Hindsight Is 50/50

The saying is hindsight is 20/20, meaning you can look back down the history of your path and see the choices you made with the clarity of today. It becomes temptingly easy to judge your previous self with the knowledge you have today, picking apart each turn you took because you can see the outcomes waiting for you just around the corner.

“If I would’ve known.”

“I should’ve done better.”

“It could’ve been different.”

These thoughts can haunt us and ultimately erode the trust we have in ourselves to make sound and wise decisions.

So that’s the thing…how can we know for certain we would do anything different even with the eagle eye of hindsight available to us? We can hope that we would practice as Maya Angelou taught us, to do better when we know better. However, if mistakes are our best teachers, then what fun is making the “right” choice every time?

I know I’ve spent far too much of my life worrying about doing it the right way. I practiced caution and made careful choices so I could keep my side of the street clean and with the quiet hope that if I did what I was supposed to do, bad things wouldn’t happen. A superstitious way to live I guess, but it did provide me with comfort in very uncertain times in my life. However, this comforting coping strategy didn’t allow for me to question who determined the “right way” or the possibility of my “right way” not being the only “right way”.

While yes, there are many choices I made along the way that I can now look back with a shaking head in my hands and acknowledge my poor judgement in the moment. Also, many of those poor choices led to lessons I needed to make a better (not right) choice at a later crossroad.

I am a former smoker. I smoked for 14 years and only quit because I wanted to have children. I loved smoking even though I knew how terrible it was for me. When I quit, it was one of the most difficult changes I ever made. It was only then I realized how dumb it was for me to pick up that first cigarette just because everyone else was doing it. Today, I would give that girl a hug and whisper in her ear, “you are enough. Don’t try to make yourself small to fit in. This is gonna be a bitch to quit one day.”

14 years later that choice caused me so much grief as I tried to quit. It took multiple attempts to finally put down my Marlboro Lights for good. Each time I tried, I would get anxiety from the thought I would never have another cigarette. I would never smell the smoke of a freshly lit cigarette or feel the relief from the first exhale. So I would pick up where I left off the day before and light another one. It was only until I adopted a lesson I heard in Al-anon that I was able to finally put down the lung darts and let them go.

Al-anon has a saying “just for today.” It releases me from worrying about never smoking again, because it only requires me to stay in this day. Each morning, I would begin the day with the promise that I would not smoke just for today. I gave myself permission to think that I could possibly smoke tomorrow or even next week if I wanted to, but just for today I would not. After I put together a few independent days, I looked around and realized I was capable of finding relief elsewhere and I no longer required that crutch.

I still tell my daughters that lighting up that first cigarette was the dumbest decision, because it was the most difficult choice to put back down. I am not ashamed of that choice because that choice taught me a lesson I use all the time. Just for today. While I already knew that mantra, I didn’t understand how to use it and I had never let it give me the permission I needed to not be perfect and to give myself some grace.

Al-anon says, “Just for today I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle all my problems at once. I can do something for 12 hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime.”

There are so many moments in my life that I can examine through the lens of today’s wisdom and question my why or wonder what could’ve been if I would’ve gone left instead of right. However, that doesn’t solidify I would actually do anything different. Maybe hindsight is actually 50/50 on whether one would change their path if they knew they were destined to fall. Maybe there is just as much chance I would continue on the same path and making the same choices even if it would cause me pain. Today, I don’t have to judge myself for that.

So I will continue to try to do more right than wrong, learn from the falls and not judge my past based on what I know to be true, just for today.

Best Christmas Picture Ever

Shocking news…The Holidays are Tough

As we approach this week and kick off the holiday season, my stress levels begin to bubble and rise along with the amount of times Mariah Carey is played on the radio. The increase in extended family time with people I love but do not interact with on the regular as well as the search for gifts to simply fill a spot on my shopping list are added to my ruminating thoughts playlist that kicks off around 3am.

With so much to do, who has time to enjoy this most wonderful time of the year? NO ONE!

My unpopular opinion of the desire to fast-forward to January 2nd is on the rise. Many of us are tired of the hurry up, keep buying, smile-and-hug-people-I-haven’t-seen-since-last-year and for-the-love-of-god-take-the-picture themes of the holiday season. We shove so much into these few weeks that we begin the new year exhausted, broke and bloated.

As someone who is not a fan of winter, I am trying to embrace the hibernating bear lifestyle (turn inward and rest). The pressure of the perfect holiday shoves me right out of resting bitch face and directly into elevated anxiety bitch face. Holiday commercials suggest that throwing a bow on anything makes it all better. Well, a bow on a pile of crap is still a pile of crap.

And let’s not forget what the holidays also highlight…those who are not here with us to celebrate. For many of us, there are empty chairs at the dinner table and stockings with no owners. We have a hole in traditions that cannot be filled and that is hard to swallow along with all of the cheer.

What if we turned it down a notch? Maybe there is a little less on the calendar and a little more time to be present. Maybe it is not about the perfect gift, but maybe sharing gratitude that you get to be together. There are many reasons why families spend the holidays apart. Whether by choice or necessity, so many struggle with being present for all the presents. Let’s avoid making asses out of ourselves by assuming everyone is joyfully spending this time of year together.

So maybe this year the theme is cheerful acceptance. Acceptance for the moment and what that entails, the good and even the uncomfortable. Having 25 people in a two-bedroom condo (this was how we did the holidays with my husband’s grandmother years ago) is not comfortable, however today I think back fondly on those sweaty meals because she is gone now and I miss her. She was the happiest person there having all of her people crammed together and celebrating. It wasn’t comfortable, but it did not harm anyone and her home was full of love, good food and laughter.

Acceptance of boundaries. Maybe forcing our kids to sit on the lap of a strange man in a costume, telling him their greatest desires and smiling is not the best lesson. Maybe if they say they are uncomfortable or afraid we can try a new approach. With the same token, maybe we can speak out what we need whether it is excusing ourselves a little early from the festivities or staying home altogether. We do not have to abide by the unwritten rules of the season if those rules do not serve us. This is less about getting our way or not and more about listening to each other respecting the fact that no single person knows best of all.

I vow to be mindful this season. I will be present in the moment. I will respect the wishes and desires of others. I promise to listen to understand rather than to respond. I will ask for what I need. I will prioritize my needs so I can show up when and where I can in the way I want to.

It does not have to be the most wonderful time of the year for me to celebrate and enjoy the time of year. I can survive and advance and relish in the normalcy of today rather than the glitter of unrealistic expectations.

I wish you the holiday season you need!

The Beauty of Being a Woman

Our ability to use delicate strength as well as brutal force when necessary.

The rainbow of colors and shapes of our hair which pulls back the curtain to tell a piece of our story.

How a trademark ring can be more than an accessory and transform into an heirloom.

When the type of shoes she wears can tell you the kind of day she is heading into – whether it requires shit-kicking boots or the clack of heels on the hallway to get the job done.

A magical kiss of a mother to heal any wound or the silent look she gives to shut down a situation without the need of threat.

The comradery acknowledged using one word between two women… ‘GIRL’…

The immeasurable energy created when a group of women gather and hum of laughter and conversation between friends of any length of time.

We are women and we celebrate each other today for all that we are.

The roles we play in our families, our workplaces, our friendship circles and our communities are vital and irreplaceable. The conventional roles of nurturers and healers for communities are not to be dismissed by but commended in addition to the innovative paths women are paving in careers and solidifying other respected roles.

Our history includes times of pain and grief to ensure our rights as human beings and not the lesser sex. Equal access to health care and even voting was not inherently bestowed to us, so we had to take those rights through whatever means necessary. Those rights were taken by women coming together in support of each other.

We spend far too much time sitting in comparison judgement of one another. Whether it’s through social media posts or carpool lines, rather than celebrating the woman next to us we tend to criticize her for the car she drives, the job she does or doesn’t have and if she is wearing the current trend. Some of these traps to keep us against one another are by design, so let’s breakthrough the smoke and mirrors to come together for one another.

I see you. I celebrate you. I am grateful for you, phenomenal women!

Haunted by Approval

Next week, I will turn 42 (the good Lord willing)!

This is the age my father was when he died. To act as if that has not been weighing on me would be inauthentic.

I love my birthday. I really LOVE my birthday. It may be due to the fact I was born in the armpit of winter and celebrating my birthday gives me something to look forward to. Or, maybe I am a self-centered, egotistical asshole. Either way, I celebrate all month long and I have no intention of stopping.

Turning 42 has haunted me from the day my dad died. I wanted to achieve so much with my life – do so many things that he would never have the chance to do. My unwritten, unrealistic expectation was to turn 42 with the knowledge that my dad was proud of me. The problem with this plan – it’s impossible!

I would never get that validation, because he would not be here to witness my life.

So instead, I sought out approval from every other corner of my life. From grades, to sports, to career choices, outside validation became the measuring stick of my worth.

Am I good enough? Says who…always you, never me.

My desires, my reasons were never enough.

I required the co-signing of other people’s opinions.

I spent so much time worrying about what everyone thought of everything I did, I forgot that the first person I need to be accountable to and approve of is ME!

If you disagreed with how I did things, my first inclination was to question myself. I couldn’t possibly be right, if someone questioned me.

I feel so much empathy for that girl, today.

So rigid. Functioning out of fear. And judging herself constantly.

The girl who never felt secure – in her thoughts, her actions, her dreams and even her own skin. I didn’t want to be liked as much as I wanted to be right, validated for being me.

Along with my birthday celebration, February also brings the anniversary of my dad’s death. I remember every detail of that morning, to my mother’s voice telling me he’s gone to the emptiness that filled our home with the absence of his presence. I remember feeling helpless and a strong desire to do something, anything that made sense because the realization that my father, the strongest person I knew, was not coming home was inconceivable. Not only my brain, but my soul refused to accept it.

I did not want to be a cautionary tale, a girl with daddy issues who sought comfort in all the wrong ways. I channeled my fear into action and the race to perfection began. It was a game of whack-a-mole.

School struggles?? Nope-fixed it!

Typical teenage antics?? Not me!

Grieving correctly?? Sure am!

“Nothing to see here! I’m fine.”

So at the ripe ole age of 14, I set the expectation of perfection. All the while, managing overwhelming grief from the loss of my parent and not processing this with anyone.

The real achievement is that I am alive to tell this tale.

And my career choice…helping people, of course. Because what better way to hide from my troubles than to dive head-first into someone else’s?

For the next 25 years, I spent my life chasing approval from a ghost, setting a bar of achievement to an unreachable level and berating myself along the way for not being what I was “supposed” to be. I did not do this without many failures and much self-inflicted pain.

The theme of not feeling “good enough” has been heavy on my mind recently.

The pressures from work. The failures at home. The lack of peace of mind. These are common struggles I hear during therapy sessions as well as in my own thoughts.

We all are hurting.

We all have failures.

We all need more peace.

Right before COVID hit, I promised myself I would not have a ‘mid-life’ crisis when I turned 40. I would cross that threshold with grace and embrace aging.

Though it may have looked more like a brace-for-landing situation rather than a graceful entrance into my forties, here I am nonetheless.

What I did have was an awakening.

I realized what I had been doing to myself my entire adult life. I looked around and saw no one was keeping score, but me.

No one (that mattered) judged me for my pain or my faults.

I was my own worst enemy standing right in my way.

With no plan, other than change I promised myself I would learn to love and be proud of me. That became my guiding manta – I would trust myself above all else.

Since that birthday, I have made huge strides in that change.

I am more comfortable in my own skin, but there are days I still cover up and fight that shaming voice.

I am confident in my accomplishments, but there are moments I suffer from imposture syndrome.

I find purpose and peace in my day, but I fight storm of chaos to gain perspective.

What I’ve learned is, struggling does not define my life, I do. I write this narrative. I validate my experience.

I have hard days. I cry often because it heals me. I soak in my bathtub to let go of the day. I talk to my therapist to unpack my baggage. I still have hard days, the difference is I don’t live there all the time.

This is not a how-to-post. I do not know a secret. I have not found an “answer”, I found options. When letting go of expectations, some of my rigid ways went also. The more I let go of, the more my mind opened up to opportunities for a more peaceful existence. I blew up the walls that confined the narrow path I traveled for so long, to uncover unlimited choices for where I want to go next. Empathy and intentionality became more comfortable to me. I started to give myself grace and felt lighter. Grace and options are a beautiful combo.

I have rough times, not a rough life. I define my own narrative. Change promises change. My job is to navigate my journey and be accountable to myself.

My life is beautiful chaos, simply because I say so.

So 42, I am ready for you! I embrace this birthday full of gratitude and a ton of grace to give myself as I mess-up, succeed and enjoy all the moments (even the ugly ones because that is part of my story). I miss my dad all the time. There are still moments I pause to look for his nod of approval. However, I no longer chase that impossible expectation. I am learning to be proud of myself, because I am enough.

I am not finished. More to come.

When Today is Tough

Within a tick of the clock, this became a day of dread instead of celebration in my family.

A day to remind me of my father-less status. A day to miss him even more than the rest of the 364 days on the calendar.

A day to miss all the times I never got with a man I thought would live forever.

It’s a devastatingly lonely place to be.

Father’s Day became a day of celebration minus the man of honor. It was status quo for my family, while everyone around us had a holiday.

Then I got tired of being sad and missing out on celebrating. I found some gratitude and decided to celebrate while we honored my dad even without him present.

We celebrated my mother, who had to be both mom and dad after he was gone. There are never enough days to celebrate her and her amazingness, so we started by adding Father’s Day to the list.

Then, we met my step-father who deserves our celebration and gratitude for his wonderful part in our family. A man who honors the void that was left in our hearts, never trying to fill it.

Eventually, I got to celebrate the father of my daughters who gives selflessly to our family and loves us with all that he is. I found a new level of gratitude for a man I share my life with and raise children with.

Father’s Day, for me, has changed a lot over the years. It still holds a void in my heart. There is a section of cards at Target which I do not get to shop from anymore. However, I always have something to be grateful for and someone to celebrate with. On Father’s Day, I honor the man I lost and I celebrate with people who make my life better.

You never know what someone is struggling with, so always start with kindness. If today is a struggle for you, know you are not alone. I understand and I honor your story.

Remembering My First Friend

Today, marks 10 years since my brother walked this earth. A milestone that requires acknowledge and his life, one that requires celebration.

My first friend.

My first enemy.

My first teacher of forgiveness.

Even when he drove me to the brink of insanity, I learned to accept him for who he was, not who I wanted him to be. It did not matter if I liked him every day, being my brother made me love him always. His love of basketball, his knowledge of all things sports, his genuineness as a human being and as a friend were only a few things he was well known for. Very early on, Derrick lived his life his way and did not require validation from anyone (a current goal of mine). Though I had imagined who he would be at the age of 35, 50 and 72 – that was not what his life was created for and that was never for me to determine.

Writing is my medicine. My source of healing. I empty words on a page and exhale the hurt in my soul. For the last four years, I put in the work to heal from the pain I experienced. I used writing, this tool that I love so much.

I exhaled a novel on some pages.

I created this blog to empty my thoughts into the world.

All of this with the hope that while I heal, maybe there is someone else who hurts like me and needs to read some words that speaks to them. Especially now, during this time of pain in our world, it’s important to find what heals us – what makes us feel connected to others. We are never alone if we are honest enough and brave enough to seek out a source of healing. None of us are fine and that is okay. Pain is temporary if you are willing to put in the work to let it go.

Find what heals you and do it!

When thinking about how to honor Derrick, I could not find the words I wanted to express the pain of losing this person I love. Then I realized I already had the words. I emptied them on pages of my novel and posts I shared with you. I will never be whole again without him, but I am finding ways to heal and honor this boy I watched grow into a man.

His love, his laugh and his giant presence will remain a void in my life always. But because of him, I love a little harder. I live a little more passionately. And I am grateful for the gift of knowing the love of my brother.

“I wake up to the sun creeping into my room. The distinct scent of a mix of fresh rain and a dash of lavender that hints to the night slipping away, lets me know it’s still early morning. The familiar aroma is welcoming to rise to. Inviting me to start my day, it is my first reminder of something beautiful in the world. However, today it’s my first reminder I am waking up in a world where my brother no longer exists. Upon this revelation, I grasp my chest because I can’t breathe. This new truth is choking out the life I had been accustom to. The life where he was there and always would be. Just yesterday, he was here. He was breathing and annoying me. Now he is gone. His room is empty and forever will be.” -From the Inside Out

“After becoming a therapist and a mother, my brother died of a drug overdose. Again, my core was shaken and my direction changed. Again, I had a new lens to see the world and had to find another way to forge down the path where new obstacles lay waiting for me. By this time, I was 30 with a new even more damaging set of coping skills I pulled from my tool belt to “handle” the pain of losing my first friend. Though my questions were different after this loss, the theme of blame remained the same. Why couldn’t I save him? Why didn’t I do more? However, as a good people-pleasing-caretaker, I sealed up all that blame, pain and sadness so I could be fine and attempt to continue down my familiar path. The problem was my life-lenses acted as beer goggles and I found myself fumbling and falling where I once floated.

What I have learned through all these experiences is the single worst thing I can do is be ‘fine’. When I am in pain and I am experiencing loss, I am far from fine. When I don’t give my experience and the stain it left on me the dignity of a name, and rather say ‘I’m fine’ my stain spreads. The original impact of the trauma is much worse if I can’t call out the fact I am hurting and I have been effected by what happened.

I’m not suggesting you have a full-on therapy session with the next person who asks how you are. However, instead of lying with ‘I’m fine’, chose something else. Literally ANYTHING else, because being ‘fine’ is not living.

Life has not been promised without pain. We do not get to skip through Candyland shooting rainbows out of our ass while riding a unicorn. Though, if we can be honest with ourselves and with those we love and trust, we have the ability to come back from anything and find peace in the most troubling situations.” -“I’m Not Fine and Neither Are You (Killinitlife.com)

Best Christmas Picture Ever

The Most Wonderful Freaking Time of the Year

“Trust your gut. Forgive yourself. Be grateful.” – Cheryl Strayed

Oh the holidays! What a wonderful time! Forced family gatherings. Multiple ‘To Do’ lists from shopping to baking. Scheduling all the holiday activities to breakfast with Santa and driving all over town to see the festive lights. This is all in addition to your regularly scheduled programming of life. It’s fun, right?

Well, don’t you dare act like it is work – this is holiday freaking fun! You will do it and you will like it!

Whoa! Wait a minute! I’m not saying there aren’t fun moments, but let’s be honest. Life is rough on the regular! And in the next six weeks, we are going to slam some fun down your throat and expect you to get ‘er done with a smile on your face! Got it?!?

I call bullshit! Not bullshit on the holidays, but bullshit on the thought it is all fun and no work. My work schedule does not have an asterisk by it during the six-week holiday season. School isn’t on hold, at least for the entire time (which throws a whole other wrench in the plan, but that is for another post). We still have work, practice, school, require food and some sleep during this time and we are supposed to add in the holiday spirit without a glitch. Well…I. Call. Bullshit.

Shopping for outfits for an entire family that look presentable and ensuring they are clean is extra work. Coordinating schedules of said family and with another adult (aka photographer) in enough time to get a spot for the ‘mini-session’ then enough time to get pictures edited, create a holiday card, have cards shipped, addressed and mailed before the New Year is A LOT.

I am the mom that would die for my children, and in the same breath threaten to take their lives if they can’t act like they have some sense. My family can put on a hell of a Christmas card, and you can count on us keeping it real. To get my daughters to “dress up” with hair fixed the way I deem appropriate requires global-level negotiations. Mediation continues up until twenty minutes from departure time all the while tears and screaming on a continuous loop. By the time we are smiling for the camera, I have promised them Christmas in July, but we sure do make a pretty Christmas card.

Can we make a promise to ourselves this year? Please! Let’s be honest about the holidays. Let’s stop acting like everything is merry and bright and smells like cookies baking in the oven. The holidays are difficult. They are difficult on our checking accounts, our schedules, our sanity and our spirit.

For many of us, the holidays are a time of missing those who aren’t here anymore. Our nostalgic memories are filled with people we can no longer hold on to. The holidays can be a time of loneliness and pain, all the while watching the picture-perfect Hallmark movies set expectations of what the holidays are supposed to be (in 2 hours or less with commercials).

Instead of editing that social media post for thirty more minutes, reach out to someone and show kindness. Donate that thirty minutes to help someone else. Tell someone they mean something to you. Go to lunch with a friend who doesn’t have family. Make some necessity bags for people who have nothing. Instead of gifts for someone who has everything, do something for someone else without anything in return. And for the love of the Christmas tree, post some honesty, folks!

Post your kitchen after the baking is over. Tell stories in carpool to support each other, don’t give your holiday hit-list with everything your family is doing in matching tee-shirts. However, if your family is doing all the things in matching tee-shirts then GET IT GIRL, because it ain’t happening over here. We are lucky if everyone has clean underwear.

Let honesty and kindness guide us as we begin the countdown to crazytown and get swept away in joyfully-good-cheer.

I pledge show to some kindness this year and not post it to social media. I also pledge to post some truth to social media in the midst of the beautifulness of this joyful season.

We should celebrate the holidays. We all need time dedicated to our families and should be grateful that we have people to celebrate with. Our celebrations don’t have to be lined with glitter and bows. Our families are messy and should be celebrated anyway. Everyone has an Uncle Eddie (if you don’t know who I am referring to, then go watch Christmas Vacation- NOW- Stop reading and go!) and some of the best memories are made with an Uncle Eddie.

Since Christmas is now a two-month long celebration, can we take moment to breathe in middle of the whirlwind? Instead of dragging our assess across the finish line on the night of the 25th, take in the moments along the way. The smiles and wonderment of you children growing up right before your eyes. The tears and remembrance that comes with missing and honoring those we love who are gone. The laughter that ignites when we epically fail at finding the perfect gift. The peace that comes with times of solitude and reflection over another year coming to an end.

Take the smiles, the tears and laughs as they come because you are not guaranteed any holidays. The gift is that you get to keep on moving forward and that you have people who care enough to annoy you each and every year.

Good luck collecting the moments!

If you want to help and need direction of where to start, below is a great organization in need of necessity bags for victims of human trafficking. This group does amazing work! My family will be helping this year.

Women of the Well Ministry

If you don’t have time to shop and still want to help here is their Venmo account:

@WowMinisty

Photo shoot

Ruby & the Christmas Card

“Now listen up, people!” I feverishly eyeball my family in the rear view mirror as I pull into the park on two wheels. “We have fifteen-minutes to get a decent family picture for the Christmas card, so phones stay in the car. Books too, Laney. And no running, jumping, yelling, screaming or touching unless the photographer tells you too. I will not hesitate to shut the wi-fi down for the entire weekend. Got it?”

I watch a universal eye-roll from all of them. I can’t see Corey, but I assume he agrees with the mob, if he is listening to a word I say. In an attempt to decrease the amount of pain inflicted on all of us, I booked a “mini-session” which consists of fifteen minutes in a pre-determined location with just enough time for us to want to murder each other with fingers crossed for a good shot. I throw the van in park and my family falls out like hostages arriving to their execution.

“Hey Angela!” I wave to our photographer as I approach while she sets up the cozy holiday scene.

The rest of my family moves at snail-like speed, “Lets go. Pick-up the pace.” I hiss out under my breath.

“Are you ready for us?” She waves us over and begins to place us in the bed of a pick-up truck with giant wrapped presents. With six of us, we are squeezed pretty tightly with presents on each side. Already sweating, I take a deep breath to relax and accidentally let out a loud fart. Our neatly stacked family scrambles like roaches when the lights pop on.

“Oh give me a break! I wiped most of your asses, caught your puke and cleaned up your crap for years. It doesn’t smell that bad. Get back over here!”

My baby boy returns to the scene by climbing in the truck from the side.  “Stop it, Austin!” Of course before he can stop he tears a hole in his knee. I look up to the sky, “for the love of all that is holy.”

“Sorry, Mommy.” Austin bounces back into place.

Angela arranges us again in a loving family pose, only this time she has to hide Austin’s leg.

“Put your phone away, Andi!” James yells to distract me.

“You too, James.” Laney quietly throws out.

“Ugh, idiot.” Andi begrudgingly slides her phone in her pocket and James does the same.

The Star Wars theme song begins to play and Corey hops up to grab his phone. “Oh Ruby I really need to take this, honey.”

My face is stone. If I ever had the ability to shoot fireballs from my eyes, I pray today is that day. I imagine I resemble Darth Vader, daring Corey to move just one inch before I obliterate him and his phone.

He slides his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll call ‘em back in a few.”

My mask melts away and my best ‘I-love-my-family-and-the-holidays-so-much’ face returns just as Angela asks us all to look her way. I manage to spit out just loud enough for my family to hear, “you all better smile like your lives depend on it.”

CHEESE!

With a quick turnaround, I was able order the Christmas cards and an ornament for the tree. This is first family photo we’ve taken since Austin and after the shenanigans it took to get it, I’m not sure there will be another until they are grown. I head out to grab the mail, I’m excited to see the package from the print shop for Mrs. Ruby Errore. I can’t wait to check them out, so I pop open the box and look at my crazy, but beautiful family. Their smiles bring the tiniest of tear to my eye and remind me that even with the shenanigans, I am so grateful for the space they hold in my heart. As stressful as the holidays are, I do get nostalgic for all the memories that swarm in. From Andi’s first Christmas to the year I was pregnant with Austin and even when it was just me and Corey and Bambi, I love my crazy life and this crazy family of mine.

I’m not sure why it took me a second to look down at the message on the card. The nostalgia is quickly washed away while I shake my head in disbelief as I read:

Merry Christmas from the Mitchells

Michael, Trixie, Bob, Tatiana

Are you freaking kidding me? My family’s picture with the names of strangers and not even enough strangers at that. Who the hell are the Mitchells and why are they on my Christmas card? Did the Mitchells get a Christmas card with:

Merry Christmas from the Errores

Corey, Ruby, Andi, James, Laney, Austin

Standing in the driveway as the snow falls down around me on the 20th of December. I realize there is only one thing to do. I head inside, stamp and address all seventy-five cards and drop them in the mail.

Merry Christmas from the Errores and the Mitchells.

beautiful morning

Ruby & Claire Family Vacay

My arms are weak from the weight of the fun-filled bags. The straps from the discount beach bag digs into my arms while I try to balance the cooler full of juice boxes, water bottles and beer. My cute beach cover-up rides up my behind as my straw hat threatens to fly off my head. I pull the boogie boards behind me as I reach the top of dune hopping the umbrella doesn’t cause me to take flight down the beach.

“Ruby!” Claire calls out to me. I turn back toward the house only to find both of our families doubled-over laughing at me as I can only imagine how ridiculous I look. Claire snaps a picture, I assume with Snapchat. James appears to be recording and Laynie shakes her head. Austin runs my way with goggles on and there isn’t a dad in sight.

I shrug my shoulders only to give the umbrella enough wiggle room to open-up and throw me backwards down the dune tumbling with all my fun-baggage. I land on my back then greeted by my friend and her three-year-old who continues to feed from her breast.

“Holy crap, are you okay, Ruby?” Claire fawns over me.

“Fine. I’m fine.” I manage to moan out while I gather myself. “So much fun packed in these bags it took me for a ride.”

“Oh honey, it made for a great Snap!” Claire holds out her hand.

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure it did.” It is lunch time and we set up shop on the beach for that day. We started our morning here for the sunrise, however the sun decided to stay hidden. It remained behind the clouds while we waited somewhat patiently with seven children. However, their patience wore thin quickly and with promise of doughnuts, we watched the sun warm the sky to shades of pink and orange then we left.

Nine of us pile in the mini-van and Claire turns on GPS. “Head North on I-12 toward Duck Doughnuts” the sweet British woman in the speaker directs.

I look at Claire.

Claire looks at me. I shrug my shoulders. “Left or right, Claire?” Claire looks confused as she shrugs her shoulders at me.

“Hell if I know.” Not a soul on the road, and here we sit with no sense of direction.

The Brit yells at us “Head north!” I turn right out of sheer habit and I can hear the disdain in her accent, “Re-calculating.” All the kids grown. Austin predictably lets “shh” slip out until Andi corrects him. I bust a U-turn and “head north” as I was originally instructed to do and we arrive to Duck Doughnuts at exactly 6:00am only to find no lights on.

“Seriously, Mom, I thought you said they would be open! I need a latte!” Andi pipes from right behind me. “I’m hungry, Mommy.” Samson sweetly pledges from the back row. I squint to see the hours of operation. Open at 7:00am. Shit. Plan B. Distract and Deflect. “Who wants McDonalds?”

I had planned a jam-packed day. We were taking a ferry to another island. We had wild horses to see. And to top off the day Marcus made reservations at the best seafood place on the island. He had not stopped going on and on about how amazing this place was. This was the first vacation experience either of our families had with another family. Claire and I had been on trips together but never with our families in tow. We are taking our friendship to a new level and it involves co-parenting.

“I have never been more underwhelmed.” Claire’s husband, Marcus reports with a smirk on his face.

“There were horses as promised.” Corey pipes up in my defense. If there was a way to speak an eye-roll, I would do it.

“I didn’t make any promises. I just said there would be horses and horses there were.”

“The boat ride was nice.” Claire pipes in with Samson on her hip.

“It’s a ferry, Claire.” I spit out of frustration. We all sit down to dinner at Casey’s Crab Shack, voted best local seafood on the island.

Marcus makes his restaurant research well-known, since we are eating as his pick. “I’ve heard the blue crab is the best around. Let’s get four pounds for the adults and four local beers.” Marcus looks my way and gives me a wink and the cheesiest smile, “this is gonna be the highlight of the day.” Involuntary eye-roll.

We let the kids order at will with no direction. It has been an eventful day on the sea. We met corralled mini-ponies when we were promised wild horses by the brochure. It was a huge let down after we took the ferry across the inlet to see the famous wild horses on the beach. I wanted this trip to be epic and as a recovering people-pleaser, I struggle with not taking on other people’s experiences.

We drink our beers and begin to laugh at the how the day unfolded. I was able to accept the laughter and let go of the criticism. Even without our storybook-fantasy moment with the horses on the beach, we made memories today. We laughed today and I loosened up and became comfortable with things not going as planned. “Underwhelmed” was our new catchword and it was funny. With all of my planning and preparing, I didn’t schedule in random events that would make for the best memories. “Blue crab up!” The waitress sits two platters full of crab on the table.

“Dig in, y’all! I’m first!” Marcus grabs the crab claw and the first crab. After he examines the smaller than what we expected crab, he shrugs his shoulders and begins to crack it open. Claire, Corey and myself follow suit.

When the four of us are on our third crab, Austin pops up to the adult table. “Yuck, Mommy! That looks like poop?” I look at Austin and then to my plate, where I found what must have been the intestine of the late crab I had just cracked into. When Austin pointed it out, it was plain as day though I had already eaten two previous crab and apparently their inner goods along with it. I throw the crab cracker down and pull the napkin to my face to hide my complete disgust and to keep whatever had already gone down, down.

Claire, Marcus and Corey do the same. The four of us look at each other and Claire swings her head toward Marcus “How underwhelming is having crab shit for dinner, Marcus?” The four of us laugh out loud and the kids follow our lead. This memory will be enjoyed for years to come. Priceless moments like this! The lesson of the day-crab shit is worse than mini-ponies!

A Ring for Ruby

(It's a long one, but it's worth - PROMISE!)

I just LOVE my birthday. I mean HATE it! A reminder that I spent another year swimming in chaos like a wild monkey in the Amazon river. As I flounder about always fighting against the current, I watch the rest of the world float by on their lazy river raft of peace and serenity, gawking at my dumpster fire life on full display. I stop and remember, I have four healthy, beautiful kids.  A husband, who is charmingly oblivious to the madness. A roof over my head and Lego pieces under my bare feet. And for being ‘not-40-yet’, I am healthy and strong.

Just like any other Wednesday morning, I am up before the sun. I tip-toe across the kitchen, waltzing around the boards I know will creek and crack as I make my way to the back door to let Bambi out before she wakes the entire house. Luckily, Bambi scurries out the back door undetected by the rest of the house. I set the coffee pot to auto-brew last night, so the coffee is steaming ready by the time I get to it. I pull out my French Vanilla creamer from the fridge as I watch the morning blend turn to a perfect golden river of delight. I sit on the couch in the dark of the living room with the glowing green light of the Blueray player. I hold my “I’m so fancy” mug with both hands up to my nose as I smell the vanilla and coffee beans fragrances collide.

I close my eyes. Just like my meditation app tells me, I picture the peace roll through my mind and I take a deep breath.  Yes. Peace. An unfamiliar feeling, so I enjoy this rare treat. I. Am. At. Pe…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!!!

My eyes bounce open as my fancy mug shatters into four thousand pieces on the hardwood floor. My robe is soaking wet and smelling like my vanilla bean coffee dream. I see my youngest son with a party hat on, no pants and an “oh-shit” look on his face.

Unfortunately, the celebration of my birth is not a national holiday, which means this life of chaos does not pause. Everyone must get to school. We have three practices after dismissal. I have a conference call with my supportive sales group for Be You make-up line, meet my girlfriends for lunch, run by the salon to touch-up my own hair and lastly, reservations at my favorite restaurant for the six of us.

Corey and Andi, walk back in from swim practice at about 6:30. It’s best no one speaks to her until she showers and is completely ready. Our baby boy, Austin, still pant-less, comes running out of his room and hits the breaks as Andi passes him in the hall. Austin believes she can turn us stone with her glare. After she passes and slams the bathroom door, Austin runs into the kitchen, swings open the fridge door, scales the shelves to reach his juice all before I can get his full name out of my mouth. Just as quickly he glides into my lap at the table, wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek. “Sorry about this morning, Mommy. Hope it didn’t fu- I mean mess up your birthday.”

“Nice catch there, buddy, and no it didn’t ruin anything.” He is equal parts sweetness and mischief.

Laynie, who most likely has been up since 5:30, is already fully dressed quietly reading in living room. Her gentle spirit and old soul are a grounding force in this house. Without looking up from her book she soft but sternly says, “Leaving in thirty-five minutes. James isn’t up yet.”

I jump to my feet with the reminder, and yell down the stairs for James. I hear an inaudible grumble, but at least he is conscious. About thirty-two minutes later, James appears along with Andi who has transformed into her human self. James looks like he rolled out of bed into clothes from the floor.

Laynie is already heading out the door with book in hand and her to-go hot tea, “time to go.” Andi grabs Austin’s hand and he silently obeys, while James is head down in his phone walking toward the door. Corey kisses my cheek and says “Happy Birthday, Baby. I’ll see you tonight. Enjoy your day.”

Successful drop-off is checked off the list, so I head toward the salon get myself together. Just as I begin my old-school 80’s hair bands jam session, my phone interrupts and my mother’s face appears. The woman loves FaceTime and refuses to text or talk on the phone like regular people in their 60’s. I begrudgingly hit the accept button.

“Hey Mom.” Her picture turns to live action and I spot her huge sunglasses and a cocktail in her hand. It’s 9:15am in The Keys.

“Happy Birthday, Darling! How is your morning going?” She takes a sip.

Like a majority of people, my mother doesn’t want a truthful answer.

 “Great! It has been a wonderful morning. What’s new with you?” Another question that does not really want a truthful response.

 “Oh honey, we have been so busy lately. Daddy started in a golf league, so I started in a tennis league. The schedules do not coincide, so we are coming and going from the house to club and missing each other. It’s been so crazy!”

Thank the good Lord have on the largest sunglasses I own so I can’t reveal my true thoughts.

“Well that sounds like a lot to manage, mom.” That is all I can manage to spit out appropriately.

My mother is silent, which is an unusual behavior for her. I glance at my screen to see if the call froze.

“Ruby, take off your sunglasses. I want to see your face.”

I see that my mother has taken her glasses off and her judgement face on.

“Oh Ruby, you are so pale! And what is happening with your hair? I hope you aren’t planning on working like that today. It’s your birthday, sweetheart, take some time to fix yourself up. What’s the name of that make-up you are selling these days?” She shakes her head as she talks and finishes with a sip of her drink and putting her sunglasses back on. I do the same with my coffee and glasses.

“Well mom I am heading to the salon right now to fix the situation and to be honest this morning I didn’t have time because of the four children I had to get ready and transport to school after cleaning up a coffee spill and broken mug after my son tried to surprise me for my birthday. So, the hair and make-up portion of the morning was rescheduled. And the make-up is called Be You. I actually have a conference call today about the new spring products.”

She cuts me off quickly, “well good thing you have time to head to the salon first, Ruby. I don’t know how much make-up you can sell without putting it on.”

“I’m pulling into the salon, Mom so I will have to catch up with you later. Love you!”

“Oh, Happy Birth…” is all she gets out before I hit end and exhale. I am still 15 minutes from the salon, but that was all I could handle of my mother’s birthday wishes.

I arrive at the salon early enough to enter alone. I can throw some color in my hair and catch my breath under the dryer for a few minutes as I scroll the birthday wishes from FaceBook. My text messages disappear as the incoming FaceTime pops up from my up-line for Be You. What the hell?

I scurry to my purse, grab my calendar and feverishly turn to today’s date. I know it’s 1:00. She told me the meeting is 1:00. My reminder in my phone says 1:00. The notes in my calendar says 10:00.

SHIT!

I have color in my hair, no make-up on and a stained white tee-shirt. I am supposed to present on “Practicing What You Preach. Marketing Yourself to Sale Your Product.” I look in the mirror and shake my head. Seriously?!

I answer the call with audio only. I have to stall. “Good Morning, Team! How is everyone today?” I take out the foil in my hair as quietly as possible. I must think fast so I don’t screw this up.

“Good Morning, Ruby. We can’t see you. Do we have a bad connection?” I hear my up-line support nervous on the other end.

“That is so weird. I wonder what the problem is. I can see you all. Can you hear me okay? I never have this problem my phone or connection. Super weird. Let me move around and see if I can get a better signal. You know sometimes technology fails us when we are just trying to be more productive. Am I right?”

I keep talking trying to buy some time as I slick my hair back in a bun to avoid showing the fresh color that is still cooking on my hair. I throw on some eye-shadow and mascara and slap on some of the new bright lip gloss to ensure it is noticeable. Just as I hear one of the other call participants try to end the call, I take a breath and hit the video button.

“Oh there you all are! I almost gave up. So sorry about that. How is everyone this morning? I don’t want to waste any more of your time so I will jump right in. Today I wanted to present my new approach to focusing on our brand. Many times women try to hid behind their hair and I want to challenge that thought by no longer hiding your face but pulling back your hair to enhance your face. Show the world your beauty without the comfort of your hair barrier. This way, our product has a place to shine.”

The words are rolling off my tongue like I had been pitching this idea my entire life. I watch as the heads begin to nod and the smiles grow. My up-line even gives me a nod with a thumbs up. Before the call was over, I had all 10 people on-board for my brilliant new marketing scheme that I made up this morning.      

The call was ending after thirty-five minutes, which was twenty minutes longer than the color was supposed to be in my hair. I hang up the phone and run to the sink to wash. I can instantly tell this is not a good look. Today, I have become a blonde.

When I shut the door to the van and turn the ignition, I realize it’s 11:05. I’m late for lunch! And I’m off again playing catch-up.

I roll into lunch on two wheels. I am only twenty minutes late so for me it’s right on time. I walk into Ramsi’s courtyard and scan the crowd for my girls. My friends have been my friends for 25 years. I sometimes think my level of maturity decreases the moment we get together, and the laughing begins.

I spot them at a corner table and as I approach, hippy-chic-all-you-need-is-love-Claire is wrapping up feeding her two-year-old…from her breast. I restrain from shaking my head at the fact that Samson is two, with teeth, and a full vocabulary that allows him to request “breast” when he is hungry, because this is Claire. Instead of her famous catch-phrase from high school, “Bring it bitches” she can now be quoted most days reminding all of us “It’s fine, it’s natural.”

Annalise is the first to rise and hug me. “Blonde, huh? Happy Birthday, Ruby! I’m glad you can join us.” She gives me an unapproving glance and I give her a shrug with a “sorry-not-sorry” expression and simply reply, “I’ll play the birthday card, Lise, thank you very much. Blondes have more fun, right?” Annalise, is a very successful marketing executive for a men’s clothing company, which prompts a constant stream of curse words flowing from her feminist mouth when her job is to build up male egos all day long. Diamond studs the size of my thumb nail, golden blond highlights, a runner’s figure and just-done-make-up-counter-face would make me hate her if I didn’t love her

“Okay, Ruby it has to be said, you must stop with the Snapchat. I mean I can’t even understand your voice and you look like an idiot. What the hell is so funny about you with a beard and the voice of a creeper? I was walking into a meeting when I click on your face to hear that horrific voice tell me ‘I’m too sexy for this hat.’ I mean seriously. What the hell am I supposed to respond to that?”

Claire snorting as she responds “I watched it twice! Samson and I were at the Farmers Market I couldn’t stop laughing! I love Snapchat! It’s therapeutic.”

“Thank you, Claire! I agree. It’s just fun, Lise. Live a little. Send me a Snap and see how it feels.” I grab her arm and urge her.

“I can’t even.” Annalise shakes her head.

I swivel to Claire, “And sweetheart,” I gently grab her arm, “for the love of all that is holy, please put your boob up before sending a Snap. I don’t need to see your breasts while you have butterflies floating around your head and a rainbow tongue.”

Claire giggles, “oh honey, it’s natural. I don’t know what the big deal is. You need to embrace your body and all that it can do. Get over yourself and be free, sister!”

“Oh hell! This is what I am talking about! Give me a freaking break! Boobs and SnapChat? Is this what we have been reduced to? I just can’t even.” Annalise’s head is in her hands and we all cackle.

With a whirlwind of aviator sunglasses, leather leggings and rock star zipper jacket enters Kate. Before she makes it to the table, she waves at the waiter and orders a martini with 3 olives and a bottle of champagne. I stand to greet her and she wraps me up in the biggest hug.

“Buon Compleanno, Bella!” Kate warmly wishes.

“Show off!” Annalise rolls her eyes.

“Grazie” I respond and shake my head at Annalise.

“Ladies, how is everyone?” Kate takes off her glasses and jacket as she sits down. Before we can respond, “I am so sorry my flight was delayed but I did not want to miss this. Anyway, so first to turn 39, Ruby, and blonde all in the same day? Do we need to call someone, is this the first signs of a breakdown?” Kate sips her martini as the waiter opens the champagne.

“Funny, Kate, but no. Not a breakdown. A new year, a new do.” I throw it out there to see if it will stick. All three of my girls go silent. “Okay, I forgot I had a conference call when I was at the salon I had to leave the color on too long while did my pitch and this was the outcome. Satisfied?”

“There is it!” Annalise raises her glass.

“You never disappoint, Ruby!” Claire is snorting and takes a sip of her champagne.

I join in the laughter because with these girls, it doesn’t matter. The laughter is filled with love not judgement and every woman needs a place she could be brutally honest and blonde by accident.

Rolling down the expressway at 80mph with the windows down makes it a struggle to hear my daughter, Andi, yell at me through my cell phone.

“Honey, I can’t hear you but I am getting off the expressway right now.”

“No way you are, Mom! I hear the wind! You are still on the highway!”

“I have to go. I can’t hear you. See you in 5.” I hang up because I am already late, so arguing won’t help the situation. After the shuffle of little people back and forth to the four corners of town, I hop out of the shower to get ready for my birthday dinner.

We are seated immediately due to my impeccable planning. I order a glass of wine. I request everyone’s devices and announce that my birthday celebration is device free. There is eye rolling and groaning, but at a surprisingly lower rate. I take a sip of wine and my shoulders relax just as I feel a hand on one of them.

“Ruby? Is that you? OMG! I can’t believe it!” I can hardly make out the words through her shrills, but I would recognize that vernacular anywhere. It’s Lindsey Liner. She graduated in my class, and not someone I call a friend, more like “mean girl bitch”.

I hesitantly stand up to greet her and meet her family dressed in coordinating outfits like they are fresh from a Vineyard Vines photoshoot. Lindsey with her designer bag on her arm, hair and nails freshly done, and party pink lipstick in tow.

“Wow, Lindsey, how are you?” The second time I asked that question today when I did not want the answer to it.

“I’m great! Just busy you know with four children, it’s always something. I barely have enough time to take care of myself, but you know you have to make sure you are taken care of before you take care of everyone else. That’s my mantra. YOLO!”

She really did just say “YOLO” out loud. Wow. 

“What are you doing these days Ruby? I am so blessed to be at home with my babies. You know how important that is when they are young.”

I always hate the question about what I am “into these days” because I am into a lot of stuff. I get just a little self-conscience and feel like people will judge me, but today that feeling has left me for the time being.

“You know Lindsey, I am into a lot of things, but it all works out so I can keep these four busy. I’m sure you can relate.” That was the most mature response I can come up with. “We are here celebrating my birthday tonight and just relaxing after a busy day of practices.” I didn’t feel the need to run off the list of accomplishments of my kids, talk about my multiple businesses or our most recent vacation. I felt at peace keeping it light and not needing to compare. I must be growing up.

“OMG! So are we! We are here celebrating my birthday too!” She turns to her table of inattentive family members. “Did you all here that? Ruby’s family is here for her birthday too!” Isn’t that funny!” No one replied or even looked up from their devices. With her embarrassment showing, Lindsey turned back around and began to try and spin this. “They are so hungry I better get over here so we can order. You know bedtime isn’t too far off!” She raised her index finger and waved it at me like a scolding mother. I can’t imagine what life must be like in that family, but I am certain it involves a large amount of matching wardrobes.

My life and my home may be as chaotic as tornado season in the mid-west, but at least it is real and at least I am participating in it. My shit-show may be on full display and maybe I haven’t quite figured out how to hide my crazy, however this life is mine and these people, mix-matched and all, love me and each other. Just then Austin hands me a Santa Clause gift bag and I look at Corey who shrugs and smiles. I open the bag to find four handmade birthday cards from each of my darlings babes. I start to tear-up because that is what I do.

I dig into my Christmas wrapped birthday gift and find a soft black box I pull open to find a sparkling white gold ring with 4 stones in a vertical line. With the ruby on top, followed by rich amethyst, shimmering emerald and iridescent diamond to complete the stack of birthstones of my babies.

As I take the ring from the box to put it on, the waitress pops back into our picture-perfect moment, “are we good on drinks here?” And scares the living shit out of me! I toss the ring in air and it lands in the bowl of oil on the Hibachi grill.

There is a simultaneous gasp from my family of six as the chef approaches the table to begin our show. It was like one of the nightmares where you lose the power of speech. You are screaming and no one can hear you. The remainder of the restaurant staff is at Lindsey’s table next to our’s, serenading her and banging on the drums at the volume of a marching band. The ladle dips into the bowl and dumps not only oil but my ring! Austin hops up on the U-shaped stainless-steel table with no regard for his own safety. I grab him with one arm right before his little fingers hit the scalding hot grill. Andi is screaming his name, while James is flagging down the cook to get his attention before he starts to chop up my ring in the middle of his workstation. Corey is standing now, yelling with his hands cupped around his mouth with hopes of projecting his voice enough to stop the progression of the show. However, the chef is oblivious to us all, including Laynie who has come to her feet and shrieking in horror to stop this freight train of disaster slamming into our dinner.

The chef finally looks up with bulging eyes and stops right before taking his sword-like knives to the onion on the grill alongside my ring. I catch my breath long enough to say “Stop! My ring is on the grill!” He leans over and picks up my ring with his spatula and silently brings it to meet my hand. I take the oily bobble and graciously smile at the man, then begin to sit down only to find that Corey must have kicked over my chair in the commotion so my ass lands on the floor with Austin on top of me. By this time, I have noticed the quietness that has come over the restaurant and the pairs of eyes watching this catastrophic birthday celebration unfold for all to witness. Even the Liner family found our shenanigans more entertaining than their devices.

I take a deep breath and ask Austin to hop up to his feet. I stand up and wave to the crowd as the all applaud like they do at the kids ballgames when a hurt player makes it to their feet to walk off the field. Even the drummers give me a few beats as I come to my feet. Corey turns my chair over and I double check that it is stable before I go to sit back down. I open my hand to find my oil-drenched ring intact and I don’t even care about the rest.

“Thank you for my beautiful ring, guys. I love it.”As I am soaking in my tub with my third glass of wine, reviewing the day. My crazy life is entertaining, and I know exactly what I need to do. I pick up my phone and scroll through my apps. I pull up the filters and find the old lady with the mousey voice, big hair, glasses and horrible heart-shaped lipstick. I begin to tell the overview of my day ending with me on my ass and Lindsey Liner laughing. I hit send to my three girls and cackle to myself thinking of Annalise’s reaction when she watches it.

I sit down my phone lay my head back and think “Happy Birthday to me.”