First, my mom is feeling better and getting around nicely and losing lots of the water weight she’s been carrying around. Small blessings for health, I say. It’s made me far more aware of my own health and I’m exercising a lot and eating more vegetables and trying in general to be positive. Would you believe that I even tried a little bit of ice cream and that it didn’t make me violently ill now that I’m lactose intolerant? Weird. I can’t explain that one.

Next, I had some friends over this week for a movie night that was supposed to be outside on the projector but Mother Nature graced us with blazing heat so we settled for modern A/C  in my living room to watch  “I’m Gonna Git You Sucka” and shared wine and guacamole and black bean & corn salsa and Hypnotiq. The only thing I will say about that is that it pays to be friends with really young people who’ve just come off the college scene because they know how to make The Incredible Hulk drink from Hypnotiq (mix it with Hennessey) and do you know what happens then? THEN, you have a real party where you do dramatic readings of Twitter streams and it becomes a hilarious event. (I would upload some pictures from that night, but my cord is missing that goes from my camera to my laptop) (there should be a word for what that cord is, but I don’t know it). We have decided that next time we will view that blockbuster chick-flick, “Spice World” which is supposedly a great film. Yes. Film.

This is a video from my friend Alex who started taping Patrick doing these dramatic readings of DeShanee’s tweets. The background music is “Ashokan Farewell” because we were doing this a la Ken Burns.

You’ll also see friends Jeanette and Steve and Lynne as the camera (a la Ken Burns, remember?) pan slowly across the kitchen table. I spent most of my time finding new funny ones for Patrick to read and covering my mouth with my hands and laughing. Good times.

To cap off all the great things that are going on at Chez Mocha Momma I want to do a birthday shoutout to my friend Karen of Chookooloonks (you can tell she’s my friend because I mention her like all the time) who is happy to announce that she’s 43. I, however, am happy to announce that she wants nothing more for her birthday for you to go out in the next 24 hours and do something for yourself. Her words and an image from her book campaign below:

It could be having a great meal, taking a perfect bath, reading that book on your nightstand that you’ve been meaning to read, booking that holiday you’ve been tempted to book or just lying in the sunlight for 30 minutes.  Whatever it is that will make you happy today, please go do it.  In fact, I beg you to go do it.  I’d love to think that on my birthday, people all over the world are ensuring that they’re having a great day.

The comment I left for her was:

For your gift today I will do the following:

work on my book and devote a full 2 hours to writing

take a jacuzzi bath today now that I actually have a jacuzzi bathtub

give myself a pedicure

do one of those home facial kits that I’ve had in the bathroom cabinet for too long

read from one book on my nightstand (you caught me!)

and love the people in my presence with a fierceness (smothering with kisses, hugging, telling him pointedly that I love them).

So, Karen, my dear sweet, encouraging friend of a certain age, these are your gifts today. They are done in your honor. I love you. Happy birthday.

xoxo

Since I’ve moved, I now have a writing space where I am practicing daily to devote 2 hours to that craft. Devoting that much time to writing means that I can’t always put up a blog post and I’m willing to sacrifice that time. Many other things happen there like messing around with my colored pencils and organizing my bills and doing crafty workbook-y stuff in the book “How You Do Anything is How You Do Everything”. It’s a very Zen-y, Buddhist-y, self-discovery type thing that helps me work out some kinks and I highly recommend it since this is my second time through it. I like to think of it as my Artist’s Way with crayons and glue sticks.

My messy desk that somehow doesn’t contribute to my messy mind.

Besides that, I sit and look out the window where I have placed a photograph from Karen of a sunflower that she gave me years ago. It inspires me to see it and to read her words from time to time. (Maybe I’ve mentioned that? I’m not poking around in my archives to find out, though.)

The sunflower in my window.

Finally, a bit of good news that came for me from a friend I met in California years ago when I was there for work. Her name is Lara and she’s quite beautiful. Let me show you a picture of her she used for a post that makes me crack right up when I see it.

Anyway. Lara. Well. Remember how a few posts ago I was all woe is me? Well, this friend did something amazing. Lara sent me an email this week about a windfall of money that she received and she wants to buy me a plane ticket for BlogHer in August. It’s really hard for me to accept things like this especially since I resolved that I wouldn’t go and stretch my budget too far. After many conversations about her wanting to do this and how she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with it and how I just wasn’t sure about it, she convinced me. I usually hate publicly whining about things, but then I was talking to Karen again (REALLY. SERIOUSLY. I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF THAT WOMAN.) and she said that for her birthday I must accept and she keeps teaching me to accept things, good and bad, and that all of those things contribute to the forward motion of life we’re in so, for whatever reason, I AM GOING TO ACCEPT AND GO.

Happy stuff, y’all. Accept and go.

Have something happy or positive to share? Please do. I can use all the goodness you can spare.

Not long ago I asked for help for something that normally I would have just tried to do on my own. Actually, I would have tried to do it and then failed miserably and you could find me in the corner somewhere chewing my hair. It was when I reached out to Twitter friends to help my mother get a bed at the hospital after she sat in the emergency room for over 12 hours. We showed up at 8:30 in the morning and by 2 pm the doctor we saw told us that he would be admitting her. I left to go home to shower and get her some things and returned about 4. Since they kept telling her that she’d go up at “any time now” I wasn’t concerned so I left to go out to dinner. By 7:30 she sent me a text message saying she still wasn’t in a room with a comfortable bed (comfort was KEY at this point for her pain) and then I freaked out. When I asked Twitter friends to call the hospital and demand that she get some help I had just gotten off the phone with the charge nurse who told me she got off at 10 pm and she wasn’t sure when a bed would be available. To make a long story short, it took 45 minutes for them to call me back and say that she was heading up to a room.

Don’t even get me started on health care in this country. I will end up chewing my hair again. I have already found my favorite corner of the room in which to do that.

It is at this point that I must stop and say a huge THANK YOU to anyone who called that night. The power of the Internet is never lost on me. Friends asked what they could do and some people, complete strangers to me, sent books that mom wanted to read. My sweet friend, Jeannette, whom I met in person via a Tweet Up, offered to go a few blocks down the street from her house in the pouring rain and sit with my mom until she was settled. A new friend, Jolie, who runs an incredibly crazy awesome site that sells her Junk Gypsy wares, sent me a goody box full of awesome stuff including this scarf that mom suggests stay in the front hall closet to be claimed as Community Property:

As yet, I have not left it in the front closet. It looks too fabulous with the color of my eyes.But this isn’t a picture of me. You knew that, right?

It was such a ridiculously nice outpouring of kindness that I felt it deserved mentioning.

The other thing that someone sent me was a link to caregivers who must also take care of themselves. Mom has lived with me for the past two years, but at this point there really is no end in sight as to when she would be able to live and care for herself on her own again. It’s funny how so many people comment on that, too. I told someone recently about it and he said, “That’s commendable. Most people wouldn’t do that these days.” I’m not so sure about that, but I suppose I can only speak for myself. The list was actually very good and the suggestions are in bold. My own additions are in italics.

1. Put your physical needs first. That includes eating chocolate chip cookies and fudge covered almonds, right? Because physically those things are just calling my name! See also: napping.

2. Connect with friends. I’ve been very good at this one lately. Many friends have visited just to see my new house and others have insisted that we have lunch together now that my summer hours permit that to happen.

3. Ask for help. I’m learning to do this more and more from both family and friends. If people offer to do things, I am letting them or else I know I will lose my shit.

4. Call on community resources. This one is harder for me because I feel helpless even when people tell me things. I’m probably gun shy where local and state help is concerned. I’m mostly afraid of hearing that she will be denied any assistance.

5. Take a break. I wanted to take a vacation this summer and go somewhere to relax. This isn’t going to happen. One, I bought a new house. Two, I can’t go away for extended times and be away from the house. Three, seriously? I just can’t do this.

6. Deal with your feelings. I am using colorful language a lot more often these days. Most of my feelings include some resentment and then with that comes guilt so I stuff them down deep and try not to let anyone peek at them.

7. Find time to relax. Luckily, I am reading a lot more these days and have devoured several books that have been waiting on my shelf. I’m also watching a lot of old black and white films. (On today’s list: Harvey and A Raisin in the Sun) Other than that, I have a lot of work to do with unpacking and organizing my new house. HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I LOVE MY NEW HOUSE?

8. Get organized. New house. I keep saying that. Organization isn’t my strong suit, but moving sure helps you do that.

9. Just say no! What they meant by this is that you shouldn’t feel like you should do everything by yourself. Caregivers don’t remember to use assistance and then they get weary. I’m still working on how to fit this one into my life.

10. Stay positive. I have absolutely had it with negative energy! Things go wrong all the time. Life can be sucky. You can have things to fix on your new house right away and have to call a contractor already. The IRS can keep hounding me for that whopper of a bill for the second year in a row all they want. The World’s Longest Divorce can suck the life right out of you. But I’m not focusing on any of that because I can’t afford it. That’s far too expensive a debt to create, so I’m choosing joy once again in my life. And I’m choosing love, because I get it and I’m good at it.

Let’s hope love is enough with a few naps and some delicious chocolate thrown in, too.

Being the tornado that she is, Mallory stepped into her role as interior designer and finally I got to take advantage of her college degree. She whipped everyone into action including my sister and two nephews who came to help. “Put this here.” and “Books can go there, but where are the boxes of pictures?” and “Why haven’t you painted this and put on knobs like you know you should, Mom? That would be cute!” At the very least, my living room and kitchen are livable at this point. She knows, after living with me her entire life, that when my home is a crazy mess then my head is a crazy mess. No one wants any of this crazy mess I tell you.

She walked through the house nodding her approval of paint colors and checked the light switches and checking the space between the kitchen island and the refrigerator. All passed muster. This is what she’s always done, really. In fact, in the house she spent most of her time growing up in, she managed to convince her brothers that they should all switch rooms at one time or another. Mallory is one to scope out a situation, scanning and surveying properly, and then swooping in to get shit done. She, more than any of the other kids, remembers our first apartment when I went away to college (and lived in the married housing section) and what a little roach box that was. One bedroom and the world’s tiniest appliance kitchen. Luckily, the refrigerator there was just her height (I could see over the top of it easily and put in a shelf to make the most of the space) and she could reach the milk to get herself cereal in the morning if I was still sleeping. One morning, when she was about 3, she let me sleep in and when I woke up I noticed a clean bowl and spoon in the sink.

Me: Mallory? Did you clean your dishes? Is this from your cereal this morning?

Mallory: No, I just had cereal. I didn’t clean.

Me: Then why is this bowl so spotless?

Mallory: I dunno.

Later, I learned that she hadn’t gotten the milk out to use with her cereal but instead grabbed a carton of heavy cream. Apparently, she liked it because she licked that sucker spotless. I laughed and laughed until my side ached from thinking about how my little girl must have devoured that creamy, rich cereal that morning.

In that tiny little box of an apartment we had to share everything. We slept together for the first few years of her life so that now, even at 24, she is comfortable jumping under the covers with me and chit-chatting until it’s time for her to go.

And it is. Time for her to go. She bought her first house along with her longtime boyfriend, Kolin, and they are managing to create a lovely, creative home that is open and inviting to their friends and family. Today, in fact, is her brother Mason’s graduation and she is hosting the party for him. It will be a fun-filled day I’m sure. We’ve come a long way since then and I’m more proud of her than I can adequately express. Even trying to list the things that make her incredible is daunting so I will leave this belated birthday post for Mallory with a picture I stole from her friend, Claire. I saw it on Facebook yesterday and realized that it summed her up, complete with the very incredible friends she’s made over her lifetime.

I think maybe they were on a fishing expedition and I can only imagine the great night they must have had to go outside in a kiddy pool and pretend to cross the sea. It doesn’t really matter. Mallory has managed to grow into a person I’m proud to know let alone raised. Her magic touch in life is a stunning entity to behold and the people she keeps in her life are no less amazing.

Devin, Paul, Tiffany, May, Marianne, Claire, and Mallory. Having a good time in college and NOT even being drunk when they do it.

“I’m going to give you some advice,” I said. “Are you listening?”

She nodded and smiled a knowing smile that said You ALWAYS have advice.

“Sleep when the baby sleeps. Smell her and cuddle her and give her massages after her bath. Read to her every single day. Possibly sing to her. Can you sing? Do you have a decent voice? It doesn’t matter. Do it anyway. She’ll know she’s loved.”

I was a high school parent myself. By the time I graduated high school my daughter was three years old. (Don’t. I know what you want to ask me. The answer is I DON’T KNOW HOW I DID IT.) Why did no one  at my school ever give me this kind of advice? It doesn’t matter anymore because I learned it on my own and did it anyway. I probably talked to Mallory like she was an adult and not a baby which made sense to me at the time and explains why she’s always been a little adult even as a 1st grader.

My recent post was a direct result of me worrying about telling these stories about students and I think, after listening to the advice in the comments, that I’m over it. How will people ever know, I wonder, about the magnificent human beings we come in contact with if I don’t highlight these jewels of my work day?

There are these kids, these students, that just jump right off the page of life into every spare moment of my life. Lots of them. I have all these little notes stuck everywhere.

There’s the kid who says, “Good morning!” to me every day and nods his head ever so slightly as to resemble an Englishman heading to Sunday church. Cracks me up. I don’t know why.

There’s the kid who checks out my outfits every day and gives the “Yeah, I like” or the “Nah, it’s not workin’ for you” look. I tease her about giving me crap now.

There’s the kid who has a pronounced limp and a killer smile. He’s happy in life despite physical limitations.

There’s the kid I say hello to and on occasion he responds. Mostly, he ignores me because I know he’s just sad all the time. Twice now he’s reached right out to hug me. I don’t know what that’s about but he needs something.

There’s the kid who comes to visit my office daily who likes to harass me about putting him in the “hard classes”. (To which I just smugly respond, “YOU’RE WELCOME. YOU’LL THANK ME SOMEDAY.”)

There’s the kid who beckons me with her finger when I visit a classroom because she wants me to sit by her and help her understand the text. Even when she already understands the text.

There’s the kid who talks to me about her favorite coffee that she brings in her thermos every day.

Here is Clarissa’s story. For once, I’m not using a fake name because it’s a story published with her permission in the newspaper. It also happens to be a story of a friend, Tammy, who taught with me at a middle school ten years ago. My teaching experience has been a lucky one in that I’ve met some incredible educators who turn into friends for life. (Also? For some reason a lot of my teacher friends are named Tammy which is why I call them all by their last names to avoid confusion. It makes us all sound like a bunch of gym teachers.)

There are just these amazing kids I get to teach and guide. I’m listening to them. I hope you will, too. Don’t miss it.

This year, after about ten years of not seeing one another or speaking, we met once again. This is the part that gets fuzzy for me: I can’t remember for the life of me why we quit speaking. There was nothing that happened, no scandalous my-hubby-humped-the-nanny story line, no argument that lead to us to stop talking and calling each other. It just stopped. It’s a sad thing when that happens because once you pass a certain time limit then you begin to question, “Why hasn’t she called me?” and “Well, crap! Why haven’t I called her?” and then you just let it go and too much time passes. But I’ve learned that’s not true. There’s no such thing as “too much time” passing. If you get a chance, then take it. Janie and I took it again and I got to be her friend once again during a relationship, an engagement, and a wedding.

I haven’t given up on love yet. Honestly, I haven’t. But in the past two years it’s been hard to attend weddings and see happy couples just embarking on that journey. 2009 brought Janie back to me and let me be really happy for a couple. Her new husband is being deployed to Afghanistan next year and they invited me to his Going Away Party where he spontaneously sang to her. In the background there is my other new friend from this year, Patrick, who DJ’d her party and played the BEST salsa music to which Janie’s aunts taught us all to dance.

I only wish you could see more of her face here. For that matter, I wish everyone could see her heart.

Damnit. They’re so cute.

It’s nice to finally be really happy for some people in love again.