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Dearest Mr. Kringle,

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

In my November/December Newsletter I shared a gift list with suggestions for people you may be shopping for this Holiday season. I am a stickler for details and observant, to a fault, so throughout the year I collect ideas for things. It brings me great joy when a subscriber emails me to tell me they purchased one of the items for a loved one. (this has happened about a dozen times since my newsletter went out!) I love helping others and often dream of being a personal gift shopper because, let’s face it, giving gifts is THE BEST!

My daughters were begging me to get a list together for Chw. He’s kind of the worst at making a wishlist. When I pointed this out to him, he said that I hadn’t exactly presented him with one. We aren’t really exchanging gifts this year and my daughters both know what I would like, and wouldn’t, so the idea of making a list myself seemed ridiculous. Then, as if by magic, a long time reader emailed me and asked when my wishlist would be up. Weird right? See, every year, around December 1st, I tend to post a “dream wishlist”. It’s not a big deal, and it’s just for fun. We all have those things we’re dreaming of getting, but know we won’t. Well, apparently she looks forward to this list at the start of the holiday season, which is super cool and pretty funny, to be honest.

At any rate, after careful thought, I’ve decided this place could use a light-hearted/fun post so here it is…

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1.) Drake Tufted Sofa I mean, seriously… is this not the most beautiful sofa? This color… The tufting…
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2) If I haven’t complained on here about my current kitchen, please be amazed. It is my least favorite kitchen in all of the kitchens. This little kitchen set is SO adorable though and whenever I see it, i just grin from ear to ear! My kitchen needs some love.

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3) THIS recipe box. Do I need a new one? No. Not really…  But recipe boxes tend to be among those things that are typically pretty ugly and never really “fit in”, but this one… Well. :)

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4.) This Vase is gorgeous. Among my favorite things, in all the world, are fresh-cut flowers. I love them. I imagine this vase filled with flowers and my domestic little design loving heart soars…

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5.) These food prep boards… I mean, imagine the love these would bring to my kitchen. (remember my woeful kitchen confession above? *sigh*)

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6) This PTR face mask sampler is something I drool over every single time I’m in Ulta. PTR is my FAVORITE “something essential, yet special” skin care line, and with my Mask Monday stuff, this is PERFECT!

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7) I have been on the hunt for this Palette for what feels like ever. I have dreamed of it… Someday. (maybe. Hopefully. If only…)

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8) It is amazing. Enough said… 65-loews-spa-day-massage-or-facial-reg-125-2250482-regular

9) A spa day, complete with a facial, deep tissue massage, pedicure and glass of wine.

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10) a private jet. I miss my kids like crazy and soon Gen won’t be home either. (college) my closest friends live insanely far away and sometimes a “quick weekend” somewhere warm sounds perfect…

So there you go! Of course, I don’t need any of these things. The best parts of Christmas, for me, have nothing to do with what I unwrap. It is all about who I am surrounded by and the joy that lights up their eyes, along with what I can possibly do to make that a reality… What are you “wishing” for?

P.S. A quaint little Inn, in Cape Cod, Ma… :)

One foot in front of the other…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

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To my right a thousand little lights twinkle. Armed with my second cup of coffee, this morning, I open up this page and begin. I have not been spending much time with this blog of mine for a hundred different reasons, many based upon heart issues. I am sure someone reading this can understand issues of the heart. The heaviness, the frustrations, the aches, the loss, the less, the more…

Two thousand and sixteen has been my least favorite year and one of tremendous growth. Every time I admit this truth I am reminded of the nights spent in agony, in my bed, from leg pains. On a scattering of those evenings, my mother would be there massaging them to bring me relief. Those were among the good childhood moments, fighting through pain and not alone. While I was mostly a normal child, I did have a disorder which caused the pain to be a bit more than that of a typical childhood growth spurt. Growing hurt just a bit more. Even through the pain, which at times felt unbearable, those times when my mother was there comforting me and validating the pain I was in where among the small list of happier childhood moments. It took me decades later to realize that growth will always hurt, but people do have the ability to make it beautiful, despite the pain.

During those seasons of my life there were hospital visits, hotel stays (the most magical bits of the journey. Even as a small girl, I understood the sheer wonderful that was a hotel room.) painful exams and my mother. It was clear to me what a burden, in every sense of the word, I was to her. And the massage nights, they would likely be the kindest things she ever did for me. It does not matter that for every 25 pain ridden nights, there would be one with her sitting there helping me. Somehow, for as far as I could remember, I knew to be so thankful for that one. (I also knew never to ask her to do it, but that is a different story.)

Throughout my young years, my mother often told me to massage lotion into her feet. I hated doing this. Of the two things she asked me to do the most for, (foot massage and dumping her ashtray) thoughts of both still have me recoiling. As an adult I now live with my own feet which ache more often than not. (sidenote, my mother went on to have some serious foot issues needing multiple surgeries and there are moments when my own pains lead me to fear that is my fate as well,) Despite the tumultuous relationship I have had with my mother, i was flooded with something like peace and relief to know that maybe I had brought her something good. Maybe in those moments, with Vaseline lotion in hand, I brought her the comfort she was mentally/emotional incapable of bringing to me.

A couple of weekends ago I went to visit my mother. I had not seen her for one week shy of a year. I was wary of how it would go. Sitting down for a visit with a severely bi-polar woman who is in the early stages of dementia can be unpredictable. The 120 minutes were filled with ups, downs, confusion (hers), empathy (mine), guilt (also mine) and a precious 10 minutes where I grabbed the bottle of lotion from the table which sits next to her lift bed, and gently rubbed her feet. She argued at first, but in time she relaxed.

My mom has dementia and is in a home 45 minutes from my apartment. This is the closest I have lived to her since I was 12. Between us there is so much and it has been very hard on me, in a complicated and layered way. My dog, who was my closest companion, died. This broke the tiny piece of my heart which was still in tact and, three months later, I still miss her terribly. My marriage was in shambles and felt irreparable and hopeless. While the word felt is truly appropriate here, past tense and all, I won’t lie: it still feels that way sometimes. (I do appreciate that sometimes is a lot more manageable than always.) I went through a lot of hurt and due to a situation, have harbored a lot of flat-out hatred for a few individuals. I have spent seven long months waiting to matter, waiting to be worth something to my husband and waiting to have my heart fought for. It was in my thirty November days of gratitude and reflection that I finally had to admit this will never happen. My husband loves me. He used to love me more, and differently, or at least he pretended really well. Now he loves me this way, and that is simply how it is. I have some semblance of worth to him, though others are worth more. They have done nothing to earn this position, and honestly are really horrible women, but that is not the reflection of my worth that I have allowed it to be. As much as I may imagine a confrontation which leads my husband to proclaim his choice of me and force each of them to face the awfulness of themselves, I do not need this. I no longer harbor hatred towards them. I no longer expect my husband to love me the way I once believed he did, simply I accept that he does not. While I do not like the esteemed position of these women within his heart, this realization does not make me less valuable or worthy. It simply means to my husband I may be, but he is not the end all of my appraisal.

I am the daughter of a woman who had loving parents who worked really hard for her. They were not perfect, but neither was she. She has mental illness which, untreated, really made a mess of her life. She caused immeasurable amounts of pain and for the forty years that I have known her, she has harbored hatred and bitterness to extreme degrees. Despite everything, I will always be her daughter. I may end up with marred and pain riddled feet. I may cry in the occasional sappy Hallmark movie, melt into a puddle whenever I see a puppy and have unrealistic ideals of what my daily productivity levels should be, but beyond the little details I do not want to be like my mother. I do not want to harbor ill will to anyone. I do not want my perception of worth to be based on a man’s perception of my worth. I do not want to spend any amount of time tormenting my children, causing them to go any amount of time terrified to see me.

I will however, take any foot massage offered to me. (that being said, I am probably always going to be way too scarred to ask for it.)

Beneath the view…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

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Beneath this multi color sky rests a village.

Villagers close their days, in many ways. Some are laying the tableware down, while the stew is simmering. Others slap turkey and thinly sliced swiss between two slices of rough cut baguette. There are homes with shingle tile roofs, where beneath them families interact little, instead losing their best selves into their screens. Some homes have single-paned windows, no television and their dinner of lentils and tofu will be followed by board game and laughter.

One or two of these homes likely have pictures of Jesus on the wall, angry hearts seated in plaid patterned recliners, bottles of cheap bourbon stashed about the room indiscreetly.

Across town perhaps a father is sincerely praying a prayer of gratitude for the meager meal his family is about to dine on. In another home a mother is crying while her pork chops burn on the stove because her four-year old drew all over the newly painted dining room with sharpie, and she’s tired.

Beneath many of these roofs there are tired and weary souls. Tired from working, tired from living. Tired from living to work, lack of connection, poor nutrition, fitful rest, marital discord, and so on. Tired never ends…

One woman, down there, in one home hiding behind one porch light miscarried a baby today. Behind another, a spouse hides the secret of an affair. One home holds an empty bed because their teenage son ran away, choosing addiction over the tough love of a mother and father.

A fraction of the homes have held cancer, loss, bankruptcy and enraged anger.

Beneath the view, an artistic photograph with which one took pride and many admired, there is life. Life is ugly and lonely, life is messy and hard.

Though much is speculated about these nameless, faceless people below, a few things are certain…

There are hurting, aching and broken people down there, hiding behind their front doors. Neighbors don’t know. Many neighbors do not want to know. The Villagers are consumed with their own empty, lonely aches.

No one grabs the hand of the stranger next to them, no one says “We’ve got this, you and I. You are not alone.”

Wednesday morning the sun rose, and people felt crippled with fear. Not just these villagers, but most of us. Our financial system took a hit and the optimistic ones placed their hopes in a man who isn’t ready to be our everything. No man is. Until we take the faceless and broken and learn their names, learn their stories, and decide to set our aching down to help them carry theirs, we will continue to fall downward.

Today let’s go love someone. Let’s call a friend whom we know is hurting, and let’s not ask if you need anything, let me know. No, let us say “I am bringing you a well needed chocolate bar that I am instructing you not to share with a single soul!” And then do it. And when we see them, hug them with as much sincerity as our arms can contain, and let them know by our gestures that We’ve got this, together, and they are not alone.

Shame, fear and hatred bread in the dark. Let’s be the light, and shine and shine and shine, until there isn’t a square inch left untouched. Let’s make America great, finally...

it is important, but not for why we think…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

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We were all squished together, in a booth at Chili’s. Where as, a week or two before, such close proximity may have felt uncomfortable, on this day it did not. On this particular day we were scared. Our friends to the left had been trying to have a baby for a few months. It was there that they confessed to how glad they were that they had not conceived and quietly agreed they would never have a child now. Across the booth were friends with a newborn. A Newborn whom they loved but sobbed actual tears over the terror ridden world we now lived in. The date was September 15, 2001.

Those things, the fears and feelings, they were real. Real and relevant. Beyond us, our conversations and our choosing to feel them though, they meant nothing. It was not a fear that brought about progress or healing in communities, but rather stepping into a community with those around us. Yes, it took a long time. It has been a long journey and we aren’t there yet, but we are better than those who were so crippled with terror. It was choosing to love others, work together and be that walked us all through a horrible recession, (which many argue isn’t quite over yet.) Our friend’s baby has grown into a beautiful young woman and our childless friends did go on to have two great kids. Fears subside. At that dinner, at Chili’s, we all imagined a world more like those existing in Post Apocalyptic movies than the world we have now. This America of iPhones, an abundance of Marvel movies, TV on demand (and at our fingertips, to boot) and a black president- this America was unfathomable.

And what about our president? 8 years ago my 9-year-old was so terrified of the election results. It was not from us, but from everyone so consumed with discussing the Anti-Christ known as Obama, with his illegal birth certificate, middle eastern ties and blah, blah, blah. We were leaving a friend’s house when we heard the election results on the radio. My NINE YEAR OLD slipped into a unconsolable blob in the back seat. She wanted to be married someday, and go to high school… She wanted all things 9-year-old girls dream of and she had to face that life was over and the world had ended.

And yet… Here we are.

The world is imperfect. It is an imperfect globe filled with imperfect people. I have kids not of my womb whom I have failed hundreds upon hundreds of times. I have woken up and wondered why I was a mother at all, some days. On those days I have questioned if they would’ve been better off without me. Does that mean that I should be crucified on social media daily, with my faults spotlighted for everyone to obsess over, (you know, instead of looking inwardly at their own character)? No. Don & Hillary are both people too. They each have really wonderful things they’ve done, really terrible things they’ve done and a whole lot of both that they have lied about.

Voting is important, because if we don’t then we forfeit the right to have a voice. Tomorrow we will wake up and life will look the same. It will feel the same. And the changes we are hoping to see for our country will still be up to us more so than the elected officials. How so? We get all bent out of shape because our gun rights are at risk. Guess what? Our gun rights are at risk BECAUSE OF US. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. True. But what people kill people? People without accountability, without community and with access to an entire underground market available to anyone ethicless enough to partake in it. 40, 50, 100, 200 years ago this was not the case. We need laws because we behave like we need laws.

I am a mother. I can hand my child trust and age appropriate freedom, but when he does something that breaks the first, he jeopardizes the second and suddenly rules are a little stricter. Happens again, the results happen again too. When a leader has millions of faceless people to work for, they will end up doing their job by statistics. Recently there was a little social media thing about the worst 10 towns to live in, in Idaho. Defensiveness happened because these said “bad towns” are beloved by many. Bingo! Beloved by people who know them. The people who love them and live their lives in them. The person who made the list was just doing his job. A Leader has no choice but to work on statistics, as they cannot possibly get to know each and every one of us in a way which would enable them to do their jobs better. We, the people do have choices. Be the community. Embrace our businesses, our youth, our other citizens regardless of whether we agree or not. It doesn’t matter whether our viewpoints all mesh well or not. Views and beliefs don’t play together on the playground, WE DO. It is up to us to behave. I grow so weary of religious people characterizing others by their race, religion or sexual orientation. Guess what, NONE OF THAT IS CONTAGIOUS.

We have to stop being afraid. Selling a wedding cake to someone who is different will only make you look kind. Thinking your opinion (or the truth you feel you know) is the only relevant one will make you look cruel. It truly is that simple. No one ever hung themselves because someone was nice to them, even though they were _______. The same can not be true of the latter’s words. Loving kindness prevails, always.

The outcome of today’s election may not be what you feel is best- but it is what someone else thought. Be respectful and move on. Be authentic and love others. The other people around the world who hate America don’t hate us because of our leaders. They hate us because of Americans. We are greedy, arrogant, narrow-minded and petty. We are a joke to many other countries and it is up to us to earn a better reputation. No president in the world could ever change that, but we can. Today I elect us, Americans, to be the heart of America. To listen without interrupting, or thinking we are superior. To embrace without condition of what’s in it for us.
If Americans began behaving like we expect our leaders to, we WOULD have less violence, less addiction, less homelessness, less abuse and less need for big government. My one voice may not make a bit of difference in this election, but it makes all of the difference within my community, and that can trickle and trickle until one day we look back and say “Wow, remember that year that ________ became president and the world kept turning after we were all so sure it would stop? That’s when we decided to take responsibility for our country, our mouths and our actions and I am so glad we did.”

On reflections…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

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October was an incredible month for me. Not only did I get to spend so much precious time with my older daughter A and her boys, but I also got the chance to spend an awesome week with my best friend Kozzette. As if those things weren’t enough, I had the privilege of spending 9 days road tripping through New England. My eyes have never drank in a more beautiful October. In that adventure my spirit reset, inspiration seeds were planted deep within my soil and an undiscovered personal dream was born. (Is it wrong that I want to do it again every October?)

I am going on six months of being back in Michigan and it has been an adventure. Ups and Downs. I have seen that persistence really can pay off, and sometimes it is better to let go. I have come to realize my position as a mother, both what that does mean and what it does not. This year has possibly been the biggest leg of my journey. The truths I knew November 1st of last year are not the truths I know now. The difference would, of course, be that last year I knew only to view things through the filter of how I felt in that moment. Today I know to look at life in the big picture and step out of how I’m feeling to look at life objectively. (I have also learned that calories, when your life is upside down, are not equal to calories when your life is getting back on track. This may seem ridiculous, but it’s true!)

I took this photo in Sandwich Massachusetts. I love it because the reflection is crisp and yet, somehow gentler and more beautiful. This struck me. I want my reflection (in all senses of the word) to be just like that. I want others to see me as an authentic reflection of who I really am. Sometimes life may ripple that, and the grace is for that to be accepted. For me to accept it, and for those who I allow in my life to as well. I do not want to fall apart emotionally when my reflection isn’t crystal perfection for others to see. The health of the pond will determine the health of my reflection. Life is that pond. Life organically works out, when we let it. Sometimes there is rain, wind, hail, fallen branches, murky water… I am just kind of rambling here, with nonsense that probably only makes sense to me and that is ok too.

Here’s the truth. I am not perfect. I am not beautiful. I am not popular. I am ok with those things. I have amazing friends that I wouldn’t trade for the world. There are people, honestly many people, who I have not kept within my circle. Either they could not be honest, or could not value me and stuck around only so I would shower them with support and love. I don’t do that, and I have never pretended otherwise. I have an amazing sense of loyalty to the people in my life, but after a time that loyalty dies if our relationship is not mutually maintained.

Here’s the truth.. I never had a child from my womb. The ugly possibility that this happened because I was not cut out to be a mother is one which will speak to me, deep within the shadows of my mind, forever. I fought hard to be a mother and fought like hell for my three kids. I have unique relationships with each of them and do fear that my relationship with my youngest will not be a life long one. There are many resentments and issues and jealousies within her heart. I used to believe their existence were evidence that I was not a great mother. While I do not recommend separating from your child, even temporarily, I can honestly say that doing so has saved my life. It happened twice and each time I learned immense lessons about my motherhood. I am far from a perfect mother, but what I am is a damn good one. There are a few who have judged decisions I have made, and believed they had the authority to do so because of their age or spiritual opinion of themselves. The one thing I am most proud of, in my motherhood, is that I have loved my kids regardless of anything and always from a place of raw honesty. The second thing is that I do not compare myself to other parents or judge what may feel like their parental failures.

Here’s the truth… I am a wife. I am probably not a great one, but I have done my very best. This I know for a fact. I have fought for my marriage harder than anything in the world and my husband has never had a single person pour more love, effort or uncondition in to him. That being said, I have hatred in my heart. Hatred for the women he has chosen over me, whether they are friendship or other. He has a group of women friends who caused significant damage in my already failing marriage and how they live with this is beyond my comprehension. I hate how he handled the situation. Whenever I see one of their names cross my social media paths, I am filled with so many negative feelings. This is my issue, and I completely get that. I know that as long as this is an issue, things will not be “ok”. I imagine these three women taking so much joy and pleasure from that. I need to be ok with that too. That is for them to answer to, I have no responsibility in their choices. Only mine. Today I hate them. I don’t want to, but I don’t know how to exist outside of the damage that was done to me personally, by all involved. It was easily the most painful experience personally and I just haven’t quite learned how to recover from it, though I try.

I am not the woman I was 12 months ago. For the most part I am healthier. I am definitely more grounded. I am also transparently journeying along. I hope one day I do not harbor hatred for anyone, regardless of what they have or have not done. I have shared here, in this space, that I lived a lifetime just aching for just one person to find me worth fighting for. Though that would still be a feeling I cannot imagine- I have come to see I have to do that for myself. I have fought relentlessly for my husband and kids because I NEVER wanted them to know that feeling of no one believing  them valuable enough. At times this may have been a mistake, and I will accept this. I have to.

New England was a bucket list adventure for me. Was it perfect? No. There is something sad about reaching a dream and realizing it is a mixed bag, just like every other aspect of life. I learned things about myself which is exactly what every journey exists for. Ultimately I learned about who I want to be, and how I want those around me to see that. I don’t want to live in a Pottery Barn looking world, while inside it’s really a thrift store shack. I want the picture above. I want to be the honest reflection.