The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

Sixty days.   I can only thing that this is in fact a new beginning. Lots of changes for me in the future and I feel excited (and a bit nervous) about every single one. I will be brave.  I pray I will be kind.  I hope we're all a little more gentle to ourselves and everyone around us. My prayer for each of us is that remember that we are all on this journey of life together . . . and more often than not, we are having very similar experiences. So here's to us, humans in our messy state, living. Thank you so much. Good Night. PS  HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

I Dare YOU: Love is a tricky thing. When it's going well, it's about the best thing that ever happened to you.  You feel brilliant and beautiful, wise and witty, and best of all invincible.  Nothing can hurt you because you have someone who loves you.  Someone who cares what you think and feel and worries when you don't come home on time.  There is such comfort in good going love. And I haven't even mentioned how lovely it feels to be thought beautiful and attractive and wanted and needed.  It's addictive in how good it all feels.  We want more and more and more of it.  If we are lucky, this wanting turns to things not just physical, but emotional and mental.  Attraction becomes something deeper and more meaningful. But when love is not going well, oh Lordy, how bad that can be.  It's like the you've been sent to Siberia without a jacket or Alaska without a snowmobile.  You feel utterly abandoned, isolated, alone, and usually equally super dupe

Sundays have turned into my favorite day of the week, but today, was one of my most favorite. I am feeling more tender and sensitive to everything and everyone around me.  I was always worried that if I made myself more vulnerable and exposed, I would be a perfect target and get hurt all the time.  Oddly enough, that's not what's been happening, I feel loved and appreciated and understood.   It makes me wonder if all the walls you build up, wether on purpose or not, are not just keeping out the potential hurt, but also the potential love and warmth and overtures of friendship . . . ? Honestly, whenever we think we know better . . . I'm thinking in general we don't.  Note to self, remember you're probably wrong about practically everything.   So, here's my take away from today and the last 58 days:  The more you give of yourself, the more you get back in return.  The more love you send out, the more you feel.  The more you seek to understand thos

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my love of getting into bed at the end of the day . . . well, today, at 7:37pm, I'm calling it quits and climbing in. Sigh.  It's been a long week. What I haven't mentioned before was that both John and I got a version of Piper's illness.  I got the extreme fatigue (like literally my body hurt to move--I swear, my joints creaked like an old ladies when I walked around) and bad headaches and total disinterest in all food.  John was the extreme fatigue with crazy bad headache and if he moved, everything would move out of him.  So he stayed still and in bed for about 24 hours (only the forth time in our marriage).   We are both better, thank heavens, but I just don't want to think or do anything anymore today.  And so by getting into my PJs and washing my face and brushing my teeth and climbing into bed, I am declaring to the world (and John and children) that I am done for the day. And oh, oh oh oh, it's

When I started this crazy idea of writing for 60 days, I had this idea that if I could make myself think every day for 60 days about what I wanted to do with my spare time, the empty spaces inside of me would be fixed.  I would somehow uncover a hidden talent or desire or dream that would make me a million dollars, validate all my efforts these past 43 years, and calm the loud and crazy voices inside me. And it so many ways it has, but on day 56, looking back over the past 55 (ok, that alone makes me feel sort of amazed--maybe they're not all keepers, but I sat my not so little butt down and wrote . . . and followed through) posts, I see a theme going on here and I see how much farther this posting has gone than I thought. I feel like I'm waking up a little bit more each day. I see that under this idea of discovery what I should do in the next step of my life, that I was really trying to figure out why I felt so fractured and confused and lost.  I think in a lot of ways,

. . . you feel lonely and sad. (Warning:  Some serious honesty coming your way) I felt that way most of yesterday.  A lot of it was because I thought I'd missed my window to "be" anything . . . that my course was set and I was too old to variate or change.  Then, as I wrote yesterday, I realized it's never too late.  That's what amazing humans teach us and what great ficiton tries to teach us--it's never too late to change if we want it and when we allow change into our lives, amazing things can happen. And I am choosing to change and I feel so much better--like new in so many ways.  And with this new found bravery, willing to face some other hard things I am going through. I've realized another reason I feel so sad is because I feel like my friends, the people I've surrounded myself with for the last eight years, are all changing.  Their lives are busy and getting busier as mine is slowing down. The ones whose lives are slowing down as well ha

Just. Do. It. Pretty much best add campaign ever.  Even though I don't love Nike shoes, I LOVE this theme. Last night as I was furiously folding clothes and watching my guilty pleasure "Jayne the Virgin" (literally, I love this show), the Mama, Xo, is finally able to fulfill her dream of being a singer.  She of course is rebuffed because despite having talent, she's too old. She's "missed" her window. There's a lot more to the story, but it totally struck home to me.  I'm 43.  I've written two full length books and countless essays and haven't gotten ONE published. Not one. I sort of tried, but . . . well, after a bunch of rejections, you either keep going, or like me, let it fizzle out and go strong on the PTA, busy mama of five project (which to be fair for a few years truly required my blood sweat and tears--lots of tears) direction. Have I missed my window? Last night, I was pretty darn s

Fall has officially come to my yard.  When I walk out the back door, the air smells of falling leaves, chilled earth, and warm sun.  If you could bottle autumn it would be my favorite perfume . . . ever. So poor Piper, while feeling much much better, woke this morning feeling shaky and weak after not really eating for four days.  I let her doze on the couch for a few hours this morning instead of rushing off to school.  We were both trying to figure out how she could go feeling so exhausted and weak, when I realized that there really isn't any reason she did have to go.  She could just make it up. She missed the first two periods and by the time her lunch rolled around, she was actually hungry (for Mexican--I know crazy huh?) so we sped off, got her food (which she devoured) and dropped her off for the last two periods of school.  After I dropped her off, I called Henry (there was another shooting at his school . . . so so sad) to see how he was holding up.  H

So we head out on a perfect sunset night (Friday) . . . and I say, This is an omen, people!  This is going to be the best trip ever (but inside, I thought . . . or is this the highlight? and it's all downhill from here?  Stupid me, why do I have such thoughts . . . that often come true?!) And it was great . . . until Piper had a peanut reaction and John practically fell asleep driving.   Well . . . that changed things. Thankfully, I convinced sleepy John to pull over so I could drive.   And even more thankfully, I had an amazing play list on my iPhone . . . and having just watched tons of Jimmy Fallon " lip sync battles " (I was channelling my inner Emma Stone--see link), I kept myself very entertained lip synching to every single song on the album (they're all my favorites). I pretty much would have won every single battle.  And I only almost crashed twice when I was using both my hands to dance and sing . . . and drive (turns out not a gr