Calligraphy and Cocktails

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I am going crazy.

No, really. I think it’s because I have stuff. And by stuff, I mean things. Things to do, places to be, people to meet.

I have so much stuff, other things are starting to fall to the wayside.

I haven’t vacuumed my apartment in two weeks. You can’t really tell, but I know.

I’d like to tell you that I remember what it’s like when I actually cook a meal, but it’s been so long, I’m not sure I remember how anymore. Unless macaroni and cheese from a box counts. Please tell me it counts.

I have been trying to get to the carwash so I can vacuum out the hellhole I call a vehicle. For over a month. I finally pulled the floor mat out, gave it a good shake, and called it good.

I really need to shave my legs. Some guy snapped a couple photos of me a few days ago at the park, and I’m pretty they were used on the local news as definitive proof of the existence of Bigfoot.

I usually wash my sheets every Friday, but I didn’t this week. And I can’t remember if I did last week.

I didn’t wash my underwear either. In fact, I just bought more the last time I was at a department store. Much quicker than washing laundry.

I used paper towels for toilet paper for three days last week. Not because I didn’t have the money to buy a nice soft TP, but because I forgot I needed it. Repeatedly.

The irony of the situation is that I remember, just a few short years ago, thinking about all the free time I was going to have once my kids were grown. I figured all the craziness of raising kids would fade and I’d finally find my nirvana.

Which mostly consisted of dreams about the days I’d spend lounging in front of the TV watching Star Trek and Firefly reruns, eating popcorn for dinner and sipping delicious cocktails.

Little did I know how much of that really was a dream. Little did I know that I’d be busier than ever before.

When you’re raising kids, people tell you how fast it goes by. It’s hard to see it when the kids are little, but when you reach graduation day, you really do look back and marvel at how quickly life moves.

And those days spent helping with homework, school projects, shuttling preteens to sporting events, band events, the mall, well… they disappear. You find yourself looking for new projects, new hobbies, and soon your days are just as full as they were when the kids were young.

It’s a bittersweet time of life and those days with your children will never come again.

As much as you might miss those years with your kids, I’m here to tell you that what comes next is amazing too.

I’m busier than I’ve ever been, having more fun and learning so much about the world and about myself.

I’m more confident in who I am and what I want. At least, I think I am. No, wait, I am. I totally am. Maybe.

As a recently single woman, I’ve dipped my toe in the dating pool again. It’s a little weird, but fun too.

Spending time with my children is like spending time with a friend. I no longer have to be the hardnosed mama they grew up with. Now, I can just talk to them as one adult to another. Granted, it’s weird, I mean, who wants to talk to their kids about dating? Me dating, that is. They get all oogy and tell me things like, “you’re not allowed to date,” or “you know if you get a boyfriend, it doesn’t matter how nice he is, I still won’t like him because he’s dating my mom.” I tell them mama has needs, but somehow that doesn’t seem to make them feel better.

I’m trying new things, like teaching myself calligraphy. I’m not sure if it’s a skill I’ll ever truly develop as I can’t even draw a decent stick figure, but I’m willing to give it a go. Recently I’ve wondered if I need to drink more Bloody Marys while I’m practicing, or less.

I’m reviving old things I left behind, like hiking and camping. The simple pleasure of cooking over a campfire has seeped back into me, a remnant of a long forgotten joy. And don’t forget the marshmallows.

I’m enjoying a lot more delicious cocktails with my girls. After all, I don’t have to worry about coming home and setting a good example for my kids. I’ve already done that. Now I can relax and be the cool mom I always knew I was. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

I’m writing a lot. Even better, some of it doesn’t suck.

Yup. Life is busy and I’m going a little crazy, but no matter how prickly my legs get or how many pairs of new underwear I have to buy so I can avoid washing laundry, it’s a heck of a ride and I’m enjoying every bump, every pothole, every little detour I encounter.

After all, who really cares if I go a little crazy along the way? It’s a lot more fun anyway.

I promise, when you get here, you’ll enjoy it too. And I’ll be waiting for you, delicious cocktail in hand bearing a homemade charm wrapped around the stem with your name written on it in really bad calligraphy.

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