So Much More Than A Mom

Sometimes It Is The Small Stuff

Cyndi — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 07:18:43 +0000

“Rule number one is, don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule number two is, it’s all small stuff.” ~ Robert Eliot

You’ve heard of this quote and this book, right? I’ve never read the book but have always liked the quote. I always think of this quote when stuck in a long line or traffic. That truly is not worth getting all worked up about. For the most part though, I have failed miserably at following this advice.

This quote popped into my head over the weekend. It was mostly uneventful. We had no obligations to attend to. We went out with friends Friday night and had a good time. Saturday was….weird. Hubby seemed to have quite a bit on his mind. Numerous concerns about my behavior. Initially I felt badly. I apologized. I thought all was well but then things were still….weird. As the grievances mounted I started to seriously consider how much of what he was irritated about truly belonged to me and how much of it was really all about him.

We don’t fight dirty or scream and yell and accuse each other of horrible things and bring up grievances from 10 years ago anymore so none of this was out of control. Neither of us were particularly angry either. He seemed to be more irritated than anything else. I was mostly confused. Later I did become angry but not so angry that I felt compelled to yell or leave or consult an attorney.

None of the issues we debated that day were of major significance. They were all pretty minor. One argument was over who should have stopped at the store to purchase milk and pop. Typical, mundane, everyday marital nonsense. Small stuff.

It occurred to me that day that I don’t like this quote anymore. It simply isn’t realistic or true. At least not as applied to marriage or any long term relationship. Life is lived mostly in the small stuff. Sure, there are major marital problems that can end a marriage. But many marriages live and die in the small stuff.

On the plus side it can be a welcoming hug after a day at work, a conversation over a recent news item or shared topic of interest, a giggle over something one of the kids says or does or or teary-eyed acknowledgment of how fast they are growing up. It can be the way we cuddle when we sleep, a mutual look at a party that says it’s time to go, a suggestion of a vacation together alone, a genuine compliment, open and direct communication, an inside joke, even just a loving look. This small stuff strengthens a marriage.

On the minus side it can be a statement that includes the phrase, “you always…” or “you never…”. It can be an unexpressed expectation that never had a chance of being met, a thought that leads to an unkind word, a complaint about something without all the facts, eye-rolling, passive-aggressive comments, accusations not based in reality, sweeping judgments and even innocent miscommunication. This small stuff can rip a marriage to shreds over the years. It tears at the very fabric of the relationship and builds resentment and confusion rather than understanding and intimacy.

Most marriages have a little bit of both of these types of small stuff. Mine does. The good small stuff far outweighs the bad but it still does exist. We are each only flawed humans after all. We worked out our small stuff on Saturday and moved on. The heartfelt apologies, kissing and making up, discussing a disagreement calmly and truly listening and considering the others’ point of view…these things help make up for the harmful small stuff. The good small stuff is what keeps us fully engaged.

Sure, hubby could come home with an itinerary for a surprise elaborate vacation, three dozen flowers and a lifetime supply of books. That would be pretty big, right? But all those grand gestures…big stuff….would be erased in a heartbeat if he made one snide comment about some mundane thing that I didn’t do or didn’t do to his satisfaction, wouldn’t it?

Unless there’s some really bad big stuff going on (and we’ve been there too) I say it is the small stuff that is most important in a marriage and mine is definitely worth the sweat. What do you think?

Thanks for stopping by!

Queen Bee Custom Printing Giveaway

Cyndi — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 14:55:28 +0000

“At Queen Bee, we believe personalized products deserve personal attention. Our bee-utiful stationery is perfect for you, your business, or all of your gift-giving needs!” – Queen Bee Custom Printing

When I first found out about Queen Bee Custom Printing, I knew I had to do a giveaway. Not only is the owner Michelle super sweet and extremely talented but her business is located in my happy place…North Carolina!

MEET THE QUEEN……………..

I’m Michelle Snowden, founder of Queen Bee Custom Printing. If you’re like me, you love seeing your name in print. As a child, I cherished the pencils and notepads branded with my name. I love giving a gift with a beautiful monogram. In April 2008, my passion for all things personalized turned into a business, and here we are today! From my hive to yours, thank you for choosing Queen Bee for all your stationery needs!

In conjunction with this giveaway, Michelle sent me my very own personalized note cards and notepad. They’re so cute I feel inspired to break from my usual text and e-mail messages to actually send some personalized notes. I chose this adorable “Bubblegum” pattern but there are many others to choose from, you can pick whatever you want them to say (mine say “A Little Note From Cyndi”) and you get to choose your own font too:

She was also kind enough to send a set of everyday gift tags. I love these because they are adorable and I don’t have to buy greeting cards for every kids’ birthday gift I buy (they don’t read them anyway). There are so many colors to choose from I’ll be set for kids’ birthday parties for a while:

Queen Bee Custom Printing also offers custom projects such as business cards, banners, invitations and flat note cards.

THREE lucky winners will receive:

10 Folded Note Cards + 1 Matching Notepad (you select style) and 1 set of Everyday Gift Tags

How To Enter The Giveaway:

Visit Queen Bee Custom Printing.

Return here to leave a comment about what your favorite design is.

Additional Entries Available:

Tweet a link to this giveaway and post the permalink of your tweet in the comments section of this post.

Become a fan of Queen Bee Custom Printing’s Facebook page HERE.

Become a fan of So Much More Than A Mom’s Facebook page HERE.

Post a link on your own blog back to this giveaway and post your link in the comments section of this post.

Details:

Contest ends at midnight (CDT) Thursday, March 25th 2010.

US Residents only.

My personal friends and family are not eligible to win (sorry!).

Three winners will be chosen at random, notified on March 26th 2010 and will choose which styles and fonts they would like. Prizes will be shipped directly from Queen Bee Custom Printing once all the information has been provided by the winners.

Good luck and thanks for stopping by!

Gifts

Cyndi — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 16:03:00 +0000

“Living well is an art that can be developed: a love of life and ability to take great pleasure from small offerings and assurance that the world owes you nothing and that every gift is exactly that, a gift.” — Maya Angelou

The other side of 40. It looks much like 39 but without the burden that comes with the dread of turning 40. It’s just another day. It’s just a number.

The bonus of having such a milestone birthday fall on a Thursday is that we get to celebrate twice. No one wants to go out late on a weeknight. Well, at least no one my age. Last night the family and a few friends came over for a late dinner and cake. Tonight we’re going out with some friends to get our dinner and drink on.

Hubby has become incredibly intuitive as far as gift giving is concerned. I made no lists, requests or urgent pleas for anything in particular. Well, I did say that what I really, really, really wanted was tickets to the John Mayer concert in April but he said we can still do that and it doesn’t have to be my birthday present. How sweet is that?! In addition to the beautiful flowers and balloons that were waiting for me when I woke up, it’s clear from his gifts that he knew exactly what I need right now. To be pampered and feel pretty:

I can’t wait to get my massage on! It may be today. And I smell damn good if I do say so myself. Since we’re going out tonight I will get the rare opportunity to actually put on all my fab new make-up, wear clothes other than sweats and jammies and maybe even remind hubby that when made up I’m not too bad looking….for a 40 year old.

My sister and I never have any trouble finding the perfect gifts for each other despite our very different tastes. Well, there was that one time when she was in high school and I bought her the most adorable pink plaid sweater that she hated (she clearly had no taste…it was so cute!) but we steer clear of clothes these days. Being the tree-hugging-granola-crunching-cause-supporting person that she is, I was amazed by how she was able to pick out the perfect gifts for me while still supporting her causes.

With my upcoming trip to North Carolina in mind, she got me this awesome tote in sea green to put my books in when I hit the beach:

Along with the matching clutch, complete with a dollar bill in it for good fortune:

And this beautiful tea rose bookmark:

She also picked up some heavenly lavender/eucalyptus scented candles:

And the pièce de résistance:

That’s right bitches….Bitch Bubbly sparkling wine!! How fun and perfect is that?!

40? So far so good.

Thanks for stopping by!

March Forth!

Cyndi — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 19:47:19 +0000

“I’m not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose… it’ll be much harder to detect.” – George Carlin

So it’s happened. I’m 40. All hell did not break loose. Not even part of it. I did not change my mind about how I feel about this milestone.

I have been reflecting on the past decade though. My youngest son was born the year I turned 30. I had a hard time with 30. I even warned people to watch out for 2010 because if my reaction to turning 30 was any indication, turning 40 was not going to be pretty at all. I now think that’s because I was secretly a mess. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a mess but it’s no longer a secret. That’s what I like to call progress.

One thought that has been recurring during my recent reflections is that I have made significant personal changes over the past decade, most over the past 3 years, but still feel….unsettled….unfinished. I’ve realized that I am unfinished and hope to stay that way for the rest of my life. It’s a good thing. To become set in my ways, stop learning, stop trying new adventures….that would be stagnating, suffocating, THAT would be getting old.

But the one thing I haven’t managed to change for the better in the past decade is my almost constant unacceptable level of anxiety. I am one high strung 40 year old broad. Enough already. As has been well documented on this blog it’s all based in fear, worry and lack of control. It’s time to take this seriously and work on taking things down a few hundred notches. IT (whatever IT is at any given moment) just isn’t that bad, worth my suffering or within my control. And so what? All hell may break loose but I certainly can’t stop it by being irritable, stressed out and upset. I can’t stop it at all. I need to focus on learning to roll with things sometimes, picking my battles and stopping my own anxiety before it reaches critical melt-down levels. So, that’s my project. Learning to relax and just chill out for once.

My blogging friend Christina pointed out that March 4th is the only date that is also a command. I love that! It’s fun. Through these wondrous interwebs I have also discovered that it’s my hometown Chicago’s birthday AND even better for this self-proclaimed grammar nazi, it’s also National Grammar Day!

The moral of this story: Bring it on…let hell break loose. Just don’t misspell anything.

Thanks for stopping by!

Guilty Conscience

Cyndi — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 06:22:38 +0000

“When a condition or a problem becomes too great, humans have the protection of not thinking about it. But it goes inward and minces up with a lot of other things already there and what comes out is discontent and uneasiness, guilt and a compulsion to get something–anything–before it is all gone.” — John Steinbeck

I’ve been thinking a lot about all this guilt that I’ve recently noticed. Why do I feel guilty about….everything? Where did this come from?

It’s a brand new concept so forgive me if I sound as if I’m babbling (I’ll feel guilty about that too, no doubt) but I’m going to give it a shot here anyway. It usually helps.

I was thinking that my anxiety level increases whenever I feel guilty and that I feel guilty about many things. When these things are held up to the cold light of reality there is no logical reason for my feelings of guilt. I’m going to use my year of unemployment as the example. I felt guilty the entire time I was off of work. I felt guilty for not bringing home enough money. I felt guilty for not being a productive member of society. I felt guilty whenever I did anything remotely enjoyable while hubby was at work. But here are the facts:

I maintained full-time employment from the ages of 19-37
My resume indicates a steady increase in responsibilities and promotions
I was successful in my industry by anyone’s standards
The job market was horrible, particularly for mortgage professionals and the state I live in had one of highest unemployment rates in the country
During my year of unemployment I spent the vast majority of every day looking for work

When I look at these facts I realize that I had absolutely nothing at all to feel guilty about. Nothing. I had no history of extended periods of unemployment. I had no history of a poor work ethic. I had no control over the mortgage crisis or the company I worked for closing. I did everything within my power to find a job.

Still with me? If my “facts” sound flawed to you please let me know in the comments. If not…

So why did I feel guilty? Where did that guilt come from? It wasn’t hubby. He was extremely supportive. It was coming from me. But why? Why did I ignore the facts and my husband’s unwavering confidence that I was doing all that I could and would eventually find something?

The answers I have come up with so far from speaking with a couple of people are perfectionism and manipulation. Growing up I was expected to be perfect. Anything short of perfect was absolute failure. There was no middle ground. There was never pride in having tried my hardest. Results mattered. Perfect results.

There are many examples but the first one that comes to mind is when I received my very first report card in 1st grade. My mother demanded to know why I got a “B” in one class. I was shocked and pointed out that all the others were “A’s” and isn’t a “B” really good anyway? She did acknowledge that the “A’s” were good but that she expected me to pull that “B” up to an “A” by the next report card. I was crushed. I felt horrible. I felt as I had done something wrong but I didn’t understand what I had done. I felt as if I had tried my hardest and that was not recognized. I felt terrified that I might get a “B” on my next report card. I felt completely helpless and powerless.

The reason that perfection was expected had nothing at all to do with me personally. My parents required perfection because I was a reflection of them. If I was less than perfect then they were too. With narcissists the idea that they could be less than perfect is not acceptable. Therefore, their mirror (me) must reflect their perfect image at all times.

In order to get me to comply they used manipulation and abuse. The admonishment about the “B” was a form of manipulation. The unknown consequences of failing to bring it up to an “A” were terrifying. It worked well.

I bring all this up to finally make the point that I’ve started to explore. It was not the guilt that caused my anxiety. It was the other way around. The anxiety I felt was the fear, the sheer terror, of feeling powerless. I could try my hardest and still get a “B”. I had no control over what would happen if I wasn’t perfect. Usually I was punished. Severely. The anticipation of the rage and abuse that would be unleashed on me whenever I failed to project the perfect image was too much for me to bear. So, I turned it into guilt. Shame really. It was much less stressful for me to feel bad about myself for being a disappointment than it was to think about how helpless I was against the inevitable consequences of my failure to meet unreasonable expectations.

As always when considering my childhood, the point is not to blame my current guilt and anxiety on my parents. The purpose is to figure out why I think the way I do so that I can change it. That six year old learned to avoid the fear of being powerless by turning it into guilt. It was a coping mechanism that worked. Guilt didn’t feel great but it felt a hell of a lot better than panic.

Back to my unemployment. Using this outdated coping mechanism I decided to feel guilty as opposed to feeling powerless. The truth was that I was in fact powerless to a large extent. After years of conditioning I equated powerlessness with extreme pain and abuse. Guilt was is my way of feeling as if I have some control or power in situations where I do not. Guilt allows me to alleviate the anxiety I feel when I feel helpless or weak. I don’t do helpless and weak. I do guilt.

I don’t know if this makes any sense at all to anyone but me. I don’t know that I’ve communicated it well. As I said it’s a new concept that I’m exploring but so far it rings true. The good news is that if I am onto something I may be able to eliminate much of the anxiety that I bring on myself. Time will tell.

Thanks for stopping by!

Mixed Emotions

Cyndi — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 17:33:47 +0000

“It’s so curious: one can resist tears and ‘behave’ very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer… and everything collapses.” — Colette

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!

40

Cyndi — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 20:21:31 +0000

“If you wait, all that happens is that you get older.” — Larry McMurtry

I’ve put this post off long enough. I’m turning 40 in about two weeks. 40.

Remember when 30 seemed ancient?! My mother-in-law was 40 when I met my husband. She didn’t seem old to me but she certainly didn’t seem young. She seemed like any other mom. Today she’s 64. For me, those 24 years seem to have flown by in a flash. We spend our entire childhood wishing time would speed up and our adult years wishing it would slow down. It’s so….well, weird.

I actually already wrote the I’m-dreading-turning-40 post. Last year. As I said then, I like to start the inevitable panic attack as early as possible. I think that it helped writing about it a year in advance. I think I may have actually come to terms with it. With everything that I feel anxious about just about every day, this milestone isn’t really one of them. Or maybe I’m just in denial. I guess we’ll find out for sure in about two weeks.

As much as I really don’t want to seem like any other mom, I’m sure I do to my kids and their friends. I think my kids think I’m pretty cool as far as moms go, but still, I’m mom. Of course I relish my role as their mom but as is the main theme of this blog….I am also so much more than a mom. Knowing that helps me to ignore the number of candles on the birthday cake.

It seems to me that beginning with that first unfortunate event in December 2006 and ending with the most recent unfortunate event almost exactly three years later, I’ve come full circle. The death of my friend’s mother in 2006 forced me to consider my own mortality. That, in conjunction with the events in between these two pulled me out of denial, made me re-evaluate myself, my marriage, every belief I have ever had and what the hell I had allowed myself to become. The past three years have been spent dealing with the past, learning, questioning, stepping out of my comfort zone, reinventing myself, reinventing my marriage and striving to figure out who I am and who I want to be. And then going for it. I have set-backs and then take giant leaps forward. All of these changes have cured my insomnia but brought on depression, at first, and now anxiety. I’m not finished with my journey and I never will be. The reason I feel I’ve come full circle is that the most recent unfortunate event, Gina’s death, has forced me to seriously consider not my own mortality this time, but the mortality of everyone I love.

After the ups and downs of the past three years I don’t find myself dreading my 40th birthday so much. I find myself feeling grateful that I’ve made it to my 40th birthday in good health (knock on wood). I’m grateful that my friends and family are also here and in good health. Money problems, anxiety, college, work, laundry….life…they’re all part of my life but the important people in my life are really what matters most. I’m lucky. I’m still here with them.

Forty isn’t that old. I’m not too old to love, laugh, learn, travel, go to college, have fun, make changes, be naughty, be a good mom and wife, work out…the list is endless. I have lots to do. The only things I’m too old wise for are living in denial, wishful thinking, delusion and pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m not 21. Who cares? I was a moron at 21. I’m slightly less of one now and for that, and every day I am given, I am grateful. So…40? I’m not scared…Bring it!

Thanks for stopping by!

Panic ATTACKS!

Cyndi — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 21:45:25 +0000

“Too many shadows in my room / Too many hours in this midnight / Too many corners in my mind / So much to do to set my heart right” – In Repair by John Mayer

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!

Valentine Schmalentine

Cyndi — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 16:24:22 +0000

“Everybody runs around during February celebrating love and relationships. Love is everywhere. It’s because of the hype of Valentine’s Day that so many relationships fail in the realities of the other 11 months of the year.” — Toyi Ward

Being the grammar nazi that I am, I must preface this post by pointing out that there is no “m” in the word valentine. Yes, there are still intelligent, educated adults who pronounce this word, “valentime”. It drives me insane. With that PSA out of the way, on with the post….

I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I probably sound like a bitter old married woman in saying that. I get it. I do. Back in the day when hubby and I were still dating we celebrated every year. For those of you who really get into it…more power to you. To each his/her own.

One year long ago there was a huge snow storm on Valentine’s Day. We hadn’t planned ahead and made reservations. I secretly did not want to get all dressed up in a sexy skirt and heels, go out into the horrible weather and then wait 2 hours for a bad table at a chain restaurant. This was my first clue that this holiday actually means very little to me. I would have much preferred to just stay home.

There was another year where our on-again, off-again dating relationship was headed in the direction of off-again. Neither of us were feeling particularly romantic but diligently went out on Valentine’s Day because it’s what couples should do. It was awkward and not at all romantic.

I wanted to know where this Hallmark holiday originated and was surprised that it did not originate with Hallmark and to find this little statistic:

Approximately 85 percent of all valentines are purchased by women.
- The History Of Valentine’s Day

It seems that we always think the men should do something special for their partners on this day but it’s actually women buying the vast majority of the cards. Odd. Maybe the men are just buying lingerie. Yeah, that’s for their partners.

Anyway, back to why I don’t like it. It ranks #2 on my list of least favorite obligatory holidays (mother’s day being #1) for many reasons.

First of all, the absurd amount of commercialism surrounding this “holiday” truly rivals that of the whole Christmas season. Singles are made to feel unloved and unlovable for not having anyone to be romantic with. And who said a heart shaped box full of candy is romantic anyway? The worst part…pink and red…these colors do NOT belong together. They clash. Has no one else noticed this, seriously?! Babies with arrows…creepy.

Also, what if on the prescribed day hubby is not feeling particularly romantic? What if I am PMS-ing or otherwise cranky? What if we have other pressing things to do that day? What if we’re just in one of the low-tide places that naturally occur within the ebb and flow of a marriage? I could go on and on but you get the point. Just because we aren’t feeling particularly romantic on February 14th of any given year, does that make us a “bad” couple? Does that mean we’ve lost that loving feeling, we are unromantic or don’t care about our relationship? Of course not!

I would much rather receive an impromptu date invitation, flowers or perfume on any other day of the year. Why? Because then it’s spontaneous, from the heart and truly thoughtful plus much more meaningful. On February 14th it’s an obligation. Any other day it’s a loving gesture.

Hubby feels the same way I do about it. So, we agreed years ago, to simply ignore this obligatory nonsense. In fact this year we’re having dinner at my mother’s house. It was not planned that way intentionally. We’ve been trying to accept her offer for a Sunday dinner for weeks but have had other plans. A few weeks ago we confirmed the Sunday after the Super Bowl and none of us even realized that was V-Day. It doesn’t get more romantic than that.

Thanks for stopping by!

Children’s Rights

Cyndi — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 04:10:21 +0000

“A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.” — Agatha Christie

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.

So Much More Than A Mom

Sometimes It Is The Small Stuff

“Rule number one is, don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule number two is, it’s all small stuff.” ~ Robert Eliot

Related Reading:

Related posts

Queen Bee Custom Printing Giveaway

“At Queen Bee, we believe personalized products deserve personal attention. Our bee-utiful stationery is perfect for you, your business, or all of your gift-giving needs!” – Queen Bee Custom Printing

Related Reading:

Related posts

Gifts

“Living well is an art that can be developed: a love of life and ability to take great pleasure from small offerings and assurance that the world owes you nothing and that every gift is exactly that, a gift.” — Maya Angelou

Related Reading:

Related posts

March Forth!

“I’m not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose… it’ll be much harder to detect.” – George Carlin

Related Reading:

Related posts

Guilty Conscience

Related Reading:

Related posts

Mixed Emotions

Related Reading:

Related posts

40

“If you wait, all that happens is that you get older.” — Larry McMurtry

Related Reading:

Related posts

Panic ATTACKS!

“Too many shadows in my room / Too many hours in this midnight / Too many corners in my mind / So much to do to set my heart right” – In Repair by John Mayer

Related Reading:

Related posts

Valentine Schmalentine

“Everybody runs around during February celebrating love and relationships. Love is everywhere. It’s because of the hype of Valentine’s Day that so many relationships fail in the realities of the other 11 months of the year.” — Toyi Ward

Related Reading:

Related posts

Children’s Rights

“A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.” — Agatha Christie

Related Reading:

Related posts