Double Digits

The evening of September 12th 2002 around 9:2o pm I met my daughter for the first time.  Since that time I’ve been a student of  joy, compassion, humor, honor, humility, patience, and above all love.   The past decade of my life has been filled with gods light, and her presence in our lives continues to make us better people for having known her.

Happy Tenth Birthday Manon.  You truly are a gift to the world and I am honored to be your mother.

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Our Time

At dawn (6am) my son woke me up to  remind me that we would sit on the couch together.  He would do his thing, and I would do mine.

I get up each morning at this time to do some light meditation, journal, or respond to emails.  He’s been fascinated with the idea that I get up before everyone else and have “my time.”  Last night he told me he’d like to have it be “our time”  so I explained that if this were to be- we would need to both sit quietly doing “our own thing” so that my quiet time could be happy time spent in his presence but he had to remember that my “mom time” with him does not kick in until that time is over.

As I sit here typing, we are currently at the end of “our time” and his eyes have met mine at several points this last hour. He with his drawing supplies and pad and me with my journal or computer and we just smile quietly to each other and go back to what we were doing.

My last five minutes will be spent in a quiet meditation of gratitude with him.  How blessed I am to have “our time” as mother and son in this “life time”.

Thank you God.

It’s the little things.

It’s the little things.

A bowl of raspberries with a whipped cream top.

Cut out hearts.

Heart felt cut outs.

A handmade paper rose can smell like two dozen on a summers day.

Subtle touches-a lingering touch- a tender touch- I’m touched.

Inhale the love, breathe in… deep…

You are safe.

Absorb the love- like a sponge.

One moment without a Hallmark moment….

The real deal. Raw. Pure.


Happy Valentines Day

-MR 2012



A Love So Powerful

Shaw Age 2

There are those days as I wait for the kids to return from a weekend away with dad, when I physically ache for them.  The best part of any divorce is that you get a break.

The worst part of divorce is that you get a break.

I had this really unbelievably morbid thought today as I sat here aching: It’s that I can’t even imagine the pain of what it must be to lose a child, or have your child be physically hurt.  I know what you must be thinking… why would you even go here…?

I think because lately I’ve been watching TV again and I am privy to all the things that go on in the world that I was blissfully ignorant of before and when I hear about these things it makes me lose a piece of my heart and soul every time.  Just even the fact that it’s a part of the news along with every other happening and… then the weather… like, the fact that the world does not actually just stop rotating on it’s axis in response to a child’s pain or suffering just confounds me…

How would that be possible?

On a lighter note (oh thank God, you must be saying…)   both kids got home from school safe and sound.  I’ve not seen them since Friday morning when I dropped them off at school , and I felt like a puppy at the window- acting a bit like one too,  practically slurping their faces off with happiness… home again, home again, oh boy… wag wag.

During our after school snack my daughter informed me that her class is performing a play , at school. She said that’s three hours long and so I should start practicing sitting still starting, like now ( no comment) and then she said…

“and I need to warn you mom, it’s a little violent”

really? I asked… “In what way?”

“Well, there is a hanging- because, see it’s -old fashioned… back in the olden days when they killed people”

and then I thought to myself… “wow, right… she does not really have a concept of what the real world is like”… she does not have a concept because I have shielded her from the media, news and violent and devastating things since the day she was born, but one day, she’ll find out… and when ever that someday comes – it will be a someday way too soon.

I wish she never had to know… that she would continue thinking that “hangings” are the worst of it, and that this form of barbaric behavior is a past tense but I know i can not shield my baby forever…

It makes me realize though, how critical our role: as mothers-   It’s OUR LOVE for our children that is the only thing powerful enough to stand firm against the wrong that is done… mothers united with mothers who are united with mothers, all over the world.  Deep thoughts I know, but damn if motherhood does not make it so.

Totally GAY for V- Day

I just started a pin board on pinterest called “Gay and Romantic” which is completely not PC, however; when I grew up “gay” did not mean “gay” & “queer” did not mean “queer” 
gay simply = queer which was a form of goofy+ sappy meets silly+ ridiculous- and that was all.  It was completely “ok” by us to call each other “gay” or  “queer” or “retarded”. We kids knew what we meant, it was the adults who eventually made it complicated, politically incorrect, offensive, & wrong- *sigh*…. leave it to adults to spoil perfectly awesome and I still want to use them everyday words!!!

In any case-  I love being gay and romantic – especially because:  I am!
Being in love makes it all possible… thank God for love because it inspires me to do incredibly queer and retarded things and I have GOOD REASON ( see: chemical imbalance)  (and again, for the RECORD- let me please clarify that I do not in anyway mean ANYthing derogatory to either mentally challenged adults or same sex lovers!- those two things just don’t EVEN cross my mind in this case!)

With Valentines day almost upon us I am thinking about what I can do for my own “lovah” (which is a term that makes us both cringe and so I giggle as I write it.) However, I realize that the gayest thing I’ve ever done for him is so gay that it might have bought me a free pass for a couple of years in which i do not have to do anything as “over the top” as what I presented to him last V-day!

“TA- DA!” ( I remember it well)  He unwrapped the box that contained the grubby little moleskine journal and looked at it with mild trepidation.

“What is it?” He asked.

I had kept a journal professing my love to him over the course of the year and gave to him.  I think I raised my eyebrows and said something romantic

and gay

like:  “It’s my heart… and, it’s yours now”   (Ok, I am making this part up and I just had to go to the bathroom so I don’t wet my bathrobe thinking about looking into his eyes and saying this… i think he would die.)  As it is I think he’s only read a few pages to this day… (too queer!) so perhaps I can bring it back out (NO!!!!!!- like the JC penny commercial) and highlight a few choice passages for review- read them outloud to him by candlelight in the naughty negligee I don’t own or something equally as cringe – worthy.

Seriously? I personally love it because I filled the entire thing and mean every word of it and then had the guts (aka stupidity) to give it to him but it was over the top queer and we both know it.  One of the reasons I love him so much is that I know it will mean a lot to him one day though like maybe when we are like 98 we can lay next to each other reading it and LMAO.

It was a once in a lifetime unabashed devotional to the man i love and if anyone ever found it guess what I KNOW they would immediately say upon reading it (especially if they grew up in the same era) they would say:

  “This is SOOOO GAY! What kind of a RETARD would actually write this sh*t?”

and we would all nod and agree because we would know EXACTLY what kind of a retard would do that…..



The V-day Journal for my "Lovah"






Light, Love, Divorce and Family.

I am loving our new home/family dynamic since the move.  It’s always good to plan for the worst and hope for the best and frankly I was not sure how we would all fare living together for the first time.

Throughout the last couple of years the Goodbar and I had never put our need’s or desire’s over the kids.  Our old house was their house after all and so we’d wanted to be conscious and respectful as they got used to the idea that we were eventually going to go the blended family route.  He officially “spent the night” only a handful of times and to the kids it was kind of like a friend having a sleepover (it was kind of like that for mommy too). In the meantime – we did a lot of “discussing” with them what our new “family”  configuration might be like when it was time and I think it really helped them to get an idea and a visual in mind.  In addition I think it prepared them because they were able to ask questions and get answers.

I don’t think either of my kids really have much of a memory in terms of the “missing” of their Dad and it’s  Because our lives were so very different and our schedules completely opposite- they only ever remember being with one of us really, at any given time. Unfortunately or fortunately (depending how you look at it) we never really had a “family” dynamic.  We were existing, surviving, and avoiding- the kids were used to the tension, the excuses, and the hastily made and cleaned up and all to “rare” family meals… sad but true. In hind-sight I can feel a genuine sadness for all of us-  we just did not know how to “be” together any other way.   In hindsight I see that our break up was eminent… but we delayed, and tried, and strained…. “for the sake of the family”.

I appreciate and honor my wasband.  I always will- because I learned so much, and because I believe we were called to be together to bring our children into the world and be married for a period of time.   We had many many good times together and I believe that our “spiritual contract” was up long before we had the strength or awareness that it was time to officially pull the plug. I find myself amazed each day now as I experience such a different reality. One of happiness, peace, and unity- a true sense of “family.”  Both of us see now how deeply unhappy we were together when we were married, so now- we can simply enjoy each other for who the other is- instead of driving each other crazy that we are not the person we needed the other to be. He too is part of this new hybrid family, as he will always be my parenting partner. This new version is one we can all truly appreciate and that works- finally.

In the meantime I have a deep appreciation, respect, and compassion for those going through divorce. It’s heart breaking and painful- almost every step of the way.  It was one of the most lonely and terrifying experiences of my life and it was only through the support of a few select people that I made it through at all. When you decide to end a marriage a funny thing happens – everyone starts having their opinions, and judgements, and projecting their own thoughts and beliefs instead of just listening and being supportive.  Divorce can wreck havoc on close groups of friends who’ve all known and loved each other over the years.  It’s never easy to know what to do when a loved couple decides to split- it seems to threaten the very dynamic of the group- and we all have a deep need to stay in our comfort zone. So- in addition to the grief and pain the actual divorcing couple experiences, there’s so much more to it that creates all kinds of additional chaos for all involved.

Had I not gone through the experiences that have helped to shape me, I would not have grown so much, or been able to appreciate the difference of what I am experiencing now- and it’s with deep gratitude that I can now have perspective on those dark times &  truly appreciate and know the light when it shines itself into my world as it is now.

Thank you God.

Tea and Crumpets

“Let the things that enter your life wake you up” – Pema Chondron

Our life’s work is to wake up to consciousness… is it not? Choosing to deal in reality is so very hard and as a culture we’ve set up a lot of ways to “escape.”

I can escape into television, drinking, drugs, sex, drama, music, books… and on many occasions I have, and certainly all of the above seems much more appealing than having to muck around in my own “stuff” and look at my life as a series of events that are called there as my teachers.

My Dad used to say that “Pain builds character… for more pain” and he’d always laugh when he said it, but truthfully now, I can see why he would say it. It’s adversity that shapes us, and pain that moulds or inspires our greatest human potential. Many people don’t even know what they are really made of until they actually let themselves “feel” instead of numbing the emotions with something to escape into… out of the pain.

The magic key to being able to actually stay awake is to be able to have sympathy for everything and everyone that comes along – even yourself. You might as well let it in because it’s going to stick around until you learn the lesson it’s offering anyways. Resistance is kind of futile.

Sympathy: is a social affinity in which one person stands with another person, closely understanding his or her feelings. Also known as empathic concern, it is the feeling of compassion or concern for another, the wish to see them better off or happier. Although empathy and sympathy are often used interchangeably, a subtle variation in ordinary usage can be detected. To empathize is to respond to another’s perceived emotional state by experiencing feelings of a similar sort.[1] Sympathy not only includes empathizing, but also entails having a positive regard or a non-fleeting concern for the other person.[2]

In common usage, sympathy is usually making known one’s understanding of another’s unhappiness or suffering, especially when it is grief. Sympathy can also refer to being aware of other (positive) emotions as well. In a broader sense, it can refer to the sharing of political or ideological sentiments, such as in the phrase “a communist sympathizer”. The word derives from the Greek συμπάθεια (sympatheia),[3] from σύν (syn) “together” and πάθος (pathos) “passion”, in this case “suffering” (from πάσχω – pascho, “to be affected by, to suffer”).

You can divorce, quite your job, leave a friendship behind, only go where people praise you and manipulate your world into giving you what you want but those old demons will always come back…

They always come back.

They come back until you befriend them, and sit with them, and serve them tea and fricking crumpets. I hate those demons.

I mean,
I love those demons.

Cut Backs and the Goodbar

The other day Mr. Goodbar told me that he had cleaned out his candy drawer.

He said it in a way that really kind of bothered me because his voice sounded different…not like a candy voice should.

I asked him what he meant and was it because i had blogged about it?

I mean “WHY????”

He reassured me that no, in fact he loves his “stage” name but just feel the need to “cut back”.

cut back?

Now, being a woman who is kind of freaked out by all things “cut back” I wondered if those words would pertain to anything else?  I mean, I have been punished before for lesser crimes than exposing someones fridge but I did not want to make mounds out of milk duds.  I started inserting my verbs with his verbs: CUT BACK and I got myself really worked up, I mean, if he can cut back the candy drawer what else can he cut back???

Affection? Attention? Admiration? SEX?

Needless to say I have been in a STATE.


Dedicated to Mr. Goodbar

Who can take a sunrise
Sprinkle it in dew
Cover it in chocolate
and a miracle or two?

The candyman
The candyman can
The candyman can cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good

Who can take a rainbow
Wrap it it a sigh
Soak it in the sun
and make a strawberry lemon pie?

The candyman?

The candyman
The candyman can
The candyman can cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good

Willy Wonka makes
Everything he bakes
Satisfying and delicious
Talk about your childhood wishes
You can even eat the dishes

Who can take tomorrow
Dip it in a deam
Separate the sorrow
And collect up all the cream?

The candyman?

The candyman can cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good
And the world tastes good cause the candyman thinks it should

Mr. Goodbar

I’ve decided that one of the most disturbing and endearing qualities about the man I adore is his diet.

When I say I adore him, it’s honestly an understatement as I’ve never quite felt so connected to any individual in my entire life.  Usually by this time in a relationship, red flags start to show up and wave themselves in the face of denial.  Having just sailed, rowed, swam, parasailed, waterskied, and surfed down da nile for the last 12 years I have my eyes WIDE OPEN to these types of warnings.


The man is perfect, and when I use the words perfect and man in the same sentence I feel entitled to make some concessions and in this case the concessions i make take the form of a very interesting choice of food candy “groupings”.

His food pyramid is set up to pay homage to the diet of a six year old boy on halloween morning, and yet he is a grown up in every single way and I might add; brilliant.  I sit in his beautifully stylized apartment and take in his attention to detail, form, design and function.  His skeletons are not in his closet, but his fridge, and I have to admit that I would take those any day over the ones I have danced with in the past.

I’ll stop here, as I reckon it’s unwise of me to continue down this slippery slope, but will instead pull him ever closer to my heart, hoping that this relationship emulate the trials and tribulations of an everlasting gobstopper.

The Night- Table