Rapier's Wit

It is FINALS week at my son's university, much like the majority of colleges around the country. He has always put forth a lot of effort to achieve good grades. There are times, despite his studying and perfect attendance, the good grades do not materialize.  As a parent, I try to encourage him without nagging. He resides with me. I see him studying. He stays up late working on essays, homework, etc... I pray a lot for his success.  Today happens to be my mother's birthday. She died from ovarian cancer in June of 1981. It doesn't matter how many years pass, I miss her. There are times it is even more painful. She loved to sing. Her passion for music has always been evident in my family. On Facebook early this morning I posted that it was my mom's birthday. At the moment I hit send, I began to cry. It has been quite some time that I wept over missing her - not that it lessens what her absence means. I put out a wish for her to assure me she was with me. Ba...

Oh dear me! This week has been a smack in the head emotionally. Mother's Day is often such a struggle for me. On one hand, I am ecstatic to have a son who loves and respects me. He fills me with so much pride. On the other hand, losing my own mother in 1981causes me such emotional turmoil from time to time. Not often, but when it strikes it strikes hard. The other day on Facebook I shared that my final memory of my mother was that in the hospital where she spent her last days. She was ravaged with cancer and in dire pain even with pain medication. Toward the very end I wasn't permitted to visit her. However, the time I was allowed in her room she had pushed me away after I hugged her because I was hurting her. It isn't the memory I want to hold on to, but it is there. As her last child, the youngest of eight, there's no doubt she had her reasons. My siblings have assured me, while it wasn't what I wanted, it is what our mother felt was best for me ... or her. It ...

There are many things in my life I have done wrong...totally screwed up and lived and learned from the mistake. However, the best thing I have ever done and continue to do is being a mom to Mancub. This month he graduates from high school. Fourteen years ago it seemed it would be the longest road. The most tumultuous, rigorous, painstaking journey has paid off. His tenacity has brought him to a major milestone. Ask me about my perfect boy and I'll go on for days telling you how amazing he is

This is the image that has gone viral. It is simple but speaks volumes.  Surely you've seen this and understand what it stands for and why it has gone viral. Marriage Equality. Meaning, allow same sex couple the benefits of marriage that hetero couples have. Pretty simple, but people get their panties in a wad over the definition of marriage. My sister and her wife on their 'wedding day' You'd think it was simple but there's some confusion and apparently people feel threatened by allowing loving couples to take commitment one step further with a legally binding contract to share and share alike. Sure, I simplified it. In my opinion, the powers that be like to complicate things far too much. This passage used frequently at weddings. It applies to marriage equality. I made this, by the way. My 18 year old son and I have had several conversations about everything under the sun. Some of those talks are painfully embarrassing to him because I am his mom. A ...

I have been working too much.  That fact became glaringly obvious yesterday evening.  It's ridiculous that my son has suffered the consequences of the shortcomings of my work place and I have to fix it.  Tuesday brought me a day off. Finally.  I'd worked 8 days straight with the majority of those days keeping me away from home due to working until closing (9 PM). Mancub and I haven't spent much quantity or quality time together.  He sees that I am stressing.  He's not a selfish boy. He's compassionate and due to that, he has spared me any additional stress. Or so he thinks that is what he's doing.  But last night all that he's bottled up came to a head and he let out how much he hates his school and the kids that inhabit it.  He's a big kid, but a gentle giant. He's easily upset by rude remarks.  They know it and pick at him.  His efforts to ignore it are often futile.  The beasts know if they keep at him he will eventually displa...

For as far back as I can remember in my childhood we were told to stand up straight.  Our mother was a stickler for good posture.  At any given moment one of us would feel the pressure of her pointy finger in the middle of our backs instantly causing our shoulders to pull back as if they'd been tethered with a counter weight.  Her reason to me was that it would make me appear confident, thinner AND when I aged and got bigger boobs they'd seem less droopy.  Mom was right. Naturally. My own son hasn't been inflicted with my index finger.  As he set off for the bus this morning I called out to him, " Pull your shoulders back !"  Instantly, he did.  But it looked painfully unnatural.  His head was still cocked down like the dopey vulture from the cartoons.  " We'll work on fixing that. Have a great day !"  And he shuffled off surely releasing his posture to the slumpiness that screams Shaggy of Scooby Doo.  Poor posture isn't limi...

I have a confession to make. I've lacked motivation for two months.  Regardless of the wild success experienced in the first 90 days of my weight loss journey, I have lost the edge of ambition.  My workouts haven't eased up.  If anything I have pushed myself harder.  The reason? It seemed the best thing to get over the hump. Yet, something triggered the junk food junky in me.  The addict reared her fat, cellulite covered, sloppy, disgusting self.  I've been pretending that everything is hunky dory and nothing can get in the way of me and my goals.  I've lied to you. It was done as a means to convince myself that it was only temporary and if I talked a big game I'd believe it.  Wrong. I'm humbly sorry and ashamed.  Wearing the mask is uncomfortable and I've got to be me. Today, as with last three days, have held me under the weather.  Headaches and nausea abound as I force myself to workout each morning.  Although, today I succ...

To say I am an overprotective mother would be an understatement.  Being such a person has done a disservice to my son and myself.  If there was a club for being a worry wart, I would be their poster child.  When Mancub was very small I wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap before sending him out to play.  Clearly my parents' parenting style didn't rub off on me. They let us climb high trees, jump off the porch into a pile of leaves and some how we managed to remain intact. Mom and Dad may have been worried sick each time we set out to ride our bikes in a look-ma!-no hands manner down the hill just to say we did it, but if there was concern, they never let on.  My siblings and I joke that in the summers mom would lock us out of the house until it was dark.  As long as a police car didn't escort us home or no call from the hospital was received, she was content.  We learned during that time just how burglar proof our home was not.  We'd sneak in the ba...

This summer is introducing Mancub and I to an entirely new experience.  Reporting that we're headed to Disney World or taking a long awaited holiday in Costa Rica would be ideal, but alas we're tethered to good ol' Kankakee for another vacationless season of humidity and mosquitoes.  What's new is that we're providing a homeland vacation spot for the son of my closest and dearest friend.  It's surreal to say the very least, much like my whirlwind reconnection with my prom date and object of deeply hidden affection.  Well, deeply hidden until the last few months.  It's one of those things that will likely never come to full fruition, but the friendship is undeniable.  I'm effed. You can go on and say it. Our adventure of the summer began with a trip to O'Hare International.  It is here where I'll mention my poor sense of direction (both figuratively and literally).  My friend Jen and her two daughters accompanied Mancub and me in the van graciou...

Today is Mother's Day.  It's often difficult for me to write about my mother. The reason is because I really didn't know her.  The opportunity to wasn't afforded to me.  You see, she passed away when I was just a month and a half away from turning 16.  Being the youngest of her eight children, her time was very divided.  I felt lost in the shuffle. Talk about life being brutal, at times. There were other kids my age who'd lost their moms all too soon but it wasn't until recently that I learned these painful facts.  All that time in high school I felt alone.  We all apparently put on brave faces because that is what was expected. Kids are resilient, yet, it's a shame we had no other choice.  I wanted to find the darkest corner of the basement and just wither away.  However, I had to keep pushing ahead because it was easier for others to deal with me if I just put on a happy face. Today I miss my mother just as much as I did in 1981.  Th...

I've never been in a cemetery alone. In fact, I've only gone to them for funerals. Once my departure is made after the final word is said by the officiant, I don't return. Since I felt the dead can't talk back, what was the point? Recently, there has been a small voice beckoning to me. Explaining this might make you wonder if I haven't been clobbered on the head or under the influence of some really cool pharmaceuticals. Merely admitting it might lead you to believe the previous is certain. However, I assure you I'm not a heavy drinker nor do I pop pills stronger than Ibuprofen. Today after work, rather than turning left toward Aroma Park, I kept straight as I exited I-57 after work. For those of you who live or have lived in Kankakee, you know that Mount Calvary Cemetery was my destination. I wasn't 100% sure of where I was going, but I knew I'd find the grave-sites. The only living person on the premises, I wasn't scared. I didn't get...

As Mancub stepped off the porch this morning I no longer saw the tot too afraid to go to school. I said goodbye and wished him a wonderful first day of high school as all 6'2" 220 pounds of him lumbered toward the bus stop. With his wavy, floppy hair damp and facial hair fuzzily outgrown, he took one more step towards manhood. Over the years I have stood at the front window waiting for his bus to pass the house. From the front seat of the bus he always waved; signaling that all was well. Today I felt he might think that too immature or embarrassing. Per habit, I stood at the window. This time veiled behind the sheers. From the front seat of the bus I saw a glimmer of my little boy. He raised his hand just slightly above the base of the window ... a casual wave goodbye. ... and the tears began to flow.

I just finished listening to the 173rd Stuck in the '80s podcast. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you need to familiarize yourself with it. STAT! Seriously, next to peanut butter and jelly on squishy white bread, this concept is da bomb! Basically, I really enjoy it. This episode focuses on musicians who became actors in the '80s. I won't reveal the top 10, but I can say that by the end of the podcast, I had tears streaming down my face. No, the hosts aren't directly responsible for my outburst of waterworks. Host Steve Spears ends this most enjoyable episode with the very song I chose to dance with my Father to at my wedding reception. While the marriage didn't last, the memory of dancing with my Dad goes on forever. I chose "Wind Beneath My Wings" based on my Father's reaction to hearing it one summer day while visiting my sister Karen in Arizona. I was to wed in September 1990. My Dad felt it a good idea to take me on a vac...

I mentioned in my "Mother's Day" post that it was certain that Mancub hadn't realized it was a special day. Granted, he makes every day special, but for Hallmarkian purposes this day would go unnoticed ... or so I thought. Shortly after posting the aforementioned blog item, I let Mancub know we were heading out to buy plants to put in the pots on the front porch. I was still in my pajamas and taking my time. It's not often that I'll be standing at the door with purse in hand still waiting after giving him at least an hour's notice that I wanted to get out of the house (and that he'd be accompanying me). Today made me feel like I'd been stuck in a time warp. I sat at the computer fiddling around thinking I had scads of time to waste before jumping in the shower. Boy, was I mistaken! Mancub had gone upstairs and came down fully dressed! He'd immediately made tracks to the bathroom to brush hi s hair and comb his hair. He emerged from his be...

I tried displaying these photos creatively the other day. I had a slide show ready and it wouldn't work when I attempted posting it. How rude! This is the Valentine's Day gift my son gave to me ... and continues to give me daily. I was so touched. Like any mom would do, I put this up on my refrigerator. It's a real pick-me-up!

I strongly dislike grocery stores. First of all, most of them are so vast that I need to pace myself and hydrate as if I'm about to participate in a marathon. Then, there's the price comparisons. I know I should take advantage of coupons, but obtaining coupons means buying the Chicago Tribune or some Sunday paper. No offense to my journalism pals, but I find newspapers cumbersome and can't read them unless I'm on the floor and have room to sprawl out. Anyway, I digress. I have a very apathetic approach to purchasing food items. The truly annoying aspect of grocery shopping is the other consumers. I'm a single mom with a very well behaved child. He's 14 and practically self-sufficient. He'll lumber around the store with me with little argument. When he was smaller he was much more of a handful and I may or may not have left a full shopping cart, ice cream sandwiches and raw chicken and all, in aisle 8 to whisk my misbehaving toddler off the premises. There in...

Here is the key for a single mom to forget how much she loathes Valentine's Day: Be a 14 year old boy who seems absorbed in his own video game playing world Take an ordinary piece of copy paper Fold it in half length wise Fold it again, downward Write on the front " Dear Mom, I hope you like this gift, (open ) " Flip it open (length wise) Write at the top of the page, " It's the best that I can give." Write on the lower half of the folded sheet " I hope you like it because ..." Unfold the page so it is flat Write at the top "... because it's my heart .. ." Draw a big red heart in the center of the page Write at the bottom "... Happy Valentine's Day !" Refold it so it appears to be a card Give it to your mother and watch her cry

While taking my lunch break at work on Thursday, I was reading TIME magazine. It was the December 8th issue, to be exact. There was a lot of chattering going on, but there was a particular item that caught my attention. "Person of the Year. Time asked prominent individuals, including former Persons of the Year, whom they would choose for 2008." I'm sure it comes as no surprise that President-elect Barack Obama leads the poll. Whether you agree with America's choice, his overwhelming lead in the TIME poll isn't shocking. In this issue, the following were asked their choice: Rudy Giuliani : Barack Obama Queen Rania al-Abdullah: The waiting billions (Millennium Development Goals) Cory Booker: Barack Obama Peter Ueberroth: Single mothers and grandmothers Did you catch that? Peter Ueberroth (recent U.S. Olympic Committee chairman of the board and former baseball commissioner) wants me to be TIME magazines Person of the Year. On behalf of all the fascinating, ...

My son is wonderful. He has compassion and understanding for the human condition well beyond his 14 years. As proof, I offer you this: Mancub: " Mom, I know you don't have a lot of money to give me gifts on Christmas Day, but I want you to know that I get a present from you everyday. You ."

Everyone has a theory or tale about Santa Claus. He is most often thought of as the Coca-Cola creation. It doesn't matter where you're from. You all have had your variation on the fat man in red. There's never been a question that the jolly old fella is generous and resourceful. I, on the other hand, had the honour of living with Santa Claus. Oh, I had no idea at the time. I never spied the red velvet suit. Nor did I get a tickle by the mass of snowy white beard. I never had reindeer doody duty, either. The following story was written by my father. He submitted his theory on Santa Claus to our local newspaper, The Kankakee Daily Journal. I'm unable to give you the exact date (Maureen would know.) I can recall him sitting at our family dining table lamenting over the proper way to honour his perception of Jolly Old St. Nick. His glasses perched on his nose; looking over the top of them as I tromped about disturbing his train of thought. He'd say very little, b...