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Thanksgiving

I’m back.

For those of you who know the horrific summer I experienced, hello. For those of you who don’t, ask, and I’ll tell you.

The last few months have been Hell on earth. I’ve never experienced so much pain, frustration and mental and emotional anguish. But I’m here. And it could’ve been so much worse.

The days at U of M Burn and Trauma Center dragged. Mindless TV filled the hours of drug-induced therapy. It was fine — then. But now I’m here. Trying to recover lost memories of  a summer vacation gone bad.

So here I am. Thanksgiving. A time to give thanks for everything I’ve had and have. Now seems the best time to jump back into the blogosphere.

  • My dad. Although he’s gone, I’m thankful for the years of carving turkey, and frying stuffing leftovers. I miss you, but I’ll never forget.
  • My mom. She is amazing. She has reinvented herself after a horrible tragedy. She still cares for me as if I were a child, and I can always count on her. I love her. And thank God I can talk to her.
  • My sister. What can I say? She is gorgous. She is strong, talented, brilliant, funny, kind…it goes on and on. She has dealt with life’s toughest moments,  but has overcome them with pride I admire.
  • My friends. I don’t have a ton of friends. But the friends I have are my world. Jacquie: You know how I feel. Without you, I’d be lost. And Lana: After all these years, I still love you. And Kristin: While I don’t understand your decision to play G.I. Jane, I love you. And Mandy, well, you know how much I love those Up North Trips. And Rachael: I don’t even have to explain how much I value our talks, our El Az lunches. I love you all.
  • My husband. I don’t even know where to start. We hit rock bottom, but you kept us from sinking. Thank you for the amazing support, care and unconditional love you’ve shown me. I am blessed.

I know there are people I’m missing. And there are moments I’m missing.

But for now, here it is:

White whine — solace at the end of writer’s block
Mindless TV — My life really is normal
Diet Coke — How I love you at 3 p.m.
Chocolate — I love you all the time, especially at 3 p.m.
Skip-bath-nights — O.K. I’ll admit it. After a day of regimen, it’s nice to welcome Friday-night lets-be-happy-in-our filth. Germs are good, right?

As we all spend time with family and friends, let’s take time to remember those with whom we’ve shared life’s most precious moments.

Thank you to everyone who has  blessed my life. I love you all.

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Going to war

I have two fellow tell-it-like-it-is moms. And one of them left for war today. A whole year. Gone. I’m not talking about the war between siblings that results in bumps and bruises.

I’m talking the real thing: Iraq.  I am terrified for her. She will be the gunner, flying as a medic (whatever that means). Thanks to the media, I have terrible visions of what this entails. She told me it’s not like that, but she’s a mom. I think it’s innate to protect the ones you love, even when it means not being totally honest. (Two words: Santa Clause.)

I’ll say it again. She’s a mother. For the next year, her girls will perform in dance recitals, get ready for dances and deal with “dumb” guys — without their mom.

Can you imagine going a year without seeing your children? Understandably, she was an emotional wreck. Dad doesn’t make sandwiches the same, or tuck in kids the same, or read stories in silly voices the same. Dad is good. But dad sometimes doesn’t cut it.

While a part of me can’t understand her decision and is angry with her for leaving, I admire her strength, her courage, her ambition. She’s following her dreams, and for that, I have the utmost respect.

But when I see the girls at parties without their mom, it’s going to be hard. I vowed I would step in as best I could. But I’m not mom. Yes. I’m a mom. But I’m not their mom.

Sacrifice. It’s by far one of the most painful requirements of parenthood. I have made countless sacrifices for my children, but nothing like my Army girl.

So here I am, writing about spilled milk, while one of my best friends is on her way to a warzone. It puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?

Please: Pray for all those who are fighting for our freedoms, who leave their daughters for a year so that we can enjoy the right to vote, the right to express ourselves without fear.

God speed.

Two tell-it-like-is moms

My Army girl and me, before war

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