Counting Down the Days

I’ve spent the last few hours going through old photos.

How did the time go by so quickly? I ask myself as I cry a little bit.

Or a lot.

It’s not the end of the world, just the end of this phase in his life, our lives.

It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay.

I just hope he knows how much I’ve enjoyed being his mama. I hope he knows how much joy his sweet little face and wonderful personality has given me over the past nineteen years. I hope he knows how damn proud I am of this brave choice he’s made.

I worry for him and the experience that lies ahead for him. I can see that he’s nervous , but not afraid. He’s determined, he’s strong, he’s brave. I hope that the love and care I’ve given to him helps to get him through the tough times in boot camp.

A dear friend left a comment on my last post that will stay with me during the weeks he’s gone.

If it’s any help, my husband (who is a Marine) said that at his most difficult moments in boot camp, he thought about his mom. You’ll be with him there and he’ll still be Andrew when he gets back.

It helps more than you know, sweet friend. Thank you.

Me and Andrew just after his junior high school graduation.

Seventeen Days

I need to write this post to help me work through all of the emotions that I’m feeling. I probably won’t go back to proofread. Not right away, anyway. Please excuse any mistakes I’ve made. I’ll come back to edit things later.

Last night I was at Ethan’s basketball practice watching my son run suicide after suicide. I picked up my phone to play a game of Draw Something when I noticed I had missed a call from Andrew. I was about to call him back when a text message from him came through.

“Mom, can you please call me right away.”

I didn’t panic, but I was definitely concerned. My mind started to race a bit. Was he in a car accident? Did he get pulled over? Did he run out of gas? I hope everything’s okay…

He answered the phone.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” He said. “Mom

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, a few people were discharged last night and so they’ve moved my ship date up. I’m leaving for boot camp on May 1st.”

I was stunned into silence.

“Mom?”

I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Mom?”

“Are you joking, Andrew?”

“No, Mom. I’m serious. I’m leaving on May 1st. I have to go to L.A. tomorrow for testing. Can you take me to the recruiting center at 5am tomorrow?”

He was supposed to leave on June 4th. We were supposed to have a going away party for him that weekend. I was supposed to have seven weeks left to spend with my son before he was shipped off to become a United States Marine. I had so many plans for the next seven weeks. Those plans have been changed. Now, there are only seventeen days left with our son.

On the drive home from practice, I told Ethan.

“Your brother leaves on May 1st.”

“Are you joking?” He said.

“I wish it was a joke. Are you going to miss him?”

“Not really. Well, I’m going to miss joking around with him about Troy Murphy. Actually, yeah, I’m going to miss him.”

I started to cry.

He asked me why I was crying. “It’s not like he died! He’s just going to boot camp! He’ll be back!”

“I know he’s not dying. But for me? This symbolizes the death of his childhood and it’s difficult for me to handle emotionally.”

Silence.

Tears.

All night, tears.

Still today, tears.

Tears of sadness. My little boy is all grown up. For the next six weeks, he will be stripped down to nothing physically and mentally only to be built back up. He will leave here an innocent, kind, loving, joyful kid and return a strong, proud, disciplined United States Marine.

Unless you’ve gone through this with your own child, you can not understand the emotional roller coaster me and my husband are experiencing right now. I know I should be proud of the brave young man that I’ve raised. And believe me, I am. But there is also a sadness that I can not explain. There is a fear that gnaws at me– fear of what I know will happen to him, fear of what I do not know is going to happen to him.

I’ve spent the last nineteen years of my life making sure that boy is safe, healthy, happy. I’ve laid on his bedroom floor when he’s been sick just to make sure he’s breathing. I’ve held him in my arms when he’s been scared, I’ve wiped tears from him eyes when he was hurt or sad. I’ve told him hundreds of times that I would do whatever I had to do to be sure he was safe always.

It’s a new chapter in his life and also in mine. While I’m still his mother, I will always be his mother, it is no longer my job to keep him safe from harm. I must now let go of the idea that he is a little boy that needs to be sheltered and protected.

Every person that I talked to who has been through this with their child tells me the same thing “He will come back a completely different person. You won’t even recognize him.” This is both exciting and also terrifying. I like my son exactly as he his. He’s kind, gentle, loving, considerate and funnier than you can imagine. I have to believe that when they say “different” they mean is an “improved version of the wonderful person you’ve raised.”

I am going to need a lot of hugs and possibly lots of chocolate/wine/bean dip to get through these next few days.

Just a Little Puffy

She walked through the door, her backpack hanging off of her shoulder.

“Hey girl!” I said as I scooped her up into my arms. I carried her to the sofa , sat down and placed her onto my lap.

“How was school?” I asked.

She began telling me about her day. As she was talking, she put her hands on my cheeks and looked at my face. I smiled, because it was totally sweet and I love her so much.

“You know what, Mom?” She said as she held my face in her hands.

“What?” I responded lovingly, expecting her to say something precious.

“You’re bloated.”

I told her I didn’t think that was a kind thing to say. She assured me she wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings or be mean. She just thought my face looked a little puffy, was all.

Fair enough.

Five minutes later, she walked into my room and handed me half of her cookie. Because she just loves me so much.

She’s good, that girl.

More Like Satan Dogs.

Did I ever tell you about the time a wiener dog killed the crap out of my pet bunnies? No? Oh

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, well, one time? A mofo wiener dog killed the crap out of my pet bunnies.

I don’t remember the year, or how old I was, but I remember every detail of that afternoon. We had returned from church one afternoon. As we were pulling up to our driveway, a little asshole wiener dog was trotting away from our backyard. When I got into the house, I immediately headed to the backyard. Upon opening the door, I saw my bunnies laying all tore up in the backyard, their fur scattered about the grass. It was HORRIFYING. The neighbor’s wiener dog had murdered my precious, innocent bunnies.

A few days later, I was in the garage when that dog came walking up our driveway like, all casual like, as if he hadn’t just killed my bunnies. I came running out of the garage towards the dog and shouted “get out of here!” He stopped dead in his tracks. I stomped my food and shouted again. “GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” He stood there for another second and then? Then the furry murderer growled, showed me his teeth and then he CHARGED AT ME. I screamed and ran inside the house and declared my burning hatred for wiener dogs.

Over the years, my hatred melted away. It was one wiener dog! Surely, there are many wonderful wiener dogs who are not assholes!

*****

Last week I was out for an afternoon run in the neighborhood. Funky tunes from my iPod were blasting through my pink Virgin Air headphone (my good ones broke. Judge not) as I pushed myself to keep running. Then, I saw something out of the corner of my eye, I whipped my head around and a MOFO wiener dog was charging at me. A MOFO wiener dog wearing a rhinestone studded collar. This can NOT be happening, I thought to myself. But it very much was happening. My first thought was to run faster, but then I actually thought about how stupid I would look running away from a wiener dog wearing a rhinestone studded collar. I also thought about that thing people say about not letting a dog know you are afraid. You know that thing I’m talking about? So, I stopped and got into the I Will Kick You In Your Face Stupid Dog position.

The dog backed off for a second and as I stood there trying look tough and like I wasn’t at all scared that he was about to rip my calf apart with his evil little mouth. Then, all of a sudden, he came at me again.

That’s when a woman came running across the street. She was yelling at her dog to leave me alone. “I’m so sorry!” She shouted. “It’s okay!” I responded. “Just please, get him away from me.”

This story had a happy ending. The dog did not get kicked and my calves did not get chewed to pieces and no bunnies were murdered.

But my hatred for wiener dogs has been renewed with a fiery passion.

Boot Camp Results: So Many Inches GONE!

Yesterday was the last day of boot camp. We tested out in the morning. I could not be happier with my results.

I lost 6 pounds.

I lost a total of 11.25 inches, 4 of those inches in my hips, 2 1/2 in my waist.

I improved my mile time by 1 minute 1 second.

I improved my push-ups by 15.

I improved my sit-ups by 14.

I improved my attitude by 100%.

This time around I learned that I don’t like to be uncomfortable and the second things get tough, I want to quit. Because it hurts. Because I’m scared.. This session I learned to push myself– push past the pain , past the insecurity, past the fear. I did things I didn’t think I could do, things I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t always happy about it. In fact, sometimes I was downright PISSED OFF. But I did it and I got results.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Truth.

I’m excited to do another six weeks. To get stronger, hopefully faster, maybe a bit smaller, but mostly healthier.

Six Weeks Flies By When You’re Working Your Butt Off

Tomorrow will be the last workout of this session of boot camp. On Friday

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, I will be weighed, measured and timed on my mile run. I have not checked the scale since the second week, nor have I checked my measurements. Although my ultimate goal is to lose weight, I am trying to focus on getting stronger and breaking through my many fitness mental blocks.

No matter what the number on the scale says, I’m happy with my progress. The first week back to boot camp was brutal. I had a hard time keeping up. I said “I can’t” a lot and sometimes flat our refused to do things that I thought were too difficult.

I’ve stopped saying “I can’t” and started saying “I’ll try.” And I do try. I have been pushing myself and doing things I didn’t think I was capable of. It feels good. I feel good.

I’ll share my results here on Friday. If I lost weight/inches, I’ll be happy because weight loss is good! And if I didn’t lose weight, I’ll still be happy, proud even.

Even if I’ve not shed pounds, I’ve shed shame and self doubt and gained confidence in myself. I’m stronger both physically and mentally.

That’s success in my book.

I Took The 1,000 Rep Challenge and I Have The Blisters On My Hand To Prove It.

Every time that I tell my boys about boot camp, they kind of roll their eyes and say “doesn’t sound that hard.” You see, Ethan is an athlete who does intensive training for basketball and Andrew attends physical training weekly at the Marine recruiting station. What I do at fitness boot camp couldn’t possibly compare to the intensity of their workouts. “You think it’s so easy, then I challenge you to join me for a class!” Ethan promised me he would come to a class during spring break. Today was the day that he agreed to get up early to come with me. Oh boy did he pick a good day.
Today we did a “1,000 rep challenge.”
Ten different exercises, ten times each, for ten rounds. We would have forty minutes to try to complete all 1,000 reps. My first thought as she was explaining how it would work was “I will never complete all 1 ,000 reps. No way.” Followed by “my son is going to kick my butt.” He’s young, he’s fit, he’s an athlete. I’m forty and not in very good shape.
To be honest, I was terrified. I didn’t want to fail. I wanted to complete it, I wanted to kick ass, but one thing I struggle with is believing in myself, in my ability to succeed. I decided I would do my best and that I would push myself as hard as I possibly could.
The challenge started. I hit it hard. So did my son. He quickly got ahead of me, just like I knew he would. I was okay with that. This wasn’t about me wanting to beat him. It was about me wanting to do something I didn’t think I could do. This was about me not wanting to fail. This was about me believing that I had it in me to complete this challenge.
I completed round one, then round two, then round three, then four. Things got a little difficult. My legs were burning, I was out of breath, everything in me said “take a break! Stop!” But I didn’t. I pushed through the pain, through the discomfort. I completed round five, then six, then seven, eight and nine.
And then, at the 37 minute mark, I finished the last round– round ten.
I did it. I did something I didn’t think I was capable of doing.
I laid on my mat, I moaned for a minute and then I got up and walked around with a smile on my face.
“You’re stronger than you think you are.” I whispered to myself.
At the beginning of the class, our instructor said there would be a gift card handed out to the winner of the challenge. She said this person wouldn’t necessarily be the first person to finish, but the one who worked the hardest. After the challenge was over, she congratulated everyone on their hard work. “There is one person who really stood out today.” I waited to hear which one of my incredible boot campers would be named. “That person is Yvonne.”
My fellow campers clapped and agreed with her choice. “Great job!” They said. “You kicked butt!!”
She handed me the gift card and told me she was proud of me. As corny as this sounds, I wanted to cry. I felt proud of myself and I rarely feel the way.
Any time I feel like I am not capable of doing something, I will think back to this challenge and I will tell myself “Yes. Yes you can.”
As an aside, because it’s totally not important at all, I finished before my son. My young, fit, athletic son.

The One Where I Partied With Those Crazy Kids From American Idol

(This post should have went up a week ago, but my blog was hacked (again) and it’s been offline, then online, then offline, and finally online again. There’s a very good chance by the time I post this, it will be offline again. FRUSTRATED.)
Last Thursday I was invited by Coca-Cola to attend Coke Family Night at the American Idol Finalist Party. I immediately called my sister and asked her if she would be my guest

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, because she is as big of an AI fan as I am.
The party was on the rooftop of The Grove in Los Angeles. When we arrived, I saw the entrance and got a little bit emotional. I have watched American Idol since the beginning. Here we were, at the party where we’d meet Ryan Seacrest and get to hang out with the contestants. I looked at my sister and said “I can’t believe we’re here! This is so awesome!” Then I said “When we get out of the car, please check my clothes to make sure I didn’t leave any tags on.”
We headed towards the entrance of the party filled with excitement. While the lady was checking our IDs, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Sweetie, there’s a tag hanging off of your jacket.” It was an Old Navy tag for $34.99, size L. I thanked her, ripped that mother effer off and sarcastically thanked my sister for checking like I had asked. A really great way to start the night!
When we entered the tent, we were shown to the area that Coca-Cola had reserved for The Mommy Bloggers . It was kind of cool to have a special spot reserved for us, especially since there was security standing at the entrance making sure only the invited guests could enter. So V.I.P.
Let me break down the highlights of the night.
Meeting Ryan Seacrest.
I love Ryan Seacrest. I’ve loved him since his days as a radio personality on Star 98.7. He’s funny, he’s quick, he’s witty and he’s so pretty/handsome. You can imagine my excitement when we were told he was going to stop by to visit with us. There was just one request and that was not to ask for individual pictures with Ryan because of time issues. Of course, the minute he walked in, people were like “will you take a picture with me?!” This made me nervous because I am a Rule Follower. But Ryan didn’t seem to mind at all. He was friendly and more than happy to pose for a photo with The Ladeeez. I stood off to the side, waiting patiently with my sister. And then, it happened. I was standing face to face with Ryan Seacrest. He looked at me and said “I’m hanging with The Mommy Bloggers.” I looked into his pretty eyes and said “Would you like to hug a mommy blogger?” He laughed and then he hugged me. “Whoa.” He said. “I think I just got to second base with a Mommy blogger!”
After we basically made out with our arms and chest areas, me and my sister took a picture with him. The first picture was awful, so we asked if we could take another one. He was all “absolutely.” Because Ryan loves me so much.

Taking a photo with the finalists on the blue carpet.
This was especially awesome because some of the contestants were very annoyed that they had to pose for a photo with us. They had no idea who we were or why we were there. Some of them *cough* SKYLAR *cough* were rolling their eyes and sighing. Fun times! But that wasn’t the best/worst part! When we were finished with the photo, some woman with a clipboard was all “THIS WAY! THIS WAY!” and so I walked that way and stood there in front of a ton of cameras with my hand on my hip with a big smile on my face. The lady with the clipboard yelled at me. “NO! FINALISTS ONLY! MOVE!” HA HA HAaaaaaawkward.

Starting our own dance party
There was a DJ at the party who was playing some really great music. Me and my sister searched for the dance floor, but there was no dance floor. So, we made our own. The servers and bartenders were all like “heck yeah! Wish we could join you!” But all of the people at the party were like “Wish we could, but too many people that we know here.” Oh, LA people. You so insecure. Eventually, two Wonderfully Wonderful guys joined us. Dance Party success achieved!

Trying to design a cover as part of Coca-Cola’s Family Night Music Cover Artwork contest.
I am the absolute worst person to ever try to do anything that involves drawing or being creative. (Ask my friends on Draw Something.) But I was excited to give this a try (because the prize is a trip to the American Idol Final!) One of the lovely ladies from Coca-Cola was standing over me as I began to “design” my cover. I can’t even begin to describe how awful it was, so, let me open up paint and try to show you.

I wanted to keep going, but I shut down emotionally to spare myself any further humiliation. I hit submit, turned to the woman behind me and said “you saw nothing. This never happened.” Oh, how we laughed!
If you’d like to check out the amazing work that others did and vote for your favorite, you can do that here.
Hanging out with Heejun Han, Colton Dixon and Phillip Phillips.
These guys were all so great. If one of them wins and becomes the next Ruben Studdard, I’ll be able to say “One time I goofed around in a photo booth with that guy!”

This was one of the funnest experiences of my life. I am so grateful to the people at Coca-Cola for the invitation!
P.S. I’m totally rooting for Heejun if only because he is hilarious and because he told me I don’t look 40.

The Loveliest Napkin

We were rushing out the front door, like we do every morning when she turned around and ran towards the kitchen table.
“What are you doing? We’re going to be late!” She didn’t respond.
I picked up her backpack and sweater and stood patiently by the door.
“Gabby! Come here, now!” I demanded.
She listened that time. She put her sweater on and took the backpack from my hands. We hurried to the van. As I backed out of the driveway, she sang to herself in the back seat while I took a deep breath, hoping we wouldn’t be late.
We arrived at the school drop off. I pushed the button to open the van door.
“Have a good day, sweetie. Be kind, be good.”
“You too Mommy. Oh! When you get home, please go look on the kitchen table, okay?”
***
I walked through the front door and walked over to the kitchen table, just as my daughter had requested.

I love you have a good day.

That girl.
She can be sassy , she can be difficult. There are moments where she makes me fear her teenage years. But at her core, she is full of goodness and light. She is thoughtful, so very expressive of her love for me and for her family. Each time she leaves a note, or draws a photo, or leaves a flower she picked for me on my nightstand, it warms my heart and touches my soul.
How blessed we all are to know her and to call her our own.