Mamachanic

……Mom/Mechanic

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Colors 2025

I went to happy hour with a girlfriend last week. Her birthday is the day after mine in February. We will both be turning 50 and she keeps asking me what my plans are because it’s a milestone. I would love to have some huge trip planned or some great celebration but honestly, I am just trying to get through December after barely surviving November so girl… I will get back to you.

I went to see a documentary of The Cure the other day performing a concert live.

Their Disintegration tour at Fiddler’s Green in 1989 was my first concert without a grown-up at 13, opening with Plainsong. Sitting in the Alamo movie theater, two months away from my 50th birthday, listening to him sing about being old and feeling pain while reminiscing about being so young and so in love with Robert Smith and at the very beginning of my journey with this love of music and concerts and the way seeing my favorite bands can heal me was such a strange full circle.

 

Plainsong-The Cure

 

I went to see Halsey in November with Blue. She has the song Colors that has been my ringtone for Blue for years because the chorus is “everything is blue” so every time Blue calls me, it’s Halsey singing Colors “Everything is Blue.” The song has always felt special to me because the lyrics include Everything is Blue and Everything is Gray. Up until a few years ago, my children were Jameson Gray and Isabella Blue so both of their color-coded middle names were part of this song I loved.

BB dropped the Bella and is now just Blue, which is why the ringtone is perfect for him but after this summer dealing with Jason’s ongoing issues and finally filing for divorce, I realized this song is more Jason than it has ever been Blue’s.

 

Colors-Halsey

 

I loved being at the show with Blue because I love sharing these experiences with him. We’ve seen Halsey at Red Rocks and Pepsi Center and she’s always amazing. This show was probably the best one yet, a Back to Badlands tour, but it was a tiny bit shattering to have this song that I’ve always associated with my son Blue be disconnected and reconfigured to remind me of sad unhappy memories instead.

That was the beginning of the November I mentioned barely surviving earlier. I own several rentals with my ex that we manage which is usually less of a nightmare than you would think but we had a tenant move out on Halloween after completely trashing the house which meant hours of quality time together and labor. We re-painted literally every square inch of the place, removed truckloads of garbage, installed blinds plus multiple repairs trying to put this Humpty Dumpty home back together on top of our busy schedules and full-time jobs so my nerves were frayed, not to mention being thousands of dollars short for mortgage payments with an unrentable house.

To pile on, my relationship with my youngest son has been very tricky this year, for all his teen years but definitely since I separated from his dad. Blue was 18 when we separated and already out of the house for the most part, so Jameson feels shafted by not having his parents together his entire childhood. He was too young to remember all the times Blue protected him and distracted him from our worst fights or other trauma. I don’t really agree with staying together for the kids, I just hope Jamo can see it too someday. This summer was especially heartbreaking and I failed him. We had some awful screaming matches. We didn’t speak for all of October, but my mom helpfully reminded me there were months that we didn’t speak when I was that age too. I found some musical wisdom listening to Lorde’s Supercut.  She’s singing about a breakup, but our fights felt like a breakup to me. We are the same pig-headed stubborn person, and his mean words cut me to pieces. Blue and I saw Lorde at Red Rocks in October. I was inwardly groaning because Red Rocks is a slog and October could be freezing (such a spoiled native I know) but she was so fucking amazing, we’re flying to LA in May to see her again. I listened to this song on repeat, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut when Jameson would call.

I invited Jameson to go see Hobo Johnson with me in Fort Collins November 16th in an effort to mend fences and spend some time together. Blue turned 21 in October, and we were leaving the next morning for a celebratory birthday trip to Vegas with my mom. Jameson asked if his girlfriend could come to the show because they’re Siamese inseparable then told me THEY would meet me there. So much for quality time, not only are we NOT driving the 90 minutes there and back together, but I also get to drive there alone when I already drive 70,000 miles a year (not an exaggeration.) These miscues might be why we’re always fighting. I do love his girlfriend; I would just like maybe an hour of his undivided attention too one of these days. Regardless, it was another great show, the third time Jameson and I have seen him. He has this song that has become one of my single lady mantras and I love it! I’m actually grateful to my children for introducing this old bag to new music no matter how much I resist.

February 15th-Hobo Johnson

Driving home from Fort Collins that night, my friend called to tell me that one of our friends, also one of our tenants, had completed suicide the day before in the basement of one of our rentals. A bit shellshocked, I hopped on a plane to Vegas the next morning with my mom and Blue for an amazing three-day trip that ended in tears and frustration because 72 hours is too long for anyone in Vegas and I’m pretty good at running myself ragged until I snap.

After spending weeks and thousands of dollars fixing up the busted rental from Halloween, we managed to find a new tenant the week of Thanksgiving who put down a deposit then ghosted us for the first ten days of December, so I studied up on Colorado eviction laws and served a Demand for Compliance. We finally received rent December 23rd but who knows what January, or the following months will look like. I hate the holidays, the fake cheer, the stress, how much everyone goes out of their mind, rages and has too much on their plate. I scheduled massages and chiropractors and whatever self-care I could fit in while also cramming in shows, dinners and everything else but we survived the multiple family get togethers, had a lot of good times actually. Surprisingly, my most dreaded month December was easier than November in most ways. I’m still working on plans for my looming 50th birthday but as I type this, with 54 minutes left of this dumpster fire year, listening to Dance Yrself Clean at my desk instead of on the dance floor at Lipgloss NYE (because Spotify shuffle is a spooky bitch sometimes) if not “forever” I was alone for New Year’s Eve and I feel fine. It was good to get back to writing even if it was all just a bunch of song lyrics. Maybe you’ll look up a new song in 2026. Maybe I’ll find a real therapist instead of Spotify and a very occasional (annual) writing session. In the meantime, music is medicine.

Happy New Year!

Dance Yrself Clean-LCD Soundsystem

 

Quiet When I’m Coming Home

It’ s been a busy November and we’re not even to or through Thanksgiving. Blue and I spent an awesome groupie/fangirl weekend in San Fransisco being tourists and seeing one of our favorite bands Manchester Orchestra for the 15th/6th time respectively. Music really is our church. I’m so glad I can share these experiences with my kids. Tonight, we saw Billie Eilish for the 3rd/2nd time and I’m feeling nostalgic. I’m not even going to touch on the election and the horror and fear I feel for our future and the safety of my children because I can’t quite wrap my head around any of that yet. I also absolutely loathe winter and the holidays so I’m just trying to power through the end of this year without diving too deep for fear I may just find myself stuck.

The first time I saw Billie was at Red Rocks with my friend Kayla. (THANKS GIRL!)

Screenshot

Screenshot

My then husband and son were on a boy’s trip to Florida and Blue was on a Spanish class field trip to Spain (jealous) so when Billie played When the Party’s Over, it struck a chord.

Quiet when I’m comin’ home

and I’m on my own

I could lie, say I like it like

that, like it like that.

Billie Eilish- When the Party’s Over

In 2019, with everyone on their separate trips, I was coming home to an empty home for the first time probably ever. I always cry at shows and tonight, five years later, was no different. When she played When the Party’s Over, I was swiping tears again. Comparing 2019 to 2024, as we head into our third Christmas still as a family but with separated parents, I’ve been coming home to an empty home for almost two years now. Blue lives with their fiancé and Jameson is supposedly staying with both parents alternatively but he’s at my house maybe one or two days a week so it’s definitely “quiet when I’m coming home” more often than not. Not going to lie, it is pretty fantastic having the house almost completely to myself. Teenage boys are slobs, leaving a trail like a snail not to mention loud and up super late almost every night, but it has also been lonely. I have my sweet pug Jojo so it’s not really like I’m talking to myself but it’s been quite an adjustment, going from a household of four, the other three being mostly extroverts, to just me and Jolene most the time.

New BFF/Roommate Jolene

Going through my Facebook memories today, I realized a friend I lost touch with died in a car accident two years ago. Along with all the other ghosts, like the older brother who took his life five years ago, commenting on a PIL show I went to long, long ago. Another comment on an older post from another friend who has since completed suicide. Or a memory about Blue getting sand removed from their ear at a 15 year checkup and the subsequent $150 “Surgery” surcharge with a comment from Alicia about keeping new piercings clean, another friend I lost almost three years ago. My page is filled with ghosts, while I’m trying to keep my spirits up.

But nothin’ is better sometimes

Once we’ve both said our goodbyes

Let’s just let it go

Let me let you go

Quiet when I’m comin’ home 

When I start to get down, working on figuring out or remembering maybe who I am, I try to remind myself it’s much better to be alone and feeling lonely than to feel completely alone sitting on the couch next to someone you’re sharing a life with.

Digging up the bones inside my head,

All I needed was to hear the truth

I’m lying naked and my brain has lost its screws

I hid away inside a lonely room

NEVER AS LONELY AS WHEN I’M ALONE WITH YOU

Dreamers- Screws

Lots of fantastic reminders and advice in the song lyrics from my Spotify playlists, including this one from Billie, another favorite of mine, that she killed tonight performing to thousands of screaming fans.

When I’m away from you,

I’m happier than ever,

Wish I could explain it better

I wish it wasn’t true 

Billie Eilish- Happier Than Ever

Speaking of Thanksgiving coming up, I’m so thankful for all the music in my life keeping me somewhat sane, plus the theater, comedians, brunches etc. I keep busy with along with the concerts and co-pilots- I love you all. Thanks for reading this if anyone even does, my little report card/therapy session. Happy fucking holidays everybody! Hang in there and reach out. We’re all this struggle huddle together.

 

 

Fight it, Take the Pain, Ignite It

What a long, strange summer it’s been. It’s not even over yet and the struggle has been real. I’m returning to read and write on my website as a form of therapy and a reminder of (hopefully) how far I’ve come. Re-reading my Coming Out of My Cage and I’ve Been Doing Just Fine       post from June 2023 was a great reminder of the friends I’ve leaned on and the amazing people in my life- not to gush.

July was a total shitshow with Jameson crashing his motorcycle in the middle of the night and my own crash a few weeks later. Jamo broke his collarbone, needing surgery but with so many other possible outcomes including never walking again or death, he was so lucky.

       I hit a pothole on my Yamaha scooter doing about 30mph and slammed down on my hip and head, cracking my helmet. These old bones certainly felt bashed and bruised for a few weeks, but nothing was broken, and I was also so lucky, thanks to our guardian angels.

 

“I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again.” Georgia O’Keeffe

 

This quote sums it up perfectly for me and I’m still working on the “myself” part, but I’ve found a few fantastic coping mechanisms including music (ALWAYS) and I wanted to jot down some summer highlights as a reminder for this old brain when I start to feel lost again or swallowed up by (gestures vaguely) whatever life has thrown at me this summer/decade.

 

Summertime Glimmers:

1-   Seeing Third Eye Blind at Red Rocks for the umpteenth time with Jen, my concert co-pilot whom I’ve missed so much this year. Bawling through The Background with her arm around my shoulder, hoping I can be as much her rock.

“I felt you long after we were through. And the plans I make still have you in them.”  The Background- Third Eye Blind

Though the song Losing a Whole Year (or 28 years to be accurate) could have been another perfect song in my soundtrack for the past few years post break up (insert lol/awkward emoji) 😁🤣Kidding, of course. Don’t get me wrong, I know ending my relationship was not a mistake. I have no regrets, but 28 years is a huge Band-Aid to rip off, decades of memories and music. Even last night, at Twenty-One Pilots, sitting on opposite sides of the stadium, Jason texted me “My taste in music is your face” during Tear in My Heart, a lyric he wrote to me in a Mother’s Day card years ago. I’m grateful for our friendship even when it’s tricky navigating single life, a 28 yearlong apron string I’m still cutting.

2-   Speaking of Twenty-One Pilots, another glimmer, after two nights at Ball Arena last week, I feel like a reinflated balloon. Ten years of being a now #48yearoldfangirl, I LOVE this band, unabashedly. The feeling of family in the arena, fans of all ages, the shared struggles, screaming the lyrics that speak to so many. Music really is my church. As a non-believer in any other higher power or religion, I leave these shows feeling saved, the same cathartic feeling some people get after Sunday’s sermon.

“I’m driving, here I sit, cursing my government. For not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement.” Tear in My Heart-Twenty One Pilots

Cue flashbacks of skidding along Colorado Blvd with my hands up to stop my scooter rolling over me, it’s hard not to hear messages in these songs.

“When times aren’t the best and I’m on the edge. I’ll listen for a song in the distance.” Mulberry Street- Twenty One Pilots

Both nights, when they played Mulberry Street, instead of just a stadium lit up by phone flashlights, magical enough on its own, they had different sections light up each part of the chorus. 20,000 fans creating a light show- that feels like church to me.

IMG_6489

Ball Arena flashlight video

 

3-    Going to a new dermatologist, with new insurance, for my annual skin check, after checking my whole body, he said “Round Here?” I looked at him questioningly and he said, “Counting Crows, right?” knowing the tribute song I had tattooed on my forearms after losing Alicia.

“And in between the moon and you. The angels get a better view” Round Here-Counting Crows

This 40 something doctor I’ve never met, knew the song after reading two tattooed lines, not knowing the sad meaning behind the lyric about my guardian angel. Music really is magic😭

4- The ladybugs I keep coming home to on my front door, hoping for the luck they might bring. Such a refreshing change to the summer of spiders I’m horrifyingly mustering through🕷🕸 including a painful, huge bite on my thigh that thankfully wasn’t a tick and a beautiful web some spider spun on the INSIDE door jamb of my truck, the one I spend 40+ hours a week driving, trying to shake the nightmare-inducing certainty that I’m transporting a sack of baby spider eggs inside the Tacoma along with various truck parts!!!!

5-    Another concert with a dear friend, Rumours, a Fleetwood Mac cover band. Thankful to Anissa by my side, wiping tears as I listened to Landslide for the thousand time, the lyrics telling the STORY OF MY LIFE.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’ 

Cause I’ve built my life around you

But times makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting older too” Landslide-Fleetwood Mac

Truer words, hitting differently this year, with all these changes and the disheartening aging journey all my friends are going through.

 6- Seeing A Chorus Line with my mom, who has truly been such a wonderful support, standing in as my date to countless shows in the year since she retired. A Chorus Line was performed by the Phamaly Theater Company, celebrating their 35-year anniversary as a creative home for theatre artists with disabilities. The musical is about a dance audition and these actors, with disabilities including deaf actors, blind actors, autistic actors, wheelchair bound actors, BLEW MY MIND! I cry at a lot of shows, this summer apparently all of them but I had goosebumps and tears at this performance.

7- Dinner with Nicole, Blue’s future mother-in-law, A Night with Spirits at the Melting Pot with my first ever reading from a medium. I was already crying after Nicole’s reading where the medium touched on the relationship between our children, drawing a “soulmate” card between the cards symbolizing Blue and Syd plus possible nuptials next spring. When it was my turn, I was terrified. She asked me if there was someone I wanted to hear from and I was too afraid to even crack the door I’ve kept my grief behind, so I opted for a tarot card reading. Of course, the first card she turned was the Three of Swords, asking me if I’ve experienced a loss recently, possibly three and I probably sobbed. It’s a bit of blur but it felt cathartic and healing in hindsight, so I’ll count it as another glimmer.

Further research on the Three of Swords revealed its a card that “signifies heartbreak, emotional pain, sorrow, grief and hurt. It indicates a period of deep hurt and disappointment, often caused by the words, actions, or intentions of others. This card may represent unexpected events that bring intense emotions of pain, sadness, and heartbreak. It also suggests the need for emotional release and the importance of allowing oneself to grieve and process the pain.” Check, check, check🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️ She closed it out with cards about re-building my foundation, something to celebrate and a possible windfall in my future. Yes, please!

 

I know I’m constantly trying to keep my datebook full and sometimes it’s a bit manic and probably unhealthy but I went from decades of a full house, and a family of four to most nights in my house alone with my pug Jolene, my loyal companion. I realize I’m trying to outrun the silence. I know I’ve been avoiding facing the feelings or doing the work that might come with actually acknowledging the fear and difficulty of breaking my family up, regardless of how necessary this ending was. I also know that I’m firmly stuck in the denial stage of grieving my friend after a horrific loss but hopefully, knowing is half the battle and I’ll come out of this summertime sadness celebrating the amazing friend I miss and the relationship I was lucky to have. Thank you to all my villagers, I hope to be as great a support through all this mess.

“You think twice about your life, 

It probably happens at night, right?

Fight it, take the pain, ignite it”

Holding On to You- Twenty One Pilots

Mother of the Year?

A few weeks ago, I had a party to celebrate July 4th and watch some fireworks. We had a good turnout. None of the awkwardness that might come with co-hosting months after separating (maybe?) so I thought the party was a success until I received a semi-alarmed text the next day from an old friend/neighbor telling me that my sixteen-year-old son, the epitome of white privilege, was seen mingling around the party guests with a gun in his waistband. I figured what a perfect time to write a post on parenting tips!

Welcome to the Gun Show

Since there is still no sarcasm font, if you couldn’t tell from my first sentences, these “tips” are based almost exclusively on mistakes I have made. Maybe someone can learn from my fumbles. I have an 18-year-old and a 16-year-old. Some days I feel close to done with the whole raising kids part of parenthood. My oldest child, born Isabella Blue, is now going by Blue and possibly gender-free. Blue graduated high school a semester early last December, completed one free semester of college, moved out and is preparing for her second year at CCD.

She’s confident, fierce, and un-f@ck-withable, all attributes I wish I had at that age.  I’m immensely proud of the person they have become though I realize she spent a lot of her teenage formative years with the heel of her Converse placed firmly on her brother’s throat. Like that old scary babysitter story about the call coming from inside the house, my son Jameson spent years with his biggest bully living ‘inside the house.” Jameson, the “gunslinger” is making his own way, through his sibling obstacle, ADHD, and the usual teen angst. I pray that he will survive these formative years.

Before the War

The gun in his waistband was a realistic airsoft gun. He’s a bit of a showoff and hasn’t figured out yet how to form friendships based on merit rather than his “coolness” or possessions. After several showoff sessions, where he’s displayed his wares- airsoft guns, clothes, dirt bikes, skate ramp, pets, toys, etc., he’s had multiple items stolen or come up missing, so he was storing his gun in a “safe place” during our party. Please don’t ask me to explain teenage boy logic, if it even exists? I assured my friend, a fellow parent of teenagers, that my son was not a gangster, just a dumbass.

Here are some things I’ve learned, mostly belatedly, through this motherhood journey, one for every year I’ve been at it:

18. Don’t Expect to Mold Your Children

They are not clay. I thought my kids would be mini versions of us. In so many ways they are, Blue’s complete unapologetic stubbornness or tomboy adolescence, for example, but thinking you’re going to raise a doctor, an actor, a princess or even a daughter for that matter, is just setting yourself up.

Blue having none of the princess makeover sleepover BS

Our children’s DNA is such a small part of them. Accept their vast differences from your expectations of a clone. Nurture, of course, as best you can but understand that your own least favorite traits will probably be the ones that surface. You can instead share everything you love with them, our love of music and hundreds of concerts under the stars, for example. Just don’t expect them to be your doppelgangers or expect them to also love all your favorite bands.

17. Don’t Pretend Life is Fair

In fact, teach them the opposite from an early age. With two children, I spent years cutting grapes in half, divvying up M&Ms, and counting the presents under the Christmas tree so neither child would feel slighted. Guess what? No matter how hard I tried to ensure neither child was favored, inevitably one child felt treated unfairly. LIFE ISN’T FAIR, let them realize this ASAP. Then maybe you won’t beat yourself up for years trying to balance some imaginary and impossible scales.

16. Throw Away Any Pre-Conceived Notions

“Terrible twos” (they’re all terrible) Girls are easier than boys, for example, or vice versa. The majority of the teens I know are shedding their gender identities anyway and there’s nothing easy about raising teenagers of any persuasion or children at any age, from what I can tell so don’t assuage yourself with false ideas.

15. Create a Village

Hopefully, you have a partner to help in parenthood. Even with a great partner, a village of friends, grandparents, teachers, or whomever can really lighten the load and help make your children feel a part of something.

14. Judge Not

Seriously!!!! Reminder, all of these tips are based on mistakes I have made. The last thing any struggling parent needs is the confirmation they’re doing everything wrong by some sanctimonious un-asked for opinion.  Mothers especially, with the constant comparisons of working vs. stay-at-home moms or breastfed vs. formula or whatever the latest supposed measurement of our failures is, could use a break. Maybe lend a hand if you see someone struggling instead poking your nose in with an unwelcome school of thought.

13. Don’t Kill Yourself Trying to Do All the Things

I recently found two copies of Dr. Suess’ Oh the Places You’ll Go books that I bought years ago. I had my children’s teachers sign them every year as a someday graduation gift filled with words of wisdom. I hid them too well one year, couldn’t remember my hiding spot, and discovered them tucked away in the cupboard above my fridge, just in time for Blue’s graduation, missing multiple years of  teacher’s inscriptions. Pinterest is a black hole of great ideas, like creating and nabbing their Gmail address when they’re young and spending years sending them special emails, so they’ll have an inbox full of love and memories when they’re old enough. I did create email addresses for my kids but fell short after a few months of the inbox “full” goal. Of course, Jameson’s first email address was something along the lines of suckmyballs69@gmail.com which somehow was still available ha-ha. Just know that spreading yourself thin trying to be Mother of the Year is a slippery slope, and those little shits won’t appreciate half of it so don’t beat yourself up about baby albums or any of the other myriad of things us “perfect parents” are supposed to be doing along with just surviving the years without throttling your children or partner.

12. Tell Your Children You Are Proud of Them

I don’t know a single child (and most adults really) who wouldn’t benefit from hearing that someone is proud of them. Don’t meter your praise. Better yet, tell them to be proud of themselves. Maybe they won’t measure their own worth based on others’ beliefs.

11. Forget Traditions

Better yet, create your own. My mother and I stopped spending long hours every Christmas day with the extended family because it was unhappy and often joyless. You don’t have to repeat generations’ worth of traditions like everything Thanksgiving at so-and-so’s. I personally loathe Christmas. Several years ago, we skipped the tree, the presents, and all the BS and went to Mexico instead, best Christmas in years! We really should have made that our own tradition but don’t tether yourself to someone else’s idea.

 

10. Don’t Disparage

Don’t talk about your calories, your diet, hating your body. Hand raised; I said all these things about myself in front of my children, repeatedly. Don’t ever make them feel fat or advise a child to skip dessert or any other comment that will plant like a seed to whittle away at their self-worth. Don’t do it to your own kids and certainly not your GRANDKIDS or anyone. I feel like this should be well known at this point but here’s a simple reminder to not add to the endless garbage your child will see in celebrities, social media, or classrooms informing them that they’re equal to a number on the scale or not enough. Footnote: Don’t bad mouth your estranged spouse. It’s very difficult, especially when the pain is fresh, but studies have shown this is more damaging than bad-mouthing your child directly. (In-laws are fair game though-kidding)

9. Be Nice to Their Friends

Oof this one is so hard, especially when you want to throat-punch any little bastard who hurts your kid. I don’t approve of all my kid’s friend choices but it’s not my job to approve. Even the bad influences, even the users, or the heartbreakers. Inevitably, telling your child how much you don’t like a person will only make them shinier. My son is too forgiving. Friends that I badmouthed are often forgiven. Yes, I haven’t been the nicest to a lot of their compadres, but I said this list is based on SO MANY of my OWN mistakes. As the poor, only child of a single mother, growing up among “perfect” 2.5 children families with two story homes and a dog, I was often mistakenly blamed for their darling child’s promiscuity or alcohol use, or kleptomania. I still carry the low self-esteem those parents planted with their disapproval of me. I try to remember that feeling of worthlessness when dealing with my children’s friends.

8. Try to Remove Your Own Trauma

Ugh, especially when dealing with the teenage years! High school was a nightmare I still need therapy from. I dreaded these years for my own children and there have been brutal times, but I can’t relive my experience through them and still support them through it. Which is to say, I did exactly that, re-opening old wounds and trying to soak up all their hurt with my own. So, yeah, maybe don’t do that, if possible so you can be their rock, not that they will come to you or even tell you the worst of it, maybe their way of protecting Mom though it was never their job. Add in a freaking pandemic and social media that follows them home in their pocket with 24-hour notifications or I HATE JAMESON Instagram pages with other children encouraging your kid to kill themselves. We made it through somehow, maybe refer back to #4- with a village.

How about neither ….

 

7. Do it Your Way

Spoil them rotten, refuse sugary cereals, limit screen time-whatever you want. These are your kids! Regardless of the naysayers, I didn’t have kids so they could have a sad childhood. These guys are a bit of a do-over to my upbringing so if I can give them vacations, experiences, or anything I found lacking when I was growing up. The beauty is, I can raise my kids however I want to because they’re MINE. Buying a 16-year-old a street bike was a bad choice, but I didn’t ask anyone because I don’t have to. It’s easy to feel constantly judged and like you’re making so many mistakes raising children but those people looking down their noses can raise their kids “perfectly” and realizing I don’t answer to any of them was a great weight lifted.

6. Don’t Stay Together for The Kids

A few of these don’t need further explanations but just in case. I’ve said “I” a lot in this and for the first eighteen years of parenting, I had a great partner. Not that we don’t continue to co-parent from different households. My son has begrudgingly and hopefully jokingly told me that it wasn’t fair that our firstborn had her whole childhood with her parents “still together” after we split when he was 15. I know staying together for the kids is a garbage idea and can only hope Jameson knows this or realizes it someday.

5. Soak It In-

I know the first years are exhausting and I can’t say it ever gets easier, just a different kind of hard but your kids will be cat’s cradling you (i.e.. too busy to spend time with you like the song) sooner than you know so try to enjoy them.

Cats In the Cradle by Cat Stevens

Take all the photos, or better yet have someone take some with you in them too, ignoring your imagined dumpiness. Write down all the funny things they say when they’re little- the littleness never lasts. Without my Facebook memories, I may have forgotten Jameson telling me “Your breath smells like hot tub water” or “your panties look too small” -always encouraging, or how he believed his nuts were actually dragon eggs that would hatch someday, alarmed counting only two one night at bath time when he always thought he had three future dragons. I wouldn’t have so many mortifying pictures to post- every teen’s favorite throwback. On that note, try to remember-

4. Social Media Is A Liar

It’s a highlight reel of only the shiniest parts of everyone’s lives. Maybe try to post some disappointments so your friends know they’re not alone in moments of despair. Share your knowledge and mistakes along with your joy even if everyone else only posts their best moments. For more you can read my older post-  Facebook Is A Façade – Mamachanic

3. Apologize

Mean it. Teach them to apologize. You’re going to scream at them. You’re going to lose your shit with them. You’re going to inadvertently scar them for life by watching The Visit with them far too young, so they’ll still never watch scary movies with you or by bringing them to Old Spaghetti Factory the same day as the Zombie Crawl where hundreds dress up like zombies and crawl the streets and it’s maybe too much for an eight-year-old to handle. I/We have f@cked up our kids in ways we probably don’t even realize yet. I’m still working on the apologizing part, especially when the screaming matches are like holding up a mirror. Show them it’s OK to say sorry. And maybe start saving for their therapy.

Mistake #1,232,899

2. Stick to One or None! –

I preach this all the time and it is great advice. Too late for me obviously, and of course, I love BOTH my kids. One or none would’ve been so much easier and affordable. I tried to warn my in-laws who have a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old now. Nobody listens! All joking aside, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting children. Sometimes, I think my childless friends are the real geniuses. They get too much grief for living their lives exactly how they want to. On the flip side, there are plenty of people who wanted to be parents and couldn’t for so many reasons, so I try to feel gratitude even when I’m up to my eyeballs in empty ice cube trays or other side effects of teens.

1. Give Yourself Grace-

Sure, billions of people have done this parenting thing, most of them poorly, and all of them with NO IDEA of what they’re doing. There’s no manual, there’s no license. There’s plenty of advice on social media, at the library, from your MIL who made their own mistakes raising Peter Pan but what none of the “experts” will tell you is they were ALL WINGING IT, making it up as they went along. Maybe you learn some things with the first kid, enough to not repeat those flubs with child number two but every child is vastly different. There’s no failsafe, owner’s manual, or blueprint. None of us have any idea what we’re doing regardless of the multitude of advice/opinions out there. This website is my journal/therapy to have a creative outlet. I don’t think I have all the answers to preach, especially when all my tips are based mostly on my parenting failures. I just know that every part of parenting can be so difficult. You’re not alone, and nobody is perfect so number one GIVE YOURSELF GRACE!

At my birthday dinner, we all looked pissed and thrilled- they’re so obviously mine and that is why I love this picture. 

Coming Out of My Cage and I’ve Been Doing Just Fine

       I don’t know how to start this, so I’ll jump in. Once again, my website has been long neglected. My last post was about surviving the holidays in 2022, over a year ago but I’ve been working on self-care a bit lately and writing has always been good therapy for me so I figured why not get back to writing. 2023 has been a bit of a shitshow for me. Who are we kidding? The entire 2020s have been a continuous dumpster fire but this year has been tricky.


      The delivery company owner I worked for, who has never been my “boss” but was the only father figure I’ve ever known, was diagnosed with lung cancer in March of 2022, passing away 7 months later. I bought the company and took over as owner/operator in a few short weeks while his health deteriorated.

                I had hung up my wrenches, retiring as a technician years ago but being a business owner in the automotive industry that chewed me up several times, sometimes painfully, was certainly daunting. Fifteen months later, being the owner of something I’m proud of while having my nails painted and leaving behind the check engine light nightmares and shop politics has been rewarding, thrilling, and completely exhausting.

        It might still be unknown to some, but I split from my husband of 28 years last December. Right before the holidays, which I loathe, but with children still at home so we muddled through the season trying to pretend everything would still be merry with an impending divorce. I’ve been half of a couple since I was 18 so it felt a bit like a Siamese twin separation to me, with the first few topsy-turvy months feeling unraveled figuring out who I am alone. I don’t feel like twenty-eight years is a failure, but acclimating myself to this completely different life with excitement while the rest of the world walked on eggshells like I should be devastated has been an adjustment. It is very cathartic to get everything out on a page where I can organize these thoughts and maybe burn them later. And yes, I know actual therapy would be even better than simply writing. I promise I’ll get to it in my non-existent free time, seriously though.

       I surround myself with some amazing people who don’t have their shit completely together but support me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. I just wanted to say thank you. I’m starting to feel like myself again after completely turning my life upside down in the last year and I owe a lot of that to the friends in my life.

      From my oldest friend, who started her marriage the same year I ended mine to another grade school friend who I see maybe three times a decade but who reminds me that we will always have those mischievous fun girls inside of us no matter the wrinkles, aches or failing memories.
     


     To my mom, who has always supported me, no matter what. In a very tough year, I’ve seen our relationship grow, where buttons we used to push that could devolve into arguments, are squashed before they can even start. I’m proud of us both, still working on ourselves in our 40s and 60s and I appreciate your friendship.

     To the friends I lost touch with, who I reached back out to and appreciate having back in my life, especially the ones who can commiserate with me and guide me with their own experiences with love and loss.
       


       To the friends that I won’t let back in my life because I’ve learned that sometimes you must burn a few bridges to put your mental health and happiness first.

     From the friends I see once or twice a month to my closest girls, even adulthood takes a village, at least in my case.

“I gave you my sky before I found my ground” -No Time For Tears, Ashlee Simpson

        To Jason, we were children and we made quite a go of it for decades. Thank you for growing up with me on our many adventures. We certainly know how to have a good time. Thank you for raising Blue and Jameson with me. They’re turning out amazing despite our blunders. Thank you for not making this ugly. You will always be my family.


         To my closest girlfriends, who fully backed my decision to throw in the towel on “wedded bliss”, supporting me with so many dinners, limoncello shots, fence climbing shenanigans, girls’ trips, and the best birthday I’ve had in literally years plus a lotion applicator for my single lady shoulder blades and middle back- all while dealing with their own life blows from cancer to relationships, to loss or their own divorce navigation, to the inescapable awfulness and inevitability of getting OLD! I love you all pieces and can’t wait to make more memories on new adventures.

        I’ll keep looking for glimmers, in the lightning show behind the stage at Levitt Pavilions listening to Cake, and reminiscing about my 20s at the Park Tavern. In the spring babies, from calves to foals, on the farms I pass daily. To the Ted Lasso marathons and the ever-changing color of the Vanilla Ice stripe in Blue’s eyebrow.

        I hope I can be there for all of my villages the way they’ve supported me this year and always.


      Coming out of my cage            And I’ve been doing just fine      Gotta gotta be down              Because I want it all…

           Mr. Brightside- The Killers

 

 

This Grinch’s Guide to Surviving the Holidays


I learned today, thanks to Facebook memories, that my Mamachanic website is seven years old! Sadly, it has been a bit neglected during the past year maybe because I’ve been writer blocked, not to mention year two of what is now an endemic (meaning never ENDING), two teenagers, a new puppy etc. so here’s a short and sweet one for anyone looking for a quick read.

Trying to work on my website with my new puppy/assistant

I have long been a Grinch, not a little bit but full on scowls at the holidays capital GRINCH. So Grinchy in fact, that this year when my husband surprised me with a puppy, he and my mom had hidden in a “box full of Christmas ornaments” I asked if we could just skip it (the holidays that is) before opening the lid to find the teeniest little black pug I’ve ever fallen in love with!❤️

It started for me very young, Christmas Day was spent cooking then traveling to large groups at extended relative’s houses where I can only remember cigarette smoke, anger, sweet pickles and football games in the air rather than love. When you grow up on the teenage single mother struggle bus, money is usually an issue and lavish Christmas’ aren’t an option. So the dread that surrounds the holidays, the tightening in my chest as soon as the Halloween high wears off is decades old. I asked my mom around ten years old why we spent the holidays in situations that made us miserable and she agreed so we stopped going to the larger gatherings but the Grinch seed had been sown.

Being a parent during the season with babies, toddlers, or younger children was it own new stress. I found a type of joy in their surprised happy faces on Christmas morning but did I mention to the stress? So many sleepless Christmas Eve nights assembling, wrapping, creating morning magic-the fun was almost swallowed by the stress. Now, having teenagers, it’s not really so much about the wish lists or “opshins” but more about $$$$$$$ C.R.E.A.M.- literally Cash Rules Everything Around Me but it’s certainly less migraine-inducing than the early days.

My son’s Christmas wishlist many years ago-Options=opshins

Honestly, I spend my holidays now with the family I’ve chosen- after years of searching and sitting through tension so I don’t know why I’m still so grinchy. I’m offering some suggestions to find enjoyment in what can be an absolute nightmare time for some.

  • Treat Yourself


Seriously, if the pandemic has proven anything, it’s that we are a selfish country/planet. As your number one fan hopefully, you should be treating yourself right. I’ve been going to Christmas markets with my girlfriends joking that we’re only buying stuff for ourselves but honestly I’ve spent years going to the stores buying cute kids clothes (mostly because I hated my body and they way clothes fit me-so it’s much easier to shop for scrawny band aid sprawled limbs) so I’m cool buying things for me, even if it is way too many earrings because they always fit. If I go overboard on massages or whatever I want during December, so be it. Moms like Christmas presents too, especially ones chosen and procured themselves. My husband is obsessed with wanting “actual” presents to wrap and put under the tree whereas I am a gift card lover! I like to have a handful of gift cards splayed like a poker game or better yet, watch this girl Go Fish. He says he can’t wrap gift cards and I disagree. Don’t yuck my yum! Don’t ask me what I want then complain that the answer is gift cards to here, here and here. Which leads me to my next suggestion.

Manicure in a festive green or a Grinch’s nails?
  • Don’t Push It


Which can be construed several ways. Don’t push it, like don’t overdue yourself trying to make a holiday “perfect” or trying to please everyONE. Remember #1- ^^^You’re Number one-make SELF CARE a priority.
Also don’t push it, like don’t force the cheer. Everyone celebrates differently, whether it’s weeks of buildup with an extravagant spread or take out food and watching the Die Hard trilogy. It’s been a rough couple of years and some people feel too beaten up to feel festive. Some people could be grieving a loss or simply celebrating a holiday completely different from your own. Another thing, don’t push yourself if this year’s level of cheer is on the low side. When the world is a bit of a dumpster fire, it’s completely normal to feel less Mrs. Claus enthusiastic than in previous years. Beating yourself up over feeling less spirit this year is counter-productive. Embrace your newfound Grinchiness and survive the end of the year anyway possible.

  • Ditch the Scale


As previously mentioned, this is not my favorite body but stressing about the tenfold of calories I should maybe avoid is unhelpful and only adds to my Grinchiness. Instead I will gleefully imbibe from Halloween to NYE whatever my heart desires as another present to myself, from au gratin potatoes, to countless dinner rolls and a wonderful variety of Christmas cookies.

I wish there was an age where the teenage insecurities about one’s appearance simply evaporated but if it exists, it’s after 45 because I haven’t reached it yet. I could never quote whatever stupid model said, “Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.” because I’ve never felt skinny but I can certainly testify to plenty of things tasting better than skinny so I say dig in!

  • Reimagine Traditions


Not everybody has to have the perfect tree, or attend midnight mass, or spend alternating holidays between his family and yours. Does it spark joy? If not, ditch it! One of the wonderful things about being a GROWN UP is the ability to make better decisions for yourself. If traveling to so and so’s house to tiptoe over touchy topics and eat dried up crudités does not spark joy, stop doing it! Create your own traditions- even if that tradition is not denoting any specialness to the holiday. Or skipping town to skip Christmas on a tropical beach somewhere soaking up rays instead of shivering. Or adding potato chips to the dessert tray for your annual fondue party. Any way that you can find to survive the holidays, do it! I understand, finally!!! that even knowing why I became a Grinch and knowing that I can now celebrate the holidays in whatever fashion I want- I’ll still cover my ears when I hear my first Christmas song(usually in November sadly/soul-crushingly)

I will still feel a pressing weight during the last six weeks of any year. It’s like telling someone with depression to go outside for some non-existent sunshine cure. I will always be at least part Grinch but I’ve decided to EMBRACE it. And as usual, I don’t have all the answers, just a few suggestions I’m trying this year to shake my Grinchy funk. Here’s hoping everyone finds some joy this season !

Shame Dies in the Light

I was listening to one of my most-treasured (traysure!) podcasts last week My Favorite Murder. It was started by two bad ass women, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark, in 2016, who share a unabashed love of true crime. They each tell a horrific story of murder and over the years, their podcast has transformed into more than true crime conversations to include honest discussions about addiction, mental health, alcoholism, body image, etc. creating this entire community of Murderinos.

Quote from Georgia’s therapist

During this episode, Karen was talking about her latest obsession with sour candy, from Nerd Ropes to Sour S’ghetti. She was admonishing herself saying stop talking about candy, it’s not interesting while sharing the newest recommendation from a fan on Twitter when she said, “Come on, Shame Dies in the Light.” It felt like a lightning bolt zapped me, something about that phrase went straight through me. Karen and Georgia hid their love of true crime for years, afraid people would think they were morbid. Even though, as women, we make up the majority of the victims in these crimes, and are raised to scream fire instead of rape and never let our guards down with in bars, parking lots, running paths, FORESTS! We are made to feel ghoulish in our fascinations with true crime even if it’s partly a training/coping mechanism to save our own hides someday. Their podcast has completely normalized this so-called taboo, turning each of them into media moguls, New York Times best sellers, and completely relatable role models to women (and men) everywhere who have struggled their whole lives with insecurity, hidden therapy sessions, undiagnosed mental issues, self doubt, self hate, eating disorders, all of it! Hearing Karen dismissing shame was cathartic and much needed.

I started my own “morbid” curiosity at a very young age, devouring Stephen King and V.C. Andrews books long before I should have. I also spent the first half of my life ashamed of my fatherless, single mother apartment, embarrassed by my lacking wardrobe and automatic black sheep status at my Richie Rich high school. I’ve worked my ass off which may come across as greed but is really just a desperation for stability, like Dax Shephard discusses often on another favorite podcast Armchair Expert. Realizing the shame I felt was unkind to myself and unnecessary, I dumped it long ago but a bit of new shame has crept back in 2020.

You’ll never live like common people

You’ll never do whatever common people do

Never fail like common people

You’ll never watch your life slide out of view

Common People by Pulp

It’s been a shit year for pretty much everyone but every Covid story is different. My husband is a realtor and we both also drive for a delivery service bringing parts ASAP to broke down truckers, so we are both “essential” workers. We have had our busiest year ever, meaning we are not sitting pants-less working from home on Zoom, though we do have two teenagers home-schooling online since March. We have been out in the world “front-line” for almost nine months and we made it almost through November without our household being infected. Several weeks ago, my brother-in-law and his wife caught the Rona. As a household, we’ve babysat their newborn several times, so everyone in the house got a Covid test. My husband and I are out every day, delivering parts to plenty of red areas of Colorado, Wyoming, and Kansas where masks are somehow a political statement so it was really only a matter of time.

Our daughter tested positive and began to have symptoms so she went to quarantine at her girlfriend’s house the week before Thanksgiving. The rest of us tested negative and felt fine so we waited out the quarantine dreading a cough or fever that luckily never came. My mother made gingerbread houses with the kids days before finding out about our exposure to their Aunt and Uncle so she was also at risk. Our Thanksgiving, which should have been a celebration at my Mom’s new house six blocks away, was instead my husband, son and I eating at home, while dropping off porch plates to Grandma eating alone at her house and to my daughter whom I hadn’t hugged in a week. Happy Thanksgiving! It was stark and depressing. While our mayor flew home out-of-state to spend the holiday with his extended family, after encouraging and recommending everyone else celebrate only with their immediate household, I was hiding Bella’s diagnosis shamefully like a scarlet letter, feeling awful for exposing my mother and responsible like I somehow didn’t wash my hands enough and avoid the right people.

I told my neighbor, an ER nurse, almost whispering about Bella’s positive test and she said, “It’s ridiculous, almost like an STD!” My husband scheduled our daughter’s test through his phone number so when it came back positive, contact tracers were sending urgent text messages of possible exposure to everyone he had contact with previously even though his test was negative. My friends contacted me, worried and concerned that he had exposed them at a patio game night, after months of them diligently avoiding the world and working from home and it felt accusatory. That old shame creeping back in.

Like I said, this year has been pretty much awful for everyone. Different experiences for everyone, whether you’re safe at home with Zoom calls, Netflix and crippling cabin fever or going to work every day regardless of a global pandemic, and I just needed to vent for minute. I know at least ten people, close friends and family members who have had Covid including people who didn’t reach out as soon as they tested positive and friends whose employees tried to keep positive tests under wraps, afraid of losing staff. There are also plenty of people who can’t afford to miss two weeks of work, friends whose pride or shame permits them from asking for help when bills pile up. Don’t even get me started on the science denying dipshits who narcissistically put loved ones and strangers at risk every day.

As I went to pull photos for our annual holiday card, (a marketing ploy for my realtor husband after a half as busy standstill real estate year) I joked about including a picture of my foul mouthed daughter about to beat a birthday pinata lovingly made by her girlfriend, not exactly perfect family advertising lol. I’m not ashamed of my sober husband, my lesbian daughter or my medicated ADHD son. I’m not ashamed that my children are sometimes brats. I’m happy to spoil them rotten even when they’re unappreciative because that’s one reason I became a parent. I’m also not ashamed anymore of my upbringing, though I’m sure I could still benefit from years of therapy (couldn’t we all) and I’m fiercely proud of the job my mom did. I won’t be ashamed of this stupid virus either.

I just wanted to explain that this is real and feeling shame on top of every other soul crushing emotion 2020 has made me feel almost snapped me. We are doing everything in our power to stay safe and healthy and protect others. Like Karen said, “Shame dies in the light,” so maybe instead of being judgmental and ostracizing, let’s also be kind to each other. Most importantly be kind to yourself.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed and if Covid-21 is actual zombies, we might all be completely screwed. We are heading into an even darker winter after months of this mess that felt like eons already. I hope to see all my friends on the other side of this so please take care of each other. If you’re one of those people who think this is a hoax or can’t figure out how to wear your mask over BOTH your nose and your mouth, kindly stay the f@ck away from me. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk 🙂