I’m finding that my unhappiness stems from the commotion and agitation of some of the other people around me. My ex-husband and his fiance battling first degree murder charges in court and the effect on my kids and I. The change wave at work, that while overall positive, is causing many around me to feel uncomfortable, threatened even.  But these things….they’re not mine to own.  This is not my commotion or unrest.  Finding a way to ensure that my heart and mind stay serene and calm while paddling through other people’s storms…that’s the challenge.

So for my next 12 months, I’ll be thinking, living, breathing, tranquility.  My house will be a tranquil reserve for my children to forget about the drama in their father’s life. My office will be a quiet reserve for others to come, work through the changes, find the beauty in making more of a historic company. I will work to make my mind calm, collected in my thoughts, and un-panicked by those around me. And my heart will remain still with the knowledge that I’ve found someone who walks through life with me, holding my hand, encouraging me to be more, while assuring me that I am and always will be enough.

Baseball season is a true commitment, even for me. Practices, games, driving here and there. Laundry three times a week to be sure his uniform is always clean. It’s a commitment for Will.  When other kids are going to the pool during they day, he stays home on game days so that he’s not too tired to play. When you get to the field, you have to be up. You have to be ready. The heat can’t hold you back. Rain can’t hold you back. You have to have desire. He does…every day. Every year, I wonder, will he not want to play this year.  Is this the year he grows tired of the commitment, of the rigor, of the effort…and every year, he’s eager and excited to sign up.

This year was no different. He played hard. He improved.

I was proud of him.

I was proud of the team.

I was proud of the coaches.

Until last night.

The head coach was out. The team was playing for third place against a select team. They’d beat this team before and could do it again. They were up 8 to 3 at the top of the 4th inning. My son rode the bench. By the middle of the 5th inning, he came over to the end of the dugout and asked the crowd if he was “the worst baseball player ever” and broke into tears. This still breaks my heart.  This team is a pay to play team. They are not select. It’s about teaching young men to learn and love baseball. Sometimes winning happens, sometimes it doesn’t.  But the back-up coaches didn’t get that last night.  They failed to play about 4 or 5 of the boys fairly, because they’re not the STAR players.  They took a time out and removed a player from right field when a left handed batter came up. They broke the spirit of the boys that had gotten them to the semi-finals.  Even the good players, saw what was happening and weren’t happy about it.  They went too far for the win.

I know some people wished all season long that the head coach had done more reprimanding or held more practices, to make the boys EVEN BETTER.  But this coach understood that his job was to keep the boys improving, interested and enjoying the game. He taught them that they win as a team and they lose as a team.  These other coaches forgot that.  These other coaches, in a few thoughtless actions and words, crushed the dreams of impressionable boys on the verge of becoming men. Through their actions, they taught the boys that you can sacrifice anything as long as you want to win enough. That’s not why my son plays baseball. He plays for the uniform. He plays for his team. He plays for the love of the game.   I love seeing him in his uniform. I love watching the boys learn over the course of the season how to play like a team.

Go Royals!

I do not shelter my children from EVERYTHING. They were there when we had to put our beloved lab down. But, I allowed them to chose when and how they wanted to participate.  Life is hard, but children are innocent and I believe they should be allowed to be that way as long as they’re willing.In my house, for now, my middle schooler still believes in the tooth fairy, the easter bunny and santa claus. I know that he knows better, but he wants these things to still be magical and real and he’s 11, I’m not ready to tell him he can’t have that.  He has lots of years left for life to real, non-magical and, quite frankly, hard. My daughter is a natural worrier. If there are storm clouds in the sky, she’s concerned about tornados. She tells herself that if the clouds are in certain areas of the sky, that means the storm is not going to come our way. I don’t always correct her, if I know it’s just going to rain after she goes to bed, what’s the harm in letting her feel comfort.

But at his house, my son is allowed to play Call of Duty and see Resident Evil, because her son does. In my house, this is a no-go. Who needs to see the digital representation of war or truly horror filled moments when you can play baseball with guys with no arms. At his house, my daughter was told that she will get breast cancer some day because my maternal grandmother had it and eventually died from it.  In my house, they know that Grandma Birdie taught me how to quilt and sew, made them so many things in their infancy, and loved them more than they will ever remember.  At his house, my children were told that nothing “Australian” could come into the house, because her ex is from there…and they hate that. In my house, we love and embrace truly Australian things, like koala bears, kangaroos, and Crocodile Dundee. At his house, they know that their dad and his girlfriend met on Match.com and that they will likely never get married again, because that just ends in divorce and divorce is ugly. In my house, they learn that Mike loves them as if they were his own children and that he is committed to both them and me. They know that we will plan the wedding together and that we will all go into this relationship knowing that divorce is not an option.

It breaks my heart to hear some things that my children hear or know or do when they are not with me.  And it’s so hard to choose which battles are worth fighting and which are better left alone. All I know how to do is love them fiercely when they’re with me and do everything I can to let them be little.  I regret that I cannot protect them as often as my heart desperately wants to.

Some days, that bar I set seems so far out of my reach.  I lose my temper.  I yell when I should just walk away.  I don’t leave us enough time and get all panicky and shouty when we’re running late.  I CAN’T. STAND. THEIR. FIGHTING…and so I send them to their rooms for alone time, or make them sit on the couch and hold hands until I’m no longer frustrated.  I forget things…lunches, bookfair  money, early school dismissals, you know the drill.  My biggest regret in my children’s life is that they will, for the rest of their lives, have two homes.  In the days when my divorce was imminent, I don’t think that in my mind, I could even see the bar from where I was. But I made sure that I found a place that would be home for them.  They each had their own room with their name over the door.  There would be no mistake that they belonged and that it was home.  It seems that it never gets easier, sharing custody of them.  I never want to see them go.  I call them every night they’re with their father.  I regret not being able to read to them before bed (yes, even at 11 and 7 we still do that) tuck them in those nights and kiss my daughter’s head or ruffly my son’s hair.  I am sad because I know that their father does not do these things with them. 

What I have learned is that in this quest for the perfect mother award, I have tripped and fallen on my face more than I care to admit.  I regret that I have to share my time with them and them with me.  I have to be careful not to let these small moments keep me down.    Because, what I do know is this…

I am the best mother for them that I know how to be.

I love them unconditionally.

Children need both a mother and a father…and while he may not nurture them like I do…I sure as hell am not going to pick up a snake and teach them all that I can about it.

No matter how much I want it, I will never be perfect;  no one is.  But I do know that I am the perfect mother for my children.

I may never win Mother of the Year accolades, but when my children look back on their childhood, they will remember me.  Always by their side. Cheering them on. Teaching them right from wrong.  Holding their hands.  Treating their wounds. Laughing with them.  Loving them wholly for who they are.  For that, I will gladly accept an Honorable Mention.

I dropped my kids off at their father’s at bed time and raced to his house for a celebratory drink and early bed time.  **Side note:  Who the HELL goes on vacation on a 5 am flight??? Me apparently**  When I got there, much to my dismay, he was working.  Because he’s a computer geek for a bank, his hours are highly variable.  He assured me that he’d still have a drink with me, we’d just have to celebrate in the office, instead of the bedroom dining room.  I poured us each a drink and went about putting the last few items in the bag.  I was wrapping up my fidgeting and stopped in to see how his work was coming.  I’ve almost got it, he said.  I sat with him for what seemed like an hour, quietly watching him work.  Then I kissed him on the head and told him I was heading to bed, as it was already 10 pm.  I was going through my nightly routine when I heard him get up from his desk and head into the bedroom.  I assumed he was giving up and turning in too. But when I got to the bedroom, he wasn’t there…he was back in his office.  I teasingly chided him for being too committed to his job and started climbing into bed.  He came in, grabbed me gently by the shoulders and turned me around.  He said a few things, equally awkward and sweet, and then in the most tender way, asked me if I’d marry him.  Now, with all the impending beauty of sunsets, beaches, oceans, boats, romance and RUM…this was the LAST thing I had expected, but I said the first thing that came to my mind.  I said, “Of course I will.”  It wasn’t a spectacular moment, not one for the history books or a Lifetime movie, but in his way, it was VERY romantic…and a moment I’ll never forget. 

This is where one would assume the proposal was over, however, it wasn’t.  After a sleepless night of anticipation, we were sitting quietly on the plane and he leaned over to me and whispered, “you never did actually say yes”.  I grinned coyly at him and said, “I didn’t?”  He assured me I hadn’t and repeated my words to him.  With a twinkle in my eye, I said, “well if that’s the answer you’re looking for, you’re going to have to keep asking.”  And ask he did. 

Day 1: He asked when we landed in St. Thomas.  “I’d love that”, I said.

Day 2: He asked as we watched the sunset from the balcony bar in the hotel. “Sure”, I giggled.

Day3: He asked on the boat, as we headed towards St. Johns. “Mmmhmmm,” I affirmed.

Day 4: He asked from atop the highest point on St. Thomas, as we shared an amazing rum drink and took in the view. “Okay!” I toyed with him.

Later that night, when we returned to our room, there was a live band playing on the patio directly below our balcony.  We ordered drinks to the room and sat outside, listening to them play and reliving the amazing moments of our trip, thus far.  The band slowed the tempo down and we danced together, so close and almost still, under the moonlight.  It was at that moment, he said, “Will you marry me.”  and the only answer I had for him was…yes.

So when Mike and I were first dating, I made some stupid off-hand comment about never getting married again.  And for just a split second, a look of hurt flashed across his face.  I never said those words out loud again…although, there was still a part of me that thought that.  Then months later, we were arguing about something small, and we both recognized early on that it was me…carrying my baggage of my past relationship.  He said to me, “I’m not him…let me make my own mistakes.”  And it hit me, like a ton of bricks.  Just because I’d failed once, didn’t mean I was destined to fail again.  In fact, I was now armed with experience and knowledge of what can happen.”  And so I let him be him…and he failed and I failed, but we did it together.  And when we fail, we talk about it.  And when we hurt one another, we talk about it.  And when we are feeling lonely or needy, we tell one another.  I learned to be vulnerable with him.  That if I tell him my feelings, he will listen and he will HEAR me.  I learned that a relationship is never cemented, it’s one day at a time.  Every day a blessing, every day a battle, every day important.  So Mike and I, we talk, every day.  We talk about little things, we talk about big things.  We share our frustrations of work.  We share our successes at work or fitness or parenting.  He and I, we’re a team…every day.

So when he asked if I would spend the rest of my life with him, the only answer I could have possibly given was yes.  (Well, actually I said, sure…which led him to ask me about 6 more times over the next 4 days until he heard the answer he truly wanted, but that’s a story for another day.) Because, together we will build a marriage, one brick, one talk, one kiss, one day at a time.  Never forgetting that to say I do, is to say I will, each day for the rest of my life.

Anxiously Engaged,

Angi

Getting a  Mother’s Day card from your daughter that simply states…”You make me smile”…and telling her that the sight of her face and the sound of her voice do the same thing for you everyday.

Flowers brought home and put in a vase, for no reason…and stopping to smell them, each time you pass by.

When your son is in a snuggling mood all day….even when he’s 11…and not letting the length of your to-do list push him away.

Coming home from the longest day ever, to find that the dishwasher has been emptied and reloaded…and thanking your family for helping to carry the load.

Being greeted at the door by your pets when you get home…they missed you so much while you were gone…and taking a moment to pet each one.

The smile from your kids when you show up somewhere they don’t expect you…and realizing that merely the sight of you brightened their day.

Being wrapped up in your lover’s arms… and taking the time to hug back.

Seeing your kids play together…without fighting…and stopping for a moment to enjoy the show.

When your best friend sends you a note,  just to say she’s thinking of you…and taking the time to tell her you’re lucky to have her in your life.

Every day, something happens that allows for happiness.  Choosing to acknowledge it, feel it and let it consume you is the difference between being happy and pursuing happy.  It’s the everyday small things, that if we take the time to recognize how they make us feel, will keep us fulfilled and happy. 

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.  ~Robert Brault

But I have spent the last three days thinking about it.  And baggage, while a heavy troublesome load some days, also allows us to carry the courage to resolve little things before they become the big things that hurt in the past.  We have places to house the lessons we’ve learned.  Baggage holds dear the secrets that we’ve kept to ourselves but somehow when we let those secrets out of the bag, we grow.  We’re stronger in our own right.  We’re stronger in our relationships. In the end, our load is lighter, because someone is eventually willing to help us carry our baggage.

With a fuller heart and a lesser burden,

Angi

You see, the man and I got engaged while on vacation.  Which is awesome in ways I haven’t figured out how to put in words.  Originally, my plan, after my divorce, was to NEVER under any circumstances marry again.  Plans change…and that’s the best part.  The man…he gets me.  He’s been my friend for 17, almost 18 years.  When I first got separated, he helped me find a million sort of insane things that I could do to prove to myself that I was strong enough, tough enough and smart enough to stand on my own.  He wasn’t “the man” then…he was just a friend, but he knew what I needed.  When he asked me on that first date about a year ago…that was NOT in the plan.  I said all the things that girls do when friends ask them out.  “I don’t want to ruin the friendship.”   “What if it doesn’t work out.” “I don’t want things to change between us.”  I got very sage advice from my bff, who said…”Just by asking, things have already changed.  Do you want things to change because you were afraid to try or because you find that you’re better friend than anything else?”  So…again…the plan changed.

So when he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, that was easy.  I could say yes to that. THAT is my plan.  But, conditionally I said, I couldn’t plan a wedding, yet.  He agreed.  Our answer when people have asked is that we’ll get married sometime between now and 2015.  I thought I’d plan an engagement party, just to celebrate the here and now…but I can’t plan.  At first, I was maybe a little scared by all of this, but I think my lack of desire to “plan”  has more to do with being content.  I don’t need a wedding or other big affair…I’ve done that.  Maybe I can’t plan “an event” because I’m just planning “our life”.  And maybe that’s ok…