I confess. I totally jumped on the Chicago Blackhawks bandwagon when they made it to the playoffs. I jumped on the Chicago White Sox bandwagon when they ultimately won the World Series in 2005. I’ve never been a true hockey or baseball fan. It is exciting for any of my hometown teams to get to the playoffs and have a real shot at winning it all. That’s why I jump. I may not be a die-hard fan of the sports or the teams themselves but I love seeing Chicago win. We do have a long history of not winning.

Going back a bit I jumped on the Chicago Bulls bandwagon when Michael Jordan joined the team. He was an exciting player and I got into it. In fact, I don’t think I missed a game during the entire time he was with the Bulls. When I jumped on that bandwagon I had no idea they would ever make it to the playoffs let alone become the unbeatable dynasty they became.

Going back even further I jumped on the Chicago Bears bandwagon after watching the 1985 Super Bowl at a neighbor’s house. I was 15 years old. My parents weren’t football fans. Our neighbor just had a Super Bowl party and we went. It was exciting. I’ve been a Bears fan ever since.

So, my question is, at what point does a person move from the undesirable and looked down upon status of bandwagon jumper to the ultimate status of “true fan”? In my case I consider myself to be a true Bears fan. I follow them every year and they have only made it to the Super Bowl once since 1985 (and that was a sad experience). I haven’t given up and love watching the games. In fact, I love the sport itself. I get it. I know all the rules. I love football and I love Da Bears. Does this make me a true fan or am I still a  bandwagon jumper because it all started with them winning the 1985 Super Bowl?

As for the Bulls, I admit, I lost interest in basketball after Jordan retired. I guess you could say that I was a Jordan fan, not a basketball fan or even really a Bulls fan. Although if the Bulls do make it to the playoffs I’ll jump right back on that bandwagon too. Because they’re a Chicago team. But for all those years he was on the team, even before they started winning championships, I was a “true fan”. I was in a bar on Division Street when they won in 1992. I saw the rioting up close and personal and had to quickly get out of the way as one of the two taxis that were turned over started to flip.

Whenever a team wins their respective top honor you hear all this crap about true fans vs. bandwagon jumpers. The true fans will generally talk about how long they’ve been following the team, how many games they’ve been to, the lengths they’ve gone to in obtaining tickets, etc. They express contempt for bandwagon jumpers. They feel superior to them and even seem to think they have no right to be watching the games or to be happy that the team has won.

I really don’t understand this mentality, especially after what I’ve experienced during the Blackhawk’s playoffs. One of my closest friends who I’ve known since we were 10 years old is the ultimate true Blackhawks fan. I would even go so far as to say that during her teens and early twenties she was a groupie. She knows many players personally. I met Jeremy Roenick at her house a hundred years ago before he was a legend. She has referred to the Blackhawk’s win as her lifelong dream. She’s hardcore. When we were growing up together I went along with her and her family to many a game but just never got into it. I don’t know why. To this day I don’t understand the rules. But she hosted parties at her house throughout the playoffs at which my family and I were almost always in attendance. It was a blast going over there several times a week, watching the games with a big group and seeing my friend’s lifelong dream coming closer and closer to actually coming true. I loved every minute of it, as did hubby and our sons.

At no point did my friend or any of the others at these parties become upset with us for not being lifelong fans. I don’t even know how many of them were true fans and how many were bandwagon jumpers. We all just had a great time and the celebration and tears and hugs and cheering and champagne popping and fireworks that we experienced last night after they won the Stanley Cup will be one of my most cherished memories. I got to see a Chicago team win it all and I got to see my friend’s dream realized with her.

So tell me, at what point do I become a true fan, and more importantly, does it really matter?

Thanks for stopping by!

Our Road Trip started out as a conversation on twitter. I don’t even remember what we were talking about but somewhere along the line my friend Dawn mentioned that Ani DiFranco was coming to Des Moines, IA in April and invited my sister and I to go. My sister has been a huge Ani DiFranco fan for years so she immediately said she wanted to go. I didn’t know any of her music and loathe long road trips. But my sister was so excited and I did want to visit Dawn since she had already visited me, so I said sure, why not? Then my sister decided to invite a friend of hers, Dawn bought the tickets and the trip was a go.

The five hour drive up there really wasn’t that bad. Despite my GPS (now affectionately known as “bitch”) giving us bad directions once we got off the highway and into town, we had fun most of the way. We talked, sang along with the iPod and got a good laugh over seeing several of these gas stations along the way (seriously, who came up with this name?!):

The hotel was nice and our chauffeur (Dawn) picked us up in Mulva, her car. I was shocked to learn that the name of the car had nothing at all to do with Seinfeld but no matter, she got us where we wanted to go all night.

She took us to a great German pub for dinner and pre-concert drinks. After the concert is when things got interesting.

We unanimously agreed to check out a local gay bar. I think Dawn thought a friend of hers might be there.  The bar is a few blocks off the main college bar row in a warehouse district next to train tracks. It doesn’t look like much from the outside. The inside is a whole different story. They had me when they carded me. When we walked into the bar and I saw signs all over the place advertising that it was ’80′s night I was all-in. As a child of the ’80′s I do enjoy hearing the music and eventually even got out there and did my best Carlton-from-Fresh-Prince-white-folks-dance and Molly-Ringwald-in-The-Breakfast-Club moves (“I use the term “moves” very loosely here). My sister danced in a box/cage. Her friend looked horrified. Good times.

But wait, there’s more. Not only was it ’80′s night. There was also a best ’80′s costume contest and an ’80′s Drag Show. That’s right. Drag Queens on stage lip syncing and dancing, in full costumes, to some of the most embarrassing songs from the era of my adolescence. My personal favorite was this one (she could shake it!):

It was a lot of fun watching the performers. One was Cyndi Lauper and another was Boy George. They got tips from the audience and everything. I’m not sure who won since we eventually moved to the dance floor and beer garden. There was a twister game going on in one area and an old-fashioned photo booth and they only accepted cash, no credit or debit cards. Hmmmm….

While it was a blast, and definitely outside my comfort zone, I have to admit it was a bit odd to spend several hours in a club and not have one single guy hit on us, buy us drinks or even try to talk to us. I take that back, there was one guy in particular who did talk to us for quite a while. He was a lawyer, that night was only the 3rd time he’d gone out in drag and he wanted our opinions on everything from his wig to his eyebrows to his ass. Eventually a group of guys came over to where we were talking to him and basically lured him away! In a straight bar, those guys would have been luring us away, or at least trying to join our conversation.

And I didn’t think about this until later (when hubby hopefully asked for some hot bi-curious details that simply didn’t happen, much to his disappointment) but not one woman hit on us either. Maybe we gave off some sort of hetero vibe. Or maybe it was the wedding rings. I think I might be offended!

On the way back to the hotel around 1am, my very inebriated sister insisted that we stop at this sculpture for some pictures (I’ll admit it’s pretty cool but at the time I was just tired and had a headache):

I was surprised by the diversity and beauty of this city. I was not surprised that we had a great time. Dawn was an excellent hostess and I can’t thank her (and Mulva) enough for such a fun-filled weekend!

Thanks for stopping by!

Guess which class I’m traveling in this weekend. That’s right, first class! No children. Not even any husbands. Ok, maybe it’s not first-first class. We’re driving. For five hours. In a mini-van. Close enough.

We’re headed out of town to meet a couple of other righteous babes to see this righteous babe in concert:

There is a mom’s gone wild type of feeling in the anticipation of this brief trip. At least the three of us coming in from other states are feeling a little taste of freedom and can’t wait to get this party started. What happens on this road trip stays on this road trip.

But I’m sure I’ll blog all about it anyway.

And probably provide drunken Facebook status updates that I may or may not regret later.

Possibly even pictures.

Thanks for stopping by!

We went to the movies Saturday afternoon. On the way out I stopped in the restroom. When I emerged there was a woman talking to hubby and the boys. Her back was to me and I didn’t know who she was. I walked over to them and turned around. I’m not sure if I audibly gasped or if it was only in my head. It was a friend of ours from whom we haven’t heard in quite some time. Our boys no longer attend the same schools and the mutual friend we had shared is no longer in our lives. It also seemed as if our friend in the movie theater had sort of gone into hiding a little over a year ago. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

She’s always been a reserved and private person. We never got too close. But I like her. And I have thought of her often over the past year. I sent a few e-mails that went unanswered and heard other friends had the same experience. I finally just hoped for the best and figured she’d contact me if she wanted to.

She immediately commented that she liked the pink ribbon I was wearing on my coat. The pink ribbon that Gina’s daughters passed out to all the guests at her wake. I gasped (again not sure if it was audible or not), muttered an awkward, “thank you.” without explaining where I got my ribbon or what it represents to me, grabbed the ribbon and continued holding onto it for few moments before giving her a teary-eyed hug. I asked how she was and she said good. There was some small talk about the kids and her husband and then hubby was wrapping up the conversation. I looked into her eyes for a moment. I needed more.

I told hubby and the kids to go on and I’d catch up in a minute. I had to know. She certainly looked healthy and her hair looked much like it had the last time I saw her, before her diagnosis. I asked about the cancer and her treatment. She had chemo, then a lumpectomy, then radiation and has been cancer-free since December! I was so happy for her and her family. I had to hug her again, although I know she’s even less of a touchy-feely person than I usually am. I told her how happy I was for her. We talked some more about how it’s been an “interesting” year but that the worst seems to be behind her, she feels good and is going to start looking for work. She has to stay on medication for five years and get frequent scans but so far so good.

I was awe-struck. I was standing there talking to an actual breast cancer survivor. It felt great, exhilarating even. Like I imagine talking to one of your favorite celebrities would feel. Her kids will not have to know what it feels like to lose their mother so young. Her husband will not be left alone to pick up the pieces. She can move on with her life. Absolutely amazing.

We finally parted and after I was a safe distance from her and back with my family, I lost it. Sobbing. They didn’t understand. It hit me like a ton of bricks. If things had gone differently, that could have been Gina.

An innocent afternoon at the movies with my family turned into this unbelievable encounter with a survivor.

In all fairness, her prognosis was never as dicey as Gina’s had been because she did not have the same type of breast cancer. Gina’s was the worst case scenario.

My emotions were all over the place. An almost giddy happiness for my friend and her family combined with the intense grief in knowing I will never run into Gina in a movie theater. And then the guilt. Guilt for feeling sad for one friend when another friend had beaten the odds and was thriving. An entire roller coaster of emotion within a ten minute time period.

This grief “process” is more like a relative calm before the storm immediately followed by the crashing in of an epic tidal wave with no warning.

I miss my friend.

Thanks for stopping by!

I’m not talking about actual panic attacks. I’ve come close to having one of those a couple of times and it’s a horrible feeling. But it’s been quite some time since I’ve felt that level of anxiety. I guess you could say that’s progress, right? RIGHT?!

My overall level of anxiety has been high ever since before Thanksgiving when Gina’s health started to deteriorate. In late December I took a risk by changing jobs. I realize that under usual circumstances changing jobs is not a huge risk but in this economy and in the mortgage industry…it was a risk. Then, just a few weeks later I started my dreaded statistics class.

There are certainly worse things that could have happened (besides Gina’s death of course). I think the combo of adjusting to my friend’s death, a very different type of job and a class that I not only hate, but is extremely difficult for me to grasp, was a bit much for me.

I still haven’t adjusted to Gina’s death. Yesterday her sister mentioned on Facebook that she could really use some advice from her sister. I could only respond, “me too”. I am reminded of her absence several times daily. I miss everything about her and our friendship. I still haven’t even stopped thinking from time to time that I have to call her and tell her about something that I know she would laugh about. I try to keep it in perspective. I mean if I feel this way I can’t imagine how her family, particularly her daughters feel. Then I feel guilty for missing her.

The job has been an adjustment just because the way things are set up is like nowhere else I have ever worked. I work from home now. The problem is not working from home. That I love. There was just a scary period there where I wasn’t sure it was going to work out and I wasn’t making as much money as I anticipated. Then I felt guilty for not making enough money. Luckily, the work situation is now going even better than expected. I kept telling myself that it was just growing pains but that did nothing to help my level of anxiety.

Stats. Sucks. I hate it. I don’t fully understand it. At this point I’ll be happy if I’m passing. We had our first test yesterday. I was even more anxious than usual over that test all day. Then I felt guilty for not being good enough at stats.

Are you seeing the pattern here? When I feel guilt I become anxious. And I feel guilty about almost everything. I know I’m not perfect and that no one expects me to be (except maybe myself). I know that perfectionism, worrying and anxiety don’t help any situation. I know that I’ve even written similar blog posts on this subject. Actually, now I’m starting to feel guilty about being repetitive and boring you to death.

This guilt thing is nonsense. I have to knock it off. I have to let myself off the hook. It’s causing me unnecessary turmoil. It’s not working for me at all, it never has and it never will. Beer helps but then I feel guilty for drinking too much. It’s too bad I can’t have the guilt/anxiety parts of my brain removed. I’d feel no emotional turmoil but without any guilt I’d become a criminal and end up in prison and I’m told they don’t serve beer there.

Thanks for stopping by!

When my friend Gina was first diagnosed with cancer her biggest concern was that she would die before her twin daughters turned 18. She was afraid that their biological father would take them away from everything she had worked so hard to provide: stability and love, their home, their step-father and their little sister. Throughout her battle with cancer I never once heard her complain about herself, the treatments or anything else. Her mantra never changed. She simply had to stay alive until the twins were 18. She knew she could not fall short of this because the consequences for her daughters were too horrific for her to even consider.

Her worst nightmares have come true.

Last week, less than two months after losing their mother, their biological father abruptly removed them from their school in the upscale suburb in which they have lived for more than 1/2 of their lives. He has taken them to the home of the most recent woman he is living with in a rough neighborhood. He has told them that their mother never loved them and only wanted his money. He has cut them off from all of their family and told them they will never see their step-father or little sister again. He has not even bothered to enroll them in school.

I don’t know what precipitated any of this. I do know that the girls are terrified and cut off from everyone they love, everything that is familiar and safe to them and all while still grieving the very recent death of their mother.

Her sister said it best, “Gina is counting on all of us to fix this.”.

I don’t know how to fix this. All I do know is that getting the word out through my blog may lead us to someone who can help. There is a court hearing next week in DuPage County IL. If anyone reading this knows anyone or knows someone who may know anyone that can help my friend’s daughters (attorneys, advocates, etc.) PLEASE leave a comment here.

Thank you.

We had been friends for years. Our kids were friends. Our husbands were friends. We all spent several nights per week together in one combination or another. All of us hung out at their house at least one night almost every weekend. We went on couples’ dates together. We went on family outings together. We attended concerts, went out to dinner, had parties and barbecues…all together. They were our best friends. They were there for us when we were having marital problems and neither took sides. They were like family.

That all changed one night in July. Turns out there was a big secret lurking in their home that they hid quite well from us, despite all the time we spent over there or how close we thought we were. We knew they were having some marital problems. We knew their teenage son was having some emotional problems. We had no idea, or looking back it’s more honest to say that we had some idea, but we really didn’t know or want to know the whole truth.

My friend called and asked if I’d watch the kids. She was hysterical. Of course I said yes. It seems their marital problems were much more serious than we knew. He was threatening to leave and take all of their money. She was panicked, had some errands to run, and wanted to leave the kids with us for a few hours.

She returned several hours later and that is when the full truth came out. He was in the middle of a full-blown narcissistic rage that would only continue to get worse as the night went on. He made many threats against her, her car, our home, their home and himself. He would hang up on her for refusing to come home and then immediately call back to scream horrendous insults and threats at her. She and the kids were panicked. My kids were panicked.

At one point she was on the phone with the police and kept putting them on hold to answer his calls because she was afraid to not answer him even while on the phone with the police. The whole truth was displayed for us with all the gory details that included years and years of emotional, verbal and physical abuse against my friend and her teenage son. She tried not to let us hear but he was screaming so loudly that even at the lowest volume we could hear him clear as a bell from the next room. She finally became so terrorized that she actually believed he would come to our house and asked if we could go to my sister’s to spend the night there instead.

Of course my sister opened up her home to all of us. We stayed up until 3am talking and just sitting with her and her kids. The whole time the insane phone calls never ceased. He called his wife and mother of his children names I have never considered calling my worst enemy. He threatened suicide. He threatened to burn down the house. He threatened to bash in her car. I heard him say that she had unleashed a monster that she will never be able to escape from. He tried every form of aggression he could think of to get her to come home but she was too scared. She finally turned her phone off and we all slept on the floor in the living room of my sister’s small home.

Of course he never did any of the horrible things he threatened to do the night before. In the morning, sober and more in control, he apologized….sort of. She went home. With her kids. Alone. We offered to go with her. The  night before she had said she would be taking the police with her to pick up clothes for herself and the kids. In the morning, when he was calm, that all changed and they went home. 

My sister and I were terrified of what they were going home to. What he would do once he got them back into their house all alone. When I spoke to my friend later that day she said that they had talked and everything was fine. I imagined him standing over her shoulder or even on another phone listening. I was traumatized and shaky for two weeks afterwards. We had re-lived any given night from our own childhood and were helpless to stop it even though we are adults now.

I have not talked to her since. Her kids have not spoken to mine since that night either. I knew I could never be friends with a known child abuser but I naively thought that she and I could maintain our friendship and that our kids would not lose their friends. I was wrong. I tried for months to get together for dinner or drinks but there was always an excuse.

She and I did have an e-mail correspondence in which she mentioned that she hopes her son is happy and that she has done everything she could to make his life perfect and prepare him for adulthood. That story may still fly with the ladies at school or in the neighborhood but she knows that I know the truth. I couldn’t just go along with the delusion so I reminded her that her son is depressed and about as far from happy as he can be because of his abusive father. She didn’t come out and say why she has cut us out of her life but I can only guess that they need us out of their lives because we know the truth. His image is blown.

I had suspected he was a narcissist. There were many clues. He always had to be in control. Once he even took the wheel when hubby was driving us somewhere because he thought he was about to hit a parked car (he wasn’t). His constant efforts to convince everyone of his perfect image and the perfect home and all the things he needed to make it a perfect home. He was obsessed with appearances including, but not limited to, a perfectly landscaped and manicured lawn. He bragged constantly about his latest frivolous purchases that no one else cared about and had to have the top of the line everything. He always had to be right. I also noticed tell-tale signs in the ways they interacted. When his glass was empty, she jumped to refill it. At parties they hosted she spent the whole time keeping everything immaculate instead of enjoying the party. I could go on and on. I chose to ignore it because we enjoyed their company and because I figured their marriage was their own business.

One night in July changed everything and yet it changed nothing. We lost our best friends but that was really only an illusion anyway, wasn’t it? For all I know we are just one couple in a long line who have been cut off when he has slipped and exposed his true nature. Nothing changed for my friend and her son. I hope they are ok. I hope she gets the courage to take care of herself and her kids. I hope she believes that I will be here for her if she does.

Thanks for stopping by.

Gina‘s wake was on Monday evening. I had to work all day and as the day progressed I moved closer and closer towards panic. As is true of everything I can immediately think of, the reality was not nearly as horrific as I imagined. Yet another reason worry and anxiety are destructive wastes of time.

As soon as we walked in one of Gina’s 14 year old twins walked right up to me to say hi. As I hugged her I told her I was so sorry (what else do you say?). She said, “It’s ok.”. This beautiful child who had just lost her mother was telling me it was ok. I’m still speechless.

That encounter got me started. I cried. And cried. And cried. I cried looking at all of the beautiful pictures of my friend.

I cried looking at the closed casket. I cried looking at her daughters, her mother, her sister and brother, her husband and her grandmother. I cried over each and every word that was spoken about her.

I laughed. I laughed when I told hubby he had to dunk the biscotti in his coffee but he tried to break off a piece instead and Gina’s grandmother told him he had to dunk it. I laughed even more when I told her that’s what I said and an aunt chimed in with, “they never listen.”. I’m fairly certain that everyone laughed when Gina’s precocious and apparently attention-loving 3 year old daughter chose the middle of the Priest’s eulogy to proclaim as loudly as possible, “Ready! Set! Go!” and then proceed to run straight across the front of the room at full speed. Repeatedly. Probably about 10 times. I laughed when her sister and I agreed that Gina told her daughter to do that because things were getting way too serious in there.

I received a completely unexpected gift from the most unexpected source. I have secretly been wondering if Gina truly knew how much she meant to me. How much I loved her. See, as close as we were, we weren’t overly vocal about our feelings or particularly affectionate. We hugged hello and goodbye and frequently said, “I love you man.”. But I had this nagging doubt. I was afraid I had failed to convey how important to me she was. As open as I am in writing, I am much less comfortable vocalizing my feelings.

My gift? Her other 14 year old twin daughter introduced me to someone as her mom’s best friend. I couldn’t breathe for a second. Then I asked hubby if I had heard her correctly. He said yes. Now, I am a 39 year old woman, well past the point in life where I need anyone to assure me that I am their one and only BFF. However, hearing her daughter say that I was her mom’s best friend absolutely meant the world to me. I know she had many other close friends. But I also now know that Gina did know how important she was to me and how much I loved her. Thanks to her daughter.

I can’t begin to imagine how her family is feeling or how they will deal with their tremendous loss. I do know that they helped me a great deal last night. I only hope I can somehow return the favor.

Thanks for stopping by!

The waking up is the hardest part

You roll outta bed and down on your knees

And for the moment you can hardly breathe

Wondering was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?

No she’s not, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….”

- Dreaming With A Broken Heart by John Mayer

Gina died around 1am this morning. I don’t know anything more than that. I couldn’t bear to hear any details. I don’t want to know. Selfish? Maybe.

I can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t know why I’m shocked. I am. Of course I knew she was dying, that there was nothing more any doctors could do for her. I think it’s still somewhat shocking because I just couldn’t believe that this feisty, brave, amazing woman could ever lose this battle. And now she’s gone.

This new job I have? She would have been all over it too. She would have been excited as hell for me and would have wanted me to pass along her resume. Immediately. It’s so bizarre that she doesn’t know about it at all. I can’t just pick up the phone to tell my friend my good news. I can’t talk to her ever again. About anything. Ever. Her phone number is stored in my cell phone. It doesn’t matter. I am thinking of calling it to hear her voice on her voice mail message. I’m afraid of who may pick up. Definitely someone for whom her death is even more painful than it is for me.

It was right around this time three years ago when another friend’s mother died suddenly. I’m sorry to say that I don’t know the exact date of her death but it was right before Christmas and it was out of the blue, completely unexpected. I realized at some point that her death marked the beginning of my unraveling. Her death was the first in a series of unfortunate events that sparked….something. I don’t know what to call it really. A downward spiral. A new journey on a path to self-awareness. All of those things.

And I wonder today, as I try to find the lesson in this unfortunate event, if this means I have somehow come full circle. I wonder if this death, almost exactly three years from the beginning of my unraveling or journey or spiral or whatever….I wonder what it means.

All I know for sure is that I miss my friend. Her passing leaves a hole in my life and I don’t know if I ever even want to stop accidentally picking up the phone to call her.

Thanks for stopping by.

I’m out of limbo.

I’ll start with the worst news since that’s how I usually choose to receive news. Bad news first. The new doctor is not going to be able to treat my friend. This is, of course, the worst possible news but not exactly unexpected. There was some hope but really nothing has changed. Her condition and prognosis are still the same as before she met this doctor. Unfortunately, she is still in limbo but fortunately, still alive. She is a fighter.

I have another friend whom I have wanted to have a conversation with since the last time I saw her in July. Since then she has not found the time to get together so I finally sent her an e-mail. Her response was actually pretty much what I expected. She cannot explain why we are no longer friends except that she has chosen to stay in a bad situation in which she allows herself to be controlled by someone else and the person holding the strings is not someone I consider to be a friend. It’s too bad. She was a good friend for over 6 years. My sons were friends with her kids and they miss them. They don’t understand why we don’t see them anymore. I explain it the best I can but in all honesty I don’t really understand it either. I do feel better having gotten it out there in the open and letting her know I am here if she changes her mind.

And finally…the good great news. I have a new job! I couldn’t be more excited about this.  It’s similar to what I’m doing now except I get to work from home full-time. Every day. No commute. No office. Ever. Plus there is room for advancement which there is not in my current position. So, the new year will also mark the beginning of a new career opportunity for me.

Thanks for stopping by!