Mondays.

I hate Mondays.

I fucking hate them.

Not for the normal it's time to go to work reason.

Take a moment and think about that time you felt the loneliest. When you felt trapped in your own mind and you could not get out of it to find anyone or to let anyone in.

That is often what it feels like to be a single parent when your kids are away. There is a silence that is deafening. There is no one to cook for. There is no one to drive around. There is no one to watch a movie with. There is no one to mess up your house. There is no one to get up for to get on the bus. There is no one there.

Yesterday there was. And you were so busy. But today? Today there is not. There is nothing.

But you still got up and went to wake them up because you forgot for the 847th time in a row. Then you did their laundry again – just because. Then you spent the day regretting yelling at them when they were there. Wondering if by you asking them over and over and over again to turn off the damn X-Box and then finally shutting it off in the middle of a very very very important game of Call of Duty would damage them forever and hoping that was not the last thing that they thought of.

You hope they had a good day at school. You hope they made it home ok. You hope they did their homework. You hope they practiced hard at football. You hope all the football gear made it safely back in the shared bag. You hope their dad picked up the prescription. You hope that they are feeling better and that someone knows that they like their back scratched. You hope they have a lap to lay on or someone to stir their ginger ale just right.

You hope there is nothing so awful that you miss because it’s Monday and Monday is not your day.

I hate Mondays.

Open letter to my ex's dog

Dear Rico,

I am so sad that you will never know this or be able to read it, I just hope that somehow in your own dog way you feel how much I love you. I mean I really love you and it makes me so sad that I don't get to see you anymore. I miss you so much already. You were one of the few things that connected with my soul just by being near you. I am gonna miss so much about you... walking in and you bouncing around on your hind legs scratching the mother fuck out of me pawing for some love. I am gonna miss you begging for food at the table with your ears standing straight up in anticipation of me caving in. You, taking over my lap when I was trying to work and convince me with those big eyes that napping and snuggling was a far better idea. Your kisses, GAWD your kisses - they would have lasted forever if I let you. They were the slobberiest and wettest most ridiculous kisses and they were anywhere you could get em... my mouth, my feet, my hands, my shoulder - whatever, just KISSES. I am going to miss you snuggling under the blanket and crawling almost inside my anal cavity at night. Our fights for the spot on the couch or the bed or the pillow, which eventually led to a compromise of snuggles. Playing with you outside, running around the fire-pit fighting over a stick (that eventually made you puke...usually at 5A), or chasing each other inside over one of your 700 toys that you needed to bring out all at once. You were so tough... but then if you accidentally bit me, you would realize it and immediately kiss me to death as if you were saying "sorry sorry sorry". Such a good boy. Dancing in the morning after dad left for work to Bruno Mars, he did not want you to like that song... but you LOVED it.

I will even miss your farts, Rico. Your smelly Rico butt... because it was you. I am going to miss you digging on the bed for a better spot. I am going to miss you needing that treat before I left. Road trips and car rides. Walks around the block... you are gonna get a rabbit someday buddy, I just know it. I am sad I never got to teach you to swim, I know your dad will tho' and I know you are gonna love it! Don't go too far tho', ok?

Couple things before I wrap this up, ok? Don't forget me... please. Be nicer to the mailman, he is just doing his job. Stop eating your dad's boxers, if you must - keep it in the room, it is really not something you want people to know you do. Don't ever let KC or ANY dog get the best of you. You run things. Even if you go home and weep or nap for days, don't ever let them know. Do not listen to the idiots either, you are not an asshole democrat. You are the most amazing spirit I have ever come across in my life and I miss you so much already. Do not ever change. I love you bud and I hope I can see you again someday.

Mono, Break-Ups and a Mother's Worst Nightmare.

So, let's go back to Tuesday when everything was awesome and I was sitting at Crave with my boyfriend, enjoying sushi and drinking a beer for happy hour. Things were good, no, they were great. We had just talked a few days ago about moving forward with our relationship and were pretty direct about how we felt about each other. He told me he loved me for the first time and I was pretty excited about life and just... happy.

Then, Wednesday morning I woke up in his bed to his dog face kissing me. I had not slept well AT ALL the night before, I looked at Sam (my boyfriend) and asked if he had slept as horribly as I did. He said "Yea it was terrible". Some cloud of awful had snuck in the window and decided it was going to fuck my life right in the ass. Then I felt it, my throat was on fire. I reached for my water and drinking it was excruciating. I rolled over on my side, snuggled up with the puppy and tried to sleep a bit more. The next thing I knew, Sam was standing over me, kissing me goodbye before he left for work. We said we would chat later, as we typically text all day everyday... at least every 2 hours or so. He is my best friend, we talk all the time.

As the day went on, I got progressively worse and hazy and sweaty. I was really sweaty. I mean, aggressive sweaty and my throat was just an asshole. FUCK it hurt so bad. I told Sam I was miserable and just wanted to sleep, at this point I was still chalking it up to the lack of sleep from the night before. By 8:00 I was dozing in and out of consciousness on the couch and text Sam that I was going to bed. We exchanged our kissy face emoticons and I crashed. At about midnight, I woke up drenched and my throat was just aching. I tossed and turned and eventually worked up enough energy to go in my bed. On my way, I grabbed the thermometer and threw it in my mouth. 101.3... yikes. I sent a picture of it to my boss and said I would not be working the next day. I was surprised she replied, but she did. (My boss is also one of my best friends) She said I needed to go in to the ER, she gave some valid reasoning and I was off.

I got there at about 2:30 AM. I was immediately taken back, the nurse took a throat culture and then I sat waiting for about 45 minutes. When the doctor finally came in, he gave me about 2 - 3 minutes of his time. My throat culture was negative for strep, he guessed it was viral which you cannot do anything for...my body just had to fight it. He agreed to give me a "magic mouth wash" (no shit - that is what it is called) that numbs your throat. It actually does not numb shit, it tastes like a bag of smashed assholes and makes your throat tickle for about a minute.

I went home and tried to rest and could not. My fever was not breaking, my throat was not quitting and I was feeling worse an worse. I was shaking and sweating and crying because everything ABSOLUTELY everything hurt. I got up the next morning with NO sleep and took my son to hockey camp. I went home and collapsed in my bed. I sweat, I cried, I shivered, I cried, I slept and I drooled... A LOT. I could not swallow my own spit my throat was so swollen. As time progressed, I was not able to breathe. I lay there with my mouth open as much as possible gasping for air because my throat was so swollen. What in the fuck is going on? I was terrified and tired and sick. Really really sick. I told my boyfriend that I was freaking out a little and he was really busy at work. I snapped at him at one point... it was a really long snap because I fell asleep about 4 times texting him my frustrations with his inability to respond to my pain. Later, I of course apologized for being sensitive, I knew he was at work, I just was really scared and oversensitive because I was tired. I decided to call it a night before I hated the world. I did not sleep again. More of the same: sweating, shivering, throat pain...misery.

The next morning I got up to do the mom thing again and I could barely move. I was freezing and shivering so hard, but I got him fed and off to camp. As I was coming back home, I got a message from my friend and I told her what was going on. She said the same thing had happened to her and it was viral tonsillitis. She also said they gave her a steroid for her throat swelling that helped. As we were messaging, I looked in the mirror and there were awful spots all over my tonsils. I was terrified. I immediately began googling and webmding myself to an early death. I decided I was going back to the ER. I got there and was taken back pretty quick and the doctor came in and said "I think you have mono". WTF is mono? She explained to me that it is a viral disease that incubates in your body for up to 2 months before showing it's self. It stems from some word that I don't remember but initials are "EBV" and 96% of America has it in them, just not everyone flames up. It is stored in the mouth and nose. So anywhere anyone sneezed, sweat, drooled, etc... I could have gotten it. Sharing a glass, shaking hands with a nasty mother fucker, being sneezed on... who knows. Wherever I was 2 months ago, I guess.

Apparently, mono is a big fucker. It knocks you out, and "you are gonna need help". I was told stories of people being out for months. I asked if we could check to be sure this was mono, she said yes - but not until 4-5 days after your initial symptoms will it show in my blood stream. So... Monday. I asked if my kids were at risk, if my boyfriend was at risk and how would I get any help. She said it was not that contagious, she said if I was super concerned, that I could have someone come clean the house top to bottom, but she said as long as no one came in contact with me, it was fine.

Well fuck that, I called up Molly Maids and had them come over right away. They scrubbed everything except my room. Everything. I want this thing gone. Bye. Peace. Laters.

I told Sam what the doc said and asked him to bring over popsicles and jello and soup. He said he would be over after work with it. He was and he looked at me and said "Mon, if you need me this weekend, I will be here." My heart jumped, I am not good about asking for help, ever and here was my man stepping up. Not afraid, and there for me, like he promised he would be in our talk. He stayed for a bit and told me he would pick out some movies and be there after his bike ride. I told him I would order pizza... thin crust with pepperoni - his favorite. I told my boys he was coming and they were pumped. I was beyond happy, this was a step for us. A positive step. I sent my girlfriends a text saying "guess whose awesome boyfriend is staying this weekend to help me out?"... until...

The next morning I woke up and Sam text me asking how I was feeling. I thought wow, that was nice. I had started to wonder because he had not really asked, so that was nice. I said that my fever had broken, but other than that, I still felt like shit. I said I felt more drained and tired than the day before but sleeping felt impossible. He asked if I still wanted help because mono terrified him. I was confused by this and said that yes, I had been counting on it. He proceeded to tell me that he had only asked to help because he was "trying to be nice". He said he did not want to come over because after seeing me so miserable he did not want to get sick. I started frantically looking up information showing that unless he touched me, he was fine. I sent him screenshots of information, I told him I had the house clean, but all he had was excuses.

He started asking what he would be doing anyway and that sitting around waiting for something to help with while avoiding touching me sounded horrible. I started to panic, I had told everyone I did not need help and now I was alone. I also could not believe it. Get a mask, but please don't do this to me, not now. He decided not to come, I tried to call him and he ignored it. I called back, he ignored it again. And again. I text "please don't disappear again, please." He had done this before for 2.5 months and then again recently over a silly argument. In our talk that I spoke of earlier, I made it clear that it was the worst for me, it terrified me. He replied "I want to be alone". So, I did not reply.

After 7 hours, he still had said nothing. I had forced my kids to help me with these things and my youngest looked at me and said "Where's Sam?" I said "Buddy, he did not want to get sick." He looked at me and said "Well no one WANTS to get sick, but I guess I thought there were some things more important than worrying about getting sick." I lost it. My son looked at me crying and asked "Where are your sheets?" They were in the dryer, I was just out of energy and did not want to fall down the stairs. I told him where they were. He went to check on them and they were not dry yet. He grabbed a blanket and put it over me and kissed my forehead proudly. I told him I was sorry he had to see me this way and he said it was not my fault and walked out of my room.

I decided I needed to call Sam and understand. It had been plenty of time for whatever space he needed for whatever reason. Protip guys: Martyring yourself is not hot. So I called and it rang and rang and rang and with each ring I prayed he answered. because I knew if it got to voicemail that it was done. And I did not understand. I had been a good girlfriend and I realized I may not ever know why this was happening. I left a message that probably was not anything but sobs and "Why??" and "This is not fair" that sounded a lot like elmo because my throat was so swollen. I hung up and sobbed. After almost 3 years, my boyfriend was gone. Just gone.

I waited another hour, and by waiting I mean I cried and fell in and out of consciousness on my floor for an hour, and then decided to email him. I told him I was sad, I told him I was confused and I told him that I loved him. I said I had been a good girlfriend. I said had never done anything but love him and that I did not deserve this and I deserved to be loved back. I told him I did not hate him, I told him I was madly in love with him and that if he could not love me back that he needed to be gone forever, because I deserve that. I did not want to be a fool for loving someone so much and I felt like one. I told him it was up to him and attached a link to a song and sent it.

I then obsessed over the internet and seeing if I could tell if he read it or not. There was no way to tell. I checked Facebook to see if that little bastard green light was on to see if he was online. It was not on and then that made me in to guano bitch thinking "He is never not online - wtf - who is he with? Why is he not on his phone - he is always on his phone!" I started freak texting my friends about it and then realized I looked like a mad woman and needed to exhale. So, I did.

My oldest son recently had been in trouble and I figured now was a good time as any to finish going through his phone to see if he was up to anything. I was not prepared for what I would find. I found... well... parts of my son that no mother wants to see doing things no mother wants to see. Ever. And lots of them. Posted to a website that he would allow access to perfect strangers to see. I lay there. With no sheets at 1AM. Sobbing. My son, what was he doing? He was not even home, I had allowed him to go with a friend to his house with his parents to a bonfire for good behavior. What the hell is this? Oh my God. JUST Oh my God.

I closed my eyes and I prayed. And exhaled... again. Then I dry heaved for a while. And cried some more. I eventually stopped and just stared at the wall. At some point I fell asleep and my youngest must have woken up to pee. He had apparently snapped a picture of me asleep and then turned my light off. I woke up as he hit the light and I turned around startled and just looked at him. "Sorry mom" he said and was holding Tony's phone. I said "Give me that, what are you doing?" He said he had taken a picture and posted in on Instagram, but it was not meant in malice. I smiled at him and said it was ok and I plopped my head back down on the pillow.

He again grabbed a blanket and put it over me and kissed my forehead. I told him AGAIN I was sorry he had to see me this way and he reminded ME again it was not my fault and walked out of my room. This time he stopped and turned to me and said "None of it is your fault mom. Sorry I woke you up, it is all gonna be ok."

And I believed him. I stopped crying, closed my eyes and I slept... for 4 straight GLORIOUS hours. I slept. It is now 6P, I still have not heard from Sam, my son just got home from work and is cooking dinner for his brother, my sister and girlfriends have rallied around bringing me smiles. A few friends have stopped by with food and hugs. I said "Don't hug me - you might get sick!" - they just hugged me tighter. I just cried harder. I could not believe what had happened in such a short amount of time. I still don't. But, I believe my son, it will all be ok. It has to.

I don't know what the moral of the story is yet, maybe that life can change in a second. I am not sure, but, less than a week ago - Sam loved me, I was healthy and I was blissfully unaware of what my son was doing online. Life. Is. Crazy.

I am NOT a model

So, yesterday I had the privilege of having my self esteem tested, I mean, model at a fashion show. Can I just say that initially I hated everything about it? Girls who needed 7 IVs of straight hamburger fat were parading around and suggesting somehow that they were fat in their size 0 shorts. Meanwhile, my size 8 child bearing body sat on the couch eating a protein bar and sandwich - contemplating a cupcake, watching these girls criticize themselves for being normal humans who need to eat.

Then, the longer I sat there, the more they carried on about their diets and "baby marks" and bad hair, I found myself feeling terrible about myself. I thought "Good LORD, if these women hate how they see themselves, what about me? Should I feel terrible? Well, shit - now I do."

Then I panicked. I hated everything. I hated my hair - it was too frizzy and sticking to my neck and face. I hated my make-up - I looked like a man, my eye-brows were too dark, my lips were too bright. I hated my butt - it was 4 of these models asses put together. And my boobs? Good GOD - I had enough to hand out to every one of them and still be left with some. But then, if I shared no one would fit in the clothes! All their clothes were XXS. I overheard one of them say "Ooooo the biggest we have is an XS"... WHAT? And why was I letting it make me feel bad? I don't know, but I was. And I wanted to go home.

My dear friend Linda showed up and gave me a reassuring hug and looked in to my soul (as usual) and said "Mon, it is still you under there, YOU are beautiful. YOU." Then my boyfriend showed up and gave me a big, long, much needed hug and kiss. Then text me as I walked to go check in at 10 PM for touch ups & said: "Don't be nervous. You are a beautiful and strong and(should be)confident woman"... not a girl - a woman. Huh. I have two children, I work hard and I work out everyday. I also have plenty to worry about, I do not need to worry about all of these things that were so unimportant to me a few hours prior. And yea, I AM me under all of this hair and make-up. *sigh*

The girl styling us, my dear friend Kim, had chosen in OUR group of "models" to dress everyday women. We all started with a white t-shirt and went from there. Mothers, girlfriends, wives, grandparents, students, etc. Just 7 normal folk who showed up terrified and ready to help a friend. It was not until right before I went on that it actually helped ME. After seeing my boyfriend and having a few drinks, standing in the stairway...waiting... I realized how much I actually started to love that we were all doing this. Some were chatty to hide the nerves, some stayed quiet, some just looked around, I think I actually said "I think I am gonna poop my pants". We were not models, we were regular everyday people being brave... for 3 minutes standing and walking in front of a group of people kinda saying "for the rest of you who cannot wear size 0 light-up dresses and barely cover your vagina - here is what the rest of us are wearing" (no offense to those of you who can wear that - good on ya).

I was terrified, I hated standing in front of all of those people. I hate that I hated myself for about 7 hours last night. I hate that I cried on the way home. I really hate that I had all these dumb girl feelings about it & had stop for a whiskey or 2 after the show all by myself to process. But, I did. ALL of those things I did. And it is okay, it is more than okay, it is beautiful. Exactly like this. Me. Me who is a size 8, mom, hard-worker, "strong and (should be) confident" me.

The Truth About Facebook

Yes, I have been quiet on Facebook.  I have gotten several texts and messages asking why. And, well, there are a few reasons. I will explain.

I recently went to dinner with some old friends and someone commented "Mon, I know we have not seen you in a while, but we all feel so connected to you because of your Facebook posts." That started my brain thinking... I have no idea if people are seeing these things if they don't acknowledge it or like it.

Later, at another get together, there was an entire conversation about my Facebook statuses and pictures I posted. Keep in mind, none of these people "liked" them or commented on any of them.  I forget that the world is watching sometimes, but it is not so much that I minded that they did, but more that their impression of me is from Facebook.

I am not my Facebook.

If I was my Facebook, I would be riding a unicorn in to a galaxy far far away with a light saber and a backpack full of coffee, wine, whiskey, and vodka.  I am NONE of those things.  YES, I like them, but they do not define me.

I also refrain from posting things that are too personal.  My Facebook status does not mean that is what I am.  My relationships with friends, family and my love life is private.  Because I do not display in a status who or what I am, it does not give the rest of the world the right to cross boundaries or be filthy.  I have tamed things down substantially and I do not appreciate people making assumptions one way or another based on my Facebook. But ya know what?  That is what Facebook is, now isn't it? An opportunity to give your opinion on what others put out there, so shame on me for being naive.

I guess what I am saying is, I miss the people.  I miss human interaction with my friends.  I miss people knowing ME.  And I missing knowing THEM. I have used Facebook as a means of communication, and in some cases, that is good, but in a lot of cases, it is bad...very bad. It gives the wrong impression. And despite what my "status" says, I DO care, very much, in most cases.  I WANT to know how my friends are and the impression they have of me from Facebook is not ME.

So, I thought I had better find balance.

Friends, Facebook is not real.  If you want to know me, text me or hang out with me. I am certain you will find that most nights I am running to swim or hockey or youth group.  You will know things that matter to me are far from what you read on Facebook.  And I want to know how YOU are.  I want to know... and not from Facebook. I want to know about your job, your life, your joys, your sorrows, etc.  I don't want to make assumptions.  I don't want you to make them either. I promise to make a better effort, I promise to reach out more.

I hope you do the same.