BECAUSE I KNOW HOW IT IS....

when bloggers leave, I feel for you.

I have followed many blogs over the years and sometimes you really get to know people. It's always a disappointment when they juts disappear. I don't want to do that to you, my friends.

I know most of the people who read this blog -- and they know how to find me. I can look them in the eyes and tell them there is no way I am letting them read the vitriol that I am about to write.

But if you are someone who might fall through those cracks and you want to follow me to my new blogging place, drop me an email at aless1000 at aol dot com. Let me know who you are, assure me that we will never meet, and I will send you a link.

KEEPING YOU UP TO DATE

CONFESSION #167: There is a reason why I never used cocaine.

It's because I am an addict by nature. One line in a stranger's bathroom and it would be a fast track to me becoming an undisputed crackhead.

I am the kind of girl people assume has a hot and spicy past. Mama friends are shocked when they find out I never experimented with hard drugs -- because even though I was fun and ran with a fast crowd, I happen to know myself very well. Even at 18 and 19 years old, I knew not to go where I couldn't handle myself.

And so what happened, after 18 months of writing this blog and amassing a very humble group of readers, I started a new blog and saw instant popularity. Within 2 weeks, I had 5 times the number of readers and 3 times the number of followers than I ever had here. Sometimes I would get 18 comments on a post. And it became like coke for me.

And I didn't handle it well. So yesterday, I deleted the account.

Because I have a few of you who have read this blog religiously -- some of you for a year or more -- I feel like I owe you the explanation of where I am right now with my writing.

I don't want to be censored anymore. I don't want to write (exclusively) about my kids anymore. I had always assumed that this blog would become profitable, and it hasn't. And in a lot of ways it has hurt me socially, because friends in town read it and then they feel they know everything about me and yet I don't have the benefit of knowing anything about them. This has led to a near-fatal loneliness that resulted in serious breakdown last night.

And so there you have it. MindfulMama is not invincible, and does not always have her shit together. And I said shit. And I need to say shit more often.

When I start my new blog, I will be able to share that blog with some of you, but not all. I can't let blog readership mean friendship, and I can't have friendships that are a one-way street into my soul. This is nobody's fault but my own, and it is all based on valuable experiences that have come from this journey.

The summary: I don't want to be a mommy-blogger, and I need anonymity. My heart isn't in it anymore. At some point in the near future -- after a Blog-tox of sorts -- I will be moving on. I need some time to print out some old posts, so my kids will understand me one day (I keep lots of these blog entries with your comments in a 3-ring binder called "My Life in Words") and I need to make things right with my friends at MetroMama. Maybe they will need a new MetroMama blogger, and maybe that is something YOU out there might be interested in.

This isn't goodbye. Not yet. But I felt I owed you these words all the same.

A BRIEF FAREWELL with updates

CONFESSION #166: I have run out of things to say. And yet, I am spending way too much time banging away at these keys.

Pardon me while I go on a short blogging hiatus so that I may find the time to:

* live my life
check

* grow my business
working on it

*organize my house
not even close

* shag my man senseless
CHECK

* brush my kids' hair and clean their fingernails
still on the to-do list

* defragment my files
check

* scrub my floors
maybe later today?

* figure out how the hell I am going to make a living for the next fiscal year
burying my head under the couch cushions

* wash all the sheets
check

* plan my next mama getaway
check-- CHICAGO IN NOVEMBER!

* lose 5 more pounds
very close...

* smell the roses
trying to

* harvest the veggies
check! lettuce, spinach, peas

* figure out what is making my car smell like someone's ass
check. it was once a cheeseburger from McD, became a ball of black fuzz under a booster seat. HEY! I didn't EAT it, did I?

* catch up with friends I have neglected
getting closer...

* get back to making art (without words)
halfway there

* go on road trips
in the works..

* live my life
trying.

make sure to miss me while I am gone :-)

GIVE ME COFFEE OR GIVE ME DEATH

CONFESSION #165: My brain functions in the morning but my body does not.

I have gotten into a comfortable routine of waking up, stumbling toward my coffee pot, drooling while the coffee drip drip drips to life and then sitting down and updating my many blogs. For some reason, my thoughts are fresh in the morning and as the day wears on, I am unable to think clearly as my day becomes muddled with activity.

In the evening, I go to the gym and I run. This clears my head, helps me sleep and reduces stress.

Due to a scheduling conflict (otherwise known as: my husband does whatever the hell he wants and I have to work around it -- sound familiar ladies?), today I had to wake up early to fit in my workout.

My alarm woke me at 5:50, and by 6:10 I had tripped over my own feet 300 times trying to get out of the house. Usually, I run right out of my driveway, no stretching, no warming up. Today, I walked for a good 1/2 mile before I could even contemplate speeding up.

Eventually, I ran. I squeezed in 3 miles before I had to get home so the Mr could make it to work on time. But unlike my leisurely and stress-reducing evening runs, this one was torture. I hated every song on my iPod -- too loud, too fast, too slow, too much. I hated the way my stomach felt -- empty, rumbling, vacant. I hated not having cleared my head and not having had any coffee. Blech.

Back to my regular routine, I think. I am officially set in my ways.

I DO HAVE HOPE

CONFESSION #164: Sometimes your comments make me think. And sometimes that hurts my brain.

In response to my post about my mom, I received the following comment:
Hope Is My Middle Name said...
As the mother of a 30-year old daughter, I've learned that the only things I can talk to her about without starting a fight are: how wonderful she is, how wonderful her husband is, how wonderful her children are and...I guess that's about it! One day you'll be the mother of an adult daughter and you'll see what I mean.

Why, yes, this comment inspired me to think. And laugh a little too because I know what a presumptuous a$$hole I am when I judge someone in whose shoes I have never walked. I have been humbled a thousand times since having my own daughters, and my mother and I have laughed about this. I write about it, I think about it, I talk about it. So I get it.

And yes, I know that having teenagers will humble me further and having adult daughters will send me into an early grave.

I laugh about your comment, Hope is my Middle Name (and by the way, Hope really IS my middle name), because you described my younger sister. And it goes for not only my mother but for everyone in her life. She judges everyone on how introspective the questions they ask HER are. So yes, unless you are openly professing your admiration and love for her and her kid and her husband, there isn't much to talk about that won't ultimately direct the conversation as such. So thanks for the chuckle.

I, however, am a middle child who needs very little by way of compliments and validation from my parents, or from anyone else for that matter. I know exactly who I am and how wonderful I am ;-) and all I want from my mom is a mom.

Someone who is concerned with my emotional well-being, who cares about my life and who prides herself on being an attentive grandmother. Someone who can offer me tidbits of wisdom and share pieces of her life without telling me what to do with mine. Someone who offers help and reaches out for help in equal measure. Support, Mutual respect. I want to laugh with my mom, about anything. And lately, it seems we are getting closer.

She's been sharing stories with me about my dad's struggle with cancer. (Dad is not exactly one to share) She has been more open and honest about her goals and dreams for her own life. Now that we have severed the business ties between us, she is more open to talking about her business without a guard up.

So we are making some progress I am enjoying it. I am still waiting for Super-Gramma but it might be a few more years. And my mother knows very little about my actual day to day life because she is too wrapped up in herself to care, but that too comes from what I believe to be a very dark place that she is unaware of. (fear of losing my dad). So really, in general, it's all good.

But I am just so, so careful not to slip back into the old ways. Thanks for making me dig a little deeper on that :-)

GOING POSTAL

CONFESSION #163: I have the occasional day when I am supermom.

Take yesterday for example. I was inspired. I was creative. I created MAGIC.

We have a little wooden store where the kids usually sell plastic fruit, but guess who was sick and F-ing tired of picking up the fruit and placing it back on the store shelves? Yeah. ME.

We also have this little doll armoire that nobody really ever played with.

And I have a drill and a saber saw and I am not afraid to use them. I have acrylic paints and paintbrushes and I am not afraid to use them either.

I have a friend who gave me a case of envelopes, and I have paper and ink pads and stamps and stickers. I have crayons and markers and glue and scissors.

And now? I have an interactive Post Office that keeps the kids busy for hours.

Yup. Supermom.

MORE ON MY MOM

CONFESSION #162: I am not making the kind of progress with my mom that I had hoped to.


***warning: DOWNER POST AHEAD***

I am not one for New Year's Resolutions but I had decided around the beginning of the year that this would be the year I would change some dysfunctional patterns of communication with my mother. There are two main areas here:

1. The Gossip Thing
2. The Weight Loss thing

I nailed the gossip thing down during our last blow-out, letting her know I would no longer be feeding her gossip, or listening to her gossip, about my two sisters or anyone else. So far, she slips from time to time and I do the dog-training maneuver where I immediately turn my back on her and wait until she changes the subject before I open my posture back up to her. This seems to work, and without those subjects contaminating us, we've been able to talk about other stuff, real stuff. We see each other much less frequently, I think because we often have nothing to say to each other, but that's okay too.

But the weight loss thing. This is proving more difficult.

So here's the deal. It is starting to happen: I am losing weight. In the past 6 weeks, I have lost nearly 10 pounds, with a goal of about 10 more. The comments have started rolling in ..."You are getting SKINNY!"..."I can see it here and here and here" (with pinching hand gestures)..."Are you shrinking?"

And when these comments come from my friends, I beam and nod and explain how hard I am working and I appreciate the acknowledgement that it is, indeed, working.

But with my mother, I turn into a ball of flames.

This is because I have a long history with my mom of her being obsessed with thinness and her absolute favoritism of her thinnest daughter at any given time. I have resented this for...I don't know...ever?

And so when she saw what I was eating at Diva's birthday party and questioned me about it, I explained that I was on a health kick (I avoid the word "diet" in general, but particularly when talking with my mother) and that I was changing my eating habits.

She was hungry for more information. I reluctantly told her exactly what my strategy was, but then guided the night back to Diva.

Then the emails started.

HI HONEY! Are you losing any weight? How is the diet?

I ignored her at first, but they kept coming. How is your new diet? How much weight have you lost?

So I gently responded:

Mom, it's not a diet and it's no big deal and I don't want you to make a fuss. I feel great and I am eating well and that's the most important thing. So let's let it go, eh?

No response. Yes! I think I hit the mark.

Then 3 days later, I walked into her office and immediately:

Ooooh! You look like you are losing weight! So great! How much have you lost?

And for the past 3 weeks, when I see her on Wednesday mornings, it has been the exact same thing.

I tried the dog training posture trick. Didn't work. I tried changing the subject. Nope.

So yesterday, I looked my mother square in the eye and said Drop. It.

Because right below the surface of my skin lie a thousand memories of this exact type of questioning at family get-togethers, with the thinnest sister at that moment getting accolades and compliments and ooooh and aaaahhhs and the other two sisters getting completely ignored.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have often been the thinnest of my sisters and so I have often been the subject of this dripping enthusiasm. And instead of loving it, I see the faces of my two sweet sisters sitting there staring at me, all of us feeling uncomfortable and irritated.

I remember being a teenager and have a sit down with my mom where I asked her to buy us real food instead of just having Dexatrim in full supply. "But it helps with your appetite!" she said. But I want to eat, I explained.

My relationship with food has come so much further than my relationship with my mom.