From Broken Pieces to Ten Bells

[I have to side step "Confessions of a Soccer Mom" for now.]



Yesterday was one of the days I call "A Day in the Life."  To me, it's an ordinary day made more ordinary when enlightened by an extraordinary event.  A day to appreciate the ordinary, the rut, the stride, the laundry piles, the broken pieces around the house.


All in all, life around the homestead has been progressing smoothly. So the other night, my mama balance tipped over when my second son, Tristan, could not shake off the night terrors.  Perhaps it was a fever, I suggested. We took his temperature, but it did not read out of the ordinary.  My stomach sank with dread remembering when I was young and how I had the worst nightmares that just never went away.  I knew exactly the horror he was feeling even though I could not see the images of his complex imagination. 


And then a deep, soothing voice filled the bedroom:
"Son, it's gonna be okay. You're okay. It's just a dream. Daddy's here. Mommy's here. There's nothing to be scared of."


We all finally fell fast asleep through to the dawn of yesterday. The Ordinary Day.


----------
Just Another Day in the Life began with bumping into the trash compactor.  It broke a few days ago.  Actually, it started to smoke and I had to call Hubby at work for his step-by-step instructions on how to unscrew the machine.  Not the first two screws I unscrewed - not those - screwed those back in before unscrewing the other two screws.  Then I had to muster some muscles to pull the compactor out of its tight under-counter cave. Little peanuts from the gallery chimed in: "Mom, what are you doing?"; "Mom, what's that smell?"; "Mommy, is our house on fire?"; "Shoo, Flies!!!"  The smoke dissipated. And the compactor has been sitting broken, unplugged and pulled out of its domain for a few days.
Yesterday afternoon, the kids delighted in playing soccer and football in the front yard with Daddy while I nailed and netted a new chicken run in the backyard. Everyone was busy and happy.  But when I overheard that they needed to take break, I joined them in the house. Aidan, our almost 8-year old, had retreated to the garage crying. Apparently Daddy's super goals and light-hearted "In Yo Face!" unsportsmanlike conduct were too much for our first born child.  With a bruised sensitive ego and tears running down his dirty face, he sulked in the garage, aka: the playroom-in-progress, where he played Wii Madden instead (to build up his football confidence again.)


So during half time, Hubby decided to try to fix the broken fire starter pipe in our fireplace. I had started this filthy ungrateful (get it?) chore a few days with no luck at all despite the fact that the expert at the fireplace equipment store assured me replacing a fire starter is easy. Hubby was discovering for himself how not easy it was when he exclaimed, "YES! I got it!"... "NO! I broke it!" in one breath. He held the old pipe in his hand, but the pipe's threads were still in the L pipe.  We need wrenches and all sorts of gadgets to unscrew the rusty L hook without damaging the gas line that runs under the house. (Because that means calling the plumber, which we all know is the very last resort!) While I frantically forged through the garage to find a tool, I knocked over a glass jar filled with tidbits like random buttons, broken toy parts, beads, dust bunnies, marbles. Glass shattered all over.  At least this gives me chance to share with you one of my Mama-isms:  There are Three things that will guarantee that your child(ren) will run to your side, like moths to a flame.  1) The Almighty Cookie, 2) The Important Phone Conversation, 3) The Sound of Broken Glass.


Two hours later...
which included a can of WD40, 5 various wrenches and a trip to the hardware store, the broken fire starter pipe was in the trash, the new shiny one still waiting on the floor next to its future home, and the kids started the second half of football. There was a trail of ash across the floor thanks to the tiny hole in the trash bag. I went to yoga class. And I came home to a kitchen filled with the scents of steak, fries, herbs.  Hubby handed me a glass of Chardonnay.  Everyone was happy and hungry, and a little bit chilly.


The later evening brought a task I have not needed to do in quite a long time.  I needed to press my husband's Navy Class "A" Uniform.  I pulled the freshly laundered dress trousers from the dryer - the ones with the bleach stains in the crotch - held them up to him and asked, "Do you have another pair?"  "No, those are my best ones."  I do not understand why these have been the best ones. Why these? Has he gained weight? Lost weight? Comfy because they are old? Comfy because they are the newest of the old?


I examined this only pair of uniform trousers in this house. Before I ironed, I whipped out my black Sharpie and blue Sharpie and started to "paint out" the Gawd-awful bleach marks. The Nomex fire retardant fabric resisted the ink, but I kept "painting."  I thought it looked pretty decent...  Until my son sauntered passed and inquired, "Mom, why are you drawing poop on Dad's pants?"  He has since regained his confidence, I see.  Undaunted by my little critic, I continued on my artistic quest.


Finally satisfied with my work, I pressed the pants and dress blues shirt.  His bell cap and tie waited on the table until morning.  End of an ordinary day.


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Today is an extraordinary day.  He left early in the morning, dressed for the Walking Procession.  The last thing he does before he says goodbye is put on his Black Bell Cap.  Today he is one of thousands of Firefighter Brothers attending the Last Call of a Fallen FireFighter, an extraordinary man of family and service.


Today Ten Bells ring.


“Since the beginning, in the Fire Service the bell started the day, rang through out the day’s work and at the completion of each every alarm, the fire department signals that they have returned to the station and are ready for duty. The next Alarm.

In times past, the bell was used as the signal. We signal today with Ten Bells that our brother, Firefighter Glen Allen has lost his life in the Line of Duty and has returned home safely and awaits his next assignment. Gods Speed”

xoxo

Breeze

Lifetime Mama Club

Did you know today is Platypus Day? 
No?  Well, my 4-year old daughter is wishing everyone a Happy Platypus Day! Why not?! THAT is the big lesson:  Why... Not?!

Tonight, I overhear my little Sophia do the platypus dance in front of her semi-annoyed older brothers who are meanwhile trying very hard to focus on that cute husky-voiced girl of Disney's "Wizards of Waverly Place."  Each of them have their focus right now.  Just as we all want and need a focus.  What was your focus today? Does it match your focus right now?  {insert wicked laugh}

I'm not sure what my focus was today. Being Friday, just to get to 8pm with kids sans hubbie was a good aim for me.  That's usually the goal I set by 6am when hubbie dashes out the door to make le bacon.  I'm seasoned enough to know it does not work that way in reality.  And I am always ready to bend...

I had an attainable schedule today.  2 out of 3 kids in school. A little time at the gym. Groceries. Painting. Replace the fire lighter pipe in our old fireplace. Finalize the old-to-new computer transfer. All fun things.

Thankfully, I read an early morning email that erased most of my chores. My Tristan was to receive a coveted Gold Card Award at school today.  Mama's schedule has changed.  I ditched the gym, I was there at school with Sophia in stride.  At the all-school-assembly, I tried in vain to get Tristan to notice me, but that's not how he thinks. And I have to let that go and hope to get in his face with my camera after he gets his award.  He is so different than the other two, and so much like me.

Gold Card Awards are handed out by our school's principal who encourages a quick reception of award, brief applause, blah, blah.  Well, Tristan has been waiting since December for his Gold Card Award... and the rest of the world was waiting today while he sauntered... I mean, sauntered... to the stage, in his own sweet time... meanwhile the rest of the school assembly giggled and applauded. My Tristan showing his peers, his teachers, his family, his world, to just friggin' chill. Take it all in. Take it all in stride.

This is my motto for the Lifetime Mama Club: Take it all in. Take it all in stride.
My fellow mamas, plan your day loosely because you never know when it'll be Platypus Day!
Next stop... Soccer Mom Confessions

xoxo
Breeze

The One Day Knitting Club

I am blessed. I have a special group of gal pals that I adore, admire, and will cherish forever.  When I thought of starting a Knitting Club (of non-knitters), I was sure I would start a new über cool mama club, with the aforementioned group of über cool mom gal pals.  A Knitting Club for Moms, no kids allowed.  No metro-sexual husbands allowed neither. We could express our creativity through yards of 50% wool, 25% cashmere, 15% nylon, and 10% organic cotton. More importantly, we could gab about our mama lives, the ups and downs whilst knit one, purl one. Creating something.

We will make history!... inspired by all crafty women before us throughout history.  That's right, I'm even claiming that our club would add a little smidgen to women's history!  Bold, yes, I know.  Be as excited as I am at this point, unknowing to the reality check that comes next...

Reality check: We didn't need yarn n needles to bond. We already had US.  I didn't see that on this night of knitting, pathetically knitting. One gal pal crocheting, which meant the club was already getting complicated...sheesh! Wine was readily available, but, wouldn't you know, we creative mamas were all so dang set on learning to knit or crochet that barely a drop of alcohol was consumed that night. We were all trying so hard to concentrate, to focus, to cast on!

I call it the One Day Knitting Club because that's exactly what is was. One Day. Of Knitting. Of the Club. An outsider might see this as a failure of sorts. But for me, not at all. I will never forget that night because it unknowingly highlighted a big aspect of Motherhood.  We long so much to gather together with kids, without kids, with the whole family (birthday parties seem to fulfill this need), with ANY excuse to meet over coffee or wine. We simply need each other. We need adult company. We need to bounce our thoughts off of a "fellow" female.

And we laugh together.  Like when my long lost panties found its well-earned place neatly tied in the most beautiful festive bow, hugging the stem of my chilled "Winter Formal" wine glass at My Beloved Friend's holiday party.  Those In The Know knew. Kinda like a club... a Lifetime Mama Club.

xoxo Breeze

Fade into Peaceful Silence

"Not merely an absence of noise, Real Silence begins when a reasonable being withdraws from the noise in order to find peace and order in his inner sanctuary." ~ Peter Minard 

Or HER inner sanctuary. just sayin'. 

Most of my days, My Inner Sanctuary is ready for me in the wee early morning hours. My hubbie dutifully hit the alarm clock at 4:30am-ish. He was off to the gym. Half conscious, I hoped I'd be awake before he arrived back so I could dutifully-housewifey-with-aprony make his much-needed latte-y. Crap, this morning I did not, but (check it out, and make a note of this) I got the bonus prize of the short stick game for being a slacker wifey. I was still in bed when I felt him lean over my very tired-arse body to kiss little Miss Sophia on the cheek (yes, she still worms her way into our bed - don't tell my Mom! PLEASE!) Not sure why I'm second in line, but I get a kiss, too. And I fumble a return kiss for him. Then I get another kiss back. Dude, I scored over Sophia - how rare, I relish it! 

His footsteps fade before sunrise, and it aches my heart. Then he tries to close the rain-soaked door. The door rattles and slams, and I think I heard him kick the friggin' door? Or did he try to kick a cat? I don't know what he was doing, but I do know that it was making wa-a-a-y too much noise. If anything, I knew our two indoor/outdoor cats would welcome the obnoxious noise and the one pathetic dim light of the kitchen. And, ah hell get out, I'm awake now... where's my latte-y... where's the cat food... 

Me, a little unnerved, yes. 

Me, more gratified! YES! 

Why, you ask? 

I am MOM, therefore, I have a very precious smidgen of time to relish SILENCE. Of course this is no match to the silence I hope to reach in my yoga class. Namaste!  But it's pure silence for a MOM at 5am-ish. The geek in me defines this moment as the vertex of the parabolic diagram. If you are a Fellow Geek, you know what I'm asayin'! It is super über silence between when my hubbie leaves for work, the cats have settled down after their pre-sunrise spaz-attacks, and most importantly, before the kids stir and wake up. SILENCE OF VERTEX!

Silence is Golden. I know this oh-so-well because Noise defines my day as a SAHM. My Days with Kids. It's Winter Break. Need I say more. And I will: 

My kids woke up this morning full of energy. Why not?! They enjoyed a blissful day yesterday with grandparents. They have no clue how lucky they are. One. Two. Three. Four. Four Grandparents here, now, today, being goofy, even relaying weird cultural anecdotes that I need to explain to the kids later. Magic tricks • How to throw a dart • "You know, Young Man, when I was your age..." • HOW TO WIN • What's the football score on TV? • Over indulgence of chocolate and anything with 105% sugar-base • Adorable animated toy characters that repeat the same friggin' thing over and over...and over (where's the gun, Mabel?) • Where can we get more AA batteries? 

Wait, sorry, we are bonding with Grandparents. I forgot. Continue... Oh, how I love this. 

Special thanks to December, I'm a little spaz-tic myself. I am the door that is too stubborn to shut but willing to take a good old fashioned kick in the arse.

I think I meant to talk about The Noises of Today: 

Today was partly defined by cloudy sky hiding the anticipated Lunar Eclipse (It's okay, I missed it, I know it happened, it's all good, there will be another one in my lifetime...on another cloudy night, fer sure.) 

Peaceful rain drops 

Chickens crowed, ready for worms 

Cats meowed, not ready for more rain 

Trees stubbornly bend in the wild wind 

I stubbornly bend in the wild wind

Noise has defined my day. My One Day with Kids. 

Favorite Noise - Listening to KLOS. Two for Tuesday. Which means when they play Led Zep, I am in pure heavenly bliss for a full half an hour! Thank you, Robert! 

Surprise Favorite Noise - My kids wearing flip flops in the SoCali rain. We all accidentally spashed into a huge parking lot puddle. We all roared in unexpected laughter. Must have been 2pm-ish, and I finally noticed—while they laughed wildy—all three of my kids have matching purple smoothie moustaches (2 hours old). 

No wonder the elderly ladies were looking at us with a smirk. I imagine they will blab about this in their knitting group.

Ah, yes, makes me remember, yet how can I forget: 

The One Day Knitting Club

xoxo Breeze

To Just Be

I am lying down, face up, on a hard wood floor.  Every piece of my physical body sinks to its utter base to meet the earth of these very hard wood floors.  Four walls of the room coddles its own heavy warm air.  My eyes are closed, relaxed, soft.  I take this moment to rest, reflect, and rest again... when else will I have this chance.  I relish this moment.  Relish this moment.  This moment.  Moment.  It's all I want, all I need... a moment to just be.

The most pure silence reveals quiet footsteps coming towards me and delicately, respectfully, stepping around me.  I sense the other body stepping over me.  I feel the subtle vibrations in the floor, I smell his breath.  Breath of a pure stranger.  I must trust him.  I take my own breath of anticipation, quickly followed by a devoted Pranayama (breath control.)  I remind myself that I am safe here.  I am safe here.  Just breathe.

My Yogi positions himself over me.  I lie open and vulnerable, blind and open.  His hands gently and firmly push my stubborn shoulder blades down further into the Earth.  It hurts.  I imagine, someone else must find some relief in this.  I don't.  It makes me wonder, why do I hold so much weight, so much resistance, so much pain in my weak shoulders?

Why do I hold so much in my weak shoulders? 
I painfully realize the reflection in all of this.

I am lying down, face up, on a damp forest floor.  I am too young.  Every piece of my physical body sinks to its utter base to meet the earth of this very unforgiving dirt.  I am too young.  Open walls of a dark sky and a chill in the air.  My eyes are closed, anxious, fearful.  I have no moment to reflect, why would I.  I am too young.  I smell his breath.  Breath of a pure stranger.  I do not trust him.  I take my own breath of anticipation.  I have this chance to relish this moment.  I am too young. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, of this moment to relish.  I am too young.  All that is left is just enough to make a young girl's life awfully confusing and difficult for awhile...

Lying down, face up, on a wood floor, sinking into my Earth.  All I have to do is breathe and let the Earth support me.  The vibrations of his footsteps fade into peaceful silence.

xoxo Breeze

I'm Shakin' in My Boots!

Friends, it is a rare occurance, but sometimes I paint myself into a corner.  If you have not noticed, my blogs end with the title of my next blog... with no fore thought.

So now I must start with a topic about "Shakin' in my Boots."  WTF!  I've been stumped about this topic for a few days, but the beauty of motherhood and Mommy friends is that it—whatever IT is—is given to you/me unexpectedly.  Thank you to my Mommy friend who said so matter of fact, "I told him, I want BOOTS for Christmas."  I hear you, Sister.  That's all I want, too!  Boots!  My feet are freezing! Grey, knitted, three buttons, Ugg label somewhere. That's all. My friend and I have the very same boots in mind! Great minds think alike, am I right, Sisters?

All that fun and frivolity aside, this made me think,  
What do I REALLY want...

Shakin' in my Boots.  I'm frazzled.  Pier 1 wants me to buy every adorable item in their store. Home Goods is calling my name.  TJ Maxx, let's not go there.  Holiday Tea Parties and Gift Giving Soirees are lining up. Santa photos with kids are penciled in.  Volunteer/donations inked for three of my kids' classes. The very stressful Family Gift List is half way solidified thanks in part to my brother (being ocd for once) and UPS.  My Beloved Friend still has my panties, and I venture to her "gift exchange" party within a weeks time.  There's more, no doubt, but my Post-It is conveniently MIA. I'm feeling a little frazzled, I'm feeling my boots shakin'. But it'll be OKAY!

For me, this year is different. I am shakin' in my boots to face this holiday season with family and friends to celebrate ALL OF US without my 5th, maybe 6th, chardonnay in hand.  I do not know how to do this because I have never done it before... like, since I was 14. No joke.

What do I REALLY want...

To enjoy my Beloved Inner Circle of Trust without a 5th glass in hand.
Afterall, they are the ones who love me no matter what... whether I am drunk as a skunk... or, worse, myself...

Will this be a selfless gift for them or selfish gift for me? 

My gift is to be better, be sober, be open, be vulnerable, be strong, be creative, and be waiting.

To Just Be.

xoxo Breeze

I Do Not Hold the Golden Key, But You Hold My Panties

So my husband is probably the only man reading my SAHM blog, but he obviously carries a lot of weight in his praise and critiques.  Well, maybe "critique" is a strong word, after all, he certainly does not want to be exhiled from my blog forum, nor do I want to meet a reason to kick him out of my Girlie Club.  Let's just say he is welcome to offer "suggestions."

He loved my last blog, the one that took me quite unexpectedly into a deeper revelation of life as a middle-age (cough) mom caring for my little ones and slowly, very knowingly caring for my own parents.  He noted, this is the age. We are "in the in between." He loved the blog... and added, "You know that no one can hold the Golden Key."

I retort, "No one?...what?...someone does. Who do you think does?"  He shrugs.

For the past few days, I have been consumed with thoughts of existentialism, spiritualism, maternalism, and mortality.  Who holds the Golden Key?  Oh the weight of it has brought me down.  And when I get down, I seek supreme humor. Here we go:

I'm shaken in my boots, and it's not because of this California Winter.  It's because of the upcoming "Winter Formal" holiday party that my dear pal has planned.  She hosts a fun "White Elephant Gift Exchange" holiday party.  Notably, she has something valuable of mine, and even worse, she has an equally—if not more—wicked sense of humor than mine.  I'm scared!  This is Naughty Vs. Naughty!

Backtrack a few months. A thank you letter to My Beloved Friend from Me:

"Hi [My Beloved Friend]!

Thank you for a wonderful evening! I know we left earlier than usual.  I think I mentioned that my sinusitis has not been very forgiving, and is partly to blame for this funny one:

I woke up tired yesterday but had things to do. By afternoon, I let [hubby] takes the kids to the dentist so I could nap. And I reluctantly took a Dayquil pill. I rarely take those things cuz they make me so dopey!  Well, despite being DAYquil, I fell asleep and woke up at 4pm wondering where the hell I was and why was it daylight at 4am?!  Where were my kids? Why is the tv still on?  Yah, that's where I was yesterday afternoon!

So after coffee, dinner and a red wine, we ventured to your place for some fun!

Before we left, and whilst I was trying to wrangle my kids, I was on the patio when I noticed a little piece of black fabric on the floor.  I assumed it was part of a kids costume, dragged out. But nooo, it was a cute little black thong! I quickly swooped it up and thought, "Sweet! [My Beloved Friend] wears the same VS thong I do! It's soooo comfy!"  Being a fab friend that I am, I discreetly placed it on your little catch-all table, probably too close to someone's hat.  Sorry about that.  But I figured you'd find it eventually and tuck it away.

Back at home and ready for sleep (again) I wiggled out of my jeans, and it hit me:  
HOLY F*CK!  I was wearing the same jeans earlier but put on my pjs for my afternoon nap.  Quick to get changed for your party, I slipped my jeans back on, with a fresh pair o' panties, of course!

See where this is going?

YOU LEFT YOUR PANTIES IN MY JEANS!  LOL!

[My Beloved Friend}... seriously, feel free to grab some tongs and grab those thongs and drop them in the trash! I am soooo sorry! WTF!!!!
signed,
Your unabashed pal"

I never got my panties back, so with good reason, I am shaking in my boots!



xoxo Breeze