Truths: The true “gift” of womanhood.

**Warning this blog might not be for everyone**

It started about two weeks ago… The irritability, the uncontrollable sadness – snapping at the innocent, tears at the drop of a hat – Then, came the headaches and the sore back – until, finally, a week later came my monthly gift.

For 25 years I have been receiving this monthly gift – and I can count on my hands how many times I was actually grateful to receive it! (you know where you pray you will never do “that” again if you could just get your period THIS time)

It is the gift that does tell us we are the stronger sex because no man could bare it – especially for 30—40 years. You know that if the gift was something men got – they would have figured out years ago – how to stop it.

I know the gift is also something remarkable – this beautiful process that allows us to bear the next generation – makes us the key to survival. Still, I would prefer someone else have it each month.

I mean – nearly the whole month we are somehow suffering from its wrappings… For a week we become these unrecognizable women – blubbering over ASPCA commercials where they show Fido wagging his tail and hoping for a home. Then, we become angered when – like any other day – our husbands leave the toilet seat up and we lunge at them with the plunger demanding to know why the $%^* they can’t think of how that affects us.

When the emotional tyrade wears off, we find ourselves in agony – first it might be headaches that immobilize us from daily activity, then backaches that aren’t cured from a bottle of Advil… then the bloating to the point that even our fat jeans won’t button and then BAM – here comes the gift like the rapids and we find ourselves double over with cramps.

What kind of horrible joke is this?

We then spend a week dealing with our gift until finally we are able to enjoy about 10 days before it starts all over again. Aren’t we the lucky ones?

All of this hit me when I had mine last week and found myself in need of another box of tampons. Okay, first I needed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream and then I realized I needed more tampons. I was up at the cabin and the only place to go is a tiny grocery store. The kind with one check –out and 10 aisles.

Even at 39 – I couldn’t bring myself to buy the ice cream and the tampons at the same time. It just seemed so obvious – so I did what any grown woman would do – I made do with the stock I had at home and only got the ice cream!

The next day there was no denying that I needed to replenish my supply so I mustered up the courage to walk into the tiny grocery store and only get the tampons. Yes, I could have added some unneeded items – but I was 39 – surely I could flaunt my maturity.

I walked into the store with two younger men – hoping that they would take a left when I would take the right (and they did).

I walked right to the feminine products in search of a multi-pack (God knows our gift can’t just come in one size package – it has to keep us guessing how bad it is going to be that day or that hour).

Who was I kidding? This wasn’t Target at home – the selection was not going to be that good – so I grabbed “Super Plus” and “Regular” and darted to the check-out and this is where my writing inspiration came from…

As the older woman cashier bagged my goods and handed me the receipt she said, “Have a great day!”

Seriously? Did she NOT see what I just bought? There is nothing great about the day I was about to have!

Truths: Sororities don’t always have greek letters

Last night was the Woodstock Garden Club’s annual dinner with spouses. And, yes, I am a member of the club. My friends often giggle when I say that – I think it conjures up visions of big floppy hats and teapots but I joined because I enjoy gardening and really needed something more than animal welfare to be a part of my world.

(I have learned in the last year – that basically, I have a lot to learn about gardening)

I have never been one for large groups of women…sure I was a college sorority girl – I went to U of I – one of the largest greek systems – but, usually, I find women to be a bit catty.

However, I have been fortunate and the women of the garden club are wonderful. Now, it can’t go without say that I am the youngest member of the club and many of the women could easily be my mother – but I really enjoy getting to know them and truthfully, they are just the nicest people.

Last night was my first dinner with the group… I brought (dragged) my husband along so he could meet the ladies and all of their husbands and didn’t bring any expectations with me.

Boy, was I surprised.

The night was a lot of fun and I just could help but later compare it to a Gamma Phi mixer in college – here we were, this group of women, with our dates, gathered around a beautiful pool, chatting away. I was holding a beer and there were cocktails going around – even shots of apple pie!

In the middle of the night, the women all posed for a group picture – arms around each other – smiling as though we would later order the picture for our scrapbooks.

And for those friends who picture us wearing white gloves and sipping camomile… many of us found ourselves without knives as we stared at our plates with chicken breast patties…doing the only thing possible, we picked them up with our hands and ate them! Who knew, right?

The night got better when one of my closer friends, Vicky, explained to me (and you are gonna love this) that if you poor any type of cheap liquor in a Brita pitcher, it tastes great! (I am buying one today)

I guess what I am trying to say is that I had an unbelievable fun time – perfect venue, wonderful women and lots of good cheer.

When I joined the garden club – all I was looking for was a diversion from all the sad stuff I was witnessing in the world – but what I got was so much more and along the way some really beautiful friends.

Truths: Fly Damn It!

So, I hit a bird yesterday… though I really think that the on-coming car hit the bird and then it flew into the front of my car. (At least that is what I am telling myself). I don’t hit animals. I am one of those people who is bound to end up wiping out into a telephone pole to miss the raccoon crossing the street.

People have told me for years that I need to think of myself first when I drive but it is pure natural instinct for me to think of the animal. Swerving to miss an opossum or a stray dog is just in my DNA.

But, the fate of the bird yesterday really got me thinking… Why in the Hell does a bird fly so close to the traffic? Here they have one of the most amazing talents – one that many humans wish they could possess: the ability to spread their wings and fly wherever they want to.

And yet, they choose to use this gift to hover over cars racing by at 60 mph. What gives?

Worse is when you see a goose or duck WALKING across a 4 lane highway? I guess the term “bird brain” had to start somewhere.

But, seriously, it got me philosophizing life in general. Truthfully, we are all much like the birds – we are given talents, passions, yearnings and yet, we do everything we can NOT to use them.

Okay, maybe it’s just me I am talking about – but you know that you smiled when you read that.

My book…my fricking book. I have already made a commitment to myself to get serious about it once Abby starts school which is exactly two weeks from tomorrow. And yet, I find myself thinking about a job at a nursery, or going back to school, or starting a business.

I want this book to happen and still I am sabotaging myself – MYSELF!

Why do we do this? I once heard or made it up in my head that the things that mean the most to us are the hardest to start (which is why I never got around to scrapbooking any of Abby’s baby pictures).

If I could get my book published and just sell it to 100 people – that would be my dream come true and still I let myself wander away from it.

It should not take gut wrenching discipline to fulfill the one dream you know you are passionate about and yet, for me, it does.

Like the bird yesterday, I let myself hover amongst racing thoughts and interferences – allowing myself to be bumped around by things that just don’t mean that much to me.

And like the poor birds fate yesterday, that might soon be the fate of my book if I don’t spread my own wings and get flying!

Think about what really means the world to you, what you would love to have accomplished in a year, 5 years or just simply before you leave this world and then ask yourself, “What is keeping me from achieving that?”

If it helps, think about the little sparrow who failed to use the amazing talent he had…no one wants that to be them. ☺

Truths: The 3 Musketeers didn’t have it this good

Last night MaryKate and I and our families got together at a Kelly’s house for a BBQ because MaryKate is in visiting from Spain where she now lives.

Sounds like a typical evening among friends…but as I sat there enjoying my two friends’ company, I couldn’t help but remind myself that we have been friends for over 30 years now. And, I don’t just mean acquaintances…truly best friends who know everything about each other – and I mean everything.

We have seen each other grow up – from raising hermit crabs to guinea pig picnics to scraped knees and first periods and training bras – from passing notes to boys to “first times,” from engagements to divorces and just about anything else in-between.

It would be hard to take all of that for granted…and yet, I suppose because all of our lives are so busy raising kids and living…we do take for granted the amazing friendship we share that has transcended three decades and 2/3 of our lives.

The more amazing thing is that when we do get together, like last night, it as though no time has ever passed between visits. MaryKate has been gone for a year – and as we sat there last night it was as though she never left… it was really as though we were 16 again just talking and hanging out (and having a few beers!) (and except for our kids clamoring for our attention)

But, we also realized last night as we talked about our aging bodies – Kelly had just thrown out her back, I could barely walk from exercising again, and MaryKate explained that after she does the Wii Fit her ankle swells… that we are getting older – next year we will all be 40.

We laughed about getting older – where did all of the time go? It seems like just yesterday we were calling boys and hanging up or sticking a bobby pin in the cable to watch R rated movies when our parents weren’t home.

All I know is that I look forward to 40, 50, 60 and on because of these friendships I have with these wonderful women. These women who have been so close to me – so supporting of every dream I have had and through every nightmare I have endured.

We are all going up to our cabin in a few weekends and I cannot wait… three or four days with my closest friends – time to truly hang out and enjoy the families we have created and the friendship we have shared.

Who knew when we were once playing house with our Barbie dolls that that would be us one day (minus the high heeled shoes).

Truths: Emotionally "moving"

So, a few weeks ago, I wrote about the anniversary of my brother’s death. How I opened the present he never received and how grateful I was (am) that I was given the gift of my niece.

What I didn’t write is how I actually coped that day.

We were at the cabin and, after talk about the tight space in our eating area, and many months of silent contemplation – I decided on THAT day I would re-arrange all of the furniture in the main living areas.

Sure the sofas are heavy (one is a sleeper) and the idea I had was a little out there: I took the TV area and made it the dining room, I took the eating area and made it a reading nook and brought everything else into the brand new sunroom.

See, we built this beautiful addition – a sunroom - and no one ever goes in there. Instead, they spend all of their time at the kitchen table or in the small TV area – leaving this amazing room unoccupied.

It had to be changed and that day had to be the day to do it.

I know my family didn’t understand my vision nor did they understand my haste in making it happen THAT day. Instead, they questioned me with their stares and rolling eyes and begrudgingly helped move the furniture.

I had an anxiety attack along the way – even questioning myself and my plan. But, it didn’t matter and besides its just a little sweat – I could always move it back – even though it seemed like it would be a permanent decision I would have to live for the rest of my life!

Finally, the furniture was all in places (just a few scratches on the floor) and my family still questioning my sanity, and I had no idea what I had just done. Maybe I was nuts?

We were leaving that day and I was left to leave my, now, chaos – to accept what I had just done – which seemed like the worst thing to do and walk away.

I am a design freak – always searching for the next way to decorate my home(s) – the right new accessories – leaving three rooms incomplete nearly knocked the wind out of sails.

Especially when the entire exercise was, at that point, a subconscious outlet for dealing with my brother’s death – a way to gain control over something I had no control over – a subtle way to take my life back and maybe even a way to pretend that it never happened.

We do things like that even when we don’t know that we are. Even though I had thought long before about moving that furniture – that day I just woke up and knew it had to happen immediately.

I spent the rest of the week debating and agonizing my decision especially after it dawned on my the real reason I did it in the first place. But last Thursday, when I, alone, went to the cabin and walked into the new sunroom – it felt right. And I was able to, finally, breathe again.

That night after a few episodes of Sex and the City, I spent my time re-arranging the rugs, the lamps, the knick knacks making it mine (ours). Finalizing my decisions and realizing that while my method for my madness (literally) was unconventional – the outcome of it was ideal.

The next day when my husband showed up – he walked in and said, “Wow, this looks amazing.” Only adding to my sense of accomplishment!

Ironically, the next morning, we both woke up and enjoyed the reading nook looking out at the lake – which used to be the eating area I was trying to get people out of in the first place! But more importantly, the cabin felt good again and a newness to my life began.

My brother once helped me move into my apartment when I was first separated – he was the only family I had at that point in my life and he was there to help me get a new start on my life… I would like to think that he helped me move again and probably laughed as I pulled a muscle moving the sofa! Brothers are like that.

Truths: The year

This weekend marked a year since my brother passed away in a drowning accident. I would have thought that after a year, I would come to terms with it – found peace with it. But yesterday was hard – really hard.

I didn’t sleep well the night before and when I woke up - there was this sense of dread. I remember waking up last year at the cabin – only to walk down the stairs and have my dad tell me that my brother was dead.

I still remember those words and my shock and disbelief. People you love just don’t die…

I walked down those same steps yesterday and looked at the island where I had gotten the news – and I sighed. A deep sigh, an angry sigh, a sad sigh.

Maybe the anniversary of a death is hard because we unconsciously hope that the whole last year was just a nightmare – that we will wake up and everything will be back to normal. Or maybe it is hard because it is obvious that it wasn’t… Either way – a year later the truth is still hard to face.

As I sat and stared at the lake – my mind racing like a blur… I looked over and saw the gift I had for my brother for his birthday – the one he never received and the one, which has sat in the same place for the last year.

There never seemed to be the right time to open it – to face he wasn’t coming back. I had mentioned doing it a few times… over a few cocktails – at Christmas – on his birthday – the 4th of July…but it never seemed right.

I was alone in the house yesterday morning… the girls still sleeping, Bill out fishing and when I looked at the box – I knew it was the right time.

I barely recalled what was in it – a metal frog for his collection…and when I opened the box I was pleasantly surprised to find the goofiest frog I could imagine… one that my brother would have loved. I smiled and for a brief moment – I knew he was smiling too.

Later in the day as we took the girls tubing and I sat watching them bounce up and down in the waves… I couldn’t help but contemplate the irony of my brother’s death. We spent our whole lives growing up on water. Our home was on a massive chain of lakes, we had a swimming pool and if that wasn’t enough we had a home up north on the lake. Our family lived for the lake and the very lake we grew up on would be the lake my brother drowned in.

Sure that night he made some really bad choices – but after all those years of water…

It just didn’t seem fair.

But, life isn’t fair… and it is certainly never predictable and just when we think we have it figured out – all we learn is that we were wrong.

I yell at my brother a lot for dying… but somehow, in the end, he actually gave me a gift because of it. I was given the gift of a close relationship with my niece.

I try to be an optimist and if I can say that anything good came of something so awful – it was a chance to be a bigger part of my niece’s life.

Between the court battles and the crap that goes along with it all – we have created this relationship… we have made going to court and to meetings just one of the things we do that day… and spent the rest of the time doing something fun.

I have taken her to visit a college, shared in Dr. appointments, dinners, lunches, took her for her driver’s permit and am now helping her to drive. Just last week she said, “I want you to meet Justin (her boyfriend).”

That meant the world to me – because it showed that she cared what I thought – and wanted me to be a part of her life.

I won’t lie – it also helped that one of her friends referred to me as the “cool aunt.”

It has been a year of change – a year I never saw coming – never wanted to come. But I trudged through it, sometimes barely treading water, but somehow I got to today – and along this troubled journey good things have come – perhaps all part of some greater plan that none of us have control over.

I lost my brother a year ago but I gained a relationship with my niece – I think that was my brother’s way of saying he loved me.

Truths: Life goes faster than you think

Wow! Things have been a whirlwind. My life has changed in so many ways in the last few weeks that I have a hard time even catching up.

Just yesterday I was teaching my niece how to drive – which is something I thought I had another 5 years before I would do it with my daughter. But there I was handing over the keys to Megan and wondering if I was going to be one of those basket case parents freaking out at every turn.

I got in the car, took a deep breath and… she did great! I was actually very calm and re-assuring. It wasn’t until she hit the gas instead of the brake at an intersection that I cried out! But, she reacted quickly and nothing happened…except my heart jumping into my throat.

We drove on highways, through road construction (how can you not in IL?), in neighborhoods where we came within inches of hitting a garbage can – we were both too busy looking at the houses, and we practiced parking – not parallel parking because even I don’t know how to do that!

She really did great and I think I did too. And, now, we have set it up that ever Wednesday I will hand over the keys and put my life in her hands. How exciting!

Three weeks ago, I became a grandma – a real grandma! My step-daughter, Kristin, had to have Josee 6 weeks early due to complications. Lil Josee was born weighing 4 pounds and stayed in the NICU for almost three weeks fighting to gain weight. Kristin and Josee are both home now and Josee is busy gaining weight and doing well.

At 39 you don’t expect to be a grandma. Grandma sounds old and when you are still busy raising an 11 year old and having baby showers for your own friends – it just seems…crazy.

But, let me tell you that though it seems like there is no way you can really be a grandma – the minute I held Josee in my arms – I felt like a grandma! I was head over heels in love and already dreaming of watching her grow-up. I couldn’t believe that this was my granddaughter to love and to spoil…to babysit and to worry about.

While the timing was unfortunate for Kristin and Josee – being premature – it worked to my advantage because the her first week of life was my week in school and because she was a preemie she was born in Madison only 5 minutes from my class at University of WI. I got to see her everyday! Which was amazing. I got to hold her and feed her and watch her grow – watch her hair change color and see her with her funny billi light sunglasses on. Those are all moments that I won’t forget.

I feel like in just a few weeks – my entire world has changed. Things I only imagined happening years from now – have happened and my life is in fast forward. Which also made me realize that life is so much faster than we think. It doesn’t have to take a funeral to remind us that life is short – it can take even happy events to remind us to cherish each day, to enjoy each moment – because they go by so quickly and you just never know what is coming next.

It has me re-think my priorities – a lot.

My class was phenomenal! Really phenomenal! What I was so worried about beforehand was actually life changing. I learned so much and had an instructor who gave me so much insight on my novel – I was left completely inspired. The peers in the class were also wonderful. Reading each others works and hearing their thoughts on mine – added so much depth to my understanding of the craft and left me with so many ideas for how to keep going.

Most importantly, it has made me take my writing seriously. Not just as a hobby – or kite dream – but as a profession. Having a book in the works isn’t enough if I don’t make it a priority. Watching my life flip into high gear these last few weeks only screams to me that I need to decide if I am serious about getting this book published.

And I am – so I have decided to make my novel my job – not just some random hobby I get to do when everything else in my life is done. And, I am excited, very excited.

The last 4 weeks have changed me and how I pictured my future which always seemed years away - teaching me that the present is all that really matters and what we want to do with it – has to start now.