Time Is On My Side...

The block party is coming to an end. I have taken this Blog as far as it can go and it's time to pull the plug. And it's fitting that one of the last entries was about my beloved friend, Katy. Because not a day goes by that I don't think about her.

But when I started this Blog almost a year ago, I wrote it to document my own healing process. I knew that I needed to work through some of the stuff that had been keeping me down, and I wanted to finally push through some of the pain that I kept hidden away. And even though I am not 100%, let's just say I am ready to move on.

This year has been a wild ride. So many things have changed. So many things have stayed the same. But it has never been dull. Natalie got accepted to both the gifted middle school and the International Baccalaureate Middle School. When I read the acceptance letters, I thought my heart would explode with pride and love. She chose the IB school and is extremely happy with her decision. Charlotte turned 7 in March and has matured into this amazing creature. Every day she reminds me of my own potential and how life is mine for the taking. She has grown in ways I never imagined this year and I see no end to her curiosity and brilliance.

Ah, this year. I made decisions this year that have surprised me. I ended relationships that were one-sided, with people who didn't deserve what I have to offer. I blended passion and knowledge by working at both the Delightful Dish AND as an Image Consultant (see, it's the food and the chopping that I love, it's the fashion sense that I know...). I wrote and wrote and wrote and had some great stuff published. I came to my senses and stopped making trips to Elizabeth City. I lost my best friend to cancer. I watched Ilene's marriage come to an official end. I deleted over 1000 emails from my inbox. I saw my parents get older. I quit the "only bad thing I do". I helped a friend and a sister get some cool jeans that show off a little ass. I drank too much wine. I trusted a friend and got hurt. I gained 15 lbs. I made so many cupcakes that I can do it in my sleep. I stopped looking for the white car in the driveway. I hid behind motherhood. I went out on a few dates. I started looking for the white car in the driveway. I took a risk and answered a 2 year old email. I had lunch with someone I knew 28 years ago...when I was only 16 years old. I read books, checked homework, made dinner (breakfast and lunch), hot glued projects, sang Karen Carpenter songs, played games, drove endless times to the soccer field, wiped tears away, laughed until my stomach hurt and listened to "High School Musical" so many times, I know the entire CD by heart ("get your, get your, get your head in the game..."). I stayed up nights wondering. I stood on the soccer field and watched Natalie grow up right before my very eyes. I stopped looking for the white car in the driveway. I made sesame noodles and blue cheese/bacon dip for my friends. I thought about golf. I listened to Charlotte at a Mother's Day Program talk about what a good mother I am and why she likes it when I wear dresses to work. I realized that I deserve more. I found out that it's all about a cycle and how was I going to end the cycle? I thought and thought and thought. And I sat at this computer and wrote about my life.

Thank you for reading my Blog. Thank you for allowing me to go on and on about life, love and the pursuit of single motherhood. And thank you to those THREE people (and you know who you are...L, C, and R.) who have checked my Blog every single day looking for the new words according to Rose. That meant more to me that you will ever know.

So now it's time to live my life. And this is the end of my writer's block party.

But don't worry, time is on my side.

Yes it is.

We Will Remember...

She died. My friend, Katy, she died this week. She was the friend with all of the different cancers. She was the friend who survived for an amazing 15 months after being diagnosed. She was the friend whose daughter is one of Natalie's best friends. She is the friend who I loved.

The memorial service is today at 4:00pm. Natalie and I are going. We have to get there early because I have a feeling the church will be overflowing with people also wanting to say goodbye to their beloved Katy. The memorial service is today...and it's raining.

Last night Natalie and I started talking about the things we will remember about our dear friend, Katy.

So far this is what we have come up with...I am sure in the next few weeks, days, months and even years....we will continue to remember more about our friend, Katy.

We will remember…Katy
By Rose & Natalie

Natalie will remember Katy at the Gator Park last summer eating a hamburger. It was a terrible looking, grayish burger sealed in a plastic bag, fresh out of the microwave. Katy tried to make it taste (look?) better with a little catsup and mustard, but alas, she ended up unceremoniously spitting it out in the trash…after, of course a polite “Excuse me”.

I will remember that Katy made special spinach quiches… just for Natalie.

I will remember once when Katy was over…she asked me what I was doing. When I told her I was making gravy, she look surprised and said she had never made it from scratch. We laughed because as it turned out, I was more of a Southern Belle then she was…

Natalie will remember Katy getting up at midnight to get the girls (at one of the numerous sleepovers) some rocky road ice cream, because apparently, a sleepy Auntie said ‘No, its late girls go back to bed…’

I will remember Katy getting so excited over Kim’s plant and barbecue sale at her school. I am sure it had some official name, but I don't know what it is; all I know is that Katy loved that event.


I will remember Katy for being the light. Some people have the light. Most people are lucky enough to gravitate towards it. Katy, she was the light. And not only was SHE the light, but also guided people towards goodness and light for themselves. Most of the time without them even knowing it.

I will remember Katy and her family. Leon. Kimberly. Kim. Nancy. Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes. Sometimes the girls and I wanted to go over to there, just to bask in the warmth of the house. I remember Mrs. Rhodes at the bus stop on cold day, looking dazzling in a red topcoat.


I will remember Katy calling me on Saturday mornings asking ‘What’s Natalie doing today? Does she want to go to Jeepers with us?’ Well, duh. And of course, Natalie was usually ready by the time I hung up the phone. I wonder if Katy did that, knowing I really needed a break.

I remember one Valentine’s Day, I actually had a date (miracles DO happen)…I remember Katy watched the girls for me while I had dinner at Sal’s. But in the end, Katy turned out to be my real Valentine.

I remember one rainy and cold night, as I was picking up the girls from Katy’s house; Abbey (our Boston Terrier) locked me out of the car (while it was running). Katy was so worried about how I was going to get back in the car. But I assured her that our highly intelligent (and well trained) dog could unlock it for us, since she was the one that locked it in the first place. 5 minutes later, after many ‘Abbey, shake, Abbey shake, Abbey shake’ (thus making her paw go up and down on the lock), voila, Abbey unlocked the car! I will remember that all of us laughed for another 5 minutes in pouring rain.


I will remember Katy and her courage, strength and determination.

Natalie will remember Katy for taking her and Kimberly to see the movie “National Treasure”…first, the box office staff gave Katy a difficult time for using some sort of pass, next, a few minutes into the movie, Katy realized the movie was grossly inappropriate for the girls and FINALLY, she demanded her money (pass) back from the box office. Natalie and Kimberly thought the whole experience was hilarious in a 9 year old way…

I will remember Katy and the one time Natalie got on the wrong bus going to their house after school. Katy called me at work, terrified that I would angry. Angry? Never. And of course, we ended up laughing about it in the end.

I will remember Katy because she loved me for exactly who I am…wicked sarcastic streak and all.

I will remember one of the first times we took Kimberly out to dinner, and Katy tried to give me money for Kimberly’s dinner. I told her that with us (Katy-Rose), we shall never keep track of who pays for what, when and how. We were like family, no one keeps score. She agreed.

I will remember the time Katy and I promised each other we would never say “Are you sure?” Especially when it came to watching each other’s daughters.

Natalie will remember that Katy bought her the canopy that covers her bed and protects her as she sleeps.

I will remember sitting with Katy in her sun room, talking, talking, talking.

Natalie will remember in 2nd grade, coming home to Katy’s house every day after school. And to let off some stream? She and Kimberly would roll around on the kitchen floor and scream at the top of their lungs. They loved that crazy afternoon activity.

I will remember the day, a few months ago when Katy and I talked about how Kim and Nancy lived with them and how perhaps from the beginning is was all meant to be. I remember, she held my hand and smiled.

We will remember Katy and be grateful she was in our lives.

10 Cats

Sometimes I don't get men. Okay, not all men. Just two men. Sometimes I don't get just two men that are supposed to be my friends.

First case, my friend from Elizabeth City. 53 years old and afraid of a commitment? Oy vey. Tick tock, tick tock, dude. And don't get me wrong, I didn't ask him for a one. (Commitment, I mean. Not a clock.) But I just think playing hard to get at 53 years old (or at any age really) seems sort of...silly. The whole push-pull of it all. Eeeks. To me? It feels like he's chasing ghosts. Keeping the options open. Or worst? Playing games. Okay, I admit, I love a rousing game of Crazy 8's. But I think that I am getting way too old and way too cranky to play games...especially with a 53 year old man who doesn't know what he wants. Or doesn't want.

Second case, a best friend from Greenville, SC. We have known each other for about 3 years. He's the one I call if I need to cry and Ilene is in a meeting. He's a great guy. Sensitive, smart, handsome. Tall. And although our friendship blurred the lines a little; thankfully, we ended up back as friends. We have always managed to stay honest. We prided ourselves on always telling the truth about our lives; the politics, the family, the dating (of other people). Or so I thought. I found out recently that he never told me the whole truth about the woman he now lives with (no, he's not gay) and that he never told her the whole truth about me (which clearly violated a 'having a best friend of the opposite sex rule').

What is it about men? Is honesty voluntary or selective with them? Do they pick and choose which days they will tell the truth? Hmmm. Let's see...Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday look good for telling the truth. Are men somehow exempt from the whole 'honesty is the best policy' thing? Sheesh. Look dude(s), just tell the truth. Let the chips fall where they may. Stand up and say it even if it might hurt the hell out of someone. Just say it. Just do it. Don't be a coward. Don't be a wuss. Just tell the truth. And yes, we might cry. But even if we cry, it's okay. Crying isn't some hormonal thing. It's crying. It's an expression of an emotion. We don't use it to manipulate your grand masculinity. We don't use it as leverage. No, we are crying because we FEEL something. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. Something. Remember, we are crying because we feel something. We are not crying because we are weak, inferior or wrong.

So tell the truth already. Have some respect. Get it over with already. Rip the band aid off. And do the right thing.

Or not...because I guess it is Thursday.

At Least You Lost Some Weight

About a year ago, in a state of insanity, I broke down and told my parents about the Zen-like heartbreak I had so painfully experienced. There I was, finally taking off the mask; sitting in the very house that I grew up in, the tears streaming down my face, revealing a side of me my parents had never seen before. I told them of my courage to love again, the humiliation of standing on a porch and him not answering the door, and the fog that I had been living in for the past few months. At 42 years old, I had never been this honest with my parents; even after we all experienced the end of my 15 year marriage a few years earlier.


My father was kind and supportive, patting my arm with his own smooth, soft hand and whispering 'Rose, oh, Rose...' I could tell he felt genuinely sorry for me and my Zen-like heartbreak. After so many years of carrying the burden of silently fighting my parents, I thought this might finally be the end of that well traveled road.

And then I looked over at my mother. My mother. She had a familiar look on her face, it was one that I have seen many times in my 42 years, one that I know well. My mother? She looked bored. However, as our eyes met, she came alive, cleared her throat and imparted her words of wisdom upon me. And I was ready. Finally at 42 years old, I was ready to accept life exactly as it is and finally listen to my mother. And then? She uttered those 6 words that sum up my relationship with my mother.

She said, 'At least you lost some weight.'

'At least you lost some weight.'

Well, okay then. Thank you very much. You have been a lovely audience.

'At least you lost some weight.'

Talk about a reality check.

Look, I love my mother. I do. We all do. Through all of this, I know one thing for sure. I love my mother. She is married to my moody father and has been for the last 50 years. She is the mother to 4 grown, (fabulous, intelligent, talented) daughters. She is the grandmother (Lola) to 7 amazing, brilliant, beautiful grandchildren. She is a pillar in the community. She dresses like Alex Carrington on Dynasty. She isn't warm and fuzzy. She isn't going to bake cookies with my daughters. But she is, well, she's my mother.

Once when I was in high school, I complained to my mother about following in the footsteps of my Homecoming-Queen-Dating-The-Captain-Of-The-Football-Team-Beautiful-Big-Sister of mine. And I remember my mother said, 'Rose you can be smart or your can beautiful...Dad and I are glad you're smart.


Ouch.

But here's the thing. Maybe she's right. Oh, not about the smart AND beautiful thing. Because we ALL know that women can be both. If fact, most of the women I know are both. But maybe in the cold harsh light of reality, maybe she is right. Maybe, just maybe, it IS the lowest common denominator that really matters. Maybe it IS about the 'look at the bright side of things'. It certainly would simplify things, now wouldn't it? I mean, if the bright side of things, the loss of 20 lbs and 2 dress sizes is the one thing that remains from the heartbreak, well, doesn't that put it all in prospective? Ah, so it took some time to mentally get over it. Yeah, the tears. Yeah, the pain. Yeah, the healing. Blah, blah, blah. But maybe it's the truth that matters.

At least you lost some weight.

Maybe instead of searching the universe for the answer to why my heart got broken, maybe the answer is that there is no answer.

But when you look at it through my mother's bright side? At least you lost some weight. It sort of makes sense and hurts a hell of a lot less than the alternative.

Here's the thing. A few weeks ago I got really sick. Scary sick. Emergency oxygen treatment sick. Bed rest sick. Hundreds of dollars in medications sick. And believe me, it was a terrifying ride. I felt like I was in a dream, hearing myself take every breath. It's mind boggling to me how through those times (like my emergency gallbladder surgery in 2002, when I drove myself to the Emergency Room. Duh.), I remain strong. I figure it out. I proceed. I do. And I carry on.

But during the recovery time (for me about 3 1/2 days), I spent lots of time coughing, sleeping and thinking about my daughters. Thinking about my family. Thinking about my friends and Elizabeth City. Thinking about health insurance. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. And I found myself feeling down and out.

And now, it's all over. My healthy life has resumed back to normal. I can breath again. I can mother again. I can cook again. I can write again. I can think clearly again. And the scary ride is just a distant memory.

But I wonder in a case like this, if my mother's bright side is the right side? That through a painful complicated experience is usually the simplest of end results.

Because honestly? Through all of the sickness, the medications, the sleep and the scary ride, my mother was right, once again when she said last week...

'At least you lost some weight.'

Modern Love

Modern. Love. Modern love. Have you ever wondered what is modern love? Hmm. Modern love.

I guess for my hometown newspaper, The Virginian Pilot, Modern Love would be...me.

ME!

I am thrilled to write that I was published in the Virginian Pilot last weekend. (God, remember, when it was called the Virginian Pilot-Ledger Star? And CVS as People's Drug Store...and Arlo was still on the radio? Oh. He still is on the radio. Humpf. Some things never change.) This isn't the first time, I have been published in the Pilot (nor will it be the last, I hope...), but still, it's so very cool seeing your name in print.

So. I was published last weekend in a column called "Modern Love". Yes, stupid title, cool columns. Usually the Pilot uses New York Times writers for this column, but now they want to try and local voice. (Me? Me? Me?). And the best part? There was a TEASER on the front page about my article. Yippee. On the front page. Yippee again.

Anyway, please allow me to brag. C'mon, indulge me a little. Just a little? So here I am, Modern Love, in black and white, with an older piece I wrote about 2 years ago, "Dancing at the DMV'. Damn. I loved this piece. It was so...hopeful.

And the no, I had nothing to do with the illustrations...


http://epilot2.hamptonroads.com/Default/Scripting/ArticleWin.asp?From=Archive&Source=Page&Skin=VirginianPilot&BaseHref=VirginianPilot/2007/01/20&EntityId=Ar04001&ViewMode=GIF

The Whole Package

Have you ever noticed that "Package Deals" are never exactly what you want? Maybe you wanted onion rings, instead of the fries? Or maybe you didn't need the rental car with the airfare AND hotel? It's like the Package Gods put together a deal that looks good on paper, but is not so good in real life.

So, maybe once or twice you got the Package Deal and you discovered that you were never really happy? Like something was missing? And even though it might have been easier, more convenient and even cheaper to go with the Package Deal, it was never the most satisfying. So. Perhaps the next time, you decide to go al la carte and be done with it. Sure, it might be a little more money, a little more time, a little more effort, but in the end, you get what you want, right?

Sometimes dating is a lot like those 'package deals'. Good on paper. Not so good in real life. And somehow you really believe it should be good, since it appears to be exactly what you want...

But what happens, like in the Package Deals, is that you are only focusing on ONE part of what you really want. 'Hmmm. The triple bacon and mushroom cheeseburger on sourdough sounds exactly like what I want...but I don't need all of those fries...and I want a milkshake instead of a big soda. Hmmm. But, it IS only $4.99 for the package deal, and all you have to say is 'I want the #5, please'...so maybe I will just get it.'

And so it goes. You end up with the damn fries and a big Coke to go along with the object of your your desire...the triple bacon and mushroom cheeseburger. Humpf. Sure, you eat it all, but in the back of your mind, you know it isn't what you wanted at all.

You should have asked for the onion rings and the chocolate milk shake to go with your triple bacon and mushroom cheeseburger, because that's what you REALLY wanted. But, we all know that sometimes it's hard to simply ask for what we want.

Okay, so maybe for some people, asking for what you want or need isn't a tough thing. And for all of you out there, I salute you. You are those people that can clearly communicate what they want or need from another person. Wow. Here's the funny thing. I can do that with my kids, no problem. They know what is expected from them. They know what I need from them. And I know what they need. Our communication is very clear. Both ways. That relationship is easy.

It's some of my other relationships that go into that gray area.

Why is it that I am afraid to simply say what I want? Am I scared that I won't get it? Am I scared that I don't deserve it? Or am I terrified that wanting something makes me weak somehow. Like I should be grateful for what I have and not want anything else? Ah. Maybe that's it.

Sort of like the Stones singing 'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need' . Maybe I feel like the 'wants' are too much to ask for? So I am just surviving off basic needs?

Well, it's a new year, and it's time for me to understand what I truly want in a relationship...

I want the whole package, not just the package deal. I want to be in a real relationship. I want to remarry someday (and that's the first time I have said/typed THAT one out loud) I want to make plans for the future with someone. I want to work together towards a common goal with someone. I want to grow old with someone. I want the loves of my life, Natalie and Charlotte to be spend time with the love of my life. I want to integrate all of the Rose's, the Soccer Mom Rose, the Anxious Rose, the Dating Rose, the Giving Rose, the Room Mother Rose, the Neurotic Rose, the Entertaining Chef Rose, integrate all of those into a REAL relationship with someone. I want to plan to spend every Christmas with someone. I want the hot sex AND the hot chocolate. I want to share the stresses as well as the successes with someone. I want the family parties with someone. I want 'brunch with the sister' with someone. I want to be able to cry and not feel weak. I want to be able to be angry and not feel guilty. I want to love and be loved.

And I realize that if I settle for anything less right now, I am buying into the myth of the package deal, only because it's easier. And truthfully? It's also exactly what I thought I wanted. But I don't want to settle. I don't have to. Because I do have what I need the most, I do have my girls, my friends, my work, my family...my life.

And to me? It IS the whole package.

So, in the meantime I will wait...and have some onion rings on the side.

Pox and the City

5 days before the girls were supposed to fly to Dallas for Christmas, Natalie got the chicken pox. It was a very mild case, but it still was the chicken pox. Natalie stayed home from school for the next 4 days; drank lots of juice, drew cool pictures, read some books and simply hung out with me. Although poor Natalie missed a piano recital, a chorus solo, holiday parties and 4 days of her beloved school, I have to admit we had a pretty good time together. And then somehow the day before she was to get on an airplane to spend Christmas with Gary...the chicken pox disappeared. So, miraculously she and little sissy, Charlotte got on the airplane (with their grandfather) and flew to Dallas.

Ah, then 5 days before the girls are to fly back home to VA...Charlotte got the chicken pox.

It was a miserable phone call listening to my dear Charlotte tell me all about the little 3 pox that she found on her tummy. 'Mommy, I woke up this morning and they they were...' I wanted to cry, but knew that I shouldn't. So, instead I listened to her tell me about the pox ('They are red and all in a row...'), where they were, how they didn't itch (yet), and that she missed me. So much.

Charlotte didn't cry, but I could tell that she was about to, so I told that I loved her and I would see her soon, I promise. And when we hung up, I could feel my heart break knowing that my youngest daughter had the chicken pox, and was a time zone away.

Insert tears here.

Intellectually, I knew she would be okay with Gary and Tricia (damn, we do love that Tricia), I knew they will gently put on the Calamine lotion, I knew they will rub her back and tell her it's okay. I knew that SHE would be okay. Life goes on with or without me. But, emotionally, I still wanted to be with her. I wanted to smell her head. I wanted to look at her while she slept. I wanted to sing her "We've Only Just Begun".

Okay, okay, I guess sometimes, motherhood defines me. And this was one of those times. Here I was alone at Christmas time while one of my children was in Dallas with chicken pox. It would have been easy to slip into Mommy mode; making smoothies and playing Crazy Eights. But it was not meant to be this year, this year I was on my own. Without a child in sight.

I know that as a single mother, I hide behind my kids. I hide behind the soccer games, the piano lessons, the play dates and the cupcakes. I make them the the fence that keeps life out. And truthfully? Sometimes hiding behind them is easier than being out there.

Look, I know that I DO have a life outside my kids; I have my job, my friends, my writing and occasionally, I have Elizabeth City. But ah, motherhood. Motherhood is the ponytail of my life. Easy. Comforting. Uncomplicated.

It pulls the other stuff out of my face, clears my vision, and makes me feel better.

And for some reason, motherhood even makes me feel safe. Safer than I ever felt in my life. And I believe that everyone needs a place to feel safe.

Even from chicken pox.