Birthdays galore

I survived my 50th birthday weekend!!

And what a weekend it was too! I had a three day birthday party bash. It was more of an open house concept which worked really well. Friday night was the big night as I had my son’s band play. The weather was perfect. Saturday I hosted a 70’s costume party. Sunday I hosted a murder mystery party. In lieu of gifts, I asked for donations for two of my favorite charities. The last thing I wanted was a whole bunch of gag gifts like my husband got for his 50th.

Friends and family stopped in when they were available. By Sunday, on my actual birthday, everything was pretty low key. But it didn’t end there. The following day was Lexi’s (my son’s girlfriend) 25th birthday, so we celebrated that too. She wanted everyone to dress goth style which was a lot of fun. Although my son and husband did not want to wear manscara or guy liner. Party poopers! LOL.

But it didn’t end there.. Last weekend was Angel’s birthday. Next week is our wedding anniversary, then afterwards we will be celebrating my son and my mom’s birthday. There is a season for everything. I’ll take a time of celebration over sorrow any day.

Time flies

Time somehow has a mystical way of slipping through the hour glass. I’ve been thinking about that concept a lot as I am spending the last few days left in my 40’s. Fifty seems old to me. The beginning of the end. The end of the beginning. I never pictured myself growing old. I have some regrets. Not so much for the things I’ve done, but for the things I didn’t do early enough.

I sacrificed my childhood and young adult years worrying about adult problems that really weren’t mine to bear. Childhood was never fun, magical, or carefree. I don’t have good memories to tide me over on the hard days. I had to think for a very long time to come up with one good memory. My good memory of childhood was playing badminton in our yard with my parents and brothers.

I didn’t feel like I had the freedom to live my own life. My mom didn’t want me to leave. She wanted me to stay close by because she needed me. I didn’t realize what I was giving up. I went to the college closest to home. I studied psychology in hopes of becoming a counselor. Then I would be able to SAVE my family from their dysfunction. I could FIX them. I was young enough to think my education would change things. Being a caregiver was what I was good at. I was the 6-year-old who was watching her younger brothers in the lake by herself after all.

I was too stupid and worthless to try other things. That’s what my dad said anyway. My mom said if I tried new things I wouldn’t be perfect and would fail. I totally lacked confidence and self-esteem. I did have other interests such as music, genetics, microbiology, library science, and probation and parole. Some of those programs weren’t offered at the local college. I didn’t even try out the choir because I wouldn’t be good enough.

Fast forward another three decades. My family of origin is just as dysfunctional as it always was. Somehow at times it still is surprising to me because I don’t know how anybody could stand to live that way.

I don’t regret the family I have now. I didn’t waste a lot of my young years in a bad marriage. I love my kids. My husband and I met because we lived in the same apartment building when I was going to college. The good things in my life happened because I stayed close to home. Or maybe it was just the choices I made.

Most young folks stay near/at home for their parents help, not to help their parents. Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I left home sooner. If I could go back in time, I would tell my younger self to live your own life guilt free. It’s not your job to rescue your parents. You don’t have the power to fix them. It’s hard enough to change the things you don’t like about yourself.

Time flies.

What to write

I haven’t been feeling very motivated to write since I finished my book. I say finished loosely because it is going to need more work. Nothing major though. I hope to have it ready to publish by early next year.

I think I need to revisit my goals. What do I want to do next? Try my hand at fiction? Or am I happy to keep writing on a personal blog although with my book it seems like I told everything I wanted to tell. I think I want to keep writing in some capacity, but what?

There are always things going on in my life to write about. I guess I wasn’t meant for a life of mediocrity. Sometimes I am jealous of people who live an ordinary average life who can join groups on Facebook called the dull women’s club. True story, I looked at some of their posts and some people just sit around watching their garden grow. I could only post about watching my plants slowly die.

I figured part of my problem is that I was never shown how to care for plants. My mom got rid of all our houseplants when she went on a kick that my brother Matt was allergic to them all. Last summer I bought a banana plant and the only way it lived over winter was because a friend showed me basic plant care 101.

My grandpa had a nursery when I was young. One day, he pulled out a dying shrub he was going to get rid of. I decided I was going to ‘rescue’ the shrub. So I planted it in my backyard and watered it everyday. One day I went out to water it, and it was no longer dying. It even looked twice its size, green and healthy. It was a miracle, I saved it. But now as I am older I realize my grandpa probably had something to do with my unrealistic expectations about plant rescue.

This is totally going in an unanticipated path. I do have a lot of stories to tell, but we’ll save them for another rainy day. There have been a lot of rainy days as of late. The arthritis in my knee has been acting up for the last week or so. I may soon be able to predict the weather like my relatives of old. My arthritis is acting up, it’s going to rain. How time changes things. Five years ago I would be trying to get in a run before the storm. Now I sit around and complain about how hard it is to walk because my joints can feel the rain coming. It’s hard to think I will never be able to do something again I used to enjoy so much.

Maybe I’m just having another mid-life crisis. I will be 50 in less than a month. It’s hard kissing my 40’s good-bye. Fifty is old. I’ve gained weight. I can’t see worth a crap. Some days I have a hard time getting around. Arthritis. Grey hair. I don’t look or feel young anymore. I’m at an all time low, but it’s not going to get any better. But I’m trying not to complain about it too much because those people are just a drag to be around.

Otherwise, things are going okay. Arabella is stable on her medicine. On Monday, she has a goal planning appointment with her new case manager to help her gain independence. She literally hasn’t visited with friends for weeks and spends her day following me around. I don’t mind all that much. I’m trying to enjoy what time I have with her. She never liked me before so in that way it is kind of nice. I know I’m cool and all, but I want much more for her than that.

My other two kids, Angel and Alex, are not getting along. That has been stressful because I hate feeling like I am in the middle especially with a holiday weekend coming up. Not to mention dealing with the extended family. Then having a party and turning 50 right after that.

I have been feeling pensive and melancholy lately. Maybe I just need a little sunshine.

A pirate looks at 50

Today my husband Paul turned the big 50.

We don’t have big plans for the day. We have play practice tonight. Paul, Arabella, and I tried out for the local community theater’s musical last week. Paul got the lead part and tonight is the first rehearsal.

This past weekend, I threw Paul a huge party with 70 of our closest friends and family. Just kidding. In my calculations, I didn’t know 6 out of the 70 people that showed up. It was a great day, no rain, and not too chilly. Since I hosted the party by myself, I decided to have food catered in. It was pricey, but worth every dollar.

This was the first party I hosted at our new house and this was the biggest party I ever hosted. It was stressful to know how much food to get, etc… Some people showed up that  weren’t expected and some didn’t that I thought would. My guess was that we would have 64 people, so I wasn’t too far off.

If I could do it all over again, I would’ve asked someone specifically to take pictures. I didn’t take any. I just didn’t have time.

Alissa, there is a child swimming alone and unattended in the pool. Alissa, we need a plunger. Alissa, the faucet isn’t working and I can’t turn off the hot water. Alissa, Alissa, ALISSA!!!!!!!

I loved every minute of it though. The planning, preparation, and especially cleaning up afterwards. I worried though. I wondered if I got enough food and drinks. Would the weather be nice? What if I drop the cake? What if it rained? Or snowed? What if it was too cold?

The worst thing that happened was that I felt sick with allergies/head cold the week of the party. It made cleaning and preparing on top of my regular schedule that much more demanding.

From what I heard, everyone had a great time. In fact, someone suggested that I host a party once a month. We’ll see about that!