Moms, Milk Cartons, and Worry -Happy Mother’s Day!

Whenever I buy milk, I always check the expiration date on the milk carton. When I was pregnant and the date on the milk carton was the exact date as my due date, it freaked my freak! I remember thinking, “I might be pouring this milk as a Mom!” And that’s when I started panicking.

Okay, I panicked before that, too. Lots of times. Of course I did! I was growing a person inside me. There were so many things that could go wrong! I’m a worrier, capable of winning every gold medal if the Olympics established worrying as an sport. Becoming a Mom gave me a lot to worry about. As I read that date on the milk carton and started panicking, I didn’t know Motherhood would give me three boys who would help me on my path to becoming a World Class Worrier for the rest of my life.

Lucky me.

I mean it. I am lucky. And blessed to have boys I care about so much about that I will worry myself sick sometimes.

The LOML teases me and says, “Worry is negative prayer.”

He’s right. Worrying takes me away from where I am in the present and takes me to the future into What If Land. Like the date on a milk carton, worrying tells me when things might go bad.

But things might turn out just fine. And most of the time it does.

This Mother’s Day I’ll try to live in the present day and not worry about what might happen. I’ll focus on consuming the day before it has the chance to go bad in the carton.

Hopefully, I can stretch this attitude beyond Mother’s Day at bit and move project it into my other days. It’s definitly worth a try.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you wonderful Moms out there! And don’t worry about anything, we all certainly can consume that milk before the date printed on the carton.

(I wrote more about milk cartons and Mother’s Day on MomCentral.com where I’m the Chief Mom Connector. I didn’t write about the worrying, though, I wrote about a belly-bump that happened in the middle of the street on my first Mother’s Day. It was a really cool moment and one of my favorite Mother’s Day memories. I hope you’ll check it out and I hope you like it!)

*This post takes my Pledge-A-Post committment up to a total of $120.00. Wahoo! One post at a time to change the world.*

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Making the Fake House

Would you even bother making the Fake House if your hallway looked like this? I didn't think so.

We made the “Fake House” today for the eighteen billionth time in Calandro Clan history. You know the Fake House. It’s what my house looks like when I know you’re coming. It’s when I shove stuff in closets and vacuum really fast and then walk around really quickly after I’m done so you don’t see the vacuum tracks on the floor. It’s when I frantically erase the lines M3 has drawn in the dust on my dining room table so you only see the wood and not the quarter-inch layer of gunk that usually lives there.

That’s the Fake House and I’ll create it for you, to different degrees, depending on how much lead time you give me. If you’re staying overnight, I’ll give you clean towels in the guest room tied up with a satin ribbon and clean sheets on the bed. This is a sickness. I know.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" Ummmm. How should I answer that?

Well, we made the Fake House again tonight. But this time there’s a hitch in the giddy-up. This time we have massive plastic sheeting closing off our bedroom from the rest of our house because our master bathroom in torn down to the studs. Creating the Fake House when, clearly, we are living in a construction zone, is absurd. (Please refer to the  previous papagraph in this post.)

We created the Fake House for two reasons today:

1: The local news team is coming in here to shoot a morning show advertisement. (I need lessons in saying no. I’m aware of this. We said yes as a favor for a friend. Because the Calandro Clan is incredibly great at giving away content for free. Train wreck. I know. Naive as well. Yep.)

2. A friend of mine is visiting from out of town and he’s a genius architect. We were friends in college and he lives in his gorgeous, custom-designed home in Del Mar that he created himself. (And I live in a crazy, 80′s, high-ceiling, totally devoid of any molding and style, small-kitchen-bathroom-tract house. I love our view and neighborhood. Something had to give.) This guy is one of the most talented artists/people I’ve ever known and he’s coming to my house with his amazing, beautiful family. This turns the Fake House in the FAKE HOUSE in all caps.

So there you have it. Philanthropy goes out the window when I’m faced with trying to impress a long-time college friend and a news crew with a video camera.

Meh.

Onward!

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One Post at a Time: Pledge-A-Post

What Happened Then

Why is it so terribly hard for me (and others) to be more public about suicide? One year ago today I wrote about my Dad’s death for the first time on my blog and clicking the “publish” button made me feel so sick I wanted to crawl under the covers in my bed.

For me, I feel his suicide displays a deficit I carry in my genetic make-up. I wonder if others worry about my stability, or if the LOML could have made a better choice in who he married. If my Father could commit suicide, what does that mean I am capable of? What does it say about me that I couldn’t “save” him? I couldn’t see the signs of my Dad’s despair –or ignored the ones I did see –and went about my self-centered, young-adult life.

Just typing that last paragraph made me tear up as I sat at my computer. Those feelings explain only part of the complexity of dealing with a suicide as a form of death. It’s emotionally messy. It leaves survivors struggling for answers that will never come, causing us to create our own as best we can.

I intended last year’s post to help others who might be struggling with recovering from a loss due to suicide. I offered support, but got an over-whelming amount in return. I hadn’t expected so many readers to share their stories of loss and difficulty of the struggle to make sense of their loved one’s decision. Readers told me about brothers, Moms, sisters who chose to die instead of deal with the pain of being alive for another day. It was the biggest, most honest, conversation about suicide I ever had. It didn’t erase the pain, but for the first time, I didn’t feel so alone with my story.

What I Know Now

The more I’ve learned about suicide, the more I understand it as a proclamation of a lost battle with mental health and I find comfort in knowing this. Instead of wondering what could I have done? What did I do wrong? Didn’t he love us enough to stick around? It relieves some of the guilt, not entirely, but it helps.

If you are thinking about taking your own life, stop reading right now and call anyone who will help. Call the police if you need to, but do not let mental illness be the winner in your story. You deserve more than that ending for yourself and the people who love you. If you think no one cares, you are wrong. Find the people who care and go to them for help.

If you are surviving this kind of loss, seek help to recover from it and don’t keep quiet. Tell your story, find others who will listen, and listen to their stories. You are not alone in your grief or how you choose to express it. Others deal with it, too. Also, don’t let your life be defined by this death. Suicide is now a part of your story, but it can be a chapter instead of the entire book.

What We Can Do

In honor of my Dad and anyone who grieves for someone who died as my Dad did, I gave myself a challenge at the beginning of the year: I call this my Pledge-A-Post idea. I pledged to donate $10.00 per post, up to $500, to try to change the world. I want my blog to have a philanthropic focus and help people who live in the wake of suicide, but I want to talk about more than that in this space. My Dad’s death is part of who I am, and I’m made up of so much more as well.

As of this post, I have pledged $100 to donate at the end of the year. In October, I will count how many posts I wrote this year and total up the pledge money. That’s when you (my faithful six readers) help me decide where the money will be spent.

I hope Pledge-A-Post creates a dialogue about the good works being done in our world. I want to hear your stories and share them with others. I am working on a Pledge-A-Post button you can put on your site to link to an “about” page here so you can help spread the word. (Thanks to the lovely Ellie of One Crafty Mother for this idea!) When you write a post about how you make the world a better place –either by donating your time, money, or energy to an organization –let me know about it. I’ll link to your post on my Pledge-A-Post page to spread the word about your awesomeness.

I want the money I pledge to inspire others to donate to their community or an organization they believe in to make our world a better place. If you want to add money to my Pledge-A-Post challenge, please wait; hold onto the money and spread the word for now. I’m not sure how I should deal with financial donations…yet. I’ll keep you posted on how this develops.

Thanks for reading and spreading the word about Pledge-A-Post. I hope it does what I intend and more. I appreciate any help you offer and look forward to seeing how this expands throughout the rest of the year.

Blessings to you and yours.

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Don’t Say This on Twitter

I love twitter. I hang out there quite a bit between chatting with folks for work and jumping into conversations with friends for pleasure. About a year ago I got my toes painted and posted the photo on my twitpic account. This sparked a fun conversation with friends about the joy of a good pedicure for my runner’s feet.

Last week I got my toes done and, once again, posted a photo on twitter. I got a few friendly comments and then the conversation got creepy. A few folks with *interesting* twitter handles found my photo and offered to do things to my toes other than a pedicure.

Ewwwwwwwww.

I know anyone can see what I’m saying out there, and, usually, that’s fine. However, it reminded me who is listening: Everyone. And this time, someone joined my conversation in ways I had no interest in discussing.

When the LOML and I jumped into the twitterverse years ago, we promised we wouldn’t swear, spread negativity, or say anything we wouldn’t say to someone in person when talking on that account. Now the account is mostly my voice, but I still keep these promises. Based on what happened last week, I to expand my parameters a bit. Feet? Really? Okay, if I thought about the fetish folks out there, I might have thought of it and avoided it. Still, though, ew.

I guess in the future I’ll type “t0es” when I discuss my next pedicure on twitter. Or I won’t use the word “feet” because I’m pretty sure that word is what started the problems in the first place. Better yet, I’ll probably just text a photo of my multi-colored nails to a friend instead. (Yes, for this pedicure I chose five different colors –I’ll explain why in another post.)

So, unless you want folks offering to do things to your metatarsals, keep those conversations off twitter. I know that’s my plan for the future. I could create a private twitter account, but I’m not at that point yet. It’s nice to know I have that option if I ever want it.

So what other topics or words should I keep out of my twitter stream? Because obviously my naiveté needs a little help. Thanks in advance for bringing me up to speed.

Note: I didn’t include a photo in this post ~I figure I got enough interesting comments to last me a while!

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