetic enough.

So, here she is now, she just turned 50, and she looks like before she had her cancer.  She is cancer-free now for three years thankfully. Her hair is gorgeous, below her shoulders now. This is the good news. She looks good, she feels good physically, but the bad things that keep happening to her are taking their toll.

So, here's where I'm headed with this. She's at a crossroads right now, and trying to decide where she should live. With her sister in another county an hour away? Move in with a friend till she gets on her feet? Should she move here to Wisconsin with me? Her biggest dilemma is--should she stay near her daughters for their last year of high school, even though as hard as she tries, they continue to cancel plans to visit her time and time again?

My friend and I were talking yesterday about how she is hoping God will help guide her in her decision-making. Now, I'm not talking for my friend, but about religious people in general--I don't understand the whole "asking God what He wants me to do" line of thinking. How does God tell you what you should do? What is that?? I'm not one who subscribes to this. 

I told her we are very different in this way of handling life's crises. I don't blame God when things go wrong in my life, and I don't thank him when they do. I remember giving her the book, "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" by Rabbi Harold Kushner when she got her cancer, and she said it helped a lot. For those of you who aren't familiar with the book, I highly recommend it. The Rabbi had a terminally ill son and was grappling with the pain of losing him and losing his faith at the same time.

I believe that bad things just randomly happen, just like good things. I don't think God caused AIDS and I don't think he causes wars either.  God didn't give my friend cancer to teach her anything and he didn't kill her pets either.  I also don't think God cured her; her doctors did. I think what's miraculous is how humans have the ability to reason and make sense of the events in our lives, and we choose whether we find the silver lining or not.

When my brother committed suicide 13 years ago, I never once blamed God. I knew my brother must've been depressed, that he hid it from all of us, and that he thought that was his only choice.  I have never once for a second thought God took him from us as part of this whole huge plan that would make me a better mom for my kids, or a better sister to my remaining brothers, or any other such nonsense. No, these things happened because I chose to not have my brother's death be in vain. I am determined to learn from the horror of what he did and try to make sure I never ever let anyone I love be in such silent, secret pain again.

I don't get how God figures in our decision-making. I really don't. I think we have to trust that we know ourselves well enough to know what we need, and if we truly don't know what to do when we have tough decisions to make, I believe in seeking out information from people who can help us. Not from some mystical deity up in the clouds. But hey, that's just me.

I clipped out an article from this month's Oprah magazine and sent it to my friend. I agree with Oprah's take on making the tough decisions--here's an excerpt from the article: 

"For all the major moves in my life—to Baltimore, to Chicago, to own my show, and to end it—I've trusted my instincts. I take in all the information I can gather. I listen to proposals, ideas, and advice. Then I go with my gut, what my heart feels most strongly. 

And I often tell friends: When you don't know what to do, do nothing. Get quiet so you can hear the still, small voice—your inner GPS guiding you to true North. "

I know Oprah to be a religious person, but she doesn't say, "I ask God what HE wants me to do." She knows in her own heart what's right for her.

I wish for my friend the peace of mind of trusting her own heart, her own gut, her own instincts. Because they will guide her. I love her with all my heart and want her to be happy. I can't tell her what to do, no one can tell someone else what they should or should not do when the stakes are so high. Not even God.

I'm here for my friend, to give her all the love and support whatever decision she makes. 

Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Oprah-on-Trusting-Her-Intuition-Oprahs-Advice-on-Trusting-Your-Gut#ixzz1SfNzCLrP

I'm too old to wear....what???

Well hello there everyone, it's been too long since I blogged. Not like I haven't anything to blog about--I've always got an opinion on everything---just nothing that's made me say, "I've got to blog about THAT!"

Except for something I saw on the morning news earlier this week.

Every morning, my darling daughter and I have breakfast together before I take her to school (after I take Ian, it's another hour before she has to leave). We watch the "Today" show together and read the comics and horoscope, and discuss what we see on the news.  They had a feature called, "Too Old to Wear" (Grammar folks? Punctuation?? Guess I'm "too old" cuz I care about that sort of stuff). Anyway, they had polled people on some site I can't locate on Google called, "Diet Life", and they came up with a list of clothes and hairstyles they believe have a shelf life.

Basically, if you're over 35, you shouldn't do the following:

1. Wear a bikini.
2. Have long hair.
3. If you have long hair, don't wear it in a ponytail.
4. Wear a miniskirt.
5. Wear knee-high boots, a tight vest, leggings, a see-through chiffon blouse, or stilettos.

Now if you're reading this, and you know me, you know I don't follow any of these "suggestions". Who the hell are these people anyway? Who did the poll? What are THEIR ages? Male? Female? (I think it's interesting that the website doesn't exist....). And of course, they forgave several "cougar" celebrities who break these fashion "rules" because of their awesome physiques. In other words, it's okay for them, but not for the rest of us.

You won't be surprised to hear I think it's a crock of shit. These "suggestions" go along with the whole stupid, "Don't wear white between Labor Day and Memorial Day".  I love it. I just had to laugh.

I'm just glad they didn't say anything about skinny jeans, tight T-shirts over camis and Converse All-Stars. Because that's pretty much all I wear, and yes, I just turned 50.  I really don't want to dress like most women my age. Have you seen the way most women my age dress?? Most women my age are afraid of their sexuality. They dress like they're always going to church in the most unflattering styles you can imagine. One mom I know wears old battered sneakers every single day, no matter what the event. Scary!!

Let me tell you about a compliment I got shortly after we moved here to Wisconsin. I was wearing my usual outfit (bling included), and had to stop by the State Farm Insurance office to drop off some important paperwork. Our new agent greeted me; I gave him the papers and all and as we said, "good day" to one another, he stopped me and said, "I just have to tell you something, Lauren. It's so nice to see someone dressed in something without an animal on it!" I laughed and said, "What??" I didn't understand what he meant. He said, "The women here all wear these dorky shirts with animals on them. And I don't mean animal prints", he said, "more like deer, penguins, cats, that sort of thing. You're definitely from California!" I took this as a compliment and blushed three shades of pink and thanked him and left.

That is my point ladies. Are you wearing an animal on your clothing today? Throw it out! Get rid of it! No one wants to look at it. Especially your man. Bleh!

I know I dress like a teenager. No one needs to tell me I dress strangely. But I like it. It's me, I feel good. My daughter likes it, my son doesn't seem to care. If you feel sexy wearing a church-lady vest with kittens on it, then good for you, go rock that vest. But really, do you?

It's really that I don't have a fashion sense. I'm always waiting for the phone call from the show, "What Not to Wear". I'm waiting for one of my family members or girlfriends to rat me out and put me in "What 50 year olds OUGHT TO WEAR". It wouldn't work anyway, so please don't try.

I just bought a new bikini, it's sooo cute! It's yellow and has lace on it. My daughter picked it out for me. And as for stilettos? Yep, got a new pair of silver ones. Long hair? Check. (I do have it colored professionally and trimmed every 5-6 weeks). Ponytail? When I go to the gym or go for a run. Leggings? In the winter, black, under a thigh-length sweater-dress. Yes, and flats to go with it. Cute!
See-through chiffon shirts? Nah, not really my style. Knee-high boots? Hmmm, I do own a pair, but haven't actually worn them yet.....

What is it with women my age? Why are they so unfashionable? I think I know. For one thing, our bodies have let us down. We can exercise like Jack LaLane and still have muffin top. We live to serve and please our kids and husbands, and that leaves precious little time for us to focus on ourselves. We put ourselves last for so long, it becomes a habit.

It's not selfish to take good care of ourselves ladies! Everyone benefits. Like my good friend Inka says, "ain't nobody happy unless Momma's happy." True, true true. We have to give ourselves permission.
I am giving you permission today my wonderful friends.

By not wearing makeup, by not wearing flattering hairstyles or clothes, we are invisible. We are blending in. Not everyone likes to call attention to themselves like I do--but for me, it's about individuality. I dress for me. I don't care if most people think I look ridiculous--I feel comfortable in my clothes and in my own skin. I can go to the grocery store now without makeup, in my sweats, without a care in the world. But it's not something I do all the time. I feel more confident if I put a little effort into myself.

Most women my age are afraid of their sexuality. As we enter menopause, we become friskier, and for many women, that scares them. Yes, I know, it takes money and time to take care of ourselves. Waxing and pedicures, makeup and clothing is expensive. But I think we're worth it, don't you? I'm sure your husband will appreciate it. You won't be worrying about him checking out some woman's cleavage next time you're at a ball game cuz he'll be checking YOU out instead! (not to mention the other guys checking you out). It's fun. I recommend it.

If you want to read a great book about the anxiety of aging, grab Nora Epron's best-seller, "I Feel Bad About My Neck." It's ra, truthful and hilarious about all the work that can go into aging gracefully. I think you can get pretty carried away---I'm not yet into Botox or plastic surgery---that stuff scares me. I'll just stick to exercise and vitamins and lots of face cream for the time being.

Back to the "Today" show---I should write them and complain. Who makes these stupid decisions to show such an opinionated poll such as how old should a woman be to wear certain things? How about we do a feature on certain things MEN shouldn't wear/do?

 Under NO circumstances should men do the following (age is up to you ladies!)

1. Wear a handlebar moustache
2. Grow a beard to where kids call you "Santa"
3. Wear a ponytail
4. Beer belly strut
5. Donald Trump comb-overs
6. Socks and sandals
7. Pinky rings
8. Plumber jeans
9. Button down plaid shirts, open, over a white T-shirt.
10. Anything Homer Simpson would wear
11. Khaki.


Can you add to the list? I'd like to hear from my readers. What's keeping YOU from being your hottest self?

"36 Reasons Why Moms Make Better Employees---Instead of Teenagers and Other Assorted Men-Folk"

     Except for my stint as a part-time substitute teacher the last 3 years, I've been a stay-at-home mom for the previous 12 years. I just got a job in a similar line of work that I used to do before Tim and I had kids--bartending.  I work at the gym we belong to; mostly making protein smoothies and pizza and other snacks, but serving up drinks for the grown-ups as well. As with any food service job, keeping the work area clean is top priority. When I'm not serving customers, I'm scrubbing stainless steel, mopping floors, washing glasses and blenders, re-stocking supplies. Being new, I wasn't sure the first time I had to mop whether or not this particular spot on the tile was just a stubborn, sticky spilt-mark or a permanent part of the caulking. After spending considerable time scraping and scrubbing it to the point that I had my answer (it came up! I was so proud!) I had what Oprah would call a "lightbulb moment". Thankfully, it was a slow shift, and I subsequently wrote this blog on company time, albeit on little sections of receipt paper, fed and torn into 4-inch strips. I call it, "Why Companies Should Hire Moms Instead of Teenagers and Other Assorted Men-Folk". In no particular order, here's my top 36 reasons why mothers make the best employees:

1. Moms are thrilled to be getting paid to do stuff at home we do for free.

2. We are thrilled to have a good reason to get out of the house.

3. Moms get to be around other adults, having adult conversations.

4. We know how to multi-task. (We cook dinner with a baby on one hip, feed the dog, and talk on the phone, check our email).

5. We're used to running around frantically, taking care of many people with completely different needs all at the same time.

6. Moms are experts at smiling on the outside while screaming on the inside.

7. We are thrilled to get a paycheck! Assuages our guilt over spending money on getting our nails done.

8. Moms finally feel appreciated. After all, we get a paycheck!

9. Moms like that people get to see them at their best instead of their worst all the time.

10. We have an excuse for take-out.

11. Moms have a good reason to get their nails done and buy new make-up and earrings! (see #9)

12. We don't complain about having to work a holiday. (what's a holiday??)

13. EXCEPT MOTHER'S DAY. THAT'S SACRED.

14. Moms aren't likely to steal from the company.

15. We're not likely to show up stoned or drunk. Or hungover.

16. Moms get excited at being called by their names instead of 'Mommy" for a change!

17. We are used to eating standing up.

18. Moms are used to eating cold food.

19. We are used to going without eating.

20. Moms are psychic. We are amazing at anticipating the needs of others.

21. We are more likely to show up.

22. ON TIME. OR EARLY. (see #1)

23. Moms know better than to roll our eyes, sigh, or cluck our tongues when our boss asks us to do something out of our job description. (are you thinking of the last time you asked your kid to pick up after himself???)

24. We don't call in sick unless we absolutely cannot get out of bed. Moms are used to carrying on, regardless of how crappy we feel.

25. Moms are quick learners.

26. We handle pressure better than anyone else. Moms are like ducks--on the surface we are calm but underneath, we are paddling like crazy.

27. Moms like it when we are told we are doing a great job. No one tells us this at home.

28. We like making new friends! (see #3)

29. Moms don't act like menial work is beneath us. (see #1)

30. We like that our families learn to appreciate us in our absence.

31. And often we come home to clean a house. (thank you Timmy and kids!!)

32. While we are working, the kids learn to get along without us. Magnificently by the way.

33. Moms have amazingly strong bladders.

34. We obsess over dirty surfaces. (we had crawling babies, remember?)

35. Unidentified spots will be scrubbed till they disappear. It's just the way we're made.

36. Getting out of the house occasionally helps us to lose weight. (It's a win-win! We get paid, AND we can lose poundage!)


All this I came to realize just mopping the floor the other night at work. I am SO glad I'm back in the workplace, as hard as it is sometimes to not be there to pick my kids up from school (that's what buses are for!) and for them to have to fend for themselves sometimes. But you know what? Jen and Ian have gotten so much closer and so much more independent. Just this past Saturday, with me working and Tim out of town, Jennifer made pancakes and scrambled eggs for her brother. He had a track meet, and she cooked for him and woke him up and made him breakfast. I know! Made me cry too. What a sweetheart. And he ate it all. He was very appreciative.

And she had breakfast waiting for me when I got home too. Thank you sweetheart!!!

And Friday night I had candles and a bubble bath waiting for me, and all the laundry folded and put away. I love my husband!!!

Guess what? I love working!!!

Big Girls Do Cry

     Every once in a while, when I'm just be-bobbing along in my life, something will happen that will take me back to my previous life in Reedley, or West Covina, or any one of the many places I've lived in, and bring me to tears. For instance, we took a family trip to Minneapolis to the Mall of America this weekend. As we're walking around the enormous and crowded mall, Ian noticed all the strollers, and was getting annoyed trying to dodge them constantly. Before I could respond to him, I had a memory flash of Ian being the little boy in the stroller, feeling overwhelmed and frightened at being thrust about, zig-zagging powerlessly by his mother who was at the helm. I remembered how he used to cry and wanted out. I didn't tell him all this; it was a momentary memory flash that was so vivid, and so emotional, the tears just started to fall. Thank God for sunglasses.  I blinked the tears away, and kept walking, and muttered, "yeah, they're annoying, huh?"

     Last week it happened again. I just started a new job--bartender at the gym our family belongs to. I absolutely love my job, and being the new girl, I'm constantly meeting new co-workers and being introduced to them or, being the talkative one, I introduce myself. I met a new front-desk girl who the moment I laid eyes on her, the same familiar feeling came over me: a vivid memory flash as if my life in Reedley was a movie I was watching. This girl had welcoming wide eyes and a happy smile, and she was petite and giggly. Melanie. My beloved Melanie, whom I miss so very very much. I gasped, literally, and had to tell her right then and there she had a twin out in California. 

     "Really? I do?" she inquired.

     "Yes! You do! And she was my BFF and I miss her SO much!" I excitedly declared to her. "Here! This is her!" and I thrust my iPhone to her and showed her a pic of Melanie. This girl, whom I just met and can't remember her name right now and another woman working with her, leaned over and glanced at the beautiful smiling face of my Melanie. I was beaming.

     "Eh, different nose," the other woman sort of sneered. Clearly she wasn't impressed. The Melanie-twin didn't say anything. Her face didn't give away any clues either.

     "She's 4'11" and wears a size 5 shoe!" I gleefully added. That was the clincher. Both women looked at me wide-eyed, mouths gaping open. 

     "Really? NO WAY!" they took turns saying.

     "REALLY! YES!" I confirmed. 

     "SHE'S 4'11 WITH SIZE 5 SHOE TOO!!"

    "REALLY? NO WAY!" I exclaimed.

     "Yeah", they quietly admitted. It appeared she really might have a twin after all and it was sinking in. How this made her feel, I have no idea. Maybe I should've just kept it to myself. As it happens, a customer appeared and we all dissipated. I walked back to my bar and the tears started again. I didn't want to get to know this Melanie-twin. I wanted my Melanie.

     And so it goes. I had a moment laying in bed in the middle of the night a few nights ago; I'd gotten up to let one of the cats out and sure enough, I have no idea how or why, but I started to cry realizing how much I missed our old pool. We don't have a pool here, and I just can't get excited about summer coming. What are we going to do? Yes, there's a lake, yes, but we don't have a boat, and it's not like you can just go out in your backyard and jump in. I cried and cried thinking about all the friends we'd entertained, all our kids' friends that went swimming there summer after summer, and I was just so sad. It's all over with, can't go back.

     I know my kids feel the same way. I know it's been hard on Tim too. We see old friends in stranger's faces. We feel lonely, and sad, and we've put up a wall. It's a tremendous amount of effort to make new friends. It's hard not to feel that we're somehow replacing them. Nobody can replace anybody. The friends we made in California are in our hearts forever, and we hope they all know that. Thankfully we've got Facebook and texting and phone calls to stay in touch.

     It's been 8 months since we moved here now, and sometimes it gets easier, and sometimes it feels like we're going backwards. The snow has melted but it's still freezing out.  We see the temps in California and remember what we were doing a year ago there. Ian's in track now, and although daytime temps here are still in the 30's, they are running outside. In Reedley, the track kids are running outside too, but it's in the 60's and 70's. Stay with that for a moment and feel how that must feel to Ian. It's very hard.

     Even the happy moments can be tinged with sadness. Ian's driving now. He's almost 16. Any parent who's been at this moment in time knows what I'm talking about. It's surreal, it really is. He's becoming a grown-up right in front of my very eyes. I'm proud of him and sad all at the same time, as my chauffering days are slowly coming to a close. He will no longer need me in a way that has defined me in a lot of ways. This is not easy to swallow. I'm getting used to it, and I will be happy for him. And scared. It's a scary world out there. I won't be able to protect him like I could when he was that little boy in the stroller.

     Watching a young mom with her toddler daughter in the grocery store, the same thing happens. Even if she's angry at not being able to get her child to stop a tantrum, it's instant tears. I think of my curly-blonde cutie who accompanied me like glue to a stamp. We went everywhere together. Now Jenni would rather stay home and watch TV or play Wii while I go alone. No little hand to clutch onto and make sure she's safe constantly. She's a big girl now. 

     Whether it's moving to a new city, new state, or new country, or the kids growing up,  the inevitableness of change can be so hard and so sad. The circle of life goes on, and with it, new experiences and people come into our lives as we grow and change along with it.  I'm so grateful that my life partner, best friend and husband Tim has been along with me the whole way, and we're in it for the long stretch.

     I know it will get warmer, and we know that we have enjoyed the snow. Like everyone else in Wisconsin, we are sick of the cold and can't wait to be able to be outside in a pair of shorts. And yes, as time goes on, and we say less and less, "I just moved here from California". The newness has worn off and we appear to be Cheeseheads like everyone else. Only we aren't. Our accent gives it away every time. And quite possibly the sadness in our eyes. We are trying, people. I'm proud of us. I'm proud of Tim. We are doing okay. 

     As they say, you can take the Kuckelman's out of California, but you can't take the California out of the Kuckelman's.

Just Because We're "Friends", Doesn't Mean We're Friends

     Someone from my past found me on Facebook.  It hasn't been pretty.  

     Twenty-three years ago, I was 27 years old. I was putting myself through college, living on my own, working three jobs to support myself. One of these jobs was a waitressing job at a small family-owned 300-bed hotel near Disneyland, in Anaheim, California. It was a tiny, 10-table cafe inside the hotel, where during the busiest shifts had only 3 waitresses working together. I met my wonderful friend Penny at this time. She and I worked together and became very close. We have not only stayed in touch through the years, but she was my maid of honor and I was her matron of honor. Although geography keeps us apart, we stay in touch through Christmas and birthdays, and now, Facebook and Twitter.

     One of our other former co-workers was a woman I'll call "Monica" whom Penny and I had worked with for a few years and we had loads of fun together. I do remember lots of fun times. Dressing up in costume for Halloween, serving lots of tourists and making fun of them, eating lots of ice cream, dealing with "CHEF", this crazy old man who ran the kitchen. That's about it. My recollections of that time are minimal. It was one of my three jobs, and I was a full-time college student, on my own, involved with a jealous and abusive man who I'd nearly forgotten about, thank you.

   I was fighting with my parents, I was trying to find out who I was. I cheated on my boyfriend to release the stranglehold he had on me. The job was a job. I had fun while I was there but it wasn't my life. I graduated college in May 1988, left behind all the drama and moved to LA to start a new life for myself. I was free and happy.

     As with all of us, a lot has obviously changed with me in those 23 years since I last saw that co-worker.

     About three weeks ago, I got a friend request from "Monica", and initially I was amused and happy to have been "found".  I thought to myself, "WOW! She looks good! Has it really been 27 years?! "   What I had remembered about her was that she was divorced, had re-married, became religious, and was older than me. That's about it. I knew she had kids but I think they were already grown when we worked together; I really don't remember.  I haven't seen nor spoken to her since 1988.

      I planned on checking out her profile and reading her wall to get to know her better after all this time, but I hadn't had a chance. In the meantime, I gathered that she was retired, had at least one adorable granddaughter, and maybe more free time than me as she was commenting a lot on things on my page. I thought it was nice and vowed to make time to respond as soon as I was able.

     Everyone has what I call "Facebook Personalities". I have one friend who posts every little thing that happens to her, including finding noodles up her kids' noses. I love her posts. I have another friend who when she's between jobs, practically lives on FB and is on 24/7 and posts constantly not just on my profile but all her friends' profiles too. It's wonderful. I also have friends who rarely post updates or comments at all. They are either too busy or not interested. I don't take it personally.

     And I like to think I'm like most people on FB---most days I check my FB primarily from my iPhone while I'm waiting to pick up my kids from school, or in the bathroom (it's true! It's quiet time for a mom). I rarely just sit there and read people's profiles, comb through their photos, or stalk them. I'm really just too involved in my own life to have much time and energy for everyone else's. I try to post things I think everyone can relate to. I do enjoy everyone's status updates--I quickly scroll through them when I get a chance and that's how I stay in touch with my friends and family who are on FB.

     (Just for the record, I'm not one of those who collects "friends"--I only add people I know and have met personally.)

      Without meaning to,  I somehow offended my long-lost friend by not responding to her comments often enough to suit her. She felt I'd snubbed her, and she de-friended me. She was irritated that she'd posted something to me about a memory she had, and I hadn't mentioned it, but rather had posted a status update about the same time something that had nothing to do with what she'd written. This led her to believe that I had "issues" and needed mental help or something like that. I was not only shocked but infuriated. And sad.

     People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Do you have anything in common right now, other than you're both on Facebook?


     Maybe her friend request stirred up something in me I didn't want to deal with. I do know that everytime she posted something, I had to stop and process it more than if someone I knew better thad said it. She was always positive, it wasn't anything negative, but it was coming from a virtual stranger. I had to try to put her comments into some sort of context that was unknown to me and therefore I wasn't responding quickly enough to make her feel appreciated. I feel bad about that, but that was unintentional. Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be. 

This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.

HolliandMichael SwingShoI don't know about you, but I don't have enough time for everything and everyone in my life. I've got 2 kids. 7 pets. A husband, a house, a job, a life. I just moved 1500 miles and left behind everything familiar to start over. I've got 30 boxes of stuff that still needs to be unpacked. Where's the empathy? Where's the common sense? What is this, high school? Come on, we're supposed to be grown-ups. When we give expecting to get, it loses it's value. If she'd given me a chance, I'd have responded the way she wanted me to. I just couldn't do it in her time frame. How selfless is that?People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be.This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.

The Meaning Behind the Music

Green Day wasn't always my favorite band. When their "Dookie" album came out in 1994, I thought "Longview" and "Basketcase" were fun songs but nothing earth-shatteringly amazing to me. I was a newlywed then, and pregnant with our first child, so rock and roll wasn't a big part of my life then. It wasn't long till I was mostly listening to "Barney" in the car, along with "Donald Duck" and other children's CD's. I know the 90's had some great bands and tunes, but I was, for the most part, oblivious.

Five years later, Jennifer was born, and the children's music played on. And on. And on. Everything I listened to and watched for at least a decade was rated G. Whatever the kids wanted, I obliged. It never really occurred to me to listen to rock music, although when I was pregnant with the kids, I always put earphones to my belly and pumped in Pearl Jam, Van Halen, Mozart and Beethoven to expose them early. I do remember hearing, "Longview" once with the kids in the car, and my "mommy arm" over-extended faster than a lightning flash to grab the volume control to turn down the "bad" words.

Things changed slowly when Ian started kindergarten. Suddenly I had only one child at home, and often, Jennifer fell asleep in her car seat to various "Disney Princess" tunes. I mostly listened to the Jewish-motherly advice of Dr. Laura, as her show seemed to resonate with my own values at the time. Flash-forward to 2005, with a now-10 year-old and 6-year old, who had grown annoyed with "baby" music. I was sooo thankful, because to this day, Tim and I STILL know all the words to the "I Love You" song sung by the purple dinosaur himself.
                                                                      *******

It was during this period of my mommy-hood that for the first time, I had two kids in school full-time. I was lost at first, didn't know WHAT to do with myself all day. It's funny how when your kids are babies, you fantasize about this over and over during those awful all-nighters, the sick days, the long bouts of crying (the babies' as well). The last person I wanted to listen to was Dr. Laura--this was MY time and kid-friendly shows were off-limits! I was lucky I didn't have to work--my wonderful husband Tim worked so I could stay home with the kids. Here was my reward for 10 years with no day off---weekdays to myself, from 8 am to 3 pm.  What was my role now? Who was I without children clinging to me all day long? My life revolved primarily around them. I volunteered at their school, and I was there as much as they were. I was probably a little frumpy, and I know I wasn't into running then. I think I'd pretty much put myself on the back burner, as many moms do. But I relished uninterrupted hot showers, the occasional lunch or Starbucks with a friend, along with the laundry and housecleaning and grocery shopping.  No one knocked on my bathroom door yelling, "MOMMY!!" It was phenomenally freeing.

Not having children in the car for a few hours a day was like serendipity. I could listen to all the bad words I wanted to! Yay! I didn't have to explain myself, I didn't have to talk to anyone. I could just sing along to whatever station I wanted to listen to. No mommy guilt. It felt weird. It felt good. It was during this time that I was driving alone, probably running mommy errands, when a song came on that made me stop and pay attention. The haunting guitar chords and sexy-voiced male lead beckoned to me. I had goosebumps.  My heart was pounding as if I'd had a religious experience.  Much like love-at-first-sight. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating, sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, till then I walk alone...." I had tingles.. When the song ended, I gripped the steering wheel, praying the DJ would say the name of the song and band. Sure enough, he did. It was "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by, yes, Green Day. I felt a little ashamed I didn't recognize the band, but hey, 10 years of "Barney" and "Mickey Mouse" convoluted my musical perspective.

I had to have the album, "American Idiot". I immediately drove to Best Buy and bought two copies, a CD for me and one for Tim, so he could listen to it driving back and forth to work.  Somehow, it spoke to us. I listened to it beginning to end, straight through, never stopping.  I listened intently to each song, one after another, the way a mother listens to her new baby breathe--you're so mesmerized you can't pull yourself away. "Wake Me When September Ends" gave me more goosebumps and I KNEW it was going to be a huge hit post-9/11.  Song after song, somehow, it spoke to me. "Jesus of Suburbia" was mind-blowing. Sometimes it takes a little kick in the behind to jolt us out of our stupor, even if it's a happy stupor. I didn't realize something was missing from my life, but the song slapped me in the face and woke up something inside of me.

The most fun part of my transformation was that it was happening to Tim, too.

                                                                  *******

I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, Tim and I had tattoos. We started dressing differently. We felt younger, we looked younger, and we felt more in love than ever. I bought Tim an electric guitar for Father's Day, as I'd remembered he was in a band in high school. He relished it, and I encouraged him to join a band to "blow off steam" from the stress of his job. I started walking, then running, and I dropped 20 pounds I didn't realize I'd gained. I got a new hairstylist and cut and colored my hair shades of purple and pink. We felt alive and happy, and thankfully, our kids loved the changes in us. I was still the devoted mom, and Tim the busy executive, but something exciting was happening.

Tim got us 11th row seats to see Green Day when they came to Fresno. We've been to a hundred concerts, but this one was like none other. To see Billie Joe Armstrong and his two best friends, in the flesh, for over 3 hours, I felt like I'd been baptized.  It was a magical night, one I'll never forget. (Tim even got us Meet-and-Greet backstage passes, but Billie Joe didn't show; the drummer Tre Cool did but we couldn't get near him. Damn!) We weren't alone in our passion for this record album. It has sold 14 million copies world-wide, and subsequently won nearly 25 awards, ranging from best album, to best singles ("American Idiot", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", "When September Ends"), to best rock band. Clearly, the Oakland-based trio touched a nerve in our collective consciousness.

                                                               *******

The lead singer of Tim's band couldn't make it to practice one night, and the bass player asked me to sit in for him since I knew all the songs. Without the pressure of being an actual band member, I hammed it up and belted out the songs as if it were Karaoke night at the local tavern. The band was so impressed with me, we actually formed a new band with me as lead singer! And for the next year and a half, we performed many times in local clubs and even recorded a demo CD.  Every performance was an opportunity to honor my hero's music. How lucky was I to be singing Green Day's music?! It was always thrilling to stand up there and cover their songs. In all, we sing about 20, and Tim's always working on more.

                                                             

Never having been to a Broadway play, and never having been to New York City, I really didn't know what to expect from "American Idiot" the play. My wonderful husband of nearly 17 years surprised me with 3rd row orchestra seats as my 50th birthday present! I screamed even louder when he told me Billie Joe was in it as the character, "St. Jimmy".  To say I was excited would be an extreme understatement.

The St. James Theatre on Broadway is a beautiful theater, with balcony seating and deep plush plum seats; much like you'd expect. One huge difference was the crowd. Many were young people, dressed in skinny jeans and studded belts and multi-colored hair and piercings. Many were your average middle-aged Mom and Brad. It was a packed house.

From where we were sitting, it turned out that Billie Joe spent much of his time onstage literally 15 feet away. He was so close, but I couldn't take a picture of him! (NOT allowed. I got yelled at for taking pictures of the theater before the curtain even went up. I didn't want to chance getting thrown out.....or did I? It was a hard decision...) He looked like Beetlejuice, his long hair gelled standing straight up. He had on his famous black jeans and studded belt and chains; a black T-shirt with a white suitcoat with black hanky in the front pocket. He was thin and good-looking, and belted out the songs while acting out the role of St. Jimmy, a kind of devil-on-your-shoulder character to the lead role of Johnny played by John Gallagher, Jr., an amazing talent who sang lead to most of the Green Day album with as much snark and snarl and tenderness as Billie did on the album. The whole cast sang along to various songs; it was a collaborative effort of dancing and singing the album straight through, just as I had listened to it that very day I brought it home with me from Best Buy. Tim and I were blown away.

Watching the actors and listening to the words of the songs I know so well, I was aware that I was learning what "American Idiot" meant to my hero, Billie Joe Armstrong. Those were words he'd written, music he'd written, painstakingly and lovingly created by that five-foot-nine man standing right there. The chords and melodies and words that cried out to me were his, and the play was basically his heart, outside of his body. "American Idiot" is a complicated story of a young man who is trying to find himself amidst the chaos of 9/11 and the war in Iraq. He uses drugs to numb the pain. He falls in love; she gives him an ultimatum. He sees his best friends go off to war, one loses his leg. He tries to conform, but where is the meaning in it all? The play exposes not only Billie Joe's contempt for our governments' reaction to 9/11 but our own.

As the character Johnny stumbles and finds his way, I realize that we all have our own journey of self-discovery. We all have our own story to tell. We all were once idealistic teenagers, and some of us conformed and became good citizens, while suppressing our rage at the same time for the establishment. Many of us are lucky to have found a balance between being wicked and being good, and being happy.
We can't just sit around and party forever--sooner or later we all have to grow up and be functional members of society. The people we hang around with help us achieve our goals or get in the way; we all have tough choices to make.

Green Day took their record and in transforming it into a play, it became a better version of itself. Just like the album did for me. Thank you, Billie Joe, and thank you my dear Timmy. I will be forever grateful.

Dr. Laura Goes Off the Deep End With Marriage Charade Advice

Talk Radio has always been a love-hate thing with me. I go through phases where I get fixated on a particular talk-show host and listen, listen, listen, every time I get in the car. Then I'll hear something on their show that will get me SO disgusted I stop listening and go back to channel-switching again. I just heard something on Dr. Laura's show that angered me SO much I am done with her. Forever. Well, OK, until I get sick of someone else's show and decide to go back and listen to her again.

If you've never heard of Dr. Laura or her radio show, let me sum her up in one word---ZEALOUS. She is extremely opinionated and is pro-life, anti-feminist, and does not believe in divorce (and she's not even Catholic).  She's a big believer that divorce is bad for kids, but this really crosses the line.

So this guy calls in today, says he's been married for 16 years, the last eight with the knowledge that his wife cheats on him regularly. They made a deal when he first found out about her infidelity 8 years ago that they'd stay together for the sake of their son, then 8 years old. They'd "co-parent", so he wouldn't have to be the child of a divorce. This got a huge round of "atta-boys" from Dr. Laura.

The man was calling because although this arrangement has "worked well", the son is now 13 and asking a lot of questions. He presented Dad with his suspicions that Mom is cheating on him, to which Dad lied and answered with some sort of gibberish about, "well, things aren't always as they seem", yadda yadda yadda. I guess Mom has a boyfriend she met on the Internet, and has regular trips across the country to go see him. Dad's question for Dr. Laura is, do you think I should encourage her to stay another 5 years till the son is 18 so they can finally divorce then? YES, she answers, all-too-quickly. They PRAY she will play along. As I'm panting with rage, I can hear Dad nodding his head, feeling very smug, as he tells the listening audience,  "to all you out there listening, I wouldn't have chosen any other solution." He's Dad the Martyr, out to save his son from........what exactly?????

I'm floored. I know Dr. Laura's a kook but that's why she's fun to listen to. Occasionally I agree with her, but give me a break here!!! Dr. Laura applauds all this in the name of marriage???? Let me get the facts straight. Dad can't stand Mom. She's been sleeping with other men (dangerous men too, Dad says). They have put on a charade for 8 years to their son that they are happily married?? Where's the affection?? What are they teaching their son?? He's obviously not stupid here. He already gets that something's amiss. I can't imagine what dinnertime in their household is like. The man sounds like he's about to go "postal" at any minute, he's got so much pent-up anger at his wife.

Tim and I are always cuddling on the couch, he kisses me hello after he comes home from work, we go out on dates every now and then. We are best friends. We share parenting duties with laughter, affeciton, and love. Our kids see that we have a REAL marriage, not a hostile "pretend" marriage like this guy and his "wife".  Does Dr. Laura really think that living an honest life separately is really soooo bad for this 13 year old boy that the parents have to put on a charade in front of him? Come on!! I'm insulted for this boy. Seriously. He is figuring it out and will have no respect for either of his parents as the truth WILL come out.

I really really really don't get how this could be in any way good for the son. He's learning #1) His parents are liars and cannot be trusted. #2) Marriage is about martyring yourself. It is not the union of two people who've joined together to love, trust and honor one another. Where's the friendship? Where's the affection? Is there any laughter in this household? What a joke. (pun not intended)

We all know divorce is hard on kids. We all know that no one marries thinking they'll get divorced. But sometimes it's in EVERYONE'S best interest to do so.  If they divorced, both Mom and Dad could live a more honest life, heal from the pain they've inflicted on one another, and maybe find new spouses that would enhance their son's life as well. I know lots of step-moms and step-dads that are every bit as loving and caring as the biological parent, some more so. How can this not be considered an option?

This son would benefit from not being lied to, as if HE's the one who's crazy, seeing things as they really are and being told it's not true. Then finding out later, that he was right all along. The son will also be free of being manipulated by the two people he trusts most--his parents. If the father really loves his son, he'll tell him the truth, and teach him that a man deserves to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. Why would anyone put up with the nonsense this "wife" is doing to this family? How dare the husband/Dad inflict such dishonesty on the sacred home of this child? I'm furious. Absolutely blood-boiling mad. But the worst part is---Dr. Laura is applauding it!!

Dr. Laura has said in the past that the best gift a husband can give his children is simply, love their mother. This is not love. This is pathetic.

Readers? What do YOU think?