I was cutting an avocado for lunch

and it was a slippery little guy.  I had avocado under my finger nails and on my hand, it was messy. 

Delicious, but messy. 

Anyway, it reminded me of a time back in Arizona when I was getting my nails did, and the nail tech was filing under the nail to clean it out and he said "ohhh, you don't cook."

Uh, what?  Yes I do every night.  

He said "ohh, your nails are not stained." 

I remember going home wondering what kind of weirdo doesn't clean under their nails when they wash their hands. Or do dishes.  Or show up to get their nails done with food stained hands. Eww. 

and gross.  

And that slippery avocado reminded me of that as I was checking under the sink at work looking for something to scrub under my nails to get all the green mush out.  

because Eww. and Gross.

when I tell you I cried

I carry mom guilt. Not every day, but often enough. I always hope that I didn't screw up too badly as a parent. I have only a few regrets (thankfully?) and I can count them on one hand.  They're always there, in the back of my head, that nagging voice reminding me . 

Mom guilt. It's rough. 

Last weekend I was watching the GrandBaby#1.  She's two and very independent and very much likes to mimic me.  We were having breakfast and I gave her orange juice in a cup.  A cup with no lid.

She did very well and I snapped a pic to send to her mom and her auntie.  The conversation morphed into something unexpected:

Our childhood was the best.

Seeing the Dramas talk about these specific Friday night memories with such fondness made me smile. Something that at the time seemed so small and inconsequential to me.  Yet created such happy memories and left a positive lasting impression.

Reader. When I tell you I cried. Big fat tears. And I felt an overwhelming sense of, I don't even know - relief?  Relief I didn't even know I needed.  

Damn. 

Getting back into it

Slowly but surely I'm getting back into a groove. I reactivated The Book of Face, and the Fan Page, and started an Instagram page for the review blog. I realized I miss having a semi-anonymous outlet for my secret thoughts and random ramblings.  It was great to see many of the OG bloggers on The FB. Almost everyone there was with me from the beginning and went through the ups/downs/moves/struggles/divorce. Y'all supported me in ways no one else did.  Seeing everyone kinda gave me the warm fuzzies. 

It also gave me a little boost of dopamine. And I need those when and where I can get em. 

I posted on the Review blog today about a DYI wine rack I installed after I bought my new house.  And scheduled a couple more posts.

I posted on Insta and FB about some journals I created. And a puzzle book. 

I'm finding it helpful to blog about things I've already done, rather than attempt to write meaningful anything at this point. I still have a block when I sit to write. So, here I am. Filling the socials and telling old stories.  

And for now, that's going to have to do. 😊

Sandra Day O'Connor

My experience with the justice system began when I was nine years old, testifying against my kidnapper. I remember it vividly. The courtroom. The judge. The lawyers. I remember feeling so small in the witness chair. I remember the ugly green dress my mom made me wear. I recall the Judge telling me to speak louder after turning the volume on the microphone all the way up, and the defense attorneys asking the judge to remove my mom because she was “coaching me” from the gallery.  The court house felt like a place where people like me were not voluntary participants.

I was a poor, inner city kid. Statically I was someone who probably wouldn’t graduate high school but probably would be a teenage mom. I was another person likely to perpetuate the cycle of poverty for another generation. By age 11 or 12, I was a news junkie. I was aware of the legal system. And I wanted to be a lawyer. I didn’t know any. I just knew I wanted to be one. I was told time and time again that people like me don't become lawyers.

When I was 13 years old, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor was sworn in as the first woman on the Untied States Supreme Court. I watched the news with wide eyes as a whole new feeling of something washed over me. Being? Purpose? Ability? Suddenly, I was very aware that women were lawyers and judges. That I could be a lawyer too, regardless of what my family told me.  Regardless of my gender.

RIP Justice O'Connor. Thank you from every wide-eyed little girl who watched the news about your nomination and confirmation and swearing in with admiration and wonder and a new sense of purpose.

Memories

I've been having dreams about the past. About people from my past. About past events that seem to bleed forward into the now.  I've dreamed about my old boss (the drinky one) four times in the past three weeks. I had a dream that the Ex and I were on a trip of some kind together, but we weren't friends. I'll unpack that one later.  Clearly my psyche is trying to tell me something. Not sure what yet, but I'll get there eventually. 

Today though, I'm at work. I am reminded of a time right after we moved back to Utah.  I was scrolling The FaceBook and saw a news article of a domestic violence situation in a city about an hour from Salt Lake.  I remember looking at the Ex and saying, wow, I wonder if it's Frank*

Frank had a bad habit of hitting his wife.  Frank's dad had some influence in the city where Frank lived, so charges never seemed to stick. Frank's family willfully turned a blind eye. 

I don't care much for Frank's family.

I opened the article and sure enough, it was about Frank, but Frank instead of reading that he'd been arrested, again.  Frank was dead.  Apparently, his wife had a moment of what, clarity? a higher level of fear than normal? She'd finally just had enough of covering bruises with makeup and huge sunglasses? Did she fear the children would soon be targets? I don't know. I just know she came to that fork in the road where she determined she wanted to live. And she wanted to live fear free. Bruise free. Able to take a deep breath free. 

I was sad for a minute, because I'd known Frank since he was a teenager.  I watched him grow up and make mistakes and try to learn from them.  But I also knew he had a dark side.  

I was sad for the wife.  Because she had a whole new frontier before her and at the time, she probably didn't know if she'd go to jail. Who would take care of her children.  Would Frank's family have the same influence as they did keeping Frank out of jail, only now it would be influence to put her in jail.  

Ultimately, she was never charged. She acted in self defense.  We all knew it. Even Frank's family, although they wouldn't admit it and tried their damnedest to have her put in jail. 

I think of her sometimes. I hear she is doing well. She's moved away, rightfully so. I wish her and her children nothing but peace and happiness.  

Day 16 Hey shorty, it's ya birfday

This kid.  She's 19 today. 

I don't even know where the time went.  It was just yesterday we were hard core discussing granola choices. 

I don't know how she went from this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

to this: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

right before my very eyes. It feels like I wrote her first birthday post just yesterday.

I love you to the moon and back daughter.  I wish you All. The. Things! 

Happy birthday!

Happy Birthday Baby

Tada! Today is your birthday. You were two years old in these pictures. They are my favorite of all the pictures I have of you.

You graduated from preschool this year in May. You have grown so big and tall and beautiful. I cannot believe you are six years old today. My baby. It is hard to write this without tears welling up.

I was reading your baby letters today. I remember so many milestones and funny stories from you. When you learned to talk, you only spoke a broken gibberish that sounded much like Japanese. And boy were you pissy when we didn't know what you were talking about. Luckily, you only talked that way until you were a little over two. Once you learned a few words, you never quit talking.

The first time you said 8's name, you were almost one and she was three. She smiled so big, and hugged you so hard. Then 8 looked at me and said "I love her Mom. I don't want to trade her back!" That is quite surprising considering she complained daily that you were in her stuff, following her around, taking her stuff, asking me why you wouldn't play with your toys and only wanted hers. Oh the joy never ends. I hear the same complaints today.

When you were two, if you or 8 wanted something I would always say "yes ma'am." Apparently you thought that was your name. When daddy asked you "what is your name" you said "me ma'am" and it stuck. You are turning six today and we still call you ma'am.

Then you went through the phase where you would say "I don't very like you" every time you got in trouble. You were about 1 1/2 years old at the time. This phase lasted a couple weeks. Right up to the night that I was tucking you into bed and you grabbed my hand and said "Mom, I don't hate you. You're not an asshole." Yeah. That was a proud mommy moment.

Oh, and then there was the time 8 tried to kill you on the roller coaster. You see, 8 loves a roller coaster. However, they scare the crap out of her. We were in Las Vegas and she wanted to ride the little train with you. I thought to myself, okay. One small hill, should be no problem. So I buckled you both in, put 8's arm around your back and told her to help you keep your balance. I told you to hang on very, very tight! You both had the biggest grins a mommy has ever seen. The ride started and you were both smiling and then as you came around the first turn into the little dip, 8 reached over with her right hand, hugged you and hid her head behind your back. The problem was that she was choking you with her elbow. I tried to yell at the kid running the ride but he couldn't hear me so I jumped the gate and ran up there like a mad woman screaming STOP THE RIDE! STOP THE RIDE! Just then I saw your face and your lips were turning blue. I yelled again STOP THE DAMNED RIDE! and the kid said "why" and I said "my daughter is killing her sister!" And he looked as you came around the turn for the third time and your whole face was read and your lips were even darker blue. And he slammed the stop button and I ran over to you just as 8 sat up with the biggest grin in the entire universe and said "that was fun! Can we do it again?"

Now here we are, three months into Kindergarten and you can already read. I bought you the Little Critter book for your birthday and you can read it all by yourself. There is one story in there called I was so mad! You told me that story was like you and me.

While growing up so far, you've been my kid who messes in everything and pushes every one of my buttons. You started climbing on counters and using chairs to reach things before you were 3. You have killed countless number of rolls of toilet paper just to see them spin away when you flush an end down. However, you've also greeted me every day with the biggest smile and shining eyes that said I was the coolest, bestest mommy in the world. You make me laugh everyday with the things you say and do. Like that time when your sister told you to stop picking your nose and you said "Why? I'm not eating it."

And, you are the best potato washer and kitchen helper in the whole wide world. Or whole tired world as you used to say. You bring something to my heart that your sisters cannot. I cherish my private time with you and I love it when you do my hair. My favorite time is when you take my hand and say "come on Mom, lets relax in a hot bath in your bathroom."

Life with you has been both challenging and rewarding. You are stubborn just like your mother and even though you are only six, we still have occasional screaming matches. Mostly because I am mature like that. However, like any good wine, you only get better with age. You are working on using your inside voice and I am working on new ways to remind you. School has helped you to learn patience and reason. I have learned that beating you would only bring jail time. I threaten to beat you with a stick, and you see right through me.

When I asked you what I was going to do when you were all grown up and big you looked at me with those big eyes, threw your arms around my neck and said "keep giving me lots of hugs and kisses." You have a deal young lady! I love you ma'am. Happy Birthday.