Old keys to an old house made new.

Today was big for me.  Today, I did something I never dreamed I would accomplish on my own.  And, I did it all on my own size 8's.

Today, the house I've made into a home for more than nine years is mine.  All mine.  The ex-husband's name is off of the title.  My name is the only one you'll find on the papers linking me to the next thirty years of payments.  And, while that is an overwhelming prospect, I am proud of myself.

I said it.  I'm proud of myself.  Know how many times those words have passed my lips?  Wrong.  Not once.  Today, though, I can say it without reservation.

My mother never owned a house.  

It never occurred to me that one day THIS DAY (!!!!!!!!!) I would claim an address all my own.

Throughout the ugliest days of a truly ugly marriage, I knew I couldn't leave partly because I didn't want my children to lose their home.  

I mean, who is a stay at home mama for thirteen years and two short years later gets to sign the mortgage for the only home her children have ever known?

This crazy lady, that's who.

So, yes, people do this every day.  When I left the bank this afternoon, there were probably three couples waiting their turn.  Yes, single people buy houses every day.  Truly successful at life people who couldn't dream of depending on another person for anything.  And, yes, this house isn't much compared to most.  Indeed, now I'm officially in charge of keeping the roof hole-free and the plumbing flowing.

But I did what no one thought I could.  I walked free from an overwhelming sadness - without ever having to walk out the door.  My door.  

Six digit figures headed in the wrong direction never felt so good.

Not what I wanted to say

What I want to tell her is, "No.  Don't change who you are for any man - not even him."

But I can't.  Not about this one man.  This is the one man I have to keep my big trap shut about.

So, instead I tell her all the reasons no one should not love her.

I tell her she can do, say, be, love, dress, walk, act absolutely any way her heart desires.

I tell her that, while no one is perfect, she's as close as I've ever seen.

I tell her I will never ignore her texts or silence her ringtone.

I remind her that she is loved and adored and respected by everyone who really knows her.

And, I hug her hard enough that she squeezes me back in reassurance.

But what I want to do is different.

I want to get in my car, drive to this person's face, and tell him to wake the f&$@ up.  I want to take away his privileges and remind him that's what she is.  I want to shake him until he sees that her first lesson in pain should never have his stamp on it.  I want to give her what she deserves instead of what I mistook for an option.

I want to fix every hole that's been dug into her wide open heart.

I have always known I can't shield them from every bad guy.  It just never occurred to me that I'd be the one to introduce them.

What I wanted to say wasn't what came to her ears, but what she needed flowed freely.  

And that was my privilege as much as my responsibility.

New year, same-ish you

I am ashamed to say I had a conversation with myself yesterday morning that I've had every New Years morning since the dawn of time (because if you don't feel 1000 years old on any January first, are you even real living?).  And, no, I'm not ashamed of the fact that I was talking to myself.  It was only mostly aloud and the shower was running so I could've been talking to Poseidon - no one will ever know for sure.

Anyway, I'm ashamed that I seemed to be talking myself into a predetermined narrative.

I wanted to say this year should be better.  Better than last.  Better than what I got for working my behind off all of last year.  Better than the last twelve months I spent loving my girls and striving so freaking hard to make their lives better.

But, honestly, the last year wasn't so bad.

There were some absolutely awful parts.

I lost someone more important than most.  Not a single day has passed since May that we haven't talked about her and missed her and wished we could call her.

I also lost a lot who turned out to be less than important.  I started this year with a fairly wide circle and ended it with one I can reach my arms around.  And, I'm working on accepting that this is just fine.  My people and I are just fine on our own.

I let go of relationships that were beyond repair by learning to stop giving before I empty myself.  Some people simply aren't worth the gifts of patience and loyalty.

I realized some lessons had been forgotten...so I'm trying to relearn the scars.  This is the biggest struggle for me.  I tried so hard to get to a spot where I could say I wasn't so bad, that realizing I'm back to watching others spotlight my flaws feels like I'm at the bottom of the mountain again.  But I know this mountain and I've clawed my path to the top before, I can do it again.

Really though, 2015 wasn't too bad to us.

We have each other, day in and day out.  Sometimes we even like that!  

The girls are learning and growing and becoming so much.  I am so grateful to have the front row seat for the greatest show on earth (circus reference intended).  

Sofia and I had our first major war this year, and I truly wasn't sure we would make it.  But she held that hug just long enough last night (even though I thoroughly dominated our Uno tournament) for me to believe we'll be better than mortal enemies eventually.

These people - my people - and I had a pretty good year.  And, with a few big exceptions, we'd be alright if we had the same 365 ahead of us.

So, yes, I'm ashamed that I tried to talk myself into regretting yet another year of growth and kitchen dances.  I'm embarrassed to say I almost forgot the soccer celebrations and great broccoli debates.  I should have known better than to deny the silly faced selfies and car serenades.  

Talking to myself, though?  Nothing wrong with that at all - ask me.  But don't interrupt, that's just rude.

Here's to another year laid out ahead of us - all shiny and new.  May it be nothing we can't handle and only most of what we've seen before.