What would Judi do?

Saturday January 21 was a good day.  It was a good day to be a woman.  It was a good day to be politically active.  It was a great day to be a mother. I remember the day I realized my mom was a bad ass.  She had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and was losing her ability to walk - but she wasn't giving up.  She came to DC by train and joined me at the Million Mom March.  She was tired of the random shootings (that was just the beginning of a terrible trend) and wanted to do something. Anything.  So she came to participate.  She couldn't actually march so we volunteered and worked at a booth.  She was a rock star. (Once I became a mom and then a single mom, I realized just how much of a rock star she is.  This was one of the first moments of recognition of that fact.) For those of you too young to remember the march, here's some info:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Million_Mom_March I've participated in protests...

In some of the posts I've written but not published, I wrote about being an oreo.  I'm not fond of the term "sandwich generation".  I don't eat bread and it makes me think of bologna.  I prefer thinking of myself as the fluffy white stuff in the oreo.  One cookie is my mom and the other is my kids.  That works better for me.  It just doesn't feel better. I have spent much of the last 7 years or so choosing between my mom and my kids.  No, we can't do (whatever activity) because I need to check on my mom.  Or no, I can't go to cvs to get your endless list of stuff because the girls need (fill in the blank).  It's an awful feeling and one that doesn't improve with time. This week, all four days of it so far, have been different.  I deliberately scheduled a light week for myself.  It because lighter with a day of cancellations.  I like this.  A lot.  I'm a part-time everything this week.  And I'm happy.  So...

I've taken nearly a year off from writing.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I continued to write occasionally.  I just didn't publish anything.  It all seemed angry.  I write this for several reasons but among them is the idea that if I were to suddenly die (not hoping for that), my kids would have something to look back on that tells them something about me.  I don't have much of that from my dad so I want them to have that for me.  Hopefully I'll live a long life and they won't need to read this to know who I am but in the event that isn't in the cards, there's this and I didn't want it to be angry. Lots happened last year.  I am raising two 15 year old girls.  They have presented challenges that I never imagined.  I think this is the hardest year so far.  There are lots of positive things but the moods, the language, the drama is overwhelming sometimes. My mother is still alive.  I think that's a good thing, but I'm not...