Aging with alcoholism and grace.

Last week was a whirlwind of responsibility. Between finally nutting up and taking care of debt and work matters. Another visit with my financial advisor reaffirmed that I am an adult (and I really need a will).

Naturally this means it's high time I became a drunk.

Awesome grown ups have two things. Relative financial comfort and a well stocked bar.

But I don't have a well stocked bar and
where the hell do I PUT a well stocked bar?

For some reason I feel a home Reno coming on.

Ah those moments.

Picture it, 1997, two young kids blissfully in love, being forced to watch an appalling student run assembly in their smelly auditorium. One attempting to coerce the other into an undercover handjob while the other giggles and pretends that she is too "good" for such a dastardly deed! Both laughing at the expense of the socially awkward yet grossly over confident student counsel members.

2013, the same couple, one a LOT older and one WAY hotter. Sitting in an auditorium watching the very same assembly..... with their kid right in the middle. The hand job has been replaced with dagger eyes as she laughs because the principal's last name rhymes with dink. Her girlish giggle replaced with disbelief as he enters his Weight Watchers points during the presentation. Both still laugh at the socially awkward, overly confident student councel members.

Their kid looks as though she wishes they were a normal divorced couple who silently hated each other.

Divorce is tricky business and I fully admit that I struggled with it. My divorce caused me such an enormous amount of guilt, as well as a profound feeling of failure as a parent. Don't even get me started on the anger but I am pretty sure that objectively speaking I had every right to be juuuust a wee bit pissed! Anyhoo, the absolute BEST piece of advice I ever got (and believe me, I have an arsenal of good divorce related advice under my belt), was from one of the judges we sat before. He stressed the importance of learning to love each other again. Not a romantic love but a quiet love based on respect for the other person as your co parent. While didn't take that advice overnight that little white angel on my left shoulder constantly whispered it in my ear until I finally listened. And I am so very glad that I did.

So here we were with our daughter. A straight A student with extraordinary self confidence, preparing for her audition for a double arts major into an enriched, Integrated Arts program. Still a family of sorts, laughing together and sharing a very exciting time together and our daughter knowing she has two solid parents by her side who could not possibly be prouder.

Two solid parents who look at each other, both wondering where the hell their little baby has gone.

Oh man.

I don't know what it is.

It could be the insomnia. It could also be the chatting on the phone till the wee hours with an equally fabulous broad. Hell, it could even be because I'm stoned right now. In any event, Tim & Eric's Billion Dollar Movie is making me pee myself.

That spark.

The most surprising thing I have discovered about myself this year is that I am a hopeless romantic.

I have always resisted this sentiment and pontificated the absurdity of love. Relationships are meant to fail, no such thing as a soul mate blah blah blah.

But now, here I am, exactly where I was about 2 years ago. Totally and completely full. The balance has been found between work and play. So far I have raised three of the most well adjusted, bright and beautiful children. I have a busy social life, work is good.

I feel 100% complete again.

And for me this means dating again....which brings me to "the spark".

The one place I have never failed is dating. What can I say, boys seem to love the single mothers! Let me clarify, I'm no prized pig, however, I suspect a lot of men are just as tired of wistful folks who "love to laugh---LOL" as I am so we seem to have a common ground.

And I would be lying if I denied the presence of an ego boost.

So I date. I have seen the good the bad and the tragically hilarious. It's fun. An escape from real life.

Dating comes in all shapes and sizes. We have the coffee dates or the dinner dates. Hell, us really fortunate folks might even have a stunt cock we call friend......but relationships? That tricky.

We have them. Then we fail at them. We have all been there from one time or another yet for some inexplicable reason we keep going back for more. And I often wonder why?

But now I think I know what drives me.

The spark

It's that instant, unmistakable, overpowering and all consuming spark. The fireworks as "they" call it. That fierce driving force that blows every single shred of common sense out of your body and forces you to take a chance despite all facts, all warnings from friends and most of all, objective reasoning. You never want to leave their side, you jump every time the phone rings.....and you wonder what te FUCK is WRONG with you!

I have had this exactly once.

And I gotta say that while my wee little heart was smashed in a million little pieces......it isn't anymore.....and looking back I wouldn't trade it for the world.

And I will never again settle for anything LESS than those explosive fireworks. What a rush it is, risking it all for the sake of love! How quaint! How positively romantic! I mean, I take risks with my stocks....but with my heart!? That's risky shit!

Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't and who knows, I may never have it again!

But I'll never settle for less.


This is just one more area where I consider myself to be one of the most fortunate people out there. Where it matters, and I mean REALLY matters....I have succeeded.

I think the question we ALL need to ask...

.....is 27 REALLY too young? Like, what if he has a beard?

But on a much lighter note....

Peru was absolutely something!

I am SO glad I did it. It couldn't have come at a better time for me.

The highlights:

1). New Years Eve. Absolute mayhem. I have no doubt that I will never see another one like it.

2). Staying with a family where three little kids picked us up from a bar at night time and we all walked home hand in hand.

3). Getting completely lost by myself and requiring police escort out of a rough part of town.

4). Of course, Machu Picchu.

Vent

The thing about having a kid with Tourette's syndrome is that sucks balls sometimes.

You get the diagnosis, you get the second opinion. You then spend 2 weeks crying about it before you buy every book about it. The process of acceptance as well as the stress related to this particular syndrome is very real and it is very heartbreaking.

Especially when a shitty kid bullies your kid at gymnastics.

Now let me be clear, I am not a particularly nice person so I am in no way ashamed to admit that I want to break this kids lunchbox.

So, for the second time I will talk to the coaches with my terrifying calm serious voice. Of course If that doesn't work I'll just give her the usual pep talk. All that good stuff about self esteem and differences in people and how she should turn her other cheek.



And then I am going to shave that little bullies head when no one is looking.