Be careful when you rub the lamp....sometimes the genie DOES appear....(The medium, part 1.)

Yesterday, I spent some time with my mother, my father, and a very adorable medium who made my day.

Yes.  I saw a medium.   (SQUEAL!!)

You must know that I have always been a firm believer in something more.  I’ve always felt certain presences, and had some very usual and comforting AND interesting visits as I dream in the dark of the night. I've seen my mother, my grandmother, my father and my nephew.  They appear when I least expect it, and when I need it the most.  

My last and only visit to a medium was about 8 years ago. I’ll refer to it here, and not mention it again here.

This young lady’s name had been mentioned to me by MORE than one friend, and her reputation is one of surprising accuracy and great detail.  She has also given great comfort to one of my friends in particular, and that alone boosted her status in my heart.

I walked into the appointment with an open mind, a happy heart and without any need for desperate guidance or advise. I was curious to find out if my mother and father were every with me, if they were proud of me, and if they were happy.  But most of all,  I really, really needed a hug.

After the welcoming rituals, we settled into some comfy seats and I kept my mouth shut as she invited and welcomed any spirits who felt the need to come forward.  After a few minutes, she informed me that she was pretty sure my MOTHER was there.  “And,” she said laughingly, “this particular spirit has been hanging around waiting for you to get here. I felt her presence for some minutes before you arrived.   Were you hanging around outside before you came in?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, she is so excited to be here,” the medium said with a smile.  And then she turned to me, “She's actually clapping! Wait, she is also holding her arms out….um…oh….she said to tell you she is giving you a great big hug!”

Gulp.     Holy $&#%.  


The Cost of Happiness? Sometimes it's more than you ever imagined.

I was at the table working on schoolwork for the master’s program I am currently enrolled in. (More on that later.) It was about 2:30 in the afternoon when I noticed a text from Golden Boy.

“Are you home?” it said.

“YES!” I hurriedly replied, hoping that I hadn’t missed the chance to see him.

He didn’t reply, and after a few minutes I got back to work reading some very exciting material about the history of curriculum, some fella named Tyler and something about a Rationale.  I knew Golden Boy was on his way home from the campus he’s attending about 40 minutes away, and was really hoping that this time he really would stop, as he practically passes the home I am living in on his way to his father’s.

I was too afraid to hope. 

I’d been disappointed before, and can count on my hand the number of times he has found the time to stop by the house in the past year or so.  The number grows even less if one were to go back the last few years. Some of you know what I’m talking about, but I won’t get into something that cannot be undone. I will just attribute that to the fact that 18 year-old boys probably do not think that making time for their mom is cool, or really is something they think about.  It’s about friends, basketball, football, work and perhaps a girl.  I’m going to go with that excuse.

I began taking notes again when I heard the door open.

“Hey,” he said in his low voice.

I jumped off the chair and walked over to him for a hug.  I may have held him a few minutes longer than he wanted, but I didn’t care.  We sat down, and shared about twenty minutes of casual conversation about this and that and nothing really important.  I watched him intently as he shared a few words or two when answering some vague questions that I hurriedly came up with.  I watched him as he talked about school and the classes he was taking.  I listened intently as he explained how he had caught a horrible cold and was battling to keep up with schoolwork. My eyes took him in and held him close, soaking him in like a woman seeing the sun after a long, dark winter. My heart filled with such love, and I tried so very hard not allow tears to spill out as I watched my son share simple things about his daily life.

This is what I’ve missed.

I’ve missed the small moments in our daily life. While I could spend time mourning the last years that were stolen from me, I won’t allow it.  Instead, my heart swelled with joy and love as I sat next to the son that has still managed to become the man I had always hoped he would be.

He left after about 20 minutes with the excuse that he was very busy with school and work. I thanked him for making time to see me, hugged him and sent him on his way.  I watched him get into the car and back out of the driveway with a huge smile on my face.

I sat down in my chair with such a full heart.  I realized that I am happier with my life than I ever, ever thought I would be.  I have an amazing loving man in my life who shows me daily what a real adult relationship is supposed to be. I speak to Bitchy and Sassy every single day, and am so very proud of the young women they have become.  I have a son who has begun to find his way back to his mother, and for that I am grateful.   My heart is beginning to heal and grow in ways I never imagined.  But the loss of those years? It has broken me in ways I never imagined.  I often think about the ending of Stephen King’s Book,The Storm of the Century.  The Anderson’s, a couple at the heart of the story, were forced to give up their only son. Of course they had to give him to the devil, and I simply allowed my son to stay with his dad.  (I’m gonna keep my mouth shut here.)

But that price, the price of the gift I gave him(remember THIS post???), was one I never EVER imagined I would have to pay. I just pray that he continues to follow those bread crumbs, and finds his way back to the mother who has loved him every single day of his life.


I decided TODAY was the day to start writing again. (Let's work together, friends. Let's work together.)

I received a plea for help from my niece this morning.  She’s the mother of a pre-school child who is very upset about the new president-elect. My phone beeped when the text came in. 

“Aunt Vodka, I need a teacher’s perspective. While I’ve tried very hard to keep my opinions about Donald Trump silent and not scare him, Hayden keeps saying he’s scared and he does not like him.  I’m actually at a loss for words of comfort in this whole situation. Help!”

I stared at the phone and thought about the conversation I had with my class the day after the election. Many of them came into school crying and fearful. After five or so kids came in to the room distraught, I knew I had to have a class meeting.  To keep this in perspective, our class is comprised of many students from other countries who have come to our university to study, and also children of the very professors who work there.  We have quite a diverse community!  I looked at the sea of tearful and fearful faces, and sat them on the carpet.  I took a deep breath, and spoke from an authentic heart and mind.

“Boys and girls, today we DO have a new president.  We, our country, elected him. This is what is wonderful about the country we live in- we are FREE to vote for whomever we choose. No one tells us who to vote for, or tells us who is going to run our country.  WE vote.  Frankly, boys and girls, it’s our job to vote.  Always remember that.

I know you are worried about some of the things you’ve heard that he said, and I want to talk to you about that.  When we have elections, people say and do things they don’t really mean because they want very badly to win that election. They think they are the best person for the job, so they sometimes say and do things they don’t really mean. Everyone does that, unfortunately. Even President Obama said a few things he didn’t really mean. I remember when he said he didn’t like Mrs. Clinton, but then he changed his mind.  

So... some of you think he doesn’t like children. Well, guess what? He has children of his own! He even has a child not too much older than YOU!  He loves all his children, and I know he will love all of the children in our country."

As this point they looked SHOCKED when I told them about his children.  I then glanced at the children from the other countries who had been voicing their fears.

“And guess what?  Mr. Trump’s WIFE is from another country!  He loves her very much, and would never make HER leave!  So, please don’t worry, I am sure he will not make all of you leave, either.

“Our other job, as citizens of this country, is to respect the position of president and respect the choice that our country made.  Because really, no matter who I voted for or who your parents voted for, we all put Mr. Trump in office.  One way or another.  

“Now, we all have our own jobs in here! Mr. Trump’s job is to be president, but OUR job is to be kind to each other, treat each other with respect and LEARN TO READ!  Now, who’s with me?”

“WE ARE!!!” They all shouted as they jumped up and started chanting!  At this point, I lost what little control I had and decided it was a pretty great time for a Dance Party.

Thank you, GoNoodle, for helping this teacher give these children something to dance for….