Tomorrow I will be married 23 years, to the same person. That is half my life , sharing everything with one man.  It seems that a marriage that lasts 23 years is something like Big Foot; People claim to have seen it, it is fuzzy and unrecognizable in pictures , and is very rare indeed. I think it is an accomplishment to have been in a marriage this long, and I think an accomplishment deserves recognition, especially in our society of "disposable "everything. There were times, I'm not going to lie, where throwing it away would've been the easy road. So I think my marriage deserves a trophy, or maybe even a plaque. Yeah, a plaque. It would have to a 16x20 size, to fit everything it needs to say on it, but I have the wall space . It would say what the last 23 years have given us and would go something like this:
                      Over the last 23 years, Steve and Krista Davidson have had...
                 - Three beautiful children, spaced perfectly apart . Well ,perfectly if you want to be on PTA's for life and never want to finish a payment plan for braces or college funds.
                  - A mortgage(a few, actually). On a house that we could barely afford 6 years into our marriage . But then when we could afford the payments, someone (Steve) decided to shorten the term (twice) making it ...you guessed it ..difficult to afford AGAIN.  But thanks to that special , long term thinker we are almost done not affording it, and are actually pretty close to owning it.. outdated kitchen , leaky roof and all!
                    -Many sleepless and angry nights, which is the likely outcome when 2 people who are opposites in every possible way decide to live together FOREVER. We have a "type A " personality trying to mesh with a proverbially "Mr. Easy Going", a Southerner trying to learn how to cope with a girl from Queens , and a well known thrifty shopper constantly paying for things the , shall we say, "non thrifty" shopper brings home. (a lot of those things are ALIVE). The old saying "Opposites Attract" is so very true, but opposites also fight like rabid dogs over the course of 23 years.
                     - A life of love, laughter , happy tears, pride and discovery have also filled these 23 years , outweighing the financial and personality problems.

                       This may be way too much to fit on a plaque, and maybe that's why it is silly to think that such an accomplishment can be measured in this manner.  It is measured in days and nights of learning exactly what "I do " meant all those years ago... And we are still learning. I don't know what the next 23 years will bring, but whatever they do at least I know I won't find out alone.
                        Here's to the next 23....Happy Anniversary Steve.

           I am a woman, so I have feelings. A lot of feelings. Feelings that sometimes color my entire day. I have gotten to the point where I wish I had no feelings, you know, like a MAN.  Boy how nice it must be to just turn on ESPN, pop a cold one and forget the world. I have so many feelings in the course of the day, feelings that I work hard to talk myself out of , because they are not what I SHOULD feel. Although they are probably valid, they are not socially acceptable. They are feelings that should not enter the mind of a woman who seemingly has it all. I mean , on the outside I seem to be very , very together.  But on the inside...well let's take a look. Warning: these feelings may not be suitable for all readers , especially those with no hormonal fluctuations .
           So, I am lucky, I have a lovely house in a very nice neighborhood. I should feel grateful and full of joy that I live there . And I do , for the most part. But on the daily, I also feel annoyed and frustrated with my 17 year old home. I am annoyed because I can't afford to update my incredibly dated kitchen and bathrooms, I am frustrated because no sooner do we fix one thing , than another thing craps out. (Which is why I am can't afford any updates) , it is a vicious circle and my feelings sometimes are very bitter regarding my "lovely house". These are feelings I work hard to hide so people don't think "what an ungrateful bitch". But , in reality I am kind of an ungrateful bitch and I blame Joanna Gaines.
           I am also very lucky to have the three beautiful children , and I am very grateful for them.  Really, I am. However, there are feelings that arise in me often (by often I mean pretty much every day).  These feelings are the ones I have to suppress for fear of being thought of as a terrible mom. But I'm going to come clean, I feel unappreciated and invisible ...ALOT. They have had me around 24/7 for 20 years, and take me for granted. Then I go back to work and I am expected to still do the 24/7 mom thing with 27 less hours a week to do it. It makes me need to step outside , sit alone and remind myself I am VISIBLE. I mean my kids love me, that I don't doubt. But my feelings regarding motherhood are not always sunshine and unicorns , like we all pretend to feel when we talk glowingly about our children. I cannot be the only one feeling this way, and I sure as shit am not the only one suppressing it . Well, don't tell me if I am just nod and agree, like one would with a crazy person.
             As a woman, I think we are expected to just smile and take care of everything, both at home and in the workplace. To show how we really feel is a weakness. At my job, which is a basic entry level administrative position, I suppress feelings every hour of my 8 hour day. I took the job as a part time gig,  just to get my feet wet again . I am not doing it for the money, which is a good thing because I barely make any. I am not doing it for the respect, because that's non existent as well. I smile and do my job and pretend 25 year old executives know what they are talking about . It is so damn  exhausting doing that much suppressing , that I actually need the 4 days off a week that I get to regroup.
              Feelings are in every part of my day, and I wish people could know how I really feel about things. But it's best that they can't. I mean I am a smiling, happy blonde who lives in a nice house and has 3 beautiful kids  . It's all perfect... until I think about it. But things could most definitely be worse, and I know that, and I realize how fortunate I am . I chalk these "other "feelings up to HGTV and having ovaries.

                                                   My Summers as an IHOP Waitress...

                   Summer. That word used to mean something very different to me than it does currently. When my three kids were young it meant filling those long daylight hours with camps, bible schools and play dates for both my sanity and theirs. As they grew a bit, that changed from days filled with me chauffeuring them to friend's houses, community pools and theme parks (living in Florida everyone has a frigging theme park pass ..). The cost of summer financially was astronomical for those years, but it was worth every cent. The 2 month break from the 10 month marathon we call school was always welcomed and appreciated , especially by me . I jokingly used to say , on the last day of school, that "my job at IHOP starts tomorrow". I would cook and prepare food throughout the day , because 3 kids of various ages arise from their beds at very different times. So, breakfast had a tendency of morphing right into lunch , with dinner sometimes only a few hours behind. I literally felt like a diner waitress without the benefit of the tips or sassy apron.
                   What I just described all sounds very indulgent and exhausting , doesn't it? In fact there are probably people reading this saying "well you brought that on yourself".  Yes, people, yes I did. It was indulgent, expensive and tiring but you know what else it was? FAST.  So. very. fast.
                    Summer. Now this word means nothing different to me than fall, winter or spring. It means a quiet morning getting ready for work, drinking my coffee in silence. No Fruit Loops to pour, no waffles to make. Just me, sitting in my silent kitchen . I am very aware that three beautiful young adults will get up out of their beds(at all different times) and stumble to the kitchen to make their own breakfasts-or lunches depending on the time -and I will not be there.  They will make their coffee, they will toast their waffles and start their days. They will go to their jobs, or go the beach or watch Netflix and I won't be there to hang with them, or make sure they get a good lunch-not pizza rolls and Ramen.  I am no longer an IHOP waitress . They don't need a short order cook, or a chauffeur anymore. They still have their summer "break" but I am no longer an integral part of that. And I miss that.  I miss seeing them go from Zoo Camp to bible schools to Busch Gardens with their friends , with me as the driver, and most of all , the listener.
                      So , as I hang up my Imaginary IHOP apron for a business casual wardrobe, I realize the time I spent for those many summers was the best time I ever spent.  Summer meant time . Precious , albeit fleeting time with the three people I love most in the world.  So, if you still have littles, and are able to soak up every bit of summer with them I say indulge them and exhaust yourself because a quiet kitchen is right around the corner.

            Last week, my daughter Sophie brought home her course card for the next school year. This tiny card holds the key to what classes she will enroll in for the long awaited junior year, which is coincidentally known as " let's take every hard class the school has to offer so colleges will like me"year! So , as she brought me this blank card, she began telling me what exactly she was going to put on it.  Among the choices were AP psych, AP US History, Dual Enrollment English Comp , and Dual Enrollment College Algebra . I looked at her, in all her freckled face seriousness , and said " so you are quitting cheerleading, breaking up with your boyfriend and chaining yourself to your laptop for the next year?" She looked so confused, even a bit disappointed when she answered, " a lot of my friends are taking these classes and I'm smart too , you know".
               Oh, do I know ! Smart is one of the top 3 words I use to describe my daughter, with motivated and driven being the other two . But I also use words like, sociable, funny, silly, and oh I don't know, how about 16 ! to describe her as well. The look of this fictitious 11th grade schedule made me think those words would not accurately describe junior year Sophie any longer. Now, I am sure there are kids out there who can do all that and have some semblance of a life. But in my experience, those kids are few and far between.  I have seen kids make and live those sort of academic schedules before, and I have seen those kids (after the first few weeks) crying into their pillows, ( I won't mention any names but one spends ALOT of time at my house dating my son). I have seen great 4 point something GPA's nosedive due to an overzealous schedule which was just too high of a difficulty level for them to maintain. They are KIDS after all.
             Now I am not saying her junior year course card should read with the simplicity of a "Dick and Jane " children book,  but moderation is the key . So, I sat her down and made some (ahem ) suggestions. I suggested she take 2 Dual enrollment, neither one of them being a math class . Sophie's verbal skills/ reading skills are off the chart , but math is a work in progress. So English Comp and Dual Enrollment Psychology are a good fit for her.  I put the kabash on AP classes altogether. In my experience with AP classes , they have been rather disappointing.  The great grade in the class doesn't necessarily lead to a passing AP test grade. Which means "oops sorry that 500 hours of reading you did, 950 notecards you wrote and early Saturday morning strategy sessions you attended  , led to nothing , nada, "no college credit soup for you!" So after a heart to heart and her little red head envisioning a year of stress, and since quitting cheer is never an option for her and neither is quitting her boyfriend , we crafted a very solid, college friendly course card. What we didn't create was a sobbing, stressed out , anxiety ridden high school junior.
               I know there are people reading this right now who don't agree with it. But I'm willing to bet those folks haven't already been through this process yet. So keep reading Shakespeare to your kindergartners and enrolling the 4 year olds in Kumon,  everyone is entitled to their opinion.  But I know colleges like "big picture "type applicants. Good grades, challenging classes, a mix of extracurriculars, volunteer hours and students who will fit into their University atmosphere.  There are still going to be the parents and students who think only GPA and grades matter and in some cases like MIT, Harvard, Stanford (you know, the genius schools) that is probably a resounding YES ! Grades and GPA are the benchmark for fitting in at those esteemed schools. But for the rest of us, and in particular a little girl with visions of being a Tarheel cheerleader and UNC student ,crafting a big picture will be the focus.  And maybe, just maybe enjoying the one & only junior year in high school she's ever going to get.

Looking Back Hurts Your Neck

                                  The biggest curse of middle age is not the obvious culprits. The wrinkles, grey hair, and pouchy midsection all suck, that's for sure. Those things are not the worse thing about getting older though, the worse thing goes much deeper than that. The thing that I hate the most about being this age is hindsight. I find myself thinking back on lots of things and realizing how different things could be if only... That line of thinking is destructive, and gets the person nowhere. Yet anyone who has reached this age probably thinks back on things ten times a day.  The main reason being : our children. Especially teenage children , who are constantly making decisions and doing things we once did (albeit the 2.0 version). We watch and we know what they SHOULD do, because we did not do what we SHOULD'VE done. We want to spare them the use of the all too often coined phrase "hindsight is 20/20". No one spared us though, they did not even try, or did they?
                                    Let me give you all a good example of this. As a high school senior I earned an academic scholarship to a private school in North Carolina. It was in the town I was living in, therefore I would live at home.  I began my Freshman year there , and did okay. It was a lovely campus , the kind I dream of sending my children to (especially tuition free). Well, In the meantime I met a guy ( never mind that he is now my husband of 22 years) and I left my full scholarship to the prestigious private college and transferred to USF to be near him. Goodbye fully paid tuition, hello out of state tuition. I honestly do not know how my parents did not kill me. Or at the very least say No, I couldn't go.  They had to be shaking their heads, thinking don't do this. You only get one shot at all of this. Yet they let me go. Now, I am a parent about the same age they were when faced with these" letting me make my own decisions "moments. My son recently made a decision as well. A change of schools, of majors and basically life choices. The older, wiser me with a penchant for dreaming of what could've been , had to let him do it. Is it easy? NO . Do I probably know better what is good for him? YES. But it's ultimately his life. These decisions shape who we are. I have no doubt that his middle age years will lead to a lot of "look backs" and hindsight moments. Everybody's does , I guess. Good things came out of my hasty decision to leave my original college, things like a solid marriage and a fairly blessed life. In fact, if my parents had used their hindsight to try and sway me they would not have had their 3 grandchildren. They must have bit holes in their tongues, like I have. My tongue resembles a piece of swiss cheese since the arrival of the teen years in my house (x3 by the way).
                                      So, when I am asked for advice by my children I will give it . I will tell them my mistakes, regrets and things that I wish I would've done differently. I won't make my life theirs though. They will get the chance to earn the right to say, with wistfulness ,"hindsight is 20/20"... I mean , otherwise all we have to show for middle age is the wrinkles, grey hair and mushy abs.
                                 

From Mikey to Michael

                                A few days ago , Mikey asked me if we could go to the mall.  I was very preoccupied with his sister's new found head injury courtesy of cheerleading and his brother's bronchitis that was lingering a little too long. In classic third child fashion he said "never mind, we can go tomorrow." I breathed a sigh of relief, because I literally had no time to squeeze a trip to the mall into my day. Later on , I began to think about how Mikey so easily backed down. Almost like he realized his importance in the big scheme of things, predestined by birth order , and by no fault of his own. I felt very disgusted with myself . Of all my children, Mikey is the sweetest.  He , out of everyone else who lives here, deserves to go the mall the most.  Now I wanted to know why he wanted to go the mall, why the kid who never asks for anything , felt the need to ask to go the mall.
Turns out he ripped a pair of pants that he had gotten for Christmas, and wanted a new pair. Sounds reasonable, right? Sure, but up until now Mikey would've just WORE the pants and not even cared. This desire for the replacement pants is more than just a need for new clothing , it is a sign. A sign that my baby is becoming a teenager and now cares about his appearance.
                                 This hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. My little boy , the one I can still count on to hug me for no reason,  fight about taking a shower , still watch SpongeBob and eat cereal after school was soon going to be one of THEM.  And I have enough of THEM around here. I want a little boy.  But I know this is not possible, the stopping of time is an impossibility , if it wasn't no one would ever have teenagers in the first place. Mikey is at that" in between " . He wants cool clothes, shoes and hair. He wants to fit in. He's even recently started asking when is he getting braces, because kids are starting to notice his "jacked up teeth". It has been happening for a while now, but I have been turning the other cheek to it. Playing the ostrich mom, if I hide from it maybe it won't happen. However, when I take a look at my son, I see the metamorphosis beginning. Long arms and legs that almost appear awkward right now , a face taking on more bone structure and losing that softness that I love to kiss goodnight. A growth spurt is eminent , and so is the desire for freedom. Freedom from being the "baby" and longing to try new things.  This is something I know I cannot stop. With the other two children, I didn't feel so melancholy about it. Zach needed to grow up, so I could handle the other two . Sophie was born 15 , so her becoming a teenager was barely noticeable . Mikey, however, has been my connection to still having a "little one" and that was coming to an end. This clearly is more about me clinging to something , than Mikey becoming a teenager . It is about my journey through motherhood coming to a crossroads. I will have three young adults , who need me less from a physical aspect but more from an emotional one. I will have one more child who is almost a grown up , one more child whose voice will deepen , who will have tormented days as he tries to figure out who he is and who he wants to be. And I will go through it with him, just as I am going through it with his brother and sister. But even though he will be a teenager and start acting like someone I don't recognize , all I will see when I look at him is that blue eyed, good natured baby who never fussed or complained about anything. That's what will get me through Mikey's journey to Michael.

Because 15 Deserves A Whole Blog, Not Just a Status

                               15 years ago tonight I had just finished putting up my Christmas tree (yes, I was very holiday spirited back then and the tree went up on Thanksgiving weekend) and I went out to eat with my parents and my then 3 year old son . I was 38 weeks pregnant , and HUNGRY.  So we went to my toddlers favorite restaurant at the time, Perkins. I ate like a trucker coming off of a 4 day haul . I even demanded cherry pie (I was obsessed with red foods my entire pregnancy ...hmmm) which Perkins did not have. My swollen , pregnant reaction to the waiter telling me they had no cherry pie must've scared him enough to show up with a piece topped with whipped cream within 7 minutes. The exact time it takes to get to the Publix located directly across the street ..coincidence? Maybe...
                                After my parents rolled me back home and into bed , I settled in for a good night sleep. But someone had other ideas. That someone was a 2 week early , tiny redhead who came fast and furiously. By 4:16 AM after the Perkins eat- a -thon (and thankfully no C-section , because clearly I would have died due to the over indulgence of food 4 hours prior..) I was given my daughter. A DAUGHTER. I did not know I was having a girl, every sonogram her legs were closed tight. A great habit that I hope follows her for a little while longer . She was beautiful. Tiny and screaming , but beautiful. And I was instantly in love.  Even though she was not my first experience with newborn love, she was a totally different experience. I did not know how badly that I wanted a daughter, until I gave birth to her. I got to have a little girl, a sweet ,pink loving , gentle little girl. A perfect balance to the rough and tumble" all boy" son I already had. I couldn't wait to be a girl mom.
                              And the last 15 years have not been a disappointment, this "girl mom "thing. I got to dress her up, style her beautiful red hair , buy her cute (many, many cute) things. I got to go to dance recitals , cheer competitions , Twilight movies, sleepovers . I got to be part of her friends circle in elementary school, which has helped me still (sort of ) be part of her high school life. I got to be there for her first period , her first formal dance and her first boyfriend. It has been a roller coaster ride sometimes , and we have had some real knock down drag out fights. Having a daughter has been like living my life over again, but better. I get to watch and help out when needed. It is also just as painful ,when the mistakes she is making are obvious ,but she's got to learn from them to shape her into the person she is to become.
                              So tomorrow at 4:16 am my baby will turn 15. She has grown into such a smart, sensitive , beautiful person. She is everything I hoped she would be that early morning when I held her 5lb. body in my hands , and looked into her muddy blue eyes. And more. She's taught me just as much as I have taught her. I am so glad I have a girl in this crazy mix of boys. She is my sanity, my heart, my best friend. Happy Birthday to my Sophie Elaine.