Category Archives: Family

Mommy

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2

When it comes to nicknames, I have many.

Lady, Blondie, Tits McGhee, Jen-Dog, The J Train, Blogoddess, and well… Hateful bitch.

They all have a time and a place, but one word reminds me of who I really am. One is timeless and puts an instant smile on my face.

Mommy.

I still call my own mother, “Mommy” once in a while. She smiles too.

It’s that tender plea for love from the woman responsible for your knowing how valuable love is.

She from whence you came. She who taught you everything you needed to know to make your life as happy as she hopes it will be from the moment she knew you were destined to be her baby.

My mother is truly the finest woman I know, and she armed me to the teeth with skills. We had the best conversation yesterday.

M- Honey, maybe I made it hard for you to have a man in your life. I worry about that.

J- What? Are you crazy?

M- We were always so happy and if we needed anything, we figured out how to do, get or be- on our own. I taught you to rely on yourself and I want you to be able to ask for help too. I want you to be taken care of too.

J- That’s the beauty of it Mommy- you taught me to take care of the little details so that the man in my life will have to be so much more than a oil changing, hammer toting chore factory.

My mother taught me an an early age, how very valuable I am.

He has to be funny because I learned to be funny as a kid. He has to work hard, because I was raised by the hardest worker I’ve ever seen. He has to adore me, because I grew up with love spilling out everywhere around us. He can’t buy my love- because I learned at an early age that love is given freely and without expectation. He can’t lie- because I was taught to tell the truth.

M- I know it’s been a hard month. I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself and I’m SO proud to be your mom. You’re so talented and I am so proud that you didn’t give in to a bunch of bullies. You had enough faith in yourself to raise your head and walk out with a smile on your face with the weight of the world on your shoulders. I didn’t like what that job was doing to you and you are a different person being away from it. It’s all over your beautiful face. I am so proud of you, I’m so happy for you, and I love you so much.

Yep. There she is. My mommy. Saying all the things I need to hear in my hour of panicked need, while I was second guessing myself and eying the jar of change in my bedroom, wondering about yard sales, bills that are piling up and a refrigerator that’s emptying.

Coming in from the garden and finding a bag of groceries on the counter. All my favorite things- and a note that says “I love you, Mom”

I sat down and looked at the brown paper bag full of love from my mommy. Organic everything- because she’s like that. The Greek yogurt that tastes better than ice cream. The love she gives is love that answers the needs in your heart and silences the worries in your mind. There were lettuce, carrot & beet seeds in the bottom.

She who knows you so well she can anticipate the desires you don’t express.

I went back out and planted until dark with an ice cold beer and a handful of carrots… a smile on my face where I’d previously been worried. Knowing, yet again, and because of her- that everything will be ok.

My entire body hurts and the garden is kicking my ass just as it always does in the early phases. It’s a giant flower this year- why not? I fell asleep watching a movie with my little red, knowing it was all going to be ok, no matter what.

Only to wake up to the finest example I can imagine.

I rolled over to see my little angel standing there, with a huge grin on her face, holding a bag. I shook my head and cleared my throat, rubbed my eyes and eased my aching body up to sit in bed and see what this little sweetheart was holding.

R- Happy Mother’s Day. Don’t be mad- I went to the gas station and got you something, but I was totally safe. I wore my helmet and I made sure all the cars stopped before I crossed the road.

I peek in the bag and it’s all my favorite things. Diet Pepsi. A blueberry muffin. Sunflower seeds. Reese’s Peanut Butter cups.

The look on her face was priceless. She was waiting with baited breath for my reaction. So excited and so hopeful that she’d succeeded in her early morning quest. I may have made a trillion mistakes, but I did something right with this amazing child.

I started to cry and she started to laugh.

R- I love you so much mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

It’s a hard day. I probably wont hear from my darling son who despises me. I’ve been really sad about it, but at this point I have nothing else to do but respect that he wants to be distant. I gave him life and all the tools he needs to make it happy. I gave him years of homemade Halloween costumes and lessons in the kitchen. I miss him constantly- but I’m human and need respect too. Love isn’t conditional in my life so if I have to love him from a distance- so be it. I spent two years being estranged from my mom and they were the longest two years of my life.

Everybody needs their mommy. Even me. Even you. Especially him. I’m sad for him that he’s chosen otherwise, but at the end of the day- I’m still his mom. I still worry. I still lie awake at night and hope he’s warm and fed and safe. I always will.

Life is short and time is fleeting. Call your mom and tell her you love her…. and mean it. You never know when you might not have her anymore and when the whole world goes out?

Mom is always right there, standing with her arms outstretched and waiting to remind you of who you really are.

Happy Mothers Day to everyone, whether you have human babies or fur babies or a mom like mine. It’s a wonderful opportunity to be thankful.

♥

It’s so BIG.

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4

Yeah if I had a quarter for every time I said “That’s what she said” yesterday? I could retire.

Sigh.

My darling chosen father showed up with a rototiller at 10 o’clock. He’d driven by a week ago and saw me weeding in the garden and I got a call later.

B- Hi Jen, I drove by and saw you trying to do the impossible. Call me. I’ll go get the tiller.

I couldn’t ask him to till it again. He did it last year and I let it go to shit with my terrifying water bill and full time job. All that work and I didn’t even pull it off. I couldn’t call him back.

So he showed up with it anyway.

My Bill. My dad, as I’ve taken to calling him. He’s been there for me since I was a kid.

When I was 14 or 15 he met my mom and offered to help. He drove me to school for years. He’s always been there for me and has taught me a million things. He taught me how to install insulation, how to drive a snowmobile and a boat. He’s happily married and a complete pervert. He regularly comments on my boobs, as he always has.

B- When are ya gonna take that rack out and get a husband, this is ridiculous to do alone and you shouldn’t be single.

J- I have horrible taste.

B- Obviously if I’m the one driving the tiller.

His youngest son died suddenly last summer. It’s been a hard year… and yet?

He’s always been there for me.

He loaned me the money to save me from getting the water turned off after the leak from hell and when I had nowhere to turn and no idea what to do.

He gave me a car when mine broke and it was too expensive to fix it.

He tilled my garden, for the second year in a row… and he’s picky like me so he went over it twice without me asking. He paid for it, wouldn’t take a dollar and came and left like the real dad it feels like he is to me. I tell him every time that I love him. He’s not one of those guys… but as long as he knows I do- we’re good.

Beyond all the help he gives me, and the real support he’s always been to me?

He calls me on my shit.

B- Time to get that hibernation weight off you. It’s high season in the lake and you need someone to help you around here. Time to get out there and find a nice husband.

J- What if I don’t want one of those?

B- Maybe I should buy a tiller.

For all the shit he gives me, he’d kill a man for being disrespectful to me, he destroys the undercarriage of his shiny new black Corvette to come down my driveway to check on me… and he shows up for the worst of jobs… like climbing under the house. Ugh.

He puts the time in. He get’s his hands dirty… hell he gets cut and bleeds over this damn garden every year- and yesterday was no exception. He got here early- around 9:30… and I was still in my bikini and a nightgown. I threw on my garden boots and raced out to the garden to meet him and he started laughing.

B- Trying to drum up more volunteers?

J- What?

B- Oh hell are you gonna start doing yard work in high heel shoes again?

J- If I do, I expect you to support me.

B- I’m not a hippie. I’m not worried about hurting your feelings. I’m going to tell you when you look like an idiot and when you’re tromping through the soil with your heels sticking into the mulch? You look like an idiot.

Which is when another person walks up to the fence and says…

L- It’s SO big!!!

he laughs and shouts back..

B- Thank you, but I’m afraid I don’t remember our night together.

She frowns and walks away.

J- You. Behave… these are my neighbors.

He laughs and goes back to plowing. I’m in full fledged suffering mode. Shoveling huge garden cart loads of compost and spreading it over the entire garden. Every muscle in my body is screaming out and begging me to reconsider this enormous commitment.

I can feel the sweat run down my spine. My eyes are burning from my epic allergies this spring and the tires are flat on my garden cart. I’m absolutely knee deep in purgatory. I can feel every single thread of every muscle running from my tailbone to my neck.

I’m reconsidering every inch of this garden… not to mention that it’s nearly an acre. The blisters on my hands from pulling the cart are breaking against the dirty cold metal handle. Ouch.

Which is when the hot bald volunteer shows up.

D- Hey. Jen?

I look up and die a little… and have to laugh. My pops turns the tiller off and comes to stand next to me when he sees him jump over the fence.

B- Are you a Jehova witness? We don’t need a watchtower, we need tilled soil and a fence.

D- Oh I offered to help her fix the fence.

B- Great. Follow me.

J- Slow down. How about you meet each other first.

D- Hi, I’m,

B- She needs a fence, so thanks for offering. Let’s get you all set up, come here I’ll show you the wood.

So this is what it’s like to have a dad. I feel like I’m living my own version of Meet the Fockers. He’s not usually like this, but he’s not fucking around and when the shiny volunteer starts to balk, my Pops laughs and walks back to keep on tilling, shaking his head.

D- Maybe we could get a beer next week?

J- No, but thank you.

He made his excuses and exited the line of fire fairly quickly. Pops was all over it the minute he drove away.

B- If he was serious he would have come dressed to help.

J- I know.

We finish out the day just dragging through it. Exhausted on a level I haven’t known for a while. I’m sunburned, I have dirt in my hair and an acre of bare soil staring back at me, daring me to pull off the impossible, yet again.

Standing back to survey the absolute lunacy of growing a garden this big, alone… an idea hits me.

J- Maybe I’ll make it into a rainbow this year!

B- I don’t think that’s a good idea.

J- I think it’d be beautiful!

B- I think it would attract the wrong guy.

He’s my Pops…  and we laugh like hell when we’re hanging out. We had to rinse all the dirt off the tiller before returning it and it hit the wrong piece of angled metal on the tiller and I sprayed him full force in the thigh. He left, soaking wet & laughing… inviting my daughter and I over for a martini and a soak in the hot tub. At this point breathing hurts and every muscle in my body just wants to hold very, very still. Ouch.

He hugs me goodbye with the most amazing sentiment.

B- Let me know if I can help you with anything else. We’ll get the fence figured out, don’t worry.

J- I love you Dad.

He smiled at me and threw a piece of dirt at me.

B- I love you too, good luck planting all that. You need to make friends with some hippies that don’t have a garden or start wearing less and wait for a nice guy to volunteer.

I stood there in an acre of open dirt and laughed. Here… look.

Any suggestions? I like it round but it’s a bit of a pain to navigate with hoses & weeding. Hmm…

Scary Happy

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I’m back to my infectiously happy self. I’m beaming. People everywhere tease me and ask about the new guy in my life. I blush.

Nope. No guy. No man. Nada, nada, nada…. No gracias.

It’s me, I’m back.

I’ve missed me. It’s like coming out of a fog. I’m baking. Sewing. Planting. Transplanting…. and walking the five minutes to my daughter’s school every day to pick her up. I’m so filled with joy at having these moments back that my chest aches a little. We’re cooking dinner together and taking bike rides afterward.

I’ve lost 12 pounds not being surrounded by fried food. I have a lovely tan from spending so much time in the greenhouse. My tomato plants are thriving and I spend my mornings dancing in the greenhouse in a swimsuit, watering my little green children. I’m beside myself with joy.

My finger & toenails are painted. My dishes are done and the laundry is clean, folded and put away. I’ve had time to go to the grocery store and I’ve been making marshmallows for the market this weekend. I’m getting ready for a yard sale. I’m working with what I have until I start working again.

Not dating, and more importantly taking the time to actually write about my Puerto Rican nightmare. I’m taking the next two weeks offline. Unplugging the computer and shutting off the DirectTv. Diving in to this rare opportunity to be the housewife I used to be and get my own home and life in order. Building fences and baking cookies. Slipping back into a dress and heels, my uniform of choice.

I’d gotten lost. I forgot to do what really makes me happy and the rest falls into place. I don’t want to date some idiot. I don’t want to drink after work with coworkers every night my daughter is gone. Yeah the house is empty but it’s also a pretty cool place to hang out, and I’m happier at home. I’ve been sewing curtains and diaper covers and monsters.

I’ve been getting rid of the excess in our lives and in our house so that we have less upkeep.

and I’ve been spending some serious time playing Bejeweled.

Unemployment is absolutely terrifying when you’re a single mom, and it’s going to be another 5 weeks before my unemployment starts to come in. Yikes… but I love a challenge and I’m resourceful as hell when it comes to being broke. I dated an unemployed hippie for 7 years. I could impress the world with how many things I can do with rice. :)

I’m living my life again- and not someone elses. I have clean sheets on my bed and clean socks in the drawer. Homemade spearmint soap in the shower and freshly bleached towels.

I’m a domestic hurricane of happiness, and it feels SO fantastic.

I’ve lost some friends, enemies and a job… but I’ve gained my life, my happiness and my self respect back.

Life is uncertain, but it is so good when you’re living true to yourself. It’s a scary good change and such a blessing in disguise.

This too shall pass, so while it’s here I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it. ♥

I’m spending time with dear girlfriends- and you know what they say… you find out who the real ones are when the chips are down. I’ve heard from a few of my favorite customers expressing their appreciation and someone left a six pack of beer on my porch the other day.

Simple kindness and delighting in the simple things in life reminds me what is truly important.

We’re going to go see the new baby chicks that hatched in my mama’s chicken yard this week and to collect eggs. I’m begging little red to let me go along on the field trip with her school tomorrow. I realize all the things I’ve missed that are so important and so vital to life being worth anything at the end of the day.

I’m breathing again, smiling and I’m grateful. It’s good to be back. ♥

Indomitable

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Happiness is free, and thank God too… because unemployment is rather stressful financially.

I’ve had plenty of reason to feel bad. Losing a job I needed to survive, watching people I thought were friends vanish as quickly as the dollars in my wallet and being 86′d for life from a place I’ve worked hard to support.

I’ve been a bitch, but I challenge anyone to tell me they’d react differently if they were walking around in my shoes.

I grew up with The Desiderata on the bathroom wall. At 6 years old I remember reading it every time I brushed my teeth. In high school it really made sense and now? I have my own copy hanging on my own bathroom wall. It’s the foundation of my hippie upbringing, and I find myself swimming in it lately.

I can be wicked hateful, and I arm myself with the details most offensive and use them to my benefit like bullets in my very own verbal arsenal. If I want to kick you where it hurts, you’re going to feel it. I’m one supercilious nightmare when inspired to be.

Which isn’t who I want to be, but who I need to be sometimes.

I take a lot of shit. I swallow a lot of pride. I also return the feeling, tenfold-when you push me too far.

I could ramble on and on with an acid tongue and a thesaurus of hurtful adjectives… but it’s just not who I am or who I want to be.

So they hate me. Oh well. I’m not terribly offended considering the facts on the ground.

So my dear friend is jealous enough to post offensive bullshit on my Facebook wall. Oh well. Jealousy doesn’t inspire me to love anyone, and I’m single. I’m fully entitled to inspire jealousy with absolutely no ramifications and beyond that? I know a man who opens his mouth only to bless me with his kindness and affection. Real words from a real man make jealous insults sting a lot less.

I wish I could say I’m surprised- but I’m not- just like I warned him…

J- You do not want to date me. We’re friends. You’re only going to hate me at some point. Trust me.

Guess who was right…

BUT….

Being hateful only drags me down to their level, something I’ve worked too hard to avoid in the last year.

So I flushed the hateful crap and took my little mangy hounds on a walk. I picked a bouquet of daffodils for the dinner table and hung the sheets on the clothesline. They’re crispy smooth and smell like sunshine and spring time.

I baked some honey wheat bread… and snuggled with my little mangy trio while cracking out on the first season of The Tudors…filling out the millionth job application. I weeded a row in the garden and planted more potatoes. I have about 15 pounds of seed potatoes left to plant… Good lord.

Hi, my name is Jenni and I’m a vegetable hoarder. I come from a beautiful line of hoarding gardeners- and hey… I absolutely loathe store-bought marinara. I may be a size 5 by the end of summer because the garden is out of control weedy…

Bonus! Free daily workout and veggies too? See how it starts? Too much of a good thing is still TOO MUCH.

I’m a little haunted by the silence and boredom in my daily life these days. I had the best interview I’ve ever had in my life yesterday, dinner and a drink with a dear friend last night and another favorite chick sighting this morning.

I know I’m being redundant… but for all the shitty men in my life? I am surrounded by phenomenal women.

My dear friend Miss Wisdom saved me yesterday with truth. Not bullshit flowery nonsense, but real “Get a grip and take your own advice” sort of words. Love her. Love them all…

It takes a real friend to see you making bad choices or flailing. We touched on the sorest of subjects…

W- Why would you go there, when you know he’s there and you know it stings and you know he’s bad for you.

J- I have a crush.

W- You HAD a crush… why would you like anyone who would treat you so poorly?

That applies to so many people in my life right now, it took my breath away. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment? Either way- it’s a thing of the past, and I’m cutting the bullshit out of my life at record speed.

Life is too short, and it’s too beautiful outside. My garden is all the challenge I need at this point, and my favorite flowers sprouted this morning.

Baby Bells of Ireland, smiling up at me and reminding me that everything is as it should be.

Life goes on- and happier when you cut the nonsense out of your life. More than that, it’s even better when you learn to love yourself first and let the assholes fall where they may in the hurricane of figuring out how to demand respect from people.

Or how to tell them to go fuck themselves.

Either way? I haven’t been so happy in months and I made a few hundred bucks today getting shit out of my garage.

Purging at a profit… now that’s the kind of chaos I can get behind.

Yeah I’m pissed off, offended and insulted- but I’m also single, smart & funny as hell. I’m doing what I need to do and remembering who I really am, now that I’m away from the cancerous source of suffering.

Welcome to the chaos of my fancy schmancy new life. It’s scary uncertain and full of potential disaster, but when I sink to the point I use my words to hurt someone instead of to free myself- I become an asshole like the rest of them.

No hate. No haterade… and most importantly?

No haters.

That right there is quite the victory, if I do say so myself.

Oh Maya…

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When I started reading as an adult woman with small children, I started and always ended with Maya Angelou. I think she’s amazing and the words she spins together are as delicious as my favorite memory. One lazy summer Sunday, I was eating homemade vanilla ice cream out of a pint sized canning jar on a quilt with my newborn nursing baby, under the shade of the apple tree. Reading her words equate to my joy in that moment. Maya inspires me to write harder… or with more honesty. Even when people I dislike intensely are reading.

I told her once in a dream that I was frozen by judgement. She smiled at me and said the same thing my mama always says.

M- What someone else thinks about you is their business.

My mom knows more than Maya… but she’s happier in the garden than writing. I would like to think I’ve learned to balance the two, but I’m about to take a two week sabbatical that I CAN’T wait for. I need a solid two weeks with my feet in the dirt and my heart in the clouds.

I have someone very special in my life. He knows I’m not dating and he just sends me nice words, every day. He’s insulted by the lack of effort I make towards him and I can’t blame him. When I’m at a point that I can, I will, but for now I love him dearly- and I miss him daily. My mom would love him. Realizing that makes me narrow my eyes and question why I always equate nice with boring. He’s driven 2 hours on a seconds notice to kiss me and take me for chocolate cake and a glass of wine. I kind of… sort of…don’t share him. At all.

Which insults and offends him… though I tried to tell him he should be flattered. Some men would pay for me to not mention them. Most, actually. I can name two that may be willing to pay me to shut up.

He’s insulted that I don’t talk about wanting him… like I’ve spoken about craving someone else. He’s threatened it means I don’t adore him… worse than that? He thinks I’m ashamed of him.

I told him….

If I really love you, and I really treasure what you are to me. I keep you to myself. I hold you sacred and I love you personally, not publicly.

If I really love you? You’ll never read about our sex life on the internet.

You’re welcome.