OUCH

I have spent the evening working and trying to ignore the fact that it is Valentine's Day - much easier to spend the evening alone on Valentine's Day when it's on a school night. Saturday night gives it a bit of an ouch this year. The ouch is ouchier knowing that my son is out with his dad and his dad's girlfriend, trying to teach the girlfriend's son how to take his mom on a date. OUCH.

My 2009 Valentine's Day loot:
- Card, candy and cash(!) from my mom - she knows I need to feel loved!
- Card from Dorothy, a college friend who sends a card on every holiday to every person she has ever known
- Card from local realtor offering "A HEARTfelt thanks for all your continued support!" She actually left two of these cards on my porch AND they are accompanied by a miniature bag of Sweethearts. Awww. I'm going to pretend she didn't leave the card on every single porch in the neighborhood.

Not a great pull this year. Of couse, it's better than two years ago when the only cards I got were from Dorothy (of course) and my therapist. Can you say LOSER?

Tip #2 (tip #1 was to help her get her Christmas tree out of the attic) for being kind to a single mom: SEND HER A CARD ON VALENTINE'S DAY. Remind her that she is loved. Come on people. Doesn't anyone remember that Valentine's Day could be a big downer for those of us who used to be wined and dined and are now stuck at home on Valentine's night trying to make money to pay bills that we never used to worry about?

MAKING PROGRESS

Here's a quick update on progress for my 2009 goals (Pretty cool I already need an update, and it's only Jan. 11. Ha.):

1. Declutter - I cleaned out the large closet in my office while I was putting my Christmas decorations away in the closet. Makes me happy just to see all those nutcrackers and assorted gift bags lined up so neatly. Next up is my pantry. I hope to save some money this month by eating things I already have (brilliant, I know) Who knows what four-year-old tasty treats I'll find?!?!

2. Try new church - I have visited a new church twice now. I like it. It's very large, and I heard that the singles and single parents all kind of sit in one area towards the top. I sat near the top and looked around - I think I was sitting near the high schoolers (or, God help me, the singles are REALLY YOUNG there). I'll try a different section next time.

3. Get on Facebook - Spent last evening with a friend looking through her Facebook account and at all of her "friends" and her friends "friends." I can tell that it will be quite addictive. We studied up on various people and decided that we both need to have "fun" pictures on our page (as in "I may be a single mom but I really like to be all carefree and have fun.") However, these photos are just not easy to come by. We're thinking about staging some with random neighbors.

4. Exercise and losing weight - No comment.

BE IT HEREBY RESOLVED...

It's already Jan. 6, and I have yet to wrap my brain around goals for 2009. There's this brief window of opportunity for me: if I don't spend some time thinking through goals for the new year between Dec. 31 and Jan. 2, then life starts happening, and I get too busy to actually plan my life.

I do have a few resolutions in mind. They're not very organized and a bit random, but here we go:

1. Declutter - Did you see that guy on Oprah? Set the timer, get throw-away and give-away trash bags and attack a particular drawer, shelf, etc. Isn't it funny how just knowing that a junk drawer that you rarely open or a the back of a kitchen cabinet is organized and uncluttered makes you feel not just calm, but really good? I hope to tackle one room per month in 2009.

2. Lose eight pounds - I have got to make it happen. I saw a suggestion of taking photos of every meal you eat, kind of like a visual food diary, to keep you accountable. I will spare you endless photos of my meals!

3. Exercise regularly - This goes with #2. Plus, I'd like to improve my speed and prowess (ha) on the soccer field this spring (GO BLACK CATS!)I'm planning to run and lift some arm weights.

4. Consider going to a new church - I've never really found my place at the church I've been going to for the past six years. Seems like most churches don't quite know what to do with us divorced people, and frankly, I don't blame them. I don't have an answer. Lump us with the carefree, young singles? (Humiliating.) Put us in a 40+ singles group? (Wheeeeeee.) Put all the divorced people together? (What a fun group of battered and bruised people that would be!) I'm going to try out a church I know of that apparently has a really strong single parent group. I need to just suck it up and admit that, although most of my friends are married, single parents are my people.

5. Get on Facebook - Although I thought it was just for angst-ridden and hormone-driven teens, apparently Facebook is making its way to angst-ridden and hormone-driven adults. Perhaps a boy from my past will discover me, and I will decide that a nerdy, smart guy is exactly what I need at this point in my life! Or, more likely, some random sorority sister will find me, along with all of our other sorority sisters, and try to get me to buy Amway or something. I do think it will be fun. I'll keep you updated.

SURPRISE. SURPRISE.

Due to a rather twisted turn of events, I ended up not having Cole on New Year's Eve. While being stuck at home with a child on New Year's Eve can be depressing, being stuck at home by yourself can be REALLY depressing. So, I called my friend A. and she called her friend M. and we were ready for a girls' night out.

We went to the bar at Nobu and enjoyed drinks, sushi and people watching. The short-short dress with very bare legs was definitely the uniform of the night. We ended up at another bar at midnight toasting in the new year.

M. kept toasting to the fact that by next year at this time we would all have men in our lives. I kept telling her to slow her roll and just toast to having had a date by this time next year. Sad to say, but at this point I think that might be a more realistic goal.

Here's to good friends, good health, good work and a good date in 2009!

AS USUAL

Getting organized for the week, I asked my ex-husband what his plans were for the week. The New Year's Eve conversation went as it usually does:
Him: So, well, what were you thinking for New Year's Eve?
Me: Well, what were you thinking?
Him: Well, we [him and his girlfriend] were kind of hoping you didn't have plans...
Me: Hoping or planning that I didn't have plans?
Him: Well, you know.

And then I have to admit: OK, fine. I don't have plans. I'll be glad to ring in the New Year with Cole.

I figure one of us might as well get to have a night on the town, and it wasn't going to be me. (To note: Last New Year's Eve I did have plans - a fabulous dinner party at one of my best friend's house - I was the only single person there, but what's new? I was so proud to tell my ex-husband I actually did have plans. Once over the past eight years isn't bad!)

ME. MOM. AND DAD. IN SANTA FE

It’s Friday night, and I just got back from my Christmas in Santa Fe. I am dogless, kidless and, oh yes, parentless. Whew.

The trip to Santa Fe with my parents was nice. I’ll give you a few details, but let me start by venting a bit. I knew this going in, but my dad is just getting old – or at least he sure acts old (he’s not 70 yet!). I vowed when I started this blog that I wouldn’t ream on friends or relatives, so I’ll try to keep my comments mild. We all laughed the day we got there because Dad decided to wear my grandmother’s fluffy mink earmuffs he had found at home along with a ball cap. Nice.

I can say with great confidence that the keeping-up-with-things neurons in Dad’s brain have totally burned out. At some point or another during the three-day trip he spent time (with much angst) looking for, in no particular order: his shoes, cell phone, gloves, mink earmuffs, hat, gloves, hearing aids, brushes, scarf, gloves, coat, room key and house key.

The other thing that got under my skin was the incessant - and incorrect - use of the “do what?” Lack of hearing? Lack of focus? I’m not sure, but every time you spoke to him, the first words out of his mouth were “do what?” As in:
“Our reservations are for 7 tonight”
“Do what?”
“Did you see all of that snow?”
“Do what?”
”Have you found your freakin' gloves yet?”
“Do what?”
“For the love of god, could you quit saying ‘do what’?”
“.......Do what?”

OK. Enough of that. Our room was small, but good – great view and very cool to have a fireplace in the room.

On Christmas Eve, we took the pilgrimage that all tourists in Santa Fe on Christmas Eve take: the march down Canyon Road. If you Google "Canyon Road in Santa Fe", you get more than 400,000 results, and every travel book raves about Christmas Eve on Canyon Road. Here’s how one Web site describes it:

One of Santa Fe's most beloved ways of celebrating the holiday season, the Canyon Road Farolito Walk lights up the hearts and souls of the crowds that walk this famous road every Christmas Eve. Small bags filled with sand contain votive candles that softly glow on this magical night as they line the neighborhood streets and adobe walls. Carolers spontaneously gather around luminarios, or small bonfires, and sing for joy as they warm themselves from the cold night.

Here’s what we experienced: a mass of people walking up a road, and then turning around and walking back down the road. No “carolers spontaneously gathered”, no “small bonfires,” no "singing for joy." One person was selling cider, and we did see a flame thrower dressed as Jesus. That was about it. We did get to traipse through snow (pretty cool for us Texans), and we did laugh about what a letdown it was.

Later that night we went to our hotel’s bar where it was apparently AARP night, with the piano player playing the requests, which included Moon River and My Funny Valentine. No joke. We did get her to play a few Christmas songs, because, oh yeah, IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE.

Christmas Day, we enjoyed a massive brunch where I ate more meat/protein than I have probably eaten in the past two years. Very nice. Mom and I ate dinner in a bar that night – sad to say it was not our first time to eat Christmas dinner in a bar. Today, we drove around in the snow and then headed to the airport.

It was a good Christmas, but certainly as I sat in the El Chico-esque bar eating nachos with my parents on Christmas Eve and as I read my 15th magazine on Christmas Day and as I spoke to my son for about five minutes over the three-day span, I was reminded THIS IS NOT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE!

CHRISTMAS AT MY HOUSE

OK. So here's the deal. I spent THREE days following Thanksgiving decorating my house for Christmas. I tried a new mantle, created a new tree for my kitchen table and even created a vignette of three candles nestled in "snow" (crystals from our adventure last year to Arkansas).
It is Dec. 19, and I've coming to the depressing realization that the only people who have seen the results of my three days of decorating are me, Cole, my mom, my maid and one mom who made it into the entryway of my house.
Instead of spending a few hours of staring-at-the-ceiling-fan therapy, I've decided to be proactive and share my decorated house with you. I am telling myself that there are a number of "yous" out there that actually read this blog.
(I have now spent 45 minutes trying to load photos for the first time to my blog. I am not happy. I am all about work-arounds, so I'm just going to load them as separate posts)

A SPECIAL CHRISTMAS MEMORY

Cole had to do a little presentation this morning to his class about one of his Christmas traditions and Christmas memories. For the tradition, I talked him into telling about a Danish tradition in his father's family that involves one person at the table finding a surprise in their rice pudding. We brought chocolate pudding and played the game with the class. It was fun.

Then Cole shared his Christmas memory. I tried to suggest a few things last night, but here's what Cole shared with his class: "One Christmas Eve I had to wait five hours in the airport for my great-grandmother because they lost her walker." What??? That's the best, most memorable Christmas memory he could come up with?

What about our yearly drive - with Christmas music playing and hot chocolate no less - to look at Christmas lights? What about our mornings opening presents around the fireplace? What about discussing special ornaments as we decorate the tree? What about the time we went to the Old City Park Candlelight Christmas Celebration? Or when we went caroling in the neighborhood with our friends? What about when we pick out the toys to pack in the shoebox for Samaritan’s Purse?

To think that one long, irritating afternoon in an airport could negate all of the warm, special memories I worked so hard to pull off over the past 9 years! I'm thinkin' I'm going to focus on making MYSELF some warm, special Christmas memories from here on out.

FROM THE HEART

Got a massage this morning, and it was great. The funny thing was the guy giving me the massage must have been hungry. His stomach growled the whole time - I'm always so distracted when I get a massage anyway! It really was nice though.

I used a gift certificate for the massage that Cole gave me for last Mother's Day. Cole's father has always been generous in helping Cole buy me gifts. After getting the first massage gift certificate from him, I knew I was on to something. "Cole, Mommy sure does love massages....yes I do. That's a great gift!"

I have taken a more creative approach with the gifts I help Cole buy his father (Christmas, Father's Day, birthday). I just let Cole pick out the gift - it's from his little heart (and clearly his father has not picked up on how to drop some serious hints).

So, Cole has given his father a musical Christmas tie, Spiderman bathmat and blue squishy pillow over the years. The singing Christmas beaver Cole bought him several years ago is the only accessory in his father's living room. The furry guy strangely sits in the middle of the coffee table - year round.

I'll let you know what Cole comes up with this year...

THE GREEN FELT BIRD

I finished putting up all my Christmas decorations – it took three days, 16 Diet Cokes and only one emergency trip to Michael’s. I have not worn makeup or anything nicer than my fat-girl sweats for the past three days. Whew.

Putting all our ornaments on the tree was quite a feat and made me think about the fact that every ornament has a story. Probably the most interesting/pitiful/tragic story on my tree is the gaudy green felt bird decked in sequins and gold trim. It was my Grandma’s.

When my Grandma died several years after my Grandpa, the family had to clear out their house. Walking through during the clean out, I noticed that all of my Grandma’s ornate green felt birds had been thrown in the trash. These weren’t just any felt birds – these were the birds that had hung on my Grandma’s tree for as long as I could remember. Yes, the tree looked a bit odd covered in only strange green felt birds, but it is what I remember of their tree on so many Christmas Eves.

“Why are we throwing out all the green felt birds?” I asked my mom, who was busy sorting through another drawer of paper scraps (Having grown up during the Depression, my Grandpa always ripped the fronts off Christmas cards and used the back sides for scratch paper. He also tore napkins into fourths – which doesn’t sound so weird to me anymore thanks to the current economic climate.)

“Oh, Laura,” my mom said with a sigh and a laugh.

“What??” I demanded.

She went on to tell me that the tacky – but special – green felt birds that brought me warm memories of the family gathered around the piano on Christmas Eve at my grandparents were made by my Grandma when she was locked in a psychiatric hospital. Nice.

I’ve known for a long time that my family has a long, proud history of depression and an array of other anxiety related disorders. But really? She made the birds in art therapy at Timberlawn? And THEN, she hung them on her Christmas tree every year?? How could decorating her tree every year been anything but, well, depressing?

I did pull one of those birds out of the trash, and I hang it on my tree every year. We’re all kind of a mess, aren’t we? And our Christmas trees do kind of tell the story of our lives, warts and all.

Besides, I Christmas-crafted my way through a depression once. It was year one of going through my divorce, and I worked like crazy on Cole’s Christmas stocking. It’s a traditional red velvet stocking with sequined figures, including a snowman, football and train.

I do laugh and roll my eyes when I hang it up every year. It’s too darn cute to throw away for the sake of not having an oh-how-I-hated-my-life flashback. Maybe that’s how my Grandma felt – but seriously, these birds are ugly.

BEHIND THE EYES

Here's a tip for you married girls out there: if you'd like to reach out to us divorced/single gals, one very practical thing you can do is offer to have your husband come get our Christmas trees out of the attic. Wrangling our four-foot wide trees through the three-foot wide opening to our attics is one of the few things we simply can't do without help - preferably strong and patient help.

My brother and nephews will be making their annual pilgrimage to my attic tomorrow to wrestle down my tree. I am oh so grateful!

It is Thanksgiving week, and I certainly have much to be thankful for. However, as I said in a previous post, the holidays are a glaring reminder to us divorced people that THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. It's always a very isolating time. Even when I'm with Cole, I still feel isolated - no adult conversation and endless rounds of football, ping-pong and baseball. It feels like everyone else is out doing family things together, and I am just alone.

Now, my Thanksgiving Day is going to be very nice with my brother, sister-in-law, nephews, niece, parents and Cole. It should feel almost the way it is supposed to be.

Otherwise, it's already been a funk-inducing week. I plan to spend the rest of my evening on the couch listening to Amy Grant's Behind the Eyes CD (which she later deemed her "Prozac and razorblades" album) - it's the perfect soundtrack for contemplating the ceiling fan.

P.S. Ladies, remember to have your husbands return after Christmas to help stuff the tree back up in the attic!

ME. MOM. AND DAD.

It’s official. I will be spending Christmas with my mom and dad. Just my mom. And my dad. Cole’s dad has out of town plans for him, and my brother and sister-in-law will be spending the holiday with her family. So, it’s just me. Mom. And Dad.Holidays are always a sharp reminder for us divorced people that THIS IS NOT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. How many times in the last ten years have I laid on my bed, stared at the ceiling fan and thought that???

I have a picture on my refrigerator that shows how it is supposed to be. It is the front of a greeting card – a two story old, traditional house with a wreath and lit candle in every window; a porch wraps around the front of the house and the walkway is lined with snow. It looks very warm. That is how Christmas is supposed to be. Coming home to gather with your large family, huddling by the fireplace and drinking hot chocolate. You’ll eventually inherit and move out to the old family home place where someday you’ll host Christmas for your children and grandchildren. Ah.

Well, as we all know, that’s just NOT THE WAY IT IS for most of us. These lean Christmases have happened before. My mom can’t stand the thought of the three of us sitting around the house on Christmas, so we concoct some plan to get us out of the house. We usually all go to bed thinking THIS IS NOT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. (Like several years ago when we ended up at the Gaylord Texan eating Mexican food in a bar for our Christmas dinner.)

This year, we have made plans to go to Santa Fe. Me. Mom. And Dad. Traveling with my father, God love him, takes the patience of Job or copious amounts of wine. There was the time when he was driving to New Mexico that he pulled over on the side of a busy highway to adjust his mirrors; or the time he said he had my suitcase, and we didn’t discover until we got to my house that it was someone else’s suitcase; or the time he lost his “very important bag” within five minutes of arriving at the airport; or the time he managed to lose the rental car papers between getting in the rental car and driving to the parking lot exit.

My father hasn’t traveled in about four years, so it should be interesting (a nice way of saying “extremely draining”) Here’s to a “different” kind of Christmas!