Strange Night

Last night was Homecoming. Well, pre Homecoming, actually.

I told Tanissa to "have fun and be safe"

I fell truly asleep after having heard her walk up the stairs and crawl into bed.

A short few hours later, my mommy radar wakes me up from a deep dream and alerts me to once again, the sound of feet coming up the stairs.

Chris is next to me,  and I am not sure what is going on. Wondering if Tanissa went out again  - which would not have made me happy at all - I get up and look in the hallway.

A guy is standing there - petting Roxy.

I say: "What are you doing here?" (fair enough of a question, right?)

To which I hear Tanissa, annoyed that I would ask her such a stupid question, answers :"Nothing Mom. I am sleeping." Duh.

Then I hear Chris mumble: "It's just Marco, baby."

Well, Marco it is not.

Marco is asleep at his Dad's and sure as heck, this is not Marco.

So I ask "Who are you?"

To which he answers : "I am Cal."

Well, now we know.

By now, Chris and Tanissa are up and we are all standing in the hallway.

I request that we move the party into the living room where I ask an obviously intoxicated Cal  what is going on.

Roxy is still at his feet, supremely pleased with the ongoing petting.

This is so weird.

Part of me is alert to potential danger but the biggest part of me knows that we are safe. Chris' large presence holds the space for me to tap into a fearless place in me, the one that reminds me that this kid is someone's son and that kindness is the best tool, right now.

So, I ask him a few questions. He says that he is sorry to invade our space. I ask him if he wants a glass of water. He says no thank you. He gets up to leave. Chris asks him if he wants us to call someone for him. He turns around and asks US if we want him to call someone for us.

He gets to the door.

This is so weird.

He leaves.

I lock the door - a new habit for us to hone.

I guess by then it is actually Homecoming.

Gravy Lava and Celery Generals.

Sunday afternoon. Chris and I are waking up from a sweet nap, sun streaming through the window.

I look at him and he seems pensive, a slight smile on his lips.

Because I am a woman, I ask: "What are you thinking about?"

Because I am a woman, I know he must be thinking about how wonderful this moment is - possibly even about how much he loves me.

He turns to me and answers.

"I am thinking about a mountain of meat."

Yikes.

Maybe to appease my puzzled look, he adds:

"You know, with gravy lava coming down the sides."

Within minutes, he is up and on his way to the grocery store.

Then in the kitchen. For quite a while.

And then, as we all sit,  ready for a great Sunday dinner, he and Marco gently set ... a volcano in the
center of the table.

I am talking about a deliciously seasoned meat volcano. With rich gravy lava trickling from the top and down the sides of the volcano ... all the way down to a sea of buttery mashed potatoes.

And because I always want us to have vegetables ...  five celery-and-cherry-tomato-generals look on, celery feet firmly planted into the mashed potatoes.

Life is good.

Three Ways to Clean a Bathtub

Way #1 - Neutral
Scrub while thinking of something else.

Way #1 - Angry
Scrub vigorously resenting having to do it.

Way #3 - Loving
Caress the sponge along the sides of the tub, feeling grateful for having a tub to clean.

Either way you end up with a clean tub.

My Fabulous New Weight Loss Plan

So ... I have about ten pounds that don't want to budge.

They, however, bulge.

And, as many of you will understand from personal experience, those are never far from the surface of my mind.

Yesterday, they popped in for a visit oh ... 72 times or so. And every time, their visit is accompanied by a firm resolution to eat less, move more bla bla bla.

As I ran into the grocery store on my home yesterday (and by run I mean walk), I called home and asked Chris and Tanissa what they would like me to bring them.

Tanissa wanted sorbet - raspberry or mango.

Chris wanted cookies and cream ice cream.

Ok.

So here I am, plopped in front of a wall of ice cream, focused on finding the two requested items, when my eyes land on ... chocolate hazelnut gelato. Chocolate. Hazelnut. Gelato.

My mind does a little dance and pretty soon I am dropping all THREE types of ice cream into the cart.

Walking around the store, my mind is busy. It dialogues with itself about weight, promises, bulge, chocolate ... the whole time my eyes are caressing the gelato. This goes on for about 15 minutes.

And all of a sudden, I feel satisfied. I feel as though I have extracted the nectar from the gelato. I feel as though eating it would barely add to the pleasure.

Weird.

So, to test myself, I walk back to the ice cream aisle. I pick up my lovely chocolate hazelnut gelato and I gently put it  back amongst its brothers and sisters.

Just like that.

Minutes later, I am walking out of the store, feeling as though I have lost 5 pounds.

??????

A Little Bit Creepy ...

I was awake at 4, this morning.

Not a bad, panicky "shoot, I can't sleep" feeling, just awake.

So I got up and decided to do some work, savoring the quiet of a home rich with the slumber of people I love.

I turned on my laptop and within a few minutes, I noticed: every site I landed on seemed to have an ad for sleeping potions. "CAN'T SLEEP?" "WORRIED ABOUT INSOMNIA?" "WANT TO GET SOME REST?"

All this because I was online at 4AM.

Part of me is very aware of the brilliance of such targeted marketing.

And part of me - the biggest part - is creeped out. And somehow a little sad.

(Ok, so I see a nap in my afternoon's future.)

Environment Dependent

This is my newly coined term to bring out to the light something which I have suspected - but not fully embraced - for a long time.

Whereas some people tell me that their physical environment has no bearing on their mental state, mine is omni important.

Colors, placement, (my idea of) beauty and even smells all contribute to whether I survive or thrive.

And because I am really into thriving ... I need to "move into" a space. That space can be as small as the little black agenda I carry around or as big as my home. It includes my purse, my car and lately my office.

Fighting it and denying it is too much work, I am fully giving in.

Bring on the rich purples, the burnt oranges, the plants, the textures, the smells.

Bring ME on.

Funny how this goes...

For the past decade, I have always felt immensely blessed when one of my kids was sick and I KNEW that I could work from my home office, juggling phone calls with chicken soup.

This morning, as two of my (now much older) kids are home under the weather, I feel again immensely blessed for having a quiet office to drive to, having left some great homemade chicken soup in the fridge for them to sip when they wake up.

(and yes, I did have to remind myself a few times that I am only a phone call / 7 minutes away)