Nothing Worth It Comes Easy..at Least Not For Me

I think back to my childhood and have fond memories of growing up in a neighborhood I could roam freely and had friends on every corner.  I am lucky to still have those friends in my life today.  I had two parents who provided for me, and even as I grew into a moody teenager and thought they were too strict when I had a curfew earlier than most, or had to wait to get clothes I wanted when they were "on sale", or had to share a room with my sister, it was a good life.  As I tell my 13 year old "No" or make her earn her allowance with real chores, I smile to myself because I know I'm teaching her the valuable lessons I was made to learn.  I will scold my kids in front of their friends, which mortifies them, but I even want THEM to know my kids can't get away with murder and live to tell about it.  Life ain't easy, Kids.

I worked my chores or baby-sat for my parents' friends to earn money.  It is why I have worked ever since I've been out of college and why I know I'd prefer to work, than to stay home with my kids, if I was given the choice (I wasn't).  Nothing has been handed to me.

Okay so no, growing up I didn't work to put food on our table, or to buy myself my first car, or even to send myself to college, but I always knew the meaning of the word "work" as a child and teenager.  I try to teach my children there isn't an endless supply of money and that I must hold off on this or that purchase until I have the money.  They must realize the bank isn't spewing out an endless trail of cash to Mama.

I was pretty damn sure of myself, no?

I reflect back on other struggles I've worked out growing up.  Things I tried out for, I didn't always make.  An acting class at about age 11, I got the umpire part, which gave me exactly three lines~ "Strike One", "Strike Two", and "Strike Three".  Not my idea of a stellar debut.

More devastating was being in 8th grade at a "new" school, the public school we were districted to, but I had gone to a private Catholic school for 6th and 7th.  I had trouble in Catholic school with girl-fighting and gossipy social drama, so I begged my mom to send me back to public school where all my elementary friends were flourishing.  I had been a 7th grade cheerleader at the private school but was not at the public school at the end of 7th to be able to try out for cheerleader for 8th grade.  Therefore, I was no longer a cheerleader, something I loved dearly.  What was worse? All of my neighborhood and elementary school friends going to that public school MADE CHEERLEADER.  I remember sitting at the mall food court that summer before and I saw my cross-the-street neighbor and our other friends.  They came over to my table and one-by-one said "I made cheerleader!"...each and every one of the four of them.  I smiled and congratulated them (because that's what a nice person does), but inside I cried.

I spent my 8th grade year cheering on the sidelines in my volleyball uniform or my regular clothes because I knew every cheer since all my free time was spent with these girls.  I was okay with it pretty quickly.  It built character, even if I didn't know it at the time.

My freshman year in high school I tried out and made the freshman squad for our drill team.  So did  all my friends, except for a few who were clearly better dancers and were moved up into the "real" squad as freshmen.  Enjoyed my time that year, except for the occasional rudeness of the seniors who felt the need to haze us "Reserves" because we were less-than in their eyes.  At the end of that year it came to be time to try out for the main squad.  I was too-cool-for-school and my same friends who were excited cheerleaders the year before were not that into the drill team anymore.  They were moving on to sports like volleyball and tennis so as a group we didn't try very hard at our try-out dance.  I didn't make the main squad.

Suddenly I realized I WANTED to be on the real squad.  THIS was what I was doing with my high school career, not sports.  I had another chance.  I could go to the Reserves summer camp, with the incoming freshman, and learn what I'd already been taught, and try out again at the end of the summer.  As a sophomore, this was a huge bitter pill to swallow, but pride be-damned, I did it.  I sucked it up and got through the camp, the try-out, and made it.  Did I appreciate the spot on the main squad a little bit more than the other girls who'd made it as freshmen?  I think so.

School grades and classes came easy to me, thankfully.  I did not worry about getting into the college of my choice because back then they took the top 10%, no questioned asked.  That was me.  My SATs weren't great, but luckily my entrance wasn't hinging on those.  At college academics were never a struggle for me.  Again I tried out for the dance-team there, and didn't make it.  I was disappointed but the girls who made it were really, really good, so I moved on.  I didn't live on campus and wasn't in a sorority (another "no" from my parents) so finding friends was my struggle.  I joined my college's student council and that helped but I spent my first two years without any close friends to hang out with, other than my roommate who was from my hometown but a year older and in a different major.  Eventually my classes for my major produced friends who were in all my classes and my study partners.  We socialized and became involved in each others' boy-troubles and family lives.  Those years weren't easy but eventually I gained confidence from making the best of them.

As an adult, I didn't find the love-of-my-life easily.  I struggled through my 20s dating guys who weren't really that into me, and even with my ex-husband I was never sure he was "the one".  Clearly he wasn't.  He was nice to me and a nice guy in general, but he came with a host of issues that stem from his growing up with doting parents and in a society who views his deafness as a pass from working hard or expecting much from him.  He IS a nice guy, and his disability does cause him strife, but he never would gut it out where I could respect him for his determination and successes.

A divorce, a broken rebound relationship, and a bout with cancer later , I am happily independent and raising two daughters of my own.  My struggles, hard work, and lessons learned DO put food on our table, and cute clothes on their backs, and nice travels and new cars for myself.  My workplace is not a struggle other than normal office politics and cranky customers at times.  I have enough money to cover the basics plus some extras.  My family and friends are close by me and are my outlet from doing it all myself.  Love life? Going swell.  I have found "the one" I believe.  I love my Sinatra because he is a ying to my yang and he adores me and my girls and he understands my life, even from 200 miles away.  But easy? No.  Not hardly.

Love, yes. Bluebonnets and rainbows? Not always.

We are at a crossroads right now.  Coming off a honeymoon-style beach vacation where we laughed and often said "I love you" just out of gratitude for the time together, we were hit the next Monday with reality.  The horrible reality that the courts and his ex will not allow us to be together as the family we envisioned.  Nothing has been written in stone, but a report by the court's liaison to the judge suggested he stay with his kids in the county they live in, where the kids have been most of their lives.  For the best interest of the kids, they should be near their mother, and not allowed to move with their dad 200 miles away.  In 3 weeks the judge will look at this report, and listen to his lawyer's protests and her lawyer's protests and decide where MY life will be going in the next months and years to come.

It sounds selfish, worrying about MY life.  Its not about me and Sinatra living happy every after.  These kids don't deserve to be made to choose.  Their parents must agree to something that will affect their lives forevermore.  Up to this point, no agreement has been even close to being made.  My inclination is to not stress out the kids and let them live with Sinatra in their home as it is and has been.  Unselfish maybe, but it rips my heart apart to offer that.  It isn't really mine to offer, it will be decided without my input.  My name and involvement was barely mentioned in the court's report, as if I'm a concerned once-removed extended family member but not a player.  He wants to "fight" to be able to move, but to what end?  A bitter mother who subtly or not-so-subtly will make the kids feel like shit for choosing to remain with dad, and Sinatra hauling them all here and the kids regretting everything that isn't what they've always known?  I know kids are made to relocate all the time, but with both parents on board and supportive...making the move a safe place.  This could be anything but a safe place after the lawyers are done with them.

My biggest struggle here is this situation is out of my hands.  I've never been good with that.  I mull over the options with Sinatra and give my advice and opinions, whether he wants them or not.  I am not a wallflower. Therefore I have the backbone and resolve to let go of a losing situation.  I've done it twice before in love, and I survived.  But this time is different.  I am not letting go of the love I have with Sinatra.  I won't let him slip away as my future.  But if we are destined to take the high road, which is of course the harder road, then we will have to revise the definition of our future.

I will find a way to not resent the times I need him here and he isn't due to come for days.  I will gut it out and not feel sad when I attend my kids' functions and games without him by my side.  I will work with their schedules for holidays and vacations.  I don't have a choice here, but I can choose how to react to this.  It may be my life's most difficult struggle, but it may reap the best reward in the end.

Who DOES this?? Costa Rican Paradise Revisited

Certainly not a 42 year-old mother of two at mid-life, working full-time as the sole provider for her family, all the while keeping up with new-school-year preparations and extra-curricular activities. Wait, yes with all that, THIS vacation was just what the doctor ordered.

That smile is for reals...during a walk through a rain forest on my way to a natural waterfall.









Since my trip to Costa Rica two years ago, I remembered the lush green all-naturale views of the countryside and the dirty brown rivers with crocs lounging on the banks. The humid air with a seaside smell, the native Costa Ricans walking or riding bikes alongside the roads as our driver Juan Carlos hurled our van down the road without regard for the painted middle lines or speed limit signs. These things were the same, but no less thrilling to experience again.

                       Our home for the week. No, this isn't a postcard~ I walked out of the house to this!

I don't know if it was because I was with my Sinatra, or my bestest work-friends, or because it was a bit longer than last time, but this trip opened my eyes to so much more beauty and appreciation in Costa Rica. I breathed in the salty air more. I looked around and took mental snapshots, as well as literal snapshots, of every gorgeous scene.

 We weren't exactly laying around getting sand in our shorts however. Day one brought on a gondola ride up a severe mountain with nothing but deep forest greenery for miles...only to zipline down that same mountain on thousands of feet of wire, hanging over the waterfalls and streams and treetops.

Strapped in and ready....

                                                                        

Soar Woman!

Sore abs aside, we ended the day with a scrumptious meal of sesame tuna and fried plantains cooked by our chef Carlos, and a rousing game of Yahtzee with my housemates.  Yeah, throw in a few Coronas and Imperials, and a shot of Patron with my sweetie, and it was a damn good day.

Day two was an all-day nautical affair. A 2-hour boat ride on a yacht with a group to La Isla Tortuga. Yes, Turtle Island. Yes, we saw a few majestic sea turtles as well as a couple of whales peeking out along the ride. But that was just the ride out.

                                                                   Clearly I'm jazzed


We arrived at the small beach off the island and immediately were wisked off to an even smaller island to snorkel. Quite lovely, swimming with the fishies. Then back to the beach to eat lunch and relax.

                                                                      Fantasy island

I slept in a beach chair to the sound of the waves, I played in the surf with my friends' two 11 year olds, I lost my sunglasses in the surf (waht-wahhh), I spoke with colorful parrots and inhaled the boat captain's BBQ chicken, veggies and rice.  All things relaxing.  I watched the clouds roll in and worried a storm might catch us on the ride back, and then I kept my eyes closed to ward off the nausea as I dozed next to Sinatra on the bumpy boatride back.  I was grateful the pouring rain only let loose as we climbed into the van for our ride back to the house.

A shower and more relaxing later, we were made more yummy cooking, shrimp pasta, and Yahtzee into the evening. I think I went to bed early that night, since my sense of time was all vacation-y, so it didn't really matter.

Day three was a bit lazier, but began with a 2-hour ATV drive up in the mountains. I was given my own to drive and wasn't sure I knew what I was doing, but managed just fine. With the day before's rain, it was muddy but thankfully only puddles to ride through.

At the top of the mountain was a little cafe with a little lady cooking little empanadas that were the real deal. The tour guide suddenly started chopping some huge sugar cane sticks and had us work a grinder to make sugar cane juice. Random, but really cool.

Working it!

Do these greens exist in the crayola box?

                                          We made it back to the house with plenty of time to play on the beach out front...Sinatra and I boogieboarded, and got completely water-logged, but loved every minute of it.

We look so professional, no?

Day three's evening was something of a treat.  Our driver Juan Carlos invited us to Mass at his church, which was held on this Wednesday because it was Mother's Day in Costa Rica.  All of us sunburned Americans file into this open air Catholic church and were blessed to witness a Spanish Mass, with pure loud singers and even un perro (dog) walking through in front of the altar during.  The rain began to hit the metal roof which gave the air a cool wet feeling, and it was really something special.

This was taken after Mass, where I understood only 5% of what was being said

Then dinner at a local restaurant where I ate octopus and fried rice...the octopus was like really...octopus-y, but once I ignored the little tentacles on the meat, strangely, I liked it.

Day Four was really my favorite.  We had Juan Carlos drive us an hour and a half outside of town to a woman's untouched property.  It took so long because the road we rode on was brutal with rocks and pits and we had to go really slooooww.  We paid four colones a piece for her to allow us to hike through her property.  It was muddy, it was hot, there was heavy brush which I had no idea if little creatures would pop out of, and it was treacherous walking.  We slipped and slid and got muddy, would cross a creek and rinse off, then on to more mud and fun.  Juan Carlos knew the way and finally we arrived at the end.  A three-pool waterfall, "Tres Piscinas", completely hidden in the forest and naturally flowing huge gobs of water.  I was tentative at first.  Got in the first pool and braved it.

I'm not mad here, just am being pummeled

We saw some local boys up at the third tier crawling around and some of my friends started walking up the muddy hillside to go up there...Juan Carlos in his flip-flops took the easy route up the rocks.  I decided I could do that.  I'd rock-climbed before, you know, at the ballpark or amusement park.  This was just the same except it was real rock, real water, and moss stuff everywhere.  I did it anyway.  Then Sinatra followed.  He ended up going to the next level where the boys were, climbing in his bare feet.  My treaded hiking shoes had an easier job on the slick rock but it was still a scary climb.  The local boys began to jump off the top pool into the second one.  Huh. That looks fun.  I was already up there.  Why not?

             Sinatra turned into George of the Jungle somehow....was it to keep up with me, Jane, here?

I was the first estupido American to jump.  The locals assured me, in Spanish so really who knows what they were saying, that I was fine if I just jumped out from the edge, to avoid rocks near the waterfall.  Sinatra followed. The two 11 year olds with us did as well.  My adrenaline was running high but I used it to climb down the slick rocks and wait for Sinatra, while he did another jump, just to tempt fate.  He met me on the rocks and we shared a precious moment.  High on adrenaline, we sat down and took in the whole scene over the roar of the falls, and have this fabulous picture now:

                                Now my wallpaper on my laptop because this pic is freakin' RAD

After a picnic lunch on the rocks (sitting on them, not drinking them) we hiked back to the van all smiles and happiness, singing George of the Jungle and Gun's and Roses' Welcome to the Jungle...really a great experience.

Sinatra and I came away from this trip with Costa Rica's slogan of "Pura Vida!", or pure living, as our new mantra.  Yes we have busy lives and kids needing things and work to do, but when it all becomes too much, we have to take a minute and remember nature's beauty, happy Costa Rican's simple lifestyles, and the sound and smell of the ocean.

                                                                    Pura Vida, ya'll

Freakin' Friday

The longest week of your life is the one right before a vacation. Today is the Friday before mine. I suffered through this week and its effin Friday already! I made it.







I will be flying to Costa Rica on Sunday and staying until NEXT Friday. That's a good vacation. I don't get to take off a solid week that often. Spring Break is usually a whole one off with the kids, but rarely do I do it any other time. And definitely not without the kids...but this one will be adult-time. In Costa Rica. Buenos Dias!!

                                     This will be my view for the next week....yeah, paradise.

My Sinatra and I will step off the plane into the 120% humidity and a margarita, and spend the week in Jaco. On the beach. In the jungle. Above the treetops. We are not picky. Whatever we are presented with, we will say "Gracias" and go with it.

Yes it is close to school starting. Yes we both have job-related obligations that will be on hold for the week. And yes, we both have kids who are not coming with us.

A friend offered his home to us, and we accepted. I did not think I should pass up an opportunity to frolic on this beach yet again, in this country which I fell in love with two years ago.

I would've loved to bring my children to see it, but the airfare alone would've killed me. We will save our big fun family trips for long weekends and Spring Break ski trips.

Now its Friday and I'm counting down the minutes until my vacation begins. I must put my work affairs in order, give the doggies extra guilt bones, and kiss my kiddos good-bye. Off to another adventure...

Hurry Up and Wait

Coming off a weekend camping trip with Sinatra and all our 5 kids, plus one for my Lil Lady to have a friend. We chose Waco, TX which is somewhat in between our two homes, although with Sinatra driving through Dallas traffic he's got the harder and longer leg of it. I am lucky to live on the north side of Austin so I'm heading out of town ahead of Friday afternoon traffic. The weekend started a bit crazy though, and I had some serious discussions with myself on the way to Waco.

I was off at 3pm on Friday so we could get loaded up and out of town no later than 5 to make the drive and be at the campground by 6 or 6:30pm. This gave us all time to set up the camper and get dinner going before dark. I had discussed this with Sinatra 2 weeks ago when we reserved the camp the last time we were in Waco. He even said he'd have to get on the road by no later than 3 to make it through Dallas traffic to meet me by 6. As per usual, I revisited this plan a few times within the past two weeks because I am a planner and have a need to talk out my plans. He's on the phone with me multiple times every day, so it is very probable he was the one I talked to about this plan.

His drive without traffic is close to 2 hrs, mine is only 1hr 15min, but with traffic and pulling the slow camper he's closer to 3 hrs so I told him to call me when he got into his drive so I could time it where we'd meet up at the same time. Got off at 3, went to get the girls from their friends' houses and got home about 4. I began packing up and telling the girls to get their things in the car and texted him what's up? He texted me "we just left", this was 4:15...ugh, running late but ok.

I'll get my stuff done and leave around 5:15. But at 4:45 he tells me they had to stop at Walmart for something to fix on the camper...I didn't know if that meant he was there or had already done that. So I asked. His reply was "on the road now" Mine: "Where?" His: "Lewisville." This is the next town just outside his burgh. Grrr...

So now its almost 5pm and he's just leaving to get into downtown Dallas traffic. Me no happy was putting it mildly. I know he wasn't all that jolly either, but I wasn't being sympathetic. Got the kids back in the house (they were waiting in the car) to cool our heels for another 45 minutes. I truly began to fume after I talked to him and he said he didn't realize I was off work early. What?? I'd only said it multiple times in talking about getting there and setting up camp. Was I talking to myself?

My bigger issue was he didn't listen to me, as in he's only half listening to me on the phone, often because they kids are in the room, he's on the computer or he's at work or driving around doing one of a million things he needs to get done. I didn't take it well to realize he clearly only half hears me when he's on the phone with me.

He's the busiest guy I know who has trouble getting anything done. Organizationally he can be a mess. Too many irons in the fire and only enough man-power to be able to half-do most of them.

I feel for him being single, because I am as well, but I manage with lists and calendars and a mind that handles multi-tasking well. He, notsomuch. I drove to Waco thinking how would I marry someone who will need corralling and nagging to get things done?? I did that already! A man won't change at this point in our lives. Warning, warning, danger, danger! Sirens going off, red flags flying, and I'm sending him to the penalty box.

So after an hour drive with me muttering to myself ("I ain't going to be the one who...I'll just have to do it all my own damnself..."), we got there after 7:30pm. The sweet campgrounds people said they weren't sure we were gonna show up (I bit my lip on that one), and I arrived first by about 10 minutes.

He backed the camper in and got out looking as harried and of course I melted, so we got everything set up in no time. We got the BBQ going and had hot dogs on the pdq. Not to kick a guy while he's down but dinner was thanks to me, since I'd bought the weinies and everything to go with them the day before. He came with very little in the way of groceries...another thing he didn't get to. Ummmm...I see a pattern here. Oh boy.

We barely got fed before the sun went down and then off he went to the store for more stuff for the next night. Really, the enormity of getting the camper ready and then getting his three in the car and through rush hour Dallas traffic should have knocked him out for the weekend.

He was pretty great by my side as we finagled 7 kids (yes, one more was added for the day) to a water park on Saturday. We cooled off in the wave pool (no alcohol, either! Waco is so Baptist-y) while the kids ran around the smallish park. We rode the rides with them too and we all had a great time.

That night back at the camp we were cooking out again. It's a challenge getting our kids to put DOWN the iPod/iPhones and look at the lake, or the birds, or the trees around us. I tried my best to get them out of the AC'd camper and walking around the campgrounds.

His burger meal was tons better-tasting than my dumb ole hot dogs, and he cooked them all over a hot pit in the 95+ degrees without complaint. Maybe I'm the one who needs a-changin'. Hmmmm....

I hope it was a few happy memories for the kids for a lifetime. It was for me, and hopefully for my Sinatra too.