Monday, November 19, 2018

Fakesgiving: Co-Parenting During the Holidays

I don’t have my children for Thanksgiving this year.

The good news is that this means I get the kids for Christmas.

But on Thanksgiving, the kiddos will be eating turkey and stuffing with their father.

I’ve been co-parenting for nearly five years now. For five years, the parent who gets Thanksgiving, doesn’t get Christmas, and the parent who doesn’t get Thanksgiving gets Christmas.

I’d like to say that five years of missing every other Thanksgiving and every other Christmas with my children has eased the emptiness I feel on my childless holidays.

But I can’t.

It doesn’t get easier, but I guess I’ve learned to cope with their blatant absence better.

As a former military spouse who had to figure out how to celebrate all the holidays and special occasions that were either postponed or outright ignored because of deployments, I learned to get creative. And flexible with dates on the calendar.

That means that this year, Thanksgiving has already come and gone for me.

Well, to be more accurate, “Fakesgiving” has come and gone.

Just as I’ve made up a new last name to call our household that combines mine, my kids’ and my boyfriend’s, I’ve made up new names for the holidays we celebrate early.

Because I refuse to ignore holidays.

And who cares when you celebrate together as long as you celebrate, right?

So this year, when my parents came to visit the first weekend in November, my family with the three last names smushed into one sat down for our Fakesgiving spread on the most random of days and shared what we were thankful for.

It didn’t matter that the calendar didn’t say Thanksgiving.

While I’m thankful to be able to share Fakesgiving with my kids, and I’m thankful I don’t have to plan an early “Fakesmas” until next December because this year I get to share the real Christmas with them, I can’t help but feel a bit deflated this week.

Everyone around me is planning for Thanksgiving, buying their turkeys and planning their menus.

Yesterday, as my boyfriend and I braved Trader’s Joe’s on the Sunday before turkey day, the busy yet cheerful cashier asked if we were excited for Thanksgiving.

“Well, we’ve already done our Thanksgiving,” I blurted out.

(I really need to stop saying that. People don’t know how to react. I need to just say yes and move on with my day.)

I try not to complain. After all, my kids are thrilled they get two of every holiday each year.

My divorce hasn’t totally scarred them for life.

They’re growing up learning that life is filled with the need for adjustments and it’s important to make the best of odd circumstances.

But I already know on Thanksgiving day, even though my boyfriend and I will enjoy our day hiking at our local state park like we usually do when the kids aren’t around for holidays, my heart will still hurt a little.

After five years, handing my babies over to spend a holiday with someone else still hurts a little.

And I think that’s ok to admit so I can acknowledge that hurt, say hello like it’s a familiar acquaintance, and then move on.

To planning Christmas with my kids!

Happy Fakesgiving or Thanksgiving or whatever you may be celebrating this week!

Monday, October 22, 2018

I Miss Writing

I miss writing.

I hear myself say these three words.

Every. Single. Day.

I can’t stand that I’m saying them.

I can’t stand that I’m not writing with the frequency and passion that once drove me to this blog.

Every. Single. Day.

I can’t stand that writing has somehow fallen off my list of priorities.

What’s going on? Why am I not writing?

This year kicked off with a major surgery in January.

I attempted to return to work four weeks after my hysterectomy.

I wasn’t healthy enough.

Two more weeks of recovering, and I was good to go.

But I was slow.

Slow to get my work done.

Slow to get back into physical shape.

Slow to get back to normal life.

But one day I discovered I felt normal and healthy.

The rough winter was over, and spring bloomed with the sunshine I craved, multiple pitches to editors and an outline for a new book I was itching to write.

I signed up for hot yoga.

I signed up for Orangetheory Fitness.

My boyfriend and I decided to go to Iceland for our end-of-summer vacation, and I started planning our epic adventure.

Summer was in full swing, and I couldn’t wait for all the beach days of paddle boarding and sunsets.

I said to a friend, “I’m so happy I can’t help but wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.”

And then it dropped.

The day after celebrating the 4th of July, the owner of our beach rental house informed us we had to vacate because she was selling it to a family member.

We had six weeks to find another house. In the kids’ school zone. And move.

No beach days for me.

I spent every minute of free time house hunting and packing.

I stopped finding time to write.

Hot yoga and Orangetheory were afterthoughts.

I contemplated canceling our trip to Iceland.

But somehow we found a house and moved in under a month.

I spent every minute of free time unpacking and creating a new home for my family.

And getting one kid ready to start high school and the other to start middle school.

And finalizing our trip to Iceland (because, dammit, I refused to cancel the trip to Iceland!).

I still wasn’t writing.

I stopped going to hot yoga altogether and made pathetic appearances at Orangetheory.

I treated our 11-day drive around the entire country of Iceland as a break from moving boxes and change of address forms and stress.

(Side note: Iceland was absolutely incredible. Truly an epic adventure. I highly recommend and will gladly help plan your itinerary.)

I returned home to work and new house stress and schools not releasing schedules because I had no proper proof of address.

I told myself life would settle down soon.

School started (after finally getting schedules).

I resumed a hot yoga and Orangetheory routine.

And while I wasn’t working on my books, I finally made time to throw together some essays and send out pitches.

But editors didn’t bite.

I got a couple of kind and constructive rejections, but mostly I got no responses at all.

Which is very discouraging.

And more discouraging?

Realizing I haven’t been published since May.

Realizing I haven’t written a blog post since February.

Realizing I have two drafts-in-progress of books begging to be worked on.

Which brings us to up to date.

These are my thoughts today.

I miss writing.

Because I have yet to find the time and energy in between a full-time job, parenting a teen and a tween, spending time with my boyfriend and taking care of my health to rekindle the passion I once had to write.

Every. Single. Day.

But life was no less hectic back when I published a blog post every weekday.

Life was no less hectic when I participated in three consecutive NaNoWriMo’s to make significant progress on my novel.

Life was no less hectic when I scribbled pages and pages of journal entries that included endless ideas for topics to write about.

I miss writing.

But life never slows down.

So it’s time to stop making a blog post worth of excuses for why I haven’t been writing.

And start writing.

Every. Single. Day.

Friday, February 23, 2018

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Pets,

The last four weeks post-surgery have been rough. 

And when I say rough, I mean I’ve been rotating the same comfy pants and baggy shirts for over four weeks. 

I’ve been keeping medication charts. 

I’ve been taking naps. 

I’ve watched more tv in the last month than I probably have in the entire last year combined. 

I’ve been missing exercise, baths, wine, going anywhere quickly and general contact with the outside world that now feels like a foreign country because I’ve been inside my house too much.

But you, my loyal and sweet dog and cat, have been right by my side through it all. You’ve cuddled close and absorbed my pain. You slowed down to match my pace. You looked cute and made me smile. Pet therapy is a real thing. And I’m so thankful for you both.

With love and appreciation,
A Furbaby Mama

Dear Authors,

I have read eight of your books in four weeks. You’ve kept me entertained while I rested and tried to keep my brain functioning as I take time off work. You’ve reminded me of the power of the written word and my own passion to share what’s in my brain. And you’ve inspired me to get back into a daily writing routine, as well as start a new project I’ve been contemplating for years.

Thank you for helping me find new words,
A Writer With a New Plan

Dear Psychic Energy,

As rough as this month has been, I feel like I've managed to rearrange you in such a way that any negativity is transforming into positive juju.  

I had my annual psychic reading last week. As always, my session was a practice in reflection, insight and motivation. And although most of the reading wasn't much more than an affirmation of things I already planned to do and my mom later claimed she could have told me all that for free, I needed to hear it from an objective stranger.

You also went through a cleansing by smudging. I started with my house and finished with my body. My house instantly felt cleared of negative energy, and whatever negative physical vibes were left over from my surgery drifted out the open windows as well. I cleansed, I dismissed, I dispelled. 

A Cleared and Focused Woman

Dear Passport,

I’m starting the process of figuring out how to use you again this summer. Last year was the Dominican Republic. The year before was Costa Rica. The year before that was Turks and Caicos. My list of travel dreams never stops growing. Thank you for helping me satisfy my wanderlust and see fun new parts of the world. I can’t wait to see where you take me next!

An Aspiring World Traveler

Dear Beach,

Since I had my hysterectomy over four weeks ago, you have been my goal. 

As my happy place that just happens to be a short three minute walk from my front door, I fear I may have taken you for granted. Even in the winter, I typically visit you multiple times a week. I use you for sunsets, dolphin watching, paddle boarding, reading, dog walks and anytime I need a break.

For the past month, you’ve seemed too far away. The first time I reached my goal of walking to you, I was ecstatic! And I was also exhausted. Too exhausted to do anything but say hello and turn around and head home.

But two days ago, I finally reached my goal. On an unusually warm and sunny near 80 degree day, I did more than just say hello. I visited you for almost an hour and a half. I dug my toes in the sand. I meditated. I stared at bright blue sky as the clouds crept by. I read. I walked to the shoreline with my daughter as she braved the freezing water.

After weeks of not enough fresh air, you were exactly what I needed.

A Believer in Saltwater Therapy

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