Single Mom | Single Mom Blog | Ms. Single Mama » Striking thoughts

And then he sings…

mssinglemama — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 17:38:39 +0000

So, when he’s not working or chasing his kids around, Mr. Mister (or Seth, as you’ll find out in this video) is a singer/songwriter.

He wrote this song during his separation. And I think, all of us single parents – moms and dads – can relate. I had to share and took this video during one of his singer/songwriter circles a few weeks ago.

Video appearances by:

Seth, Mr. Dude Yet to Be Named Man. Or, just Seth.
Wenderly’s handsome husband (on the left at the beginning). If you haven’t read her blog yet, you should! She can cook me under the table.
Seth’s two awesome brothers and their father.

Listen to the studio version of this song and hear the rest of Seth’s music here.

P.S.

And I know I’m on a blogging rampage today. I have actually had a few free moments, a taste of Spring air and some awesome coffee. Also, lots of inspiration.

Hindsight

mssinglemama — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 03:12:02 +0000

“If everything works out with John, Benjamin won’t know a time when he wasn’t around.”

As my therapist’s words sink in the last three years of my life flash through my mind; from the beginning when I packed everything up and moved into my mother’s, to the quiet nights at her house in the woods wondering and wishing myself away and back to some semblance of independence and then to the moment when Benjamin and I stepped into our own sweet, little apartment – ready to begin our new life.

What followed is all here, on this blog in my eBook, or safe in my mind.

I sit on her couch, staring off into a painting on the wall as I try to grasp this idea of him not remembering anything before John Bear. The memories wash over me – the adventures big and small – like the time we were yelled at by a hair salon owner or the countless grocery store trips that typically ended in knock down drag out tantrums. Then there were the big adventures like trips to find Joshua Trees

or deep forests and mountain coves in Vancouver.

And smaller adventures like hours of puddle jumping for no reason

or sweating it out on a hot summer day in August to hear our future president, a man also raised by a single mom, speak to us from about twenty feet away.

or chasing bunnies with Sydney.

Now, looking back, it is these moments – the moments when I forced myself out of the house with him, braving the book store, the library, the festivals, the camping trips and the road trips all by myself, trying to fill the time – that are the best memories I have of the two of us.

Memories of the moments when we both forgot where we were or when we just took our time

because we didn’t have anywhere else to be.

“So they’ll all be gone? He won’t remember a thing?” I ask my therapist or, as I fondly call her, Wonder Woman. She’s helping me to straighten out my trust issues and to figure out why, in the past, I had a pattern of choosing bad boys dysfunctional men.

“The emotions we all feel before the age of three are imprinted on our minds forever, but the actual memories are harder to keep so, no, he probably won’t remember any time that John wasn’t there. To Benjamin, he will have always been around.”

I am trying to see it as I typically would, to draw a clear line – a before and after, a then and now – but to me, meeting John and almost sensing that he was about to surface, was all part of one big transition for both Benjamin and I. Bringing John and Murphy into our lives is another family adventure but this time, we’re playing for keeps and we’re both falling.

Fortunately John is right there with us, helping us paddle the boat and proving his love through his actions over and over again. And even though part of me used to identify myself with being single, the fact is that, single or not I am still me and Benjamin is still Benjamin.

We’re just being introduced to some new things

and I am seeing expressions on his face and witnessing feelings I didn’t know he had in him

They seem so obvious now. A game, cracker jacks, a helmet filled with ice cream.

Love from a man who knows how to love.

“That’s okay,” I tell Wonder Woman, “I am happy and Benjamin is happy, that’s exactly what I’ve wanted all along. We’re just growing, making room for even more love – it doesn’t replace the love that already existed.” But that doesn’t mean I won’t be sneaking Benjamin off for a few more solo adventures or two.

In fact, I’ve been savoring our moments alone even more now. Not that we don’t like having John Bear around – we adore him (and so does Wonder Woman, by the way) – but this entire experience, of growing your heart and your family at the same time is something you need to take slowly. And while things have been speeding up as of late, while there is more and more talk of what is coming and as magnificent as it all sounds, it’s not perfect. Nothing is ever perfect. But, I can tell you, it’s a hell of a lot easier when you have a good, strong man there to catch you – a man who you know would never do or say anything to hurt you.

As for the imperfections, there are all kinds of things coming into play. My ex, for example, is becoming more and more agitated by Benjamin’s affectionate talk of this “John Bear.” We are also trying to learn how to co-parent… all other stories for another day, but for now I have a prize to give away.

[UPDATE: Just added photos from the baseball game to the bottom of my Recently Photo Album]

Single Mom Adventure Prize Pack

I don’t know why but I keep getting contacted by companies offering prizes too good to resist… maybe they’ll slow up soon enough but until then, let’s all have some fun and ride the contest wave, shall we? This one is particularly awesome…

Prize #1: A Shutterfly Photo Book

I spent most of this afternoon sorting through old pictures of Benjamin. I’m collecting them all to add to my set of Shutterfly photo books. The company contacted me asking if I’d be interested in some free samples (full disclosure). I said, “Sure, but only if my readers can have some too.” And guess what? They did. I have a few copies to give away!

I don’t know about you but I’m in love with photo print books because the pictures aren’t going to fade, get lost, separated from the album, etc. And Shutterfly books are surprising affordable and they have a big sale going on right now too. (They didn’t tell me to say that, by the way. No one ever tells me to say anything about their product because if they did I’d tell to go bug off).

Prize #2: A copy of Sole Mate by Lauren Mackler

I was reading Sole Mate: Mastering the Art of Aloneness when I met John. The author, a single mother, who had to move back to the U.S. from Europe with her two grown children after her marriage fell apart, is truly inspiring. I love this book and highly recommend it to everyone, even those of us in happy relationships.

How to enter:

The contest is open until Monday, September 14th. Just leave a comment telling me about one of your favorite adventures as a single mom and consider yourself entered.

The other side

mssinglemama — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 16:26:20 +0000

I spotted my first fallen leaves in the grass of the baseball diamond near my post office last Thursday.

The bag over my shoulder was bursting with little brown packages. Each containing a silver or bronze new leaf necklace destined for one of you. I make this walk to the post office, with Murphy in tow and sometimes Mr. Benjamin, at least a few times a week. And still, two months after quitting the day job, these post office trips are my favorite part about my new job.

The walk itself is the last step before the necklaces will be around your necks. I’ve sent packages all over the world now. One even went to Saskatchewan. Another to Argentina and yet another to Great Britian. On these walks it all comes full circle. I feel like a bearer of hope, sending little packages of it one by one to each of you who so generously chose to support my little blogging career by buying one.

When I saw the leaves I stopped for a second to digest the sight of them. August, I thought, it’s still August but I guess Fall is almost here now. I gave Murphy a little whistle and we kept walking. Now about thirty feet from the busy street I had to cross to reach the post office and with the building before me, I started thinking about her.

The first time she processed a pile of my packages, stamping them all and tucking them away under her counter she asked me what was inside.

“Necklaces,” I answered.

“Well, you’re not allowed to send jewelry to Canada,” her words were cold as her hands rested on one of my brown envelopes destined for a single mom in Ontario.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know why,” she said. Still as cold as ice.

“What happens if I send it and they catch it? Do they just send it back?”

“Yes.” She looked annoyed now and ran her hands through her silver gray hair. It was long, falling past her shoulders. I decided she either hated me, hated being here, hated life or hated her job and then I made another decision – to send the necklaces anyway. It sounded like a stupid law anyway.

“I’ll take my chances.” We proceeded as if she didn’t know anything about the contents of my little envelopes. I paid and I left.

The next time I went in with some packages for Canada I saw her behind the counter and I cringed. Damn it. She asked me again about what was inside and I answered truthfully. She shook her head disapprovingly and we ran through the drill. I paid and I left. Even when I brought Benjamin she was still cold. One time another postal worker tipped me off, telling me to call them accessories.

The last time I had seen her, before I saw the leaves, maybe a few days beforehand she spied my brown envelopes marked with the “CAN” and said, “and what’s in them?”

“Accessories,” I answered.

“And we’ve been over the accessory thing before, right?” She asked.

“Yes,” I said politely.

I looked behind my shoulder to take a quick look at Murphy who was tied up outside and obediently waiting for me.

“What kind of dog is he?” She asked. For the first time ever I noticed a sparkle in her eyes.

“A Wheaton Terrier.”

“Oh, how cute!” She was completely lit up now and then slipped me a stack of little green customs forms. “Here just fill these customs forms out about the accessories and next time bring him in so he can have some treats.”

“You have treats?”

“Yes, we always have some back here.” She tapped her counter and was still starring through the window, unable, it seemed to take her eyes off of my dog. I paid, thanked her and then left.

I remember calling John Bear to tell him that “the mean postal lady finally smiled. It was a minor miracle.”

In spite of her wishes for me to bring Murphy in I left him tied up outside. He jumps and I saw a bit of a line in the post office, shoulders neatly stacked in a long row of bodies, hands clutching packages and envelopes. When I took my place behind them I noticed she wasn’t there. And then I piece of paper taped to the edge of her counter, the type blown up by a copy machine. It wasn’t until a few moments before I went up to meet the man standing in her place that I realized the paper was an obituary.

“Is this for the woman with the long gray hair, she used to be right here?” I asked the obvious question, the words trailing out of my mouth when I saw the man’s eyes were clearly stressed. He nodded his head as I quickly scanned the obituary.

53…Suddenly at her home.

“A heart attack?” I asked him. And she was only 53? She had looked much older.

“Yeah, a heart attack, it’s been rough.”

“I’m so sorry.” But I was mostly sorry I hadn’t made her smile sooner, I should have given her a necklace.

On the day she died Benjamin and I were on Fiesta Movement Mission 4.

Every agent picked a charity, I chose to volunteer at a senior center because I knew, without a doubt, Benjamin would brighten their days just by being there. And he did. Check the video out.

We only spent a few hours with the seniors but in that time I learned that each and every one of them, many over 80 and even some over 90, were happy – optimistic, relaxed and enjoying their moments.

I’m not saying every grumpy person out there is going to die of a heart attack but maybe making some time to just be happy, maybe trading a few material things (like that fancy car or purse) and choosing to work less hours would actually lengthen your life. There’s nothing wrong with spending a lot less because you’ll start living a lot better.

It’s not something you can do tomorrow, I understand that – it took me two years to get to the point where I could work from home – but it can happen. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you how to do it … need more of that thing called time, keeps slipping away, through my fingers almost. One thing I can tell you… only buy what you need. Save every penny and don’t live beyond your means.

For inspiration on how to make some extra money at home and in how you can channel your creativity browse Etsy.com, most of the items for sale here are made by work at home moms. And also visit SwapMamas.com where moms are saving big money by trading stuff they don’t need or use anymore. Mommy Pie started that site a few months back when she got laid off from her job.

Big things, mamas. Big things. Dream big, okay? And for God’s sake – smile, would ya? Oh and don’t die on me. I don’t like that when people just disappear. Freaks me out.

My First Time

mssinglemama — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 02:38:09 +0000

I met the first boy who would break my heart at a party.

My legs were crossed and I had a pillow on my lap, my back leaning into the corner of the sofa. Working three jobs over my summer break between my freshman and sophomore years of college I liked this spot in the corner, far enough removed from the party that I wasn’t expected to chime in but close enough to hear the conversations and the laughter. I wanted to hide my exhaustion and my fat thighs. A hot summer day in Athens, the windows of my friend’s house were open and the light breeze was pulling her curtains and then pushing them back ever so softly.

My father would be dead one year from now. Ignorance, I realized later, truly was bliss but I couldn’t appreciate this yet. I did know he had seemed tired lately, more tired than usual and that he’d been complaining of headaches. I wasn’t thinking about this though, I was thinking about the boy who had just walked in and taken a seat on the couch across from my corner. “This is Mike,” said the hostess.

We exchanged our hellos and then started talking about majors, our apartments for next year, our hopes, our dreams. We were clicking. A few weeks later I took him home to meet my family. We even told each other we were “in love.” I thought we would be together well into the fall quarter, if not for the entire year. But after he’d been giving me a perturbing cold shoulder for days I walked into his apartment unannounced and demanded an answer. “Why?” I asked, “Why have you been so mean lately? What is going on? Do you not want to be with me anymore?”

“No,” he said, “No, I don’t.”

We had only been going out for a month and a half but I felt like my heart had just been ripped out, stomped on and then shoved back into my chest cavity. After the words left his mouth I turned around and walked out of his apartment quietly, refusing to give him any more pieces of my heart. I spent the next two days in my dorm room, crying my eyes out and wondering why. Without e-mail and cell phones it was easier to not obsessively stalk someone, instead I was just left alone with my thoughts and my tears. And in one of these moments I heard a knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I snapped.

“It’s your Dad.”

I opened the door and there he was, tall and dutiful. His hands were holding a small bouquet of flowers he had picked from the garden at the house. I would save these flowers for years until one year they came crashing down onto the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. Until then I had tried to smell them, wishing to feel – if even for a second – like he was still there in that room with me.

“Your Mom called me,” he said, “She told me to come by. So you got dumped, huh?”

“Yes,” my voice broke and I started sobbing and sat on the top of my desk, burying my face in my hands, trying to hide these embarrassing tears.

He pulled up my desk chair, took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. He didn’t like seeing me this way so he let out a sigh and then said, “Listen, Alaina. There’s something you should know about yourself and about men. Not very many of them will be able to handle you. You’re just like my mother.”

His mother, my grandmother, had died when he was 18, also from cancer. A single mother, she had raised my father and his three brothers with the help of their grandmother, who was a single widowed mother.

“You’re like she was,” he went on, “You’re passionate, intelligent and beautiful. But because of that most of these guys, especially these college guys just won’t understand you.”

“You think so? Really?”

“Absolutely.” He gave me a hug and then left but his words stayed with me forever.

Now I’m sharing them with you because he wasn’t just talking about me. Since then I have met other women like me… Mia is just one them. So strong, passionate and beautiful. You are a lot to handle but if he can’t appreciate who you are than, trust me, you’re better off without him. Don’t stop until you find a man who isn’t intimidated by your passion, but fosters it and a man who isn’t threatened by your intelligence but attracted to it.

In the meantime, the only thing we can do is pick up the slack and become one with ourselves because that guy – if he does come along – will like you just the way you are supposed to be… happy, content and comfortable in your own skin.

—–

P.S. I think my father would have adored John Bear.

On quitting your day job.

mssinglemama — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 01:42:41 +0000

This morning I woke up before Benjamin, wondering…

The sun light fell on my face, peeking through my dark bamboo blinds – my blinds in my room. I enjoyed the silence and basked in the thought that tomorrow I would be reporting to myself, no one else. Then I wondered how I got here. I am not unique. I am not special. I may be driven and tireless but each of us has this power – the power to change our circumstances or surroundings if we set our mind in that direction.

Just two years ago I was plotting an escape from my marriage, not knowing if or when I’d have my own bedroom again. Leaving my husband took guts – some say – but to me it just seemed like a survival mechanism. That’s exactly how I feel now. There are things happening out there in this big vast space we call the World Wide Web and sometimes you can move through those waters faster solo. And besides…

It’s every mother’s dream to not have to answer to anyone but her children, so I’m chasing it.

I may fall on my face but this feeling, it feels just as terrifying as leaving your husband but equally liberating. And if I could do that, if I could survive one year at my mom’s with a newborn and no money, I can survive this – with a huge smile on my face. I have a chance, a chance that I’ve afforded myself after years of paying down debt and saving and if it doesn’t work, if I fail — I’ll find another job.

No big deal.

Nothing in comparison to what I’ve been through.

First things first.

After Benjamin woke up he watched a movie while I started cleaning (like a crazy woman) and then he joined me…

we didn’t stop until every last room had been scrubbed down and organized (relatively speaking) because trading this desk

for this desk

means I have to keep everything spic and span so I can concentrate.

But it also means we can take breaks during our work day to practice our mad graffiti skills…

or take naps because my new office also has a couch.

Hoo rah, baby. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Naps on demand.

No, seriously – there will be some napping, but not many… I will be working my ass off to make this happen. But it will. be. so. much. fun.

Tomorrow my schedule is already packed. One thing on the list – packing up an shipping out all of your necklaces, there are less than 15 remaining. I can order more if we run out, it will just take longer for you to get them in your beautiful, hopeful hands. Bring on the hope! We need as much as we can get, right?

xoxo

Wish me luck on my first day at my new job!

Memories

mssinglemama — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 01:43:36 +0000

My first memory is of toddling behind my mother along a dark hiking trail somewhere out West.

I must have been about Benjamin’s age.

A few hours earlier we had all split up. My father and some of my other siblings stayed on top of the trail while my mom and the rest of us went in. And now we were completely and utterly lost. In the quickly fading light all we had seen were the yellow buffalo crossing signs. Soon we spotted a road. We waited until a car drove by, flagged it down and hitched a ride back to the parking lot where my frantic father was waiting.

Some say your first vivid memory defines your personality.

Does this mean I’m lost? Or afraid? Sounds familiar.

But I’m finding my way. I’m finding it through the eyes of my son, the most amazing thing that could ever happen to someone fearful of love is finding someone who loves you unconditionally. And through him I’m learning how to let someone love me.

On our trip we didn’t get lost. Not once.

And all along the way I couldn’t help but wonder which one of the memories will be his first.

Seeing his first plane

or riding on one?

Or will it be his second flight when the raisin snacks from the first flight gave him a vicious poop attack? (Thanks mommy). Poor kid was screaming his brains out. Luckily the nice man sitting next to us was beyond accommodating. We made him stand up at least six times but he smiled every time.

Maybe it will be driving up to the house we rented in the heart of Joshua Tree.

The view from the kitchen table.

The cowboy bath tub.

The drive down the mountain to get firewood.

The coyote we saw along the way.

The sunset pouring through the windows in every room.

Or maybe it will be meeting one of his mommy’s greatest friends

and his beautiful daughter whose eyes seem to radiate hope.

Maybe it will be one of those.

But if I was a betting woman I’d put my money on the moment when he escaped while mommy was busy packing to scale this hill in the back yard.

When he got to the top he shouted, “Look, Mommy, lookie! I made it! All by myself! I made it!”

He needs to stop growing immediately. And we definitely need to take more family vacations.

I did discover something in the desert… that my son is ready to travel. And that, my friends, is an unbelievable thing because traveling is – by far – one of his mother’s favorite things.

Before our last flight Benjamin and I were running through the airport to let off steam. We were both laughing and panting at the end of our race, still high on the adventure behind us and on the adventures to come. Five years ago his father and I had been running through an airport laughing. We’d just been cleared by the INS. Somehow my gorgeous French-Canadian boyfriend had been allowed back in the country, and after they’d stamped his passport we bolted off in a full sprint trying to catch our flight. The immigration lawyers would tell us later they’d never seen a stamp like that before.

It had an expiration date.

Three weeks later we’d be married. And one year later I’d be pregnant with Benjamin.

Traveling always brings good things. Always. No matter how they appear at first and no matter how difficult, there’s always something magical on the journeys we take whether they be to a place or somewhere deep in our hearts.

The trick is finding your way back home.

Gone Baby, Gone

The “wrong” Wal-Mart

mssinglemama — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 05:38:57 +0000

“Waste some money on this honey,” a man said as I whisked through the automatic doors on a mission to find Benjamin plane toys and a new car seat.

His buddy laughed.

“Were they just talking to me?” I asked myself silently. Then I looked up and around and I realized I’d just walked into the wrong Wal-Mart.

A few years ago, a girl about my age had been followed home from a store very near this one and then stuffed into the trunk of her car before her assailants set it on fire. My gut instinct was to turn around immediately but I didn’t.

“No. I am going to stay. I have to face this,” I thought.

I took off my new leather gloves and hid them in my purse, hoping it would help me blend in. But I couldn’t hide everything else. My nice hair cut. My fresh smell. My make up. My warm coat.

In the snack aisle a pregnant woman was scowling into her cell phone while her friend was shouting something to whoever was on the other end. Her son sat in the cart watching. An old woman walked by but I couldn’t find a smile in her eyes, only a rigid stare, one I imagined she’d fortified over years of shopping in stores like this one.

Suddenly it occurred to me that no one – none of my friends or family – knew where I was. Benjamin was with his father and I hadn’t told any of my co-workers about my trip. I thought about the girl in the trunk and texted my little sister, “I’m in the wrong Wal-Mart. It’s on ____ Road. Just in case something happens.”

I looked at my words as my iPhone took them away.

“Wrong.” Why wrong?

Why wasn’t I wrong? Why was I right?

I had entered a world I couldn’t even pretend to understand, a foreign culture in my own back yard and I was calling it wrong? The only thing I had in common with these people, it seemed, was the fact that we spoke the same language but that doesn’t make me right and them wrong. It makes me lucky perhaps, lucky to have been born with privileges. Lucky to have been taught how to work hard, how to never give up, how to believe in every one – no matter who they are or where they came from – to believe that most of us are inherently good.

While I waited to pay I saw three mothers, all of whom had bare left fingers like mine. And then as I watched them entertaining their little ones with laughs, tickles and sweet whispers I saw something that is universal in every neighborhood and on every street in every nation – the unconditional purity of a mother’s love.

It’s exactly what will get me through our cross country adventure on Thursday. That and the realization that taking a flight to California is nothing compared to what those mothers must have to endure every single day.

My life is small potatoes in comparison.

Moral Dilemma

mssinglemama — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 21:46:59 +0000

What happened:

Event 1: Benjamin and I are invited to a baptism. It’s his first time in a church. I’m worried we will spontaneously combust upon entering. Unfortunately, we don’t.

Event 2: Shortly after the baptism begins and at the most inopportune moment, Benjamin runs on a church pew in his new and very loud cowboy boots.

Event 3: Three people sit on that same pew two minutes later. They are small people and also happen to be the parents of the baby being baptised.

Event 4: The pew splits down the middle with a loud – CRACK.

Event 5: As soon as the exit is clear, I drag Benjamin out of there. No more church for us, that’s for sure.

The moral dilemma:

Do I call the church and offer to pay for the church pew?

I feel really, really bad. And yes, I know, my son is hard to control. He’s just as feisty as his mother. Clearly we need to spend more time in quiet places…

Oh, like say, on an AIRPLANE.

For a CROSS COUNTRY FLIGHT to California.

I am petrified. Completely and totally.

Travel tips from seasoned parents would be appreciated.

Almost there…

mssinglemama — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 02:05:07 +0000

I passed the 72 hour mark today.

I know it’s far from over. But I have to do this for Benjamin and for myself.

I have no excuses anymore. Life is easy now compared to then. The road is smooth and there’s not much to fear on the other side.

I just wish I had more chocolate in the house.

Today I ate three giant donuts, half a bag of edamame, half of a mediterranean pizza and half of Benjamin’s chicken nuggets (he made me buy them and then only ate one). I’ve also spent the entire evening scouring through cook books trying to pick new meals to brew up. I just can’t wait to taste something else with my new smoke free taste buds.

I’m just hoping my ass looks somewhat normal by the time this is all said and done. I could stand to gain a few pounds though. I hate being this skinny. It reminds me of the stress. My cheeks are actually supposed to be more fluffy. And I’m skinny because I never find the time to sit down and eat, because I smoke and because I drink way too much coffee. That’s not a healthy skinny. Gaining a few pounds for a properly operating set of lungs seems like a fair trade, especially when it means I may also have the energy to exercise.

And if you re-read my post “A reminder and a secret” it could have been written about cigarettes. Could Cigarette Man have been sent to make me quit? Am I just quiting cigarettes or am I also quitting mysterious bad boy men? Or have I completely lost my mind? That’s entirely possible as well. Really. I feel like a crazy person. Don’t mind me while I continue to take a jog down Nicotine Withdrawal Lane. My symptoms include talking at a quickened pace, letting Benjamin watch a hell of a lot of movies and writing crazy bad blog posts.

If I am boring you to tears please pop over to Kristin at Better Now. She just wrote a fantastic post exploring the want vs. need discussion and the bigger question I ask often, “is a man really worth all of the trouble?” Her vulnerabilities and her strength come through beautifully and I think you’ll all relate to her words… I know I did. Read it here.

No related posts.

Oh snap. This is hard.

mssinglemama — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 23:58:47 +0000

I haven’t had a cigarette in 48 hours.

Feel free to cheer me on. I need it. Because on the inside this is how I feel:

Also on my list of shit that’s really messing with me:

Benjamin is sick as hell. He’s had a fever for three days. Now I’m feeling sick.
I had to work from home today. Huge projects due. I’m frustrated. Wishing I could do it all and knowing I can’t.
I just opened iPhoto and realized that I lost over one month of photos including tons of pictures of Benjamin. At least my favorites are on Flickr, but still, this is not cool.

I apologize for my griping.

But I really am completely pre-occupied right now. Can’t lie. If you’re looking for an awesome question to ponder check out my latest post for WeTV on the things I would never do. I’m really curious to hear yours.

I hope smoking is on your list. And I promise to be back at it and in better spirits within the next 48 hours.

Speaking of smoking – what are your vices? We all have them don’t we?