Times…they are a-changin’

A couple of months have passed since I published my last blog post; we have experienced a lot of changes. BoBo completed his commitment with the Air Force and is now living at home full-time  for the first time in 7 years. Meanwhile, YaYa has moved to the public high school and is now sleeping at normal hours on school nights.

As with any time of significant change, there has been adjustments to the good and not-so-good (pros and cons) of change. For the most part, all is well.  In all probability, all is well. It’s the demons in my head that are not well. The ones that remind me that BoBo got into LOTS of trouble while attending the school which I have moved my YaYa to.

YaYa is making new friends and wanting independence. Unfortunately, I have only met one of these new friends — and I do not know if the feeling of unease I am experiencing is valid or just the old pain of nearly losing my son to drugs and violence being awakened.

I’m scared.


I remember being told that I could have anything I wanted — I just had to want it bad enough. Those words motivated me into action and I landed one of ten spots in the then-impacted nursing program.

Now, years later, I watch my son struggle to make grades at his rigorously academic private high school. Up ’till well past midnight every night of the school week, his body is left worn out and vulnerable by the week’s end. I begin to wonder if wanting is enough — no matter how much want there is.


I prayed for him — to the God I was raised to believe in and to all the other gods I’ve come to learn about as well. And to no avail; in the end, it was just not good enough.

So now we gear up to return to the public school system that told me in my hour of need that they just didn’t have the resources to support my son. That was my firstborn — but it was also before the slew of budget cuts that have impacted the public schools.

I am doing my very best to push off the sadness and stay positive as we make this transition.

coming home

Four years ago, I was biting my nails and saying my prayers as my firstborn prepared to ship out for boot camp. His 4 year commitment to the USAF felt eternally long — and I wasn’t sure how I would do always wondering if he was okay.

C & R on Seal Beach - 11.2014

Those 4 years are now behind us and we are in the process of making up for lost time: thankful to have him home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas after being  without him for the past many years. I feel so blessed that he has come home safe.

There is so much to tackle and, thankfully, much more time in which to do it.

While I am now adjusting to the extra boost of testosterone in the household, his waking hours that don’t line up well with my go-to-bed-early-wake-up-even-earlier schedule, and having to verify that the toilet seat is down before I sit…I am content in being able to open the door to his room and verify that he is safe in his bed,  happy that I can call or text him at anytime and generally receive a response back in a reasonable timeframe, and that I am able to say “I love you” in person.

It’s the little things and the BIG, the tough moments from the past in contrast to the ones in the here and now, that make you realize just how wonderful each moment is. My son has come home to me safe and sound!!! I am so blessed.


This season of autumn, so they say, is a time for letting go of that which no longer serves you. I have always looked at this concept from more of a philosophical viewpoint rather than on the physical level. However, this year, I have decided to look at the concept as a time for shedding away the physical as well as the mental and emotional.

Believe it or not, I gained nearly 15 pounds since I stopped running in May of 2011. This is on top of the extra 10 pounds of “baby fat” that was never lost after my 2nd pregnancy. In general, I have felt healthy, strong, and vibrant in the past couple of years. Feeling good in my skin has always been more important to me than the number of the scale. And while nothing has changed, I have decided to explore if shedding a few of these extra pounds might improve my well being. Perhaps allow for me to feel even better, be in less pain, and maybe even return to running a little bit.

On some level, I recognize that running was so much a part of how I defined myself that my decision to take a break (aka quit) required me to isolate myself from the inquiry arose in doing so a level of insulation was built around me. Were these added pounds needed? I am certain they were not; they were more a byproduct of my metabolism changing and my cardiovascular fitness and caloric burn decreasing.  And although I did my best to eat a balanced meal, and to eat healthy & clean, I didn’t always do well to keep my portions down to size.

As the pounds begin to shed away, I am finding that I have more strength and energy than before. I’m excited to see what might come of letting go: I am eager to know what seed I might grow into some new creation that I didn’t have room for before.

the journey continues…

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