I’ve been so slammed since vacation, I’ve been terrible about blogging or even pulling the pictures from the Outer Banks off my camera.  I did it tonight, at the expense of my real work - but hey, I needed a break. 

We journeyed to Kitty Hawk because Theresa (from Allergy Apparel fame) and Gina (famous in her own right for being the hottest pregnant woman on the planet) let me and the girls tag along.  Their husbands put up with us nicely as well, especially when the Great Spider Scare of 2010 forced Lily and Arden (okay, and me) upstairs.  The bottom “section” of the beach house was, um, well.  It was . . .damp.  Theresa and Todd and the burly boys ended up stay down there - in twin bunk beds - while I got to stay upstairs in a slightly warmer but much drier bed while the girls snoozed with Landis.  I can’t thank them enough, even though I kept trying to force them back upstairs.  I think Theresa secretly enjoyed sleeping in a twin bed with her hubby.  Then again, maybe not. 

I loved vacationing with Theresa and Gina’s families because they actually know how to relax.  We sat on the beach.  We packed lunches.  We cooked most nights.  When we weren’t cooking, we were eating pizza.  We flew kites.  We took turns watching the kids so that long bike rides could be completed (I think Mark easily surpassed 100 miles on his bike during the week there), runs could be done (Theresa “ran” with me one night - which meant I was able to keep her ass in sight for all of about 3 minutes).  We took naps.  Todd played surrogate father and uber cool uncle to my girls, playing with them in the waves, dragging them around on their boogie boards, and bandaging random wounds.  He also broke up a lot of fights.  Arden and Blue Sky are quite headstrong.  The two of them together negates any country needing a nuclear weapon - their mixture is potent and all-powerful. 

It was weird.  Since I hadn’t really relaxed, the Homestead prior got me in this sort of sloth-like trance that was hard to shake.  Even watching Theresa frantically work did little to motivate me, and usually one needs a crowbar and threats of death to separate me from my shitty old Dell notebook. 

What was weird, too, was being on my first “single mom” vacation.  Being on duty 24/7 was interesting, to say the least, but having the other families around and all the kids helped dull the major absence of male companionship/help.  There were actually a couple of victorious moments where I said, “YEAH MAN, I can TOTALLY DO THIS!!!”  in sort of a Matthew McConaughey/Jack Johnson surfer voice. 

I’m really glad I went.  Leaving during nap mat season was difficult, but WiFi in the beach house made it do-able, and by Friday of this week I might be sort of caught up.  If not, there’s always next week. 

Today I am 39.  I’m sitting on my couch with a heating pad on my hip and a huge chai latte next to me.  As of right now, I have no bunions, arthritis (except in my knees), and neck problems.  I do have plenty of stretch marks, surgery scars and wrinkles, however.  I’m also a bit bloated (thanks, mother nature!). 

I’m pretty emo about turning 39.  My sis said 39 was worse than 40; so far, I’m agreeing with her.  Next year I want to be on a booze cruise with my girlfriends cougaring around, hitting on 21 year old boys and vomiting over the side of the boat.  Okay, I don’t want to do the cougar or vomit thing, but the rest sounds nice.  Next year I will officially be a divorced single mom of 2 and 40 years old.  This isn’t exactly going as planned, my life, but it’s working out.  I move to a new house in less than one month, I’ve got some amazing people in my life, and I’m healthy and strong (in a myriad of ways). 

Some goals for year 39:

1.  Lose the last 15 pounds.
2.  Run a half marathon.
3.  Run more than 3 miles without dying.
4.  Train Thora to shake and lie down.
5.  Be an incredible mom.
6.  Bring all three of my businesses back to profitability.
7.  Begin repairing my credit which is about to be pooped on.
8.  Have healthy relationships with both men and women.
9.  Stop seeing my therapist so she can go on the booze cruise with me (she’s also turning 40 next year).
10.  Visit Julie in Colorado (and her new daughter!), my sister in Texas, and my friends in Michigan (Tricia, I’m lookin’ at you)

I might be able to accomplish half of those things.

Additionally, it should be pretty easy to have a better year than 38 was. 

So far we’ve had a great Easter.  Big props to Nikki and Company for filling 58 eggs (and hiding 58 eggs, I might add) with me.  Props to my mom who is also making Easter dinner in what is, according to her, the world’s “tiniest” kitchen.  I’m not sure how she’s going to manage cooking anything in her dwarf-sized kitchen, but she’s attempting it. 

It’s been a weird Easter, as are all holidays in the first new year of my life, but it’s good. 

I’m looking foward to DanBash 2010 - it’s a combination of a graduation party/farewell to Far West End living. For those of you who don’t know Dan, @wxdan is Richmond’s favorite unofficial Weather Boy.  He is also one of my favorite people and his girlfriend Nicole is right up there too.  When they aren’t making me gag with the cuteness that is the two of them (seriously guys, get a room), I am squeeing with joy that they found each other.  Dan is graduating and heading off to Tech in the fall with Nicole in tow, so I’m finally going to use the house for a large party. If you want an invitation and you live in the #rva area, .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). It will most likely be on May 22nd. 

Happy Easter to the rest of my family and friends!

We survived, which is about all that could be expected.  The kids on the other hand stayed blissfully unaware (I think) of the tension and weirdness, and spent a lot of time screaming Santa’s name, gorging on sugar, running through the house and driving everyone nuts with the strange grunting noises their new Zhu Zhu Pets make.  Thanks a lot, Santa! 

Despite there being only 4 adults and 2 very small children, my mother made enough food to feed the entire neighborhood.  She can’t help it.  After years of cooking for large groups of family and friends, she doesn’t know any other way.  Mike got me a Kindle, which simultaneously thrilled me and made me feel horribly guilty.  We weren’t supposed to be exchanging gifts.  I kept up my end of the bargain; he ignored his.  I did get the customary lump of coal in my stocking (and seriously, there is no double entendre there), but this year I probably deserved it. 

Mike and the girls spent about equal time with his family and mine.  They loved being with their cousins ad they loved the attention they got from my parents.  The family spoiled them rotten which was good because we cut way back on gifts this year.  Santa also seemed to be on a budget, that jolly old cheapskate. Lily only complained once about not receiving the Nintendo DS-I she requested while on the lap of Short Pump Santa; I suggested that girls under age 8 weren’t allowed those because Santa thought they were too young. She blew my carefully crafted scenario out of the water by stating, “Mom, half the girls in my class have them and most got them for Christmas LAST year, which would mean they were only 6.”  Duh, Mom!  Idiot. 

Unfortunately right after Christmas Mike got some bad news which isn’t fit for public consumption.  He’d already been having a hard time with the holidays; this about pushed him over the edge.  We talked a bit tonight about the things we can both control and the things we can’t.  It was one of the most frank conversations we’ve had since this whole mess began and although it was unpleasant, we both were being honest and we were both calm.  I’m grateful for those two things. 

It seems anti-holiday to feel so sad this year.  It’s cliche to state the obvious:  holidays are hard unless everything in your life is perfect.  Each year I’m reminded that I don’t get to see my brother and niece; that my other brother and sister-in-law are really far away; that my sister is also really far away (just not as far away as Hawaii).  There is always a tinge of sadness around the holidays, because the days of being able to get everyone together just doesn’t happen anymore.  We all have our own lives and responsibilities, but I miss my family.  Add to this the faux separation Mike and I have been living and the looming “real” separation, work and financial issues, and general all-around sadness over our lives and you have one dark Christmas.  I managed to squash all my crap down inside and covered it with a layer of mocha brownies.  Mike didn’t fare as well, so we lived in alternate universes for the duration.  I am usually the world’s worst PollyAna.  I did a great job this time.  When I focused on the joy in my children, it was easier.  When my dad thanked the surgeon who fixed his aneurysm and allowed him to live yet another year, it made it much better too (he’s usually cursing the surgeon for keeping him on this earth).  I took a couple of long baths, a nap on Christmas day, and ate my weight in food.  I attempted to care for myself insomuch as I could.

On a happier note, I got some great pictures over Christmas Eve and Day.  My dad really liked Gracie and found the sweet spot on her back to scratch.  After that, she couldn’t get enough of him and he of her, unless she breathed on him.  I would say that Gracie’s breath is almost as horrific as Delilah’s, and that’s saying a lot.  Thankfully we are all used to dealing with dog breath and we managed just fine. 

I was very glad to see Gracie getting used to the kids.  She rarely barks at them and only freaks out if they accidentally run in her general direction or screech in her ears.  Even then, she only seems partially interested in eating them, and then, only to shut them up.  Because she was up for so many hours, and she is used to sleeping 22 of 24 hours a day, she fell asleep on Christmas night and was completely sacked out on the couch.  Mike was sitting on the floor, and leaned over the give her a kiss on the head.  He scared the hell out of her, and she reacted by snapping.  Unfortunately his eyebrow and forehead got the brunt of it.  Man, facial lacerations bleed profusely (side note:  I didn’t pass out!).  He has a small cut in his eyebrow and a puncture wound on his forehead.  He looks like he was in a bar fight but with less bruising.  He never blamed Gracie or got mad at her - it was totally his fault, just like when Sara’s dog Parker bit me.  It’s hard remembering that not all dogs are as dopey and dense as Thora, who would probably lick a rabid raccoon instead of attacking it.  Gracie had serious doggie guilt after and spent close to an hour with her head on Mike’s lap, licking his face whenever he let her. 

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and Happy Festivus for the restovus.  I’m frankly glad it’s over.  One more major holidayic hurdle and we’re home free til Valentine’s Day. 

Lily wanted a slumber party for her 7th birthday. Originally I told her she could invite three additional girls (plus Arden, who insisted on being included).  Somehow this morphed into inviting 6 girls, plus Lily and Arden.  8 kids, all aged 7 and under. I told them to bring their sleeping bags, cleared out the family room and let it rip.

We painted ornaments - that lasted for 10 minutes before the girls were screaming for the next project.  Poor Riley - she wanted everything painted perfectly, and all the other girls were telling her to hurry it up.  We consumed a huge platter of chicken nuggets (Abby informed us she was vegetarian - her mother shot that one down).  There was toe-painting, present-opening (we traumatized Emma when another girl got Lily the exact same Webkin she did, but a phone call to her mother made everything right again), popcorn-eating and movie-watching.  Everyone was quiet, if not asleep, at 10 pm - and didn’t start yelling for donuts until 7 am!  It was a miracle.  Best of all, this was the maiden voyage for most of the girls spending the night at a slumber party. They all made it, mostly intact after a night with us and the Lily and Arden Show.