Pretty Enough

 If you have ever felt "not pretty enough" (oh, no! not here in L.A.!) then read this.
P.S. These are only a few of the books I have.
Carol B.

Eyes Open

This year is going to be different.
Honest.
I'm even going to document my life and how it's going to change.
Thoughts on that later.
I was reading a list of things to think about that happened in 2012 in order to see how I am going to plan for 2013.
It was amazing to see how shockingly screwed up my thinking could be.
More on that later, too.
One suggestion on the aforementioned list was to think about one of the best moments experienced in 2012.
At first I drew a blank.
Then I thought of a moment that might not seem so world changing, and yet it was eye opening to me.
As Mother's Day approached, my daughter texted me, asking what I wanted for Mother's Day. 
"How about a Kindle Fire," I texted back.  "Ha Ha!"
They had come out several months before and I was thinking it sure would be nice to have one.
Of course, I did not really expect one.  They were too expensive to think of my family giving it as a gift to me.  But it was fun to think about.
On Mother's Day we were kicking back at my house and I was opening some nice little gifts from my kids and then they took out another gift they had hidden somewhere and had me open it.
It was a Kindle Fire.
I sat staring at it, shocked.
Part of me was thinking, "No! You can't give this to me! It's too expensive!"
The other part was humbled that they had worked together to give me such a precious, meaningful gift.
It took forever for me to actually take it out of the box, and forever for me to process that they had so surprised me, and that this Kindle Fire really belonged to me.
My point is that for decades I have spent much time whining about how no one appreciates me, especially when it comes to being a mom.
Wha, wha, wha.
And yet, in this moment, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of truly being cared for by my family.
It was one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever had.
I could have posted this last Mother's Day, but I didn't, which goes to show how closed I was to the true blessings in my life.
That will not happen this year.
I promise.
Gently unfolding.
Carol B.

The "D" Word

Yesterday my husband took me to the cemetery.
"You know, I've never been able to say the "D" word," I said.  "I just say "my mom passed."
"Death is very final," he said.  "It's hard to realize someone is not coming back."
"But that's the problem," I said. "Because I haven't been able to say that word, deep inside, I don't realize what happened, and so I can't move on."
"I walk through my mom's house," I corrected myself, "my dad's house, and I wander through the rooms like I'm looking for something and I don't know what.  I feel empty, like something's missing, and then I realize my mom's not there and when my subconscious tries to tell me the truth I shut down and don't want to hear it.  When I see a picture of my mom I feel like something's wrong and when realization hits I panic and put the picture away."
"It takes time," he said.
"But it's taking too long," I said.  "I have to know, once and for all, what happened."
And so early this morning, sitting in the dark, on the sofa, all by myself, I said what I have not wanted to say.
"My mother is dead.  She died.  She's not coming back."
It took a while for realization to hit.
And then the tears came.
Not too many, because the feelings are still buried pretty deep.
But it was a start.
A good start.
Gently unfolding.
Carol B.

Gently Unfold

I was wondering how to begin the New Year.
Should I come in with a blast?
Should I be revved up, ready to explode into a new life?
I started to think that way, but it made me tired before I even began   ;)
I was determined to begin a brand new life, far from the closed up life I have lived for way too long.
But how to begin?
This morning I woke up to a quiet morning, before anyone else was awake.
As I sat drinking my coffee, the words Gently Unfold came into my mind.
And that is what I have decided to do; gently unfold into a brand new life.
I begin exactly where I am, looking out the curtains from my kitchen window, curtains that are far from the fanciest kitchen curtains.
But I like them.
Just the way they are.
And so I begin.
I wish you a beautiful New Year.
Carol B.

The Forest

You can't see the forest for the trees.
A well known phrase that I never thought much of except that I thought it would match this quick sketch.    ;)
Actually, once this pic did make me think of that phrase I thought about what it meant and was surprised that such a well known phrase that I didn't think much of matched myself so well.
This morning I had a horrible morning, not for any good reason other than the fact that I often get so bogged down in little details, specifically things that bug me, that I miss the big picture, like how much I really do have to be grateful for.
Sometimes I wonder about myself.
Am I the only one that thinks like that?
Is it just me that can be so crazy?
I guess I could look at that big picture again and see that, even though that part of my personality can get me in trouble, it is also the same part of me that can see to little details that do matter, and can make a positive difference.
I guess that's as good a way to look at it as any.
So long as I keep on that journey toward Peace.
'Til later,
Carol B.

An Apple a Day

An apple a day.
Let's keep healthy.
Oh, and, pardon the Oreo cookie crumbs on the pic.
Peace.
Carol B.

The Suspect Pizza Situation

So how many of you have aggravating adult children at home?

You know, the kind you can't tell anything to because of course they already know everything?

Ok, so call me an ungrateful mom.  I don't care.

Because here is my son who I had 37 hours of labor with (and yes, I rub it in) and some teenage years made in hell, so I can say anything I want.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my son and despite those horrible teenage years, he has turned into a wonderful young man who was smart enough to pick hurry-up-and-be-my-daughter-in-law Janine to be his girlfriend.

But sometimes this guy can drive me crazy.

Take for instance his habit of never cleaning out his stuff from the fridge.

Here is a picture of pizza that has been sitting wrapped up in the fridge for a week:

It was sitting in the back hidden with other stuff piled on top of it.

Now, if I told him to make sure to clean out his old stuff he would say 

"I know," and give me that look that says "mothers can be so irritating."

And so after many scenarios of dirty looks I finally told myself, "ok, so maybe I need to back off and he really will make sure to clean out his stuff from the fridge.

So I made sure not to say anything.  I did, however, move the pizza to the front of the fridge hoping to give him the hint.

So this is what his ugly pizza looks like after sitting in said refrigerator after a week:

 Trust me, it looks much worse in person, with little white stuff on top of it.
And so I can say that I did some art, this is a picture of what a nice slice of pizza looks like:

(Note: No ugly little white stuff on top of it).
And mind you, this is not the first time he's done this.
A while back he had food in two good tupperware containers in the fridge.  I kept trying not to say anything, but I worried he would not clean it out and it would get really yucky.
After a while I finally told him as nicely as possible "You know, that's really good tupperware, and if the food in there gets too yucky it's going to ruin my tupperware."
Of course he gave me that "I know" look.
And after four months of sitting in my fridge, one day I saw those two nice tupperware containers sitting in the trash.
Sigh.
Janini, hurry up and get this boy to marry you.
That way, when he tries ruining your tupperware, you can just kick his ass.
I give you permission.
'Til later,
Carol B.