One happy momma

I GOT A LETTER FROM DUNCAN!

Yes I did!

In it, he admitted that the first two days were hard – very little sleep and lots of travel and work.

Hence the crap photo of him looking all forlorn and unhappy.

That did not sit well with me.

I’ve been wondering how he’s doing and I’m happy to report he’s doing okay.

He’s made friends and it sounds like he’s having fun, even if he is working hard every day.

This from a kid who is used to sleeping until 2 pm. . .

I’ve been advised that the “currency” that is used in boot camp is mint lozenges.

They’re the only thing allowed by leadership.

So guess what I did?

I went out and bought like a BILLION mint lozenges for Duncan.

The problem is, I can’t send them to him yet.

I STILL don’t have an address for the shipment.

But when he gives it to me, for sure I will be packing and sending him a care package with everything he could possible DREAM of needing at Boot Camp – shampoo, body wash, mint lozenges, candy bars, and family pictures.

Speaking of pictures, I’m DYING to see what he looks like now with his head shaved.

And in uniform.

You know us ladies love a man in uniform.

PARENTING ACHIEVEMENT REALIZED!

Have I mentioned recently how lucky I am to be a mom to my two boys?

I can’t express enough gratitude for being chosen to be their mother.

My eldest, Duncan, is now working and joined the Army National Guard to be in the Military Police.

Of course, he hopes to get a career in law enforcement, just like his father.

My youngest, just got accepted into UNR and will be attending in the fall and studying the field of biology.

He hopes to make a career as a veterinarian or a nurse.

Now, the thing you must know about having teenage boys is that even though they are less work than girls, with less mood swings, and outbursts, they’re also fiercely independent.

I’m constantly texting them asking where they are and who they are with.

I barely see them.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they need food to survive, I could go days without seeing them.

So, all this is just a BIG excuse for me to post this photo of us:

They came into my room while I was lounging on my bed – Duncan on the right and Gavin on the left, and they stayed there long enough for me to snap the photo.

Fuck yeah!

PARENTING ACHIEVEMENT REALIZED!

Fingers Crossed

Elon Musk took his FIVE sons to a pumpkin patch.

That’s right.

The CEO and founder of SpaceX and Tesla, Inc. has FIVE sons.

I’m less concerned with how something like that happened and more concerned with how wonderful and chaotic it must be to be the father of FIVE BOYS.

I know it was CRAZY with my two.

Elon’s five boys remind me how very badly I want to have more children.

I thought for sure it would happen in the years after I got divorced.

I was sure I’d meet someone special, settle down, and maybe have a girl or two.

Or another boy.

I’ll always feel like my family is too small since I lost Douglas and Ruby.

Missing children.

It is my lot in life to carry around the burden of having lost children.

I have, by no means, cornered the market in this area and I am aware there are bigger burdens than mine.

Still.

I want more kids.

Now, I’ve TOTALLY given up on the idea of having more kids of my own.

I’m too close to the tail end of raising my boys to turn around and start all over.

But reading about Elon Musk’s abundance of children, I am struck with the hope that perhaps, if I’m lucky, I will meet someone special who has children of his own.

The game is not lost, my friends.

I could still wind up with a girl or another boy.

I am struck, given my own adoption background, how families are made in all different ways.

I happen to have two mothers and two fathers, an abundance of siblings (six), and even more cousins, aunts and uncles.

So I know better than anyone that more than blood makes a family.

There’s hope for me.

I might get more kids yet!

Fingers crossed.

 

I do

My cousin is engaged.

This is not new news.

This is OLD news.

Because he got engaged MONTHS ago but I have yet to write about it.

You see, my cousin is a very thoughtful man and he hired a company to record the entire proposal.

It brings tears to my eyes every time I watch the video.

And I’ve seen it at least a dozen times.

Each viewing gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

Yes.

Something is right in this world which brought Nick and Katie together.

They are two BEAUTIFUL people, inside and out, and they will have a beautiful family someday, if they choose.

The reason why I’m writing this post is not to say that I believe in love.

Because I do.

Or because I love my cousin.

Which I do.

No.

I’m writing this post because today I made a reservation at the wedding hotel.

Me in a king bed ALL BY MYSELF.

And just once, even though I will have tons of family there, I just don’t want to be alone.

I don’t want to be that woman anymore.

The one who shows up single and gets stuck sitting next to the only single guy at the wedding who is a Trump supporter which depresses me and drives me to drink unusual amounts of wine until I get silly, dance the chicken dance with my family, and have to go back to my hotel early to sleep it off leaving me with a wicked headache in the morning.

Yup.

Okay, so that’s the WORST CASE SCENARIO.

And truthfully, my cousin Jennifer would probably never sit me next to a Trump supporter (unless he’s family J )

But just this once, let an appropriate solution present itself to me so that I’m not flying solo at the wedding.

Please.

 

I’m a blogger

I’m a blogger.

My life appears on the internet for other people to read and absorb.

I write because I have a bad memory and a diary is the best way for me to keep track of what happens in my life.

I put it on the internet because I’m trying to connect with other people, even if it’s just through a story.

I think there’s wisdom that can be gleaned between the lines of my life, if not by me then by someone else.

Everybody I write about, I fall in love with.

They represent a character in my life and whether temporary or permanent, they always play a part in my development.

Some people I clearly adore: my children, my family, The Swede, Tejas, Barbara, Michelle, Marina, and so many more.

Other people pop in and out, like Coke Can Dan, Jack and Jill, and The Photographer.

Rest assured they’ve all captured a place in my heart.

There is little I enjoy more than writing about a friend, new or old, who has captured my attention.

I never do them justice.

Personalities are far too rich and nuanced for me to capture in my simple writing.

But I try.

And honestly, nothing is better than reading old posts and being reminded of old friends I haven’t seen in a while so I pick up the phone and call.

I hope they know how much I love them.

Life Goes On

Sorry I went AWOL on my blog for a few days.

As it turns out, producing a weekend long campout in the mountains AND dealing with your son’s upcoming neurosurgery simultaneously has made it challenging to blog on a regular basis.

Rest assured I will make every attempt to keep up with the flow.

My son had a CT scan yesterday that took 4 hours.

Why did it take 4 hours?

Because the Radiologist had to be consulted to make sure the right test was run.

Something that COULD have been figured out AHEAD OF TIME, but at least they were cautious.

The CT scan was done for the sole purpose of seeing how much of my son’s skull is compromised by the dermoid cyst.

As I’ve said earlier, my son needs to have a portion of his skull taken out in order to fully remove the cyst so it won’t grow back.

I appreciate that the doctors are insistent that we run all the necessary tests so that they know what they’re dealing with BEFORE they cut.

So there you have it in a nutshell.

The latest and greatest in my life.

Oh, and today is my oldest son’s 19th birthday!

So there will some celebrating despite the stress I’m under.

Life goes on.

And so will this blog.

Mother knows best

This is going to be my year for regional burns.

Pagan Bunny Burn in March.

UnSCruz in May.

Maybe a mini, unofficial PreCompression in July.

The BIG, OFFICIAL burn in August/September.

Decompression in October.

The other day, my dad said to me, “I hope you grow out of this. “

He’s always saying things that upset me.

Why would he want me to grow out of something that makes me happy, fulfilled, and productive?

It defies logic.

It makes me think, when I look at my boys, that the most important thing I can do for them is to support the activities that enrich their lives, even if I don’t understand them.

Except for motorcycles.

I will NEVER support them riding a motorcycle.

Irony, since my BFF is a HUGE motorcycle rider.

AND my birth father and my uncles ALL RIDE MOTORCYCLES.

Along with two of my brothers, Cy and Art.

It’s crazy, I know, but you witness one motorcycle accident turn a man into an accordion and you never want to ride a motorcycle EVER AGAIN!

I suppose, as parents, we think we know what’s best for our kids and we try to steer them in that direction.

So I can forgive my father’s lack of understanding when it comes to Burning Man.

But in my case, when it comes to motorcycles, I do know what’s best.

Dirt bikes I can handle.

Street bikes?

No way!

Burning Man?

I’ll drive them there.

Jelly

In my family, there’s something called a Zezza butt.

It’s a really nice ass, larger than most, but perky and round.

I’ve got a Zezza butt.

As does my cousin Jennifer and my brother Art.

We’ve even taken a picture of all our asses, lined up (I’m #2 in the lineup).

Not everyone likes Zezza butt, but they should.

It’s pretty awesome.

I recall one instance in fact when a very athletic burner requested that we fool around in his RV SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SEE “DAT ASS.”

It has slowly dawned on me that some people like curvy women.

Some people like slim women.

And some people LIKE ALL WOMEN.

I’ve given up trying to hide my body, which will never look like Heidi Klum’s, and am working on embracing all that JUNK IN MY TRUNK.

Starting with buying some short shorts for the Burn.

Okay, I DID buy a pair of shorts a few weeks ago that were (optimistically) two sizes smaller than my current size.

I’ve now replaced those shorts with booty hugging, booty boosting, putting-it-all-on-display jean shorts.

Four pairs, to be exact.

That way I’m sure to find something I like.

No, I won’t look like Jessica Simpson in my shorts but fuck, I like my thick thighs.

And other people do too.

They feel just as good wrapped around a sturdy man as slim ones.

And stuffing all my jelly into a pair of Daisy Dukes just gives me a little thrill.

Hope it gives you a thrill too. . .