Viva Las Vegas, Part I

Yes, I actually heard this song in Vegas - how appropro I thought as I walked towards the dancing waters of the Bellagio Resort and Casino - Elvis sang me over the pedistrian bridge while the mist of the water cooled the stiff, hot night air.

One of my resolutions for the year 2007 was to go to Vegas for my 40th birthday. My new BFF Tiffany helped to not only make this a reality, but a great trip. We didn't get wild. We didn't dance on any tables. However, two moms disappeared in the desert for a few days, emerged on the strip and stayed up all night and slept all day. We didn't have to cook dinner (we only ate two meals while we were out there), wash clothes and didn't have to take care of anyone but ourselves. It was a great escape with a great friend and a great way to celebrate turning 40.

Our trip began with teary daughters not wanting to send their moms off without them - it tugged at both of our hearts and for me, it was especially hard - I had never left my daughter to go on a trip - for me - without her. Heartstrings were taut with guilt and having to let go a little. But we put on our shades and drove towards BNA.

The plane ride was LONNGGG but we met Vicky from Virginia - who spilled Jack Daniels on her jeans three rows back - and we heard about it all across the Midwest skies. Her husband was "invited" to a poker tournament in Vegas - he was a "professional poker player" (aren't they all) while Vicky supports them working in the E.R. at a Richmond hospital. She found out 1) it was my birthday and 2) I was the only other person drinking on the way to McCarran and then 3) a Crown and Coke arrived courtesy of the poker playing house-husband. When I looked back to thank them - they were making out - Grosser than Gross! We promised we would look her up at Harrah's (yeah right) and glimpsed the lights from the Las Vegas strip from our window to the world on the plane.

The first thing we saw after we hopped off the plane were slot machines in the gate area of the airport. It was a surreal experience. The luggage area was a trip - the huge ads for the Aussie "Thunder From Down Under" greeted us not to be confused with the Outback Steakhouse dessert of the same name (except it's chocolate-enough said!)... .

I loved seeing all the cheetah spotted luggage on the baggage conveyors and the collectors of said luggage who thought they were true pussycat dolls. At another row a California surfer dude was picking up the bright red "American Tourister" suitcase he must have borrowed from his grandmother. It was 11:00 when we landed and baggage claim was as happening as any casino on the strip for a Wednesday night...

South on Hillsboro Road

The collapse of my marriage was a scary time. I don't really remember at times driving from Point A to B. I had so much weighing me down, so many worries, so much pain and sadness. I didn't know where my our lives were heading and I have never felt so lost and alone. I would be overwhelmed by the fact that all my daughter had to get her through life was simply me. The thought paralyzed me at times.

I turned to my mother for refuge and we moved in with her for a brief time. To get to her house was a one shot deal south down Hillsboro Road. I would drive out of the Vanderbilt enclave, cross I-440, run the gauntlet of traffic through afternoon rush hour of Green Hills, meander through Forest Hills and make a brief appearance in Brentwood as I crossed Old Hickory Blvd. Passing the Forest Hills Baptist Church meant I was almost home free from all the issues chasing me. So many times I would pass the sign marking the Williamson County line and I would breathe a sigh of relief, I could escape into the lush, green hills of forest and fields and no one could find me.

Her neighborhood felt safe for me and I would retreat upstairs to the second floor and just "be" in one of her two guest rooms. I did this for months. We slowly began getting back out in the world, but I never ventured far from this radius off Hillsboro Road.

After a few months passed we moved to another area for a brief period of time - this time to the neighborhood I had grown up in. It still felt like home and I would do tours of the old high school stomping grounds, take my daughter to the park I used to play in and I rekindled some old friendships and visited with a lot of my friends' moms that I ran into in the grocery store. I even drove by the home of my high school sweetheart a time or two for the comfort it gave me. I came to realize that I had outgrown this part of town and moved on.

I quickly found my way back down Hillsboro and bought a home of my own and settled us in a spot close to my mom. At the close of each work day, I brighten when my commute takes me past the sign announcing my entry into Williamson County. I say my prayers regularly and give thanks for our safe home, school and "village" as my little one calls it. I rarely drive the interstates anymore - I have no reason to - going South on Hillsboro Road leads me to all the places I need to go - including the most important place - home.

Dad, Thanks for the Bird House

I can't avoid thinking of our dad when June rolls around - his birthday is this month and of course, the Father's Day golf and fishing displays, greeting card aisles and television commericals scream out out for notice in the weeks preceding both of these events. The past few weeks have made me wince when the event was brought to the surface. And not just because our father is no longer around to receive the obligatory card either.

In the past when I would read the verse on the cards, I resented that the lovey-dovey lines about the dad always there for you - words not applicable to the type of relationship we shared.

I always wanted to ask Hallmark if there is a card that says - "Hey dad, Mom did a helluva job raising us all by herself - we turned out great in spite of you being voluntarily absent from our home. Aren't you proud?? Happy Father's Day" ??? There are many other angry, bitter, and sarcastic questions that could easily be posed but I'll stop with this one - it all comes down to underscore this same point.

It wasn't until I became a parent that I realized the mistakes that parents make aren't on purpose - it's a learn as you go process. That life is full of decisions and you don't always make the right choice. As a parent your strengths and weaknesses seemed magnified in the eyes of your child - you would rather die than let them down - however, your child will overlook them just to be loved by you. Maybe our father thought his transgressions were so great that they were unforgivable.

On the other side - just to be in our father's presence meant the world to me - when he showed up for the birth of my daughter and came to see her after the surgery she had as an infant - his absences at my dance recitals, performances at football games, car wrecks, heartaches, awards night and even at my wedding were instantly forgiven.

Every time I make a mistake in a life choice that inadversely affects my daughter - I wish I would have had the chance to talk about this point with my dad as an adult, but I never reached that level in our relationship. I never had the chance because it was hard for me to talk to him without reverting back to that little girl afraid of her father and I would always break down and cry.

The night we came home from the hospital and stood over her on her changing table the enormity of the responsibility of having a child hit me like a seismic wave. My parents did this three times - oh my gosh - how did they do it?

Even though my father's absence in my life was hard to live with - I knew he was out there on the periphery - if I had a need - I think he would have come through for me. I kept telling myself because his father died when he was so young maybe he just didn't know how. He had to be father figure to his three sisters - when his three daughters came around - maybe he was just tired of it all and knew under the tutelage of our mother - that we would survive it somehow.

A few years before he died, I was walking in my backyard in Kingston Springs and I heard an unfamiliar noises - silent-like screams and peeps and little mini-hubbub going on. Hanging from a tree was a birdhouse he had given me and it was filled with the sounds of a young little family - three little birds ready to eat - waiting for their parents to come back to the nest. A beautiful blue-jay approached and warned me away (dive bombed me more like) - I quickly backed off as to not invade the sanctuary of their home and watched from our deck as the parents flew back and forth bringing sustenance to their little babies.

The birdhouse was one that he had built - one of the few gifts I had from him at my home - and I cherished it. I was thrilled that the birds had finally made a home in it, so I picked up the phone and called him and told him how fitting it was that the day was Father's Day - and the little bird family was literally thriving in a house. Just like my sisters and I thrived in the house built by our parents - the baby birds had shelter, they had food, they had love and protection -and they were gonna be just fine.

Not Ready for Swimsuit Season

I was recently pushed into the deep end of the dating pool by a beloved friend long before I was ready for it. After I pulled myself back out of the cold water - I realized that it was both surprising and fun to be pushed in and not only that I found that it was actually quite refreshing... . That first experience over and behind me, however, has led me to decide that wading in slowly is much, much better. Is anytime ever a good time to start back? Probably not. Am I ever going to be ready to pushed into the pool?

I haven't done this in 15 years. And although I enjoyed my dating years when I was younger I don't know how to do this anymore. At this point in my life I always simply envisioned myself just being "mom" - my central and proudest role in life to date. Not "mom" going out on dates, giggling on the phone late at night, hoping to get an email in my inbox and daydreaming of where this could lead or even worse the terrible self-recrimination we put ourselves through and second guessing myself by secretly wishing I looked younger and was actually getting invited out on dates and should I be doing this at all?

Not dating at all just solved these afore mentioned problems because you don't have to deal with it - being a harmless flirt is so much more fun and less problematic.

So my first plunge - albeit shocking and exciting and a little letdown now that it is over before it really got started is behind me. I guess I'm kind of relieved.

I can still do this - the old chops are still there - however, it is not like riding a bike cliche - pick up where you left off ... and so I find myself feeling like an alien? Who is this person inside my skin? I don't know her. It feels "pizarre" as my little one would say. These feelings have lain dormant I now do not know what to do with them.

Some of the feelings feel the same, but some are different. I'm working out of a whole different SOP manual than I used to now that I'm a mom and it's throwing me off my dating game.

It's like standing in the dressing room trying on different swimsuits and hating looking in the mirror - you're looking for the right style that best fits your body shape, but after much self-analyzing you finally have to throw your hands up and say - I just need something suitable to swim in... . I guess dating is going to be like that now - be yourself, have fun and realize that nothing lasts forever, it's just swimsuit season - being thrown in the pool every now and then just simply swimming is not so bad.