The deMented Mom

It's funny. My mother and I have not had what you would consider the healthiest of relationships over the years. In fact, she has only met my youngest two children a couple of times and has only been to my home once in the ten years we have been here. It's a long story and one that may come out in dribs and drabs in this blogger expedition but I had to comment on this most ironic of situations. Despite this awkward, distant relationship, my mother forwards 'those' emails--the humorous, the touching, the chain letters. You get the idea. Well, the last two emails she sent me stuck with me in a way that surprised me. I have provided an edited version of one of those emails below. I'm not sure who is responsible for these words of wisdom and I truly hope they won't be offended by the liberties I have taken to change a few words here and there to more accurately represent moi. As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I'

All I can say is, I've had better days...and it' only 9:45am!

I just crawled came back from an hour long run. My second run since completing my first half marathon on the 3rd. Yes, it's taken me that long to recover enough to put on another pair of sneakers and venture out the door. I'm 42, give me a break. Anyway, as I'm huffing and puffing my way up the hill (it's uphill both ways of this run..WTF? Don't ask me, it's some sick joke city engineers have been playing on us runners) I'm thinking "Why am I doing this? I can't breathe, I stink, people are giving me that 'look' as they drive by". That's when it dawns on me, running is like child birth-- you suffer through the torture again and again (if you're really stupid or fertile) because it feels so darn good when it's all over. After childbirth you have this little bundle of love and joy-wait until they're a teenager but that's for another post. After a good long run, you have this feeling of euphoria not unlike that glow

I wasn't sure where this blog was going to take me...or for that matter, where I was going to take this blog. I have spent an inordinate amount of time over the past few weeks surfing around from blog to blog trying to get a sense of what it is that grabs us by the balls (so to speak) and makes us return again and again, anxious to devour postings made by other people not unlike ourselves. What is it about looking into the window of other people's lives that so fascinates? For myself, it's a relief to know that I'm not the only mother who occasionally (ok, frequently) asks myself how the hell I got here--two marriages, four kids, two dogs, three cats, and a guinea pig later. At the risk of bringing down the wrath of mothers everywhere, this life is NOT always magical, fulfilling or exciting. If I could do it all over again would I? To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. My eldest son (15) is on the Autism spectrum , one of the consequences of which, he can not to