If I had known...

I wouldn't change anything in my past.

I think everyone in life has a moment or two when they look back and think "If I had only..." It happens to all of us. I am stronger some days than I am others. But there are some things I wouldn't have ever changed.

I wouldn't change taking 10 years to finish college.
I wouldn't change who I fell in love with.
I wouldn't have changed all the places I moved to.
I wouldn't change the number of kids I have.
I wouldn't change all the jobs I have had.
I wouldn't change the mistakes I made.

The only thing we can change is our future. Sometimes it takes so much courage to change the things that need to change the most. I didn't have the courage for a long time. I was committed, absolutely committed to my marriage. On the outside looking in we must have looked so happy. We smiled for photos, we smiled when we were in public, but there were very few smiles when the doors closed and we were alone.

I have heard it's a shock to so many of our family and friends that we are getting divorced. I guess that just goes to show how good we were at acting the part when we were in "public". But there are a few people, a very very few friends, my parents, my sister, my aunts that knew how hard it was to keep it together over the years. How hard I tried. How much it cost me to keep trying.

I can't help but compare my life to my mother's. We are very different women but we have so much in common as well. My mother was married three times. I have been twice. She was a strong working single mom and I am trying to be every day. We differ in one main thing though. She had severe personality/mental problems. And as far as I know... I don't. At least not the last time I checked. Ok that was a little humor. I have been to therapy many times in my life and every time, every different therapist tells me that I am so well adjusted, that I deal with my life adversities well. That I have experienced trauma and grief and that I am working through it in healthy ways. I am proud of that because I have two big health fears. Dying of cancer and being mentally ill or unstable. Because both seem to run in my mom's family.

I can't help but compare my life to my dad's too. He married her. I'll share the story. I find it interesting, but then it's my story too.

They met in a college class. She was a model and owned her own business. He was a southern man that owned his own too. My mother had amazing handwriting and my dad should have been a doctor because his handwriting is almost unreadable at times. So she offered to take notes for him and they fell in love. OK I made the love part up, but I choose to believe they did. I see their smiles in the photos and I think they must have loved each other at some point, even if it was just for a year.

Their stories were different, their memories altered the details. They didn't want to ever tell me all of it. I always wanted to know and felt I deserved to know. Now I know that I do not deserve to know and probably don't need he details they kept from me. It's their story and not always mine.

So they went to Las Vegas and my dad got drunk. He ended up with a massive hangover and a wife. A What??? I actually don't know when they got married or how long it was before I came along, but it wasn't more than a year I'm sure. I know my birthday is 9 months after my dads. (Nice gift huh?) And I know their divorce was finalized on his birthday after I turned 1. But they went to Europe on my first birthday in July and there were those smiles in all the photos. And they were divorced 3 months later? Sigh.... Was there not a 6 month waiting period back in 1979 in California?

Everytime I have asked my dad about being married to my mom I can see the pain and distaste he has. I can see the things he won't really say. As I got older I got a little more and a little more. She may have had mental issues before she had me, but if so, she was very good at hiding it. After she had me she was horrible to him. He feels the pregnancy changed her brain chemistry and that it was what pushed her over the edge. Gee, that's a fun one to contemplate. Did having me make her manic depression worse or exists? I was kinda scared when I was pregnant with Logan that the same might happen to me.

He said he wouldn't have changed meeting my mom or marrying her because if he did he wouldn't have me. When I was a kid this was comforting, but I also thought maybe he was just saying that. She continued to make his life as unhappy as she could until the day she died. She was so mean sometimes. She was so depressed. She would call his house in the middle of the night to talk to me. She made scenes at all of my school functions. And it was hard on us because we all knew she couldn't help it.

But now that I have kids, I do know that he meant it every time. It was worth all the trouble because he had me. And we all knew that she was sick. We watched her try different medications and waited to see if one of them would permanently work. None of them ever did.

For as little as my dad will say about his marriage to my mom, I know he did love her. Once when he was in the hospital after having a heart attack and surgery for a stint, I visited him. He was groggy and still on some nice pain meds. I walked into the room in a white shirt and the sun hit me straight on. He looked up at me and said "Oh! You look like your mother on the day we were married. She was so beautiful." I was shocked. My dad is like Mr. Spock most of the time, very logical and very little emotions. I could hear it in his voice. He did have fond memories and he had loved her. I hang onto that little insight and it is one of the best things anyone has ever said to me to this day.

So when I look back at the last 35 years, especially the last 7. I wouldn't change anything because I always did what I thought was best for my family, for Logan and me. I have 2 amazing little boys and I  wouldn't change anything that led me to where I am.

A lost conversation.

I have had so much time to think these last 3 months. Sleep isn't coming easy even when I'm exhausted. Seems like the more I get the worse I feel.

I spent the last 7 years talking to one person every single day and now we have so little to say. Well that isn't quite true. I have so much I want to say to him but I can't or I shouldn't or it wouldn't help or it would come out in anger and that does no good. 

But it's the little things, the old jokes, the things only we would find funny... the trivial little quirks in life that I miss telling him. Even if we are friendly it's not the same. We are both very talkative so it's weird to be awkward around each other. 

Heaven help me when it rains next. 

The rain was our thing. It was so random and sparse in So Cal but it rained the day we met and the day Logan was born. In the beginning it was a "it's raining and I'm thinking of you" or "I love you, its raining" in a text every time. Over the years it became every once in awhile that the rain brought a text message or comment remembering that first date. So we didn't mind the idea of how much rain it gets up here. When we arrived we revived the old tradition but this time it was funny because it rained every day for weeks. 

This is some record dry spell right now and maybe it's a kindness for my heart. 

Because even if though I know this is for the best and I am sure, the little things can sneak up and catch you off guard. It's called grieving and it sucks. I know time helps and every day I feel better. I have so many happy moments these days but I still miss that 7 year conversation. 

A Little About Logan

It's another night and I feel like I have stuff pent up in my brain. The problem is finding the plug to let some of it out. It's like I have been thinking about a million things and just plucking out one stream of ideas that make any sense seems too hard. So I'm just going to start pulling and see what comes out.

Logan is so me and it bugs the heck out of me sometimes. He has to know everything... for himself. If I tell him we are out of milk he has to go to the fridge and look himself. I keep telling myself it's not that he doesn't believe me it's that he just HAS to know for himslef. Deep breath and patience.

Logan is trying to help out and I have to let him. He starts the baths for both of them and I say "Thank you!" He gets me things when I need an extra pair of hands... and I say "Thank you!" He does things his way and his way is NOT my way. Deep breath and patience... say "Thank you!" He tries to do the laundry and uses too much soap, so I have to rinse the wash again. Oh shoot! I forgot to rinse the wash again!

He brushed his teeth by himself and added water to the toothpaste (it seemed almost empty) and the next day I barely squeezed and PLOP! out came all the toothpaste. "Thanks Logan!!!" He bagged the groceries at the store today while the cashier was still scanning and I had my hands full with Jaxon. He used a paper bag with no handles that was impossible to bring in with everything else I lug in when I get home. The bag ripped and he picked up everything that fell down the stairs. I said nothing but "Thank you!"

Logan told me today I say "Thank you!" too much. Go figure.

Logan has to tell EVERYONE that Daddy doesn't live with us. At Applebee's when I said "A table for three." he added "It would be four, but my daddy doesn't live with us anymore." Deep breath and patience.. "Thank you Logan, that's good math." Insert lame smile to the hostess.

The guy that helped me out with the groceries (wishing someone could help me get them upstairs to our apartment more than out to the car!) asked Logan what his brother's name was. Get ready for it... "That's Jaxon Archer, I'm Logan James, my mom is Jennifer Lea and my daddy is Alan James, but he doesn't live with us anymore." AWESOME! Now the guy has all our names and the intimate details of our personal lives. "Thank you Logan!"

OK I am starting to see why Logan thinks I say Thank you too much...

Logan is super smart and super sensitive. He is a mini-me and yup, it is so hard sometimes. He said he wanted to be famous so everyone would like him and no one at daycare would be mean to him. We discussed how famous people have too many people trying to be their friends. Then he asked if kids can become famous accidentaly. He's worried he will wake up and suddenly have a mob of fans that all want to play with him. He's worried he won't be able to play with them all and someone will get sad. Oh I can read between all those lines. I tried to be friends with older kids when I was little because I could understand them and keep up conversations with them. In the end though, bigger kids don't want to play with little kids and he gets his feelings hurt. He longs to be a teenager because he thinks they are so cool. Oh slow down little one and just be five for now. You only have a few more months of being five anyway.

I love watching his mind work. He asked me when he will be as tall as I am. I said probably by the 6th grade. I told him I haven't grown an inch since then. "Are you still a teenager????" I had to explain that although I keep getting older I don't get taller; that people stop growing at some point while they keep getting older. He seemed horrified and not sure if I wasn't still a teenager and just not telling him.

No one told me that having two kids would change how I feel about my first. Logan literally was "my baby" until the day Jax was born. Now he's my "big boy" and it was like someone took my heart and just split it in half and gave each half to each child. Or maybe my heart got twice as big and Jax just snuggled right in next to his brother. I love seeing them together. Jax looks up at Logan with awe and wonder and Logan thinks Jax is the cutest baby ever. I know the day will come when they fight and Logan will be the big kid or even the teenager that doesn't want to play with the little kid. But for now they just love each other as much as I love them and it's pretty awesome.

I really am a very lucky mommy.

Pity Parties

This week I worked on telling the truth when asked about my husband. I was ready for the "What happened?" "I'm sorry." "Oh my, and how old are your kids?"

I wasn't ready for pity parties. 

I'm working on renovating the break room at my store. I will post photos... It's awful. Imagine 1992 exploded in a color scheme. What would you pick? How about Teal green and orange. M.C. Hammer had a pair of pants to match I know it.

I was at Michael's shopping for some art supplies. I'm going to attempt to paint an original La-Z-Boy art piece. Yeah, I'll post photos of that too once I start. I ran into Pam, the wife of my assistant manager. We said hi and she said she had heard I made a great dinner last night.

Sorry, wasn't me. That was Renee who had a party at her house for the whole store except me. They at least told me why I wasn't invited. One of the ladies that just retired wanted a small get together with them and she only really worked with me a total of about 10 days. I get it. 

So once Pam realized I wasn't Renee and I wasn't invited she moved onto a new subject. "How are we (Alan and I) enjoying Oregon?" Oh geez, this was going from bad to awkward in a heartbeat. I said I was still loving it. Wishing for more rain. I know, I'm crazy for rain. 

Then we talked about days off and she said she wished she had just one day off to herself at home. Here it is. The part that I couldn't skirt around. "You know what I mean? Do you have your days off with your husband?" 

Blah blah blah... spill my guts gently on the floor of Michael's. Skip to the unforeseen. 

"Oh, well do you have friends up here?" 

Ah... No.

"Oh I'm going to talk to Lee and have you over for dinner." It was sweet, nice and probably just what I need. But oh how it hurt. It was a pity invite. Sigh...

I at least made it to my car before the tears fell. I feel just like I did my senior year. People found out my mom died and suddenly I had all these invites to parties, dates and girls I kinda knew wanting to be better friends. I totally forgot about pity party invites. 

But hey I do need friends and free food is good. So I said sure...Sounds great... I smiled and let her give me some super extra discounts too. Yeah, I'm not above pity coupons either. 

"What happened?"

It feels like I have alot to say but I'm not sure what to share with anyone these days.

Let me start by saying I have a VERY social job. When I am on the sales floor my job literally is to make friends with total strangers as fast as possible then help them select the right furniture for their homes. The more they can relate to me the faster they trust my help and see that I sincearly do want to help them choose the perfect furniture. And honestly the ones I have the most in common with spend the most money at our store. They invite us to come over to their homes and let us into their private spaces. They tell me their personal lives, how they live in their rooms, medical history, marriage or family issues etc. Because it all affects what they are going to buy. I love my job and have been good at it, mostly because I care about our customers and it shows.

Sharing my life with strangers helps them to open up about themselves. So here is my dilema. When some random stranger asks what my husband does, do I answer as I have for years that he is a chef? I would say it with such pride knowing the reaction I would get. The oohs and ahhs and questions about what kind of food he makes and if I have to cook. People love talking about food. It's the easy answer, but it isn't my answer anymore.

The new answer is infinatly harder. I'm a single mom. It's only 4 words but it's one of the hardest 4 word sentances I have ever said. Here's why: I get the "Oh I'm sorry!" or worse, the "What happened?"

I talk about my kids a lot at work. Most people can relate and if they have kids I can help them pick a good fabric, get the furniture spray coated or find something with storage. So the kids part comes out first. If I accidentally yawn, I blame the 7 month old that refused to sleep at night. People laugh, moms can commiserate... I always talk about the boys.

Sometimes I talk about moving here too. People love to tell me their favorite places to go and I have gotten alot of great advice. Some people don't like all the California transplants but most people like me, so again it works well.

So, I see it coming now. We talked about kids, moving here, maybe my job as the store manager. And... "What does your husband do?" Ouch. "I'm a single mom." ... wait for it... "What happened?"

Where in the world would I start? What is an easy answer? Why do you care????

I shrug... "It just didn't work out." I'm lucky if I get off that easy. Some people pry.

There are really only a few people in the world that I could say anything to. I have three aunts that I can call, email, text message and say anything to. I am so grateful for them and I'm not sure they know how much I really do need them to just simply be there when I call. They are my mother's sisters and without them I would sometimes be so lost. My mom died very suddenly when I was 17. She was only 44. My aunts were there with me every minute and really they never left my side since then.

Sometimes my mom comes up in conversations too but after 18 years I can usually steer the conversation away from her death. I don't talk about her much with the customers. She eventually comes up when I make new real friends. The new group I work with up here, new friends at church; eventually they all ask "How did she die?" or "What happened?" It's human nature and morbid curiosity.

The first year after she died I couldn't tell the truth. I told people she died of heart failure. It was sort of true but not really. I got the "was she sick for long?" again hard to answer. I found that if I said yes, people felt better. Like it wasn't so shocking if your mom was sick and you knew she was dying. Eventually I got the courage to tell the truth and it helped to talk about it. It helped to meet others that had similar things happen.

My mom committed suicide. Again 4 words... and they were so hard to say. They still are. But if you ask me now "What happened?" I will tell the truth.

So here is my attitude that I am trying to adopt and I think it will help me with the new 4 words that have been bugging me.

I am a single mom AND I am proud of it!

No, that doesn't mean I am happy to be getting divorced. No, that doesn't mean I hate my... oh gosh ths is hard too... soon-to-be-ex-husband. Sigh... No, that doesn't mean I will tell you "What happened".

It means that I work 5 days a week to pay all of my bills and get 2 precious days to spend with my boys. I provide love, shelter, food, comfort, clothes and so much more for myself plus two amazing little boys. I get very little sleep. I keep my house clean (excuse the pile of clean clothes on the bed). I am teaching them every day how to be honest, respectuful, faithful and most of all happy people. I am learning how to cook. It means I have fun with my kids. I love playing on the ground with them, driving in the car singing silly songs or pretending for the millionth time that I am Gwen from Ben 10 or Mia from Ninjago and the bad guys are about to get our car "LOOK OUT!"

I am a single mom AND I am proud of it! This is the biggest challenge of my life and I will succeed. I can not fail. I will be strong and I will try not to cry in front of them. I will be fair and I will not say anything bad about their father to them. I will tell them of how much we really loved each other and how much we love them still. I will show them our family photos and tell them our story of how we met and how we always wanted two perfect little boys.

And someday they will ask "What happened."... and I will say " It just didn't work out, but I am so glad for the seven years that gave me the two of you."

I'm going to practice being proud of my accomplishments tomorrow and keep trying every day.When I get asked about my husband I might just say "I'm a single mom and it's good." or "I'm actually a single mom, but their dad is a chef.", "I'm a single mom, but it's o.k." We'll see what comes out. And maybe on a hard day I'll take the easy route and just say he's a chef and talk about food... but if I get the "What happened?" I know I'll just stick to "It just didn't work out."