Accepted and Acceptance

Yesterday I got the news that I was accepted to the graduate program for Creative Writing at Chapman University in the Fall of 2012.

Needless to say, I was overcome with emotion.  I was downstairs alone and Piper was napping.  Gavin had gone off to hang out with some friends and I opened an email from the admissions advisor I have been working with for the past few months.  I sent her a note a half hour earlier asking when I might get my letter (via old fashioned snail mail) because I checked my status online and "the decision had been mailed" as of May 14. 

That was Monday. 

Yesterday was Thursday and I had been checking the mailbox frantically, waiting for the postman to deliver this invaluable bit of information, information that might change the course of my life.  I literally had to leave the house to distract myself from dancing around outside in the driveway with anxious anticipation.

She sent a rather vague note with a letter "regarding my admission" attached.  I opened the attachment, which incidentally took about four minutes to download.  I was watching Howard Stern on "The Talk" when it finally popped up.  I paused the show, looked at the screen of my iPad and saw the word "Congratulations."  I read it about 5 more times and let it sink in, then I burst into tears. I had no idea that I would feel the same emotions I expected to feel if I had not been accepted.  I was hyperventilating and crying like a toddler who just lost bottle privileges. 

I immediately looked up to my mantle, saw the photos of my Dad and Susie and in my tremendous joy, felt a surge of sadness that I couldn't share this moment with them.  This incredible moment that was INSPIRED by them.  I sat for a minute and calmed myself.  I called Chris to share the news with him and he was, as always, completely supportive and excited for me.  I burst into the second set of tears in five minutes. 

The next call I made was to my Mom.  She has always had faith in me and encouraged and supported my dreams and decisions in life.  I couldn't wait to share the news.  You can guess what happened next...yes, more tears and joy.  Then I called Cheryl (Chris's mom) and received the same warm and supportive reception. 

Then I called my editor, better known as one of my Ya Ya's (or a BFF to use a term the kids say) Jenn, who couldn't have been prouder.  She was almost as excited as I was.  Were it not for her careful editing skills, I may not have turned in my best work.  Jenn, here is a heartfelt thank you on my blog, but you can bet your sweet ass you will get one in the book.

I called many more friends and family members to share this news and each one helped to encourage and boost my spirits even more.  I know that this journey will be one filled with challenges but I have been blessed with a support system unlike any other.  For that, I am beyond grateful.

But the truth is, I believed in myself.  I worked really really hard for this and up until about a week ago, I assumed that I would get in without an issue.  I don't know if it was my inflated ego but I really felt like it was a no-brainer. 

As the days grew closer to the actual acceptance decision, I started to have some doubts.  I started to think that maybe I wouldn't get in.  Maybe I didn't have what they were looking for.  Maybe it wasn't in the cards for me. 

My stomach was in knots as I thought about it more and more.  I then realized that I had done everything in my power, put my best work out there, and now I had to let the Universe take over.  I had to surrender control and expectations and be willing to accept the answer, whatever it might be.

Wednesday morning, after checking the mailbox for the third time, I decided to head out to yoga.  On my way there, I did a lot of self talk, I mean literally, out loud, self talk.  Some may call it a prayer, which that may be what it is. I just told myself that I had to be open to whatever the Universe had to offer.  And if that meant I wasn't going to get into Chapman, well then I had to accept it.

I went to class and moved through the postures in a 100* room filled with sweaty yogi's, and breathed it all in.  I struggled that day with many of the asanas but yoga has taught me that acceptance is part of the practice.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be, right then and there.  Turning to my other passion, turning to the gift that is yoga, allowed me to focus and ground myself and it calmed my frazzled nerves. 

I was so grateful when I got the news I had been hoping for, but that isn't always how it works out, is it? 

I think we all think about acceptance as coming from others, but the real meaning of acceptance is through ourselves.  Being open and honest with yourself, opens the door to acceptance.  Acceptance of what is, what will be and what has been, is one of the keys to awareness, change and happiness. 

As I go through this journey, I am certain that I will have to be full of acceptance.  There might be people who don't like my work, I might not get straight A's, I might struggle with a Shakespearean class.  In the grand scheme of life, these are minor hiccups.  If I can learn to accept the little disappointments in life, maybe the big ones won't seem so horrible and the great gifts in life, the gifts that far exceed the disappointments, I will accept those with grace and gratitude. 

So with that said, I urge you to accept yourself right where you are this minute and then decide if you want, or need, to change.  Look in the mirror and examine what you see.  Is the image the person you want to be?  Are you following your dreams?  Are you following your passion? 

These are big questions for which you may not have the answers. Start looking for them and don't be afraid to try something new.  This is your life, right?  Who are you living it for? As my other Ya Ya and dear friend Jen (and some guy named Gandhi) would say "Be the Change You Want to See in the World,"  and ACCEPT the wonderful being that is you.

I want to thank my extraordinary family and friends, once again, for your unwavering support and love. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Happy Mother's Day!

Hello All!

Forgive my absence for I have been busy with the whole grad school application process, it was a doozy for sure!  Now, I am just waiting to hear if I will be, once again, joining the world of academia...

Or not.  Cross your fingers for the former of the two.

No stress, if it is meant to be, I will be returning to a college campus in August and buckling down.  If not, I will keep on keepin' on and hopefully, will finish the rest of the book I've written six full chapters of!  A fire is lit and the creative juices are flowing! So even though my blog has been neglected, I have still been writing.

So this morning, I got myself dolled up (don't get excited, that just means jeans and some make-up versus yoga pants and a pony tail) because Piper's school was offering photos with your child for Mother's Day.  I was bummed that Gav couldn't join us but he's a cool 7th grader who is often reluctant to get his picture taken at all, let alone with his mother.

So for a mother/daughter/grandaughter treat, my mom, Piper and I are heading down to San Diego tonight to spend the day at SeaWorld tomorrow.  The boys have a skateboarding deal so it's a good reason to head out of Dodge for a day of fun in the sun.   I am really excited because this trip reminds me of when I was a kid and my mom and I used to do the same thing-get a hotel, order room service (ahhhh room service) and trek all over the park to watch the whales, dolphins, penguins and flamingos.  Only back then, SeaWorld still had the AWESOME pearl diving - my favorite! At least they still have the otter and sea lion show, gotta love Clyde. Oh and Shamu had not yet attacked and killed a trainer. 

Piper is as intrigued and thrilled with marine life as Gavin and it's so amazing to see the similarities my children share, even being nine years apart and of the opposite sex.  Of course, Piper does idolize her big brother and her fascination with all things Gavin, from skateboarding to dinosaurs, is never-ending.

These two kids, they have changed my life.  I know, pretty standard for all parents, duh, but the reality is that the children have made me a better person.  I am selfish, I admit this freely.  I was basically an only child until I was a teenager.  My complicated and crazy family is another story entirely, which we have touched on in the past, but I was used to being an only child, having and getting everything I wanted (for the most part).  Don't be mistaken, my life has not been a rose garden, but it certainly has not been too terrible either.  I'm a glass is half-full kinda girl.

Spoiled?  Probably...well yes.  But  the truth is that even though I can be self-absorbed, I was lucky enough to have a mother who taught me how to be a good person.  She taught me how to be loving, caring, patient and kind, tolerant, giving and forgiving.  She taught me how to admit when I was wrong and how to apologize sincerely.  It is possible to be selfish and still have those qualities, I am living proof (I hope). 

And my friends adore her too, bonus.

When I married Chris, I got another Mom.  One that I love and admire. One that accepts me and loves me just as I am.  One that treats me as though I am her very own.  How lucky am I?  Pretty lucky I guess.  Oh, and my husband is pretty cool too.

I have a step-mother and step-mother-in-law who are incredible people as well.  In addition, I still have my grandmother, aunts and sisters. I am surrounded by women who offer love, advice and support whenever I need it.  And I couldn't be happier. 

See there I go again, it's all about me!  Hey, I will gladly own this too, for one can never have too much in the ways of love and support from the strong women in their lives. 

I sent out about 30 mother's day cards to my family and friends, most of whom have become amazing mothers themselves.  Those who have not yet ventured into the world of parenting, have offered unlimited love and support to my kids and I know that they will be incredible mothers some day too (if that's the path they choose).

All of these women, these mothers and friends, continue to teach me about unconditional love, patience, understanding and sacrifice.  They also remind me to laugh and to be present in each day, to really cherish the moments because as we all know, they are fleeting. 

So now that I have my own kids, I can only hope that I can teach my  children to have these same qualities, qualities that are admired by most and envied by some. 

Being a mother, while it doesn't define me, it certainly is a huge part of the definition of me.  Were it not for my kids, I don't think I could truly understand  myself and who I am supposed to be.  Times can be crazy, frustrating and messy but would I trade it for anything?  Hell no.  Bring on the insanity! There is never a dull moment and it certainly makes life interesting.

And as for the pearl diving, do you think I could do it in my pool?  Anyone got a line on where I can get some dive equipment and oysters in the shell, cheap?

Happy Mother's Day to all of the women in my life, but especially to my Mom...

Magi, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be me.
I love you...

Deadlines...

It seems like I got nothin' but deadlines these days.

First, I apologize for not posting more often, for I am humbled to know that there are a few people who do enjoy reading my blog and care about what I have to say.  But alas, my absence is for the good....I hope.

I am in the process of applying to graduate school.  My intentions are to be admitted and start in the Fall of 2012 which is just a few short months away!
So the application process alone is full of work and deadlines so I haven't been able to write nearly as much as I would like, save for the BOOK I have actually started.

Yes, it's true.  I have been pouring my energy into writing a very exciting project.  With any luck I will see my manuscript actually published one day. I have completed eight and a half pages so far, which is better than I thought I had done so that gives me tremendous hope that I will continue to have a free flowing brain, filled with ideas that will make this literary piece both entertaining and insightful.  That, and I will get admitted to graduate school based on my ability to write creatively.

Deadlines are good.  They give us boundaries and guidelines.  That's one of the reasons I wanted to go back to school in the first place.  I am not a very good boss to myself.  I have great intentions but can get distracted.  Things like chores, bills, yoga, taking the kids to practice, swimming and dance, tend to get in the way of my ambitions. Good thing I know the boss, she's not gonna fire me anyway, no one else wants the job.

So deadlines for me = good.  I work better under pressure, I see the light and love to work toward the end result.  Clearly, I am no good at enforcing said deadlines on myself...as you might remember I was supposed to FINISH writing a book by the time I was 40.  Well that birthday is in three weeks and while my intentions have been good, the boss knows I am a slacker at times.  I guess I will have to settle for 3-5 chapters.  Hey, it's a start...

So going back to school means that I will once again, have expectations and deadlines set for me.  I will hone my craft, become a "good" writer, and be able to work as a professor at community colleges and four year universities if I choose to apply (and really, if they hire me, right?).  That, and I will have a pretty nice little degree to hang on my wall.  

I am a lover of school and only wish I had been this devoted as a kid.  But this seems to be my lot in life to be a student as an adult and I love it.  We all find our groove at some point, right? 

So forgive my absence as of late and know that while my posts may become even less frequent than before, understand that I am busy pouring my heart, soul and creative energy into my future as a writer and author, and hopefully creating a little something you might enjoy later on.

Fear nothing for I will not abandon you, my loyal readers.  As soon as I get those 25 pages finished, I will return. 

And thankfully, I've got a deadline.

Tears of a Clown...

I cried while taking my son to school today.  Yes, I am the clown.  That or a mom who's just really proud.

I think it was the combination of the gloomy rainy skies outside coupled with the music...well mostly it was just the music.

I have become rather addicted to "Coffeehouse" on Sirius radio.  I don't know what happened to the punk rock girl I used to be...oh yeah, age.  Ok and let's face it, I was always more of a "New Waver/KROQ/Grunge" girl to be completely honest.  Punk rock just seems to sound cooler, right?  And I am all about the cool.

Anyway, "These Are Days" by the 10,000 Maniacs came on and that just happens to be the same song that was playing nearly 13 years ago, when my first born child came into the world.

I had created a play list of very specific music and put songs on a CD, very avant-garde in 1999, burning CD's from music shared on Napster.  What can I say, always on the cutting edge, that's me. 

Are they still suing people, by the way?  If so, it was my own CD and I am using the term "Napster" to once again, generate the cool factor by sharing my Gen X terminology...

So that particular song was blaring through the speakers in the O.R. while the doctors were busy chattering away and cutting me open from the outside in.  It didn't hurt, in fact the flurry of sensations I felt, both mentally and physically diminished any sense of pain or worry, that and a helluva good combination of drugs.  I knew that in mere minutes, my son would enter the world.

And so I sang, loud. And anyone that knows me, knows that I can't carry a tune, but it didn't matter.  I belted out the chorus and as I heard my son take his first breath and begin howling from the bright lights that suddenly penetrated his dark blue eyes, tears streamed down my cheeks and I knew that my life had changed forever.  It was a perfect harmony that I will never forget.

I was a mother.

But back to the future...Today, hearing those lyrics again just made me marvel in the joy and happiness that my son brings me.  True, I often joke about the trials and tribulations of parenting a tween/teen (which are all completely true) but the reality is that he is just about the most amazing kid in the world. 

I realized that I get so caught up in making sure that he grows into a proper citizen, a good man, that I sometimes forget to acknowledge and cherish the wonderful kid he is today. 
So this morning, I turned to look at him with tears streaming once again as the lyrics played in the background, and in a very garbled voice I told him I loved him so much...Poor thing, probably thought it was time to check me into Bellevue.

We set the bar high for the boy, no doubt.  But it's because we know he can handle it.  He has these qualities, that I know we taught him, but he's embraced them and they stuck.  That's all him, inside and out.  He has compassion and love and respect for everyone and I am ecstatic that it's pretty evident in the way he approaches the world and the people in it.

Here we are on the actual brink of his 13th birthday and Chris and I could not be more proud.  What lucky people we are to have had this tiny little person enter our world and turn everything we knew upside down.

He made us better people.  He made us grow up.  He gave us a future that we had no idea could be so challenging and rewarding at the same time.  He paved the way for a sister that idolizes and adores him.  He made our parents grandparents.  The gifts he's given us so far have been never-ending.

Gavin, you make me the happiest mom in the world and I love you more than you will ever know.  Thank you for choosing us, God did we ever get lucky.

I dedicate this blog to my son, the boy with no limits and a future as bright as the sun...

Gavin Davies Alsop

F*CK Cancer

I am struggling to find the words.  My usual rather upbeat posts and blogs have been replaced today with one that is filled with feelings of anger, sadness and sorrow. 

I have lost another person I love to cancer.

Cancer, the relentless beast that is unforgiving, brutally ugly and vicious. 

No one is immune and no one can really be blamed.  Sure, the life we lead might put us at a higher "risk" for getting it, but then how can we explain when an innocent child is stricken with a brain tumor or leukemia?  What did they do to deserve that kind of pain and suffering?

Cancer opens the floodgates to questions that seem to have no answers.  There is no rhyme or reason, so we have to learn to accept what truly IS (in terms of reality) regardless of the outcome. It doesn't mean we can't be pissed off about it, or feel tremendous sadness, it just means that we must get through it...any way we can.  I have been blessed enough to have family and friends who step up and offer the kind of love and support that brings comfort and peace in times like these.

I would like to believe that we have some control over our chances but the facts and theories are shrouded in mystery.  Some claim to have healed themselves through diet, exercise, green drinks, gurus, meditation and prayer.  Others invest all their chips by gambling on Western medicine alone, hoping that the chemicals penetrating their bodies will kill off the bad stuff and give rise to new healthy cells, cells that do their intended jobs.  Some are fortunate and beat the odds, others are not so lucky. 

The bottom line is that no one can hide from cancer.  You can live your life clean, eat all organic food and exercise until you have 3% body fat...and still get it, think: Lance Armstrong.

That being said, what can we do?  Do we get caught up in all the negative stuff and say screw it, I'm gonna do what I want because I can't stop the train if it has no brakes?

Or do we obsess about every minute detail in our food sources, exercise until we are blue in the face or research what the EPA says is the safest place to live?  I don't think that's the answer either...

I can say this-without any expertise whatsoever-You have to LIVE your life, the way you see fit.  There are thousands of books and people out there touting how we can "cure" ourselves and the ways in which we can prevent disease from invading our bodies, which certainly have validity. 

But the reality is you can spend all your time worrying about dying and suddenly your life has passed you by. 

We MUST cease the moments of every day, be present in our lives and create relationships that nurture both our souls and spirit.  We must learn to let go of anger and hatred and embrace light, love and laughter.  It's work, no doubt, but the time we waste, the energy we waste, on grudges and hate, it's of no use to anyone, most certainly not ourselves.

I know this much is true, I don't want to live my life with senseless regrets. And although I have lost people I love, I know that the time I had with them was quality.  No stone was left unturned and though I feel sadness and grief at times because I deeply miss them, I don't feel guilt or anger for things I didn't say or do. 

As I watch my husband mourn the loss of his father, I am hopeful that his heart will heal quickly and he will be left with only the memories of laughter and joy that he shared with his dad.  Chris was there, completely present at the toughest time of both his father's and his own life.  He didn't walk away, he didn't hide.  He was THERE... through it all. 

And I believe he is a better man because of it.

Finding the strength to be there, to watch someone you love, leave this world and move on to the next...well let's just say it's not easy.  But there is tremendous comfort in knowing that one of the people you love most, one of the people who gave you life, didn't leave this world alone.

He knew he was truly loved.

I dedicate this blog to Larry James Alsop, a great father, grandfather, brother, husband and friend. 

You will be missed Pop...

Putting Your Best Foot Forward, One Step at a Time...

The other day I went to pick up my son to take him to yet, another doctor appointment with the orthopedic surgeon.  We were heading over to have his back checked out for fear that he had fractured a vertebrae.  Well, thank the good lord that he was perfectly fine, for the most part, save for a strained muscle.  (Whew, she thinks, as she wipes the sweat from her worried brow).

The funny part of the story is the part that came before the visit, the part when I picked him up from school.  I arrived as the lunch bell rang and walked up the stairs through the menagerie of harried tweens and teens making their way to the cafeteria.

I heard my boy and glanced down to see he was right behind me.  As I caught his glimpse, I saw that he was giving me a pretty decent once-over.  He nodded in approval and made a comment that I was wearing heels so that I could be taller than him. An observation, I might add, that is true.

Sigh...(she thinks, realizing that the little boy is growing up.)

The most interesting piece is that here I was, a grown woman, being sized up by my son.  Now don't read into this as an Oedipal thing...the kid was making sure that I wouldn't embarrass him.

Apparently I already have.  More than once I have shown up at school to drop off a missed backpack or lunch money, usually sporting my yoga attire. And, as it turns out, I also embarrassed my nephew when not only did I say hi to him in said workout gear, I think I even hugged him too.  Sheesh, what could be more mortifying?

But here's the thing, it's not like I am wearing curlers and a robe or something.  I am a busy mom who tries her hardest to remain fit and healthy and I thought that was something that would be perceived as cool...I guess I was wrong. 

Bless his heart, I would have been none the wiser except that my very own sister repaid a debt that I didn't even know was owed.  She's a bit of a workout queen, a runner with a lithe little body and strong legs, just really fit and healthy herself.

She had been sternly warned not to run by the school during her afternoon jog before school got out, but most importantly she was told not to stretch in front of her car while waiting for the carpool gang to make their way out.  One day she overshot her usual route and ended up smack dab in front of the school.  It was there that she saw my son, casually sitting on the wall.

"Aunt Kath?" Gav said. 

"Gav?" she said with a smile.  "Hey, what's going on?"

After they exchanged pleasantries, she offered him a sweaty hug and he accepted (without reluctance) and off she went to stretch...
behind the houses...
three blocks away...
to save her son from the embarrassment. 

I only found out about this story because my sister shared it with me.  My poor nephew was mortified to know that I found out he was embarrassed by our exchange, but he did relish in the fact that nearly the exact same thing happened to his cousin.  Paybacks are a bitch they say...

So of course my sister and I shared some laughs but it got me thinking about the ways in which our outer appearance can affect the perceptions all people, including teenagers, have about us. (I mean teenagers are barely real people, right?  I think many would argue that they are part of an alien life form sent to torture and perform tests on us involving uncomfortable probes).

Back to the subject at hand, the world we live in has become a very superficial place.  We tend to focus on the least important aspects of our lives, things like how we look and what we wear, whether than the the good stuff, the stuff that counts: what makes us beautiful inside and builds our core character.

The so-called most "beautiful" people we see, can very often be quite ugly within.  Yet we continue to fawn over them, admire them and try to emulate their look or style because tabloids and high fashion magazines not only seem to suggest this, they demand it. 

The images splayed on the covers of the most prominent featured periodicals are usually those of painfully thin, perfectly airbrushed women, wearing clothes that most readers couldn't begin to afford much less fit into.

Their covers feature the same stories with only slightly different headlines:  "How to shrink your belly,"  "How to get your man to...(fill in the blank-love you, please you, etc.,)" and "How to find the best clothes for your body," in addition to how to have the best sex and what foods to eat to increase your sex drive and metabolism, so on and so forth.

Every now and again, you might come across an article about making a positive change in your life or a hard hitting news story but if it's lucky enough to grace the front of the glossy, it will most certainly be near the bottom, blending in with the color of the models skin tight pants.

I have long since abandoned most high fashion magazines for the likes of those that are better suited for my lifestyle but I can say that starting some time around the age of 10, my room was cluttered with various forms of media rags starting with publications like "Teen Beat" and "Tiger Beat" progressing on to "Teen," "Young Miss" and "Seventeen," finally on to the likes of "Glamour" and then the Big Daddy of them all..."Cosmopolitan."

While I certainly came across a few very useful stories, I mostly learned how to feel shitty about myself.  No matter what I did, it seemed that I could never measure up to the expectations of what these magazines suggested were the norm. 

Every month, the stories shared the same themes and although I didn't realize it at the time, the seemingly positive articles giving tips and "how to" ideas were making me feel horribly inadequate. 

I am pretty sure that most of the writers who created these stories did not set out to make their name in offering suggestions and instructions on how to have amazing sex or what to wear to land the perfect man.  A great example (and pretty cute movie I might add) would be "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

If you haven't seen it, here is a brief re-cap.  Andie is a writer who dreams of digging her teeth into the juiciest stories involving politics, religion, women's rights and so on.  Instead, she has to settle for being the "How To" girl at a fictitious magazine much like those I've described above. 

She pitches a story about all of the crazy things women do in new relationships that drive men away and her editor is crazy about the idea.  So off she goes to meet Mr. Right, only to prove how to mess up a relationship in 10 days or less. 

As you can imagine, there is a lot of ironic and funny moments in the film but there is also a very real story there.  Aside from Kate Hudson's character Andie falling for a hunky and lovable Ben, played by Matthew McConaughey, she discovers that even after she delivers a great story, her editor says she can write about ANYTHING she wants, so long as it fits within the parameters of stories about shopping, men and sex.

Ultimately she quits her job to pursue her dream of writing articles with less fluff and more substance. (Oh and of course he follows her and they fall madly in love...it is a movie after all.)

Now, I wonder how many other writers feel trapped in the hamster cage of certain corporate media, spinning their wheels and churning out story after story about the same old nonsense. 

I am not knocking all magazines because there are many, many quality periodicals, even within the fashion world, that produce intriguing, informative, thought provoking and moving articles, but sadly the most prominent seem to put out the same story with only slightly skewed and reworded paragraphs that share the same message:  You are not good enough now, but do "this" and you might be, eventually.

I realize that this is not something that will likely ever change, it's a multi-billion dollar industry fueled by advertisers and companies whose interests will remain on the forefront of society as we know it.

At the same time, I am not saying to completely abandon make-up and regular bathing in favor of leading a lifestyle that isn't true to your own heart. And by the way, if that's the life you choose, more power to you. No judgement here.

What I am saying is that there has to be a happy medium, a place where we can be healthy and comfortable in our own skin.

We can begin by focusing on the importance of working on the beauty inside first and then the beauty on the outside will likely become automatic.  It would be so amazing if we could all remember to teach our kids (and ourselves I might add) to remember the qualities that really define a person at their core, are not developed by how they look or what they wear.

If we could encourage our kids to embrace their uniqueness instead of treating it as an obstacle, perhaps this world could start to become a little kinder and less critical of what we look like on the outside.

Putting your best foot forward can mean a number of different things but I think it starts within your heart and moves outward.  Compassion, patience and peace are three things I focus on.  When I pay attention to those particular ideals, I find that I am less concerned with things that might be negative like gossip and judgment.  When I feel good inside, I naturally care about myself on the outside too.

My wise sister told me something once and it just stuck with me.  She said, "Remember, everyone has a story"  and those five words can change everything you think about a person.  I have taken that with me and try to remember that little sentence when I begin to feel critical or judgmental of others. 

I try to teach my children to feel love and compassion for kids who might be "different" or "weird" or "mean," because really, they have a story too.

We all have our own stories, and whether we choose to share them or not, we can really start to put our best foot forward by showing ourselves a little compassion, having patience and sharing peace. 

When I was a teenager, my father would say (usually after telling my friends something like I had peed my pants once in the 4th grade) "a little embarrassment is good for ya, goes a long way...builds character," then he would chuckle and walk away.

So I guess that what comes around goes around in love and parenting, and I think what he was getting at is that even things like embarassment, teach us to be humble which is a pretty good quality to have. 

When you can share a smile, spread the love in your heart, show the peace in your soul and truth in your character, you are most certainly putting your best foot forward. 

Everyone around you, including your kids (whether they admit it or not) can see that too...even when you stretch on the street in front of the school or walk directly on to campus sporting a ponytail, running shoes and sweaty yoga pants. 

After all, can I truly call myself a parent of a teenager without constantly embarrasing him?  (she thinks, with genuine love in her heart, as she walks away chuckling...)

 

Moving on...

So this year has started off relatively well, no complaints here.

This one is a doozy too. This is the year that I bid my 30's adieu and welcome a new decade.

When I was a kid, I thought that 40 was ancient.  I mean we're talking a relic, a dinosaur, a person in dire need of retirement and most certainly out of the realm of being "cool."

It was my Dad who would often tell me that our bodies betray our brains and that he still felt like he was 16, in his mind at least) even when he was well over 60!

After watching Madonna's half-time show Sunday, I realized that the queen of pop herself, even with the ridiculously buff arms and incredible stamina, has had to slow it down a bit. We were only privy to a few pelvic thrusts and gyrations. Those damn high-heeled boots kept getting in the way, that and an injured hamstring so I hear.  But all things considered, the old broad brought it and really, how many other 50-something year-old women have 1/10th of the energy she has, gotta give credit where credit is due.

And she practices yoga...(just another shameless plug for my favorite form of exercise and meditation).

Enough about that, what I am getting at is that with each year comes new opportunities, opportunities to hit the reset button and start over, reinvent yourself or try new things. Whether you make your "resolutions" on New Years Day or your birthday or any given Wednesday, these dates are great reminders that it's never too late to start anew.

And that might mean allowing yourself say goodbye; allowing yourself to move on.

Letting go of the mental baggage that holds you back can be complicated. We carry around heavy loads, loads of guilt or shame or sadness for the things we may have said or done that we can't seem to shake. I say, there is no better time than now to let it go and move on.

Easier said than done, I know but dumping this extra cargo allows us to move FORWARD and gain a greater sense of peace and compassion for others. Letting go and forgiving others and oneself is never simple but once it's done, we can begin to heal and the possibilities for amazing things start to present themselves. When we no longer focus on the negative junk, we suddenly experience clarity in a way that we couldn't see before because our vision was blurred by the dense fog and haze that continually cluttered up our minds.

After I lost my dad and best friend two years ago, I knew in my heart that I had said and done everything right but there was still that nagging feeling that I could have done more; exactly what, I have no idea. Finding a cure for cancer would be a great place to start but sadly, I never did get that medical degree, thus I will have to settle for putting pen to paper and taking a different path, one that suits me well.

While it seems like I will never get over losing Dad and Suz, time is helping to heal that intense pain. It can be hard to see the lessons that come with such a deep loss, but what I have come to realize is that during their toughest battles, the battle to live, I gained a strength that I never knew I had. And even though they both lost their fight, watching them struggle to face their mortality changed my life in a way that I am just now beginning to recognize as a gift. I would give anything to have them both back here, alive and healthy, but the reality is that will never happen. So instead, I choose to live my life using them both as inspiration and I reflect on the memories from our time together with an deep sense of peace and love.  I am allowing myself to move on.

Susie would also have been 40 this year...on my birthday. Among all the things we shared, our birthday was always the most special. After 25 years of friendship, the last one we spent together was our 37th.  So this year, I plan on carving out some extra time celebrating her by heading down to the beach, taking a stroll and basking in the glow of fond memories from our time together.  Memories that were filled with laughter and joy, mixed with tears and pain, but mostly laughter and joy.  She was one of a kind, that girl.  I am blessed and lucky to have known her.

As hard as it has been to move on, I know that my best friend and my dad would both want me to let go of that pain and experience all the good things in life, just as they had when they were here.  "No regrets," I can just hear them say...

So when I sit down to write my blogs, I look to my left and see photos of my girl and I look behind me and see photos Dad, and I know that they would both be proud of the choices I am making and would encourage me to follow my dreams.  The two of them were some of my biggest supporters and cheerleaders and I have to believe that they are still there, cheering me on from high above.

The truth of the matter is that I am not really hung up on the idea of turning 40.  What's the alternative?  I am grateful and lucky to celebrate another year, another chance to reinvent myself, to start anew and try new things.  Perhaps the eternal Material Girl is on to something.  Maybe this is the year I start out with a fake British accent...

Nah. But I wouldn't mind those arms though...