Day 68: Karmic Crumbs

I am fortunate to have married one of the most patient men on earth. I honestly do not think anyone else, besides my children and dog, whom all rely on me for food, could stand to live with me. I have a plethora of unique quirks and habits.  Too many to list, and as many know, I’m a good lister. (Lister should be a word.)

Prepare for digression.

Today I almost wrote on death terror (always on my mind), then moved onto the funny things about aging, and then landed on exploring raw food diets. My heart palpitations started up with the thought of switching to a raw food diet. I’ve tried the diet before. Moving from vegetarian to vegan (no cheese, no eggs) lasted four days. Trying to go from vegetarian to raw-food-vegan lasted about the time I take to walk to the fridge, open the fridge, and devour a slice of veggie-combo pizza.

I sure would like to rid myself of aches and pains, have more energy, and look like I’m 50, when I’m 70, but I’m thinking the heart attack and situational depression from the removal of Italian food from my life and stomach, would certainly kill me. I’m all for people finding something that works for them, be it diet, exercise, love, or faith, as long as the solution doesn’t harm another. Me, going raw vegan, would harm all the people who loved me. The radical mood shifts alone would cause mass destruction.

Which leads me back to my marriage. I am a moody gal. And the fact that my husband sticks around is a miracle. I got over myself, and my ego, in relation to my place in our marriage, about ten years ago, when for the hundredth time, I heard, from yet another woman: “You are so lucky to have a man like Bob.”

Gag! No one ever once, not once, not anyone from school functions, the workplace, the family gatherings, friendly circles, not one person ever said: “Bob, you are so lucky to have a woman like Sam.” (Insert my real name there; for all you logical souls concluding: Well, of course not. Her name isn’t really Sam.)

Not a one! I’m not chopped liver. And my brain is keen. So it’s got to be that whole “high maintenance” attribute I’ve got going on.

Poor, poor Bob. If you believe in the Buddha’s way of a person coming back in a life position based on previous karmic dealings, then I certainly wonder about my husband. For him to end up being my breadwinner, dishwasher, back and neck massager, psychologist, best friend, and emotional punching bag, I figure he must have done me mighty wrong in a past life!

Which logically means I have an obligation to even out the karmic relationship, I suppose. Speaking of such, accordingly, I must have done a whole lot of people wrong in my previous incarnations. Although when I was much younger, I had that whole “pretty girl” thing going on. So I must have done something right eons ago.

I think the biggest karmic wrong doing I ever did in this life was the time I stole the yellow spelling book, with the illustrated cat on the cover, from a girl in pigtails named Alice. She was a straw-haired blonde girl in second grade that sat two seats up in front of me, and she always, I mean always, got the right answers. While I was in the back hooting and hollering to be called on, Alice glided up a smooth arm and remained calm. One day, I couldn’t stand Alice anymore, and I did a terrible, terrible thing. I took her spelling book when no one was about, and hid the book in the back of the room. When Alice’s turn came, she couldn’t answer, and I could. Only, the plan backfired, because we spent the next twenty-minutes calming Alice down and searching relentlessly for her book. Well, everyone but me. Worst part of the whole spelling book fiasco, is that I still feel guilty. I remember thinking right then and there, in the company of a bunch of eight year olds, that I’d never ever purposely do wrong by anyone ever again. And I’ve tried my best to uphold that rule. Though I still fear I’ll be coming back as Alice’s gerbil in another life.

I can go on and make excuses about my home life at that time, but I’m not going there. I’m sorry, Alice, wherever you are! Please keep my cage clean!

Karma is a funny thing. What goes around comes around, so they say. But it seems to me the clueless people always get a better life, at least this time around, and the smart folks end up with all the misery. Which makes me wonder if I want to have brains in my next life.

This post was supposed to be about the high-tolerance level and total awesomeness of my husband. But somehow ended up being about gerbils. This is what Bob has to live with. If you are religious, you may want to stop and say a silent prayer for Bob.

click to see where image was found

Just to make sure I don’t have to be anyone’s gerbil, here is a list of I’m sorry:

  1. I’m sorry to that lady on the phone, whom I said this to: “Well, as long as you are more accepting of children with special needs. The last music instructor had zero tolerance of my son and her classes were boring.” Turns out I accidentally dialed the instructor I was speaking about.
  2. I’m sorry to T for lecturing you on my thoughts on God after I’d had one to many caffeinated beverages.
  3. I’m sorry to Mom for having a blog where I discussed everything horrible I thought you ever did to me.
  4. I’m sorry to my mother-in-law. You were right, when you stood up at the rehearsal dinner and announced loudly: “Are you sure you want to marry her?” But I think karmic wise we are more than even.
  5. I’m sorry to the university professor that I wrote about more than once, and called a “dumbass” to the world. (I’m sorry for the ass part.)
  6. I’m sorry to that Swan chick because I posted a big sign on my blog that directed readers to your website, because you were stealing my stories.
  7. I’m sorry to all the people who signed up to follow my posts, because you honestly had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
  8. I’m sorry to all the perfect-looking, skinny women at the gym that I stick my tongue out at, and for the teasing about your flat chests.
  9. I’m sorry to the drivers I yell at when I say: “Come on! Can you go any slower?”
  10. I’m sorry to my husband Bob for making you fetch me cleaner drinking glasses, for kicking you when you snore, for singing Daddy can’t rhyme, for saying, “You smell,” for asking, “What’s on your face. Can you die from that?”, for telling you more than once: It looks like your gaining weight, for making you move seats five times in the movie theater, for freaking out over the smell of taco meat, for screaming frantically over your driving, for calling you ten times in a row over the possibility of my heart exploding, for making you edit my writing and then critiquing your editing skills, for calling you various names based on the time of the month and the planetary positions, and for all the annoying things I do and say.

Okay. That just about covers me karmic wise until tomorrow.

Side note:  More evidence that Bob is a saint. I couldn’t fall asleep last night, so I made up stupid jokes in my head. Then I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, where my husband was, and told Bob the jokes. He told me I really needed to get some sleep.


Why did the Blue Jay cross the road? Because he was a jay-walker.

What did Jesus say when he looked in the toilet? Holy crap.

What do you call a slutty alcoholic living on the streets? A wine-hoe

I apologize to any jay-walking, Jesus-loving, homeless people. No offense intended.

A nice example of a clean Gerbil Cage

Day 54: I Have Loved You For A Thousand Years!

To My Dear Son,

I have been selfish and blinded. I have hurt the most precious being on this earth, my very flesh and blood, my baby, my angel, my bear.

I am so very sorry. And you have every right to be mad at Mommy. You have a right to have emotions, to feel emotions, to have pain, to express the pain, to experience that pain, and to above all share that pain with whomever you choose to share that pain with. I love you so much that I am crying with joy. I am washing the tears from my cheek.  And I am crying big tears of “I am sorry.”

This is the most important letter I have ever written. The most important words I have ever written. And Mommy has written thousands of pages of words. You are that important.

When I was little, I promised myself every night and every day, in the morning light and in the dark, how I would love my child with all my heart. How I would never cause him or her pain. How I would be there. How I would carry the pain.

I would die for you. Right now. I would die for you. I love you that much.

I am sorry I haven’t shown you lately how much I love you. I am sorry I have ignored you. I am sorry I haven’t been present. It is my fault. And I am heart-broken because of the choices I made. You are not to blame, one bit. You did nothing wrong. You are perfect.

If you could see me now, crying louder than our doggy howls, crying so hard, because I never want you to feel alone or unloved, unnoticed or forgotten, you would understand how much you mean to me.

You would know that you are not Forgotten. That you are loved beyond measure.

You are my beautiful, divine, and loving son. I am the luckiest mom on earth! You make me smile with delight. You tickle me inside with your jokes and puns. You are amazing. You are brilliant. You are the joy that fills my day and the reason I fall asleep proud. You are a bright star that brings the family an element of surprise, adventure, truth, and great passion.

Our family is complete because of YOU!

Your passion is so huge that it fills the whole of our house. Your creations, inventions, and experiments—as they explode in our bathrooms, across our kitchen, on the balcony, and all around the house—they announce to the world: I am brilliant! I am creative! I am GREAT!

Our family is whole because of you. Because of your brilliance and charm. Your directness. Your ability to see and feel at a deep, deep level. Your gift of knowing things beyond this world. Your gift of bringing a smile to our face, over and over. Your memory is fascinating. Your strong will and determination is amazing.

You will go far in life. You have so very much to offer the world.

And I am so very sorry that I have not been there for you. I am ashamed. I am saddened. I was wrong.

I’ve been lost in my own world and pain. I’ve been hiding from events in my life. I’ve been afraid. I haven’t been brave like you. I haven’t been courageous like you.

But you know what?

You have made me braver with your words today.

Know why?

Because I love you so much, that your very words pulled me out from where I was hiding, and motivated me to stop being selfish, and to see the beautiful gifts in my life. Gifts like you, and your smile, and your loving eyes—and your huge, huge heart!

I am so blessed!

Look at you. Look what God has giving Mommy! A beautiful, intelligent, healthy, loving, charming, courageous boy. Who could ask for more? Why have I been so blinded in my own worries and fears?

You are glorious beyond words.

So this is both my sorry letter to you, my loving son, and my thank you letter to God.

Thank you God for my boy. Thank you for his angel heart, for his angel hugs, and for his patience with his mom. I know how blessed I am. Please forgive me for not appreciating this marvel you have placed before me, for this gift you have trusted in my care, for this wise being at my side.

“Thank you!” I shout from the highest mountain. “Thank you for this greatest gift in the whole of the world. Thank you for my glorious boy. For my super, fabulous kid who makes my world marvelous.”

Today, my son, I honor your words and concerns.  I honor you. I honor all of you. All parts of you. Everything about you is absolutely perfect. There is nothing I would change, nothing I would alter.

I can’t wait until you get home; I’m counting the minutes. I will get on my knees and say: “I’m sorry.”

Then I will wrap my arms around you, and say: “I  love you farther than all the universes can reach. I have loved you for a thousand years. Darling, don’t be afraid. I will love you for a thousand more! I will love you forever and ever! I am here.”

I love you my dear wonderful boy,

Your Mommy