Misophonia – It’s a “thing”, y’all. Look it up.

It happens against my will. It’s almost as if I get possessed. One minute I’m fine…the next I’m shooting daggers out of my eyes.

Usually, the first thing that I notice is people chewing their food noisily. At first, I’m able to control my twitchy eye. Breathing exercises work great. After that fails, though…all bets are off.

I drop little hints to those around me starting with that stare with the squinky eye. (Dear spellcheck…squinky IS a word…because I just made it up.) The offender usually senses this look…stops chewing for a moment, then says something like, “What?” to which I respond, “Oh…nothing…” hoping they get the hint. When that fails I go a little bit more passive-aggressive-aggressive.

Do those Funyuns taste good?!

I’m usually met with, “They sure do, want some?” I respectfully decline.

It will typically escalate from there. Here are ways that I will attempt to drown out or get them to stop:

  1. Turn on my music at my desk or turn on the TV.
  2. When that doesn’t work, I’ll turn up the volume so that I drown out that god-forsaken sound from my head.
  3. I remind myself that I love the person making this goddamned noise and sometimes that works…most of the time it does not.
  4. Slamming of dishes ensues.
  5. I will literally throw a fork onto my plate causing a scene making everyone nervous and occasionally they will leave the room.
  6. Heavy sighs work the best, I’ve found. And if you accompany the squinky eye and the stare-down, the offender knows you mean business.
  7. The final straw comes when I have had enough. Usually directed at my poor sweet husband or my BFF who both love me unconditionally and are the worst offenders. These two people love me DISPITE my shortcomings and weird quirks. I typically lose it completely.

The conversation will begin with the look. And my reactions exponentially get ballsy-er from there:

  • Blank stare while simultaneously freezing in place causing a silence in my general direction that is immediately noticed and the sense of being watched rather intensely is completely palpable.
  • They look in my direction, usually freezing in mid-chew. Let’s not forget, these people know me. They know exactly what this look means.
  • They say, “What?” – I say, “I’m literally going to stab you and to go prison if you don’t figure out how to chew more softly.” They say, “I’m just eating.” – I say, “Fine! YOU EAT AND I’LL GO LOOK FOR A KNIFE!”
  • They say, “You need to calm down.” – I say, “What would you like on your headstone? ‘Here lies Mr. Sassy, his wife murdered him because he wouldn’t chew softly and she fucking had had enough, already.'”*

In the end, I make my point. And a few days later, I feel really bad that I went so nutso about it – but SERIOUSLY.

* Don’t you fucking love it when you get to use “had had” in a sentence?! I do. Especially if it ends up on a head stone.


Love is Love, Sassyland.

Ah yes, the subject that can either bond us as eternal equality seekers with a shared belief that people are free to love who they want, or tear us apart, causing a divide in our relationship. I’ll never turn my back on you, so it’ll have to be you that makes the move.

I’m comfortable within my own skin to share with you my thoughts on this subject without fear of retaliation or vicious backlash, because if you simply are so disturbed by what I’m about to write, my suggestion would be to please read this post in its entirety before you unfollow my blog, if that’s what you choose to do. I respect your decision and I’m in no way trying to get anyone to change their views on homosexuality and the LGBTQ community – but I am going to ensure that my voice is heard and that you know where I stand on this “issue” that shouldn’t really be an issue at all.

Love is Love. This is what I believe down to my core. The human race is a very emotional species and we require love to flourish in all ways possible. Whether it be love for your fellow man, for the earth, for a Twinkie, for a religion, for a nice cool alcoholic beverage…whatever it is, love is at the core of all we do.

Kindness and graciousness are forms of love. Judgement is not. Tolerance and acceptance is a form of love. Hatred and bullying are not. Now – if you are a regular reader of this blog, you’re probably yelling at your handheld device or computer monitor right now: SASSY! OMFG, YOU ARE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JUDGY AND DOWNRIGHT RUDE SOMETIMES, HOW CAN YOU TYPE THAT STUFF?!?!?! Give me a minute…I’ll try to articulate it.

I went to a church service last night which was a Christian gathering of people there to “Celebrate Recovery” and to support the wife of a friend who was going to share her journey to recovery. I had never gone to this church before nor participated in a “Celebrate Recovery” service. So to explain “Celebrate Recovery” to you, your “recovery” can be a myriad of things from; drug addiction, abuse, food addiction, self doubt, struggling with forgiveness, trust issues…so many more things were discussed last night, but the one that almost made me walk out of there was from a man that had been part of the worship team, in front of the gathering, singing worship songs, leading us in prayer…when it came time for him to share with us some updates for the church and before he discussed his talking points, he introduced himself and shared his recovery “category” if you will…(example: Hi, I’m Sassy and I’m recovering from using profanity and working through my Hostess Berry Pie addiction.)

His recovery item was a Recovery From Homosexuality.

This saddened me. I am not a theologian and I am NOT a frequent church goer – but I do consider myself a Christian – in training, because aren’t we all (?) and have accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior – just like Beyoncé. I think the word “from” in his statement concerned me the most. From. To take away from…to take away his homosexuality. Is this what I’m to understand he is trying to accomplish?

From my understanding – you cannot “recover” from Homosexuality no more than you can recover from being a Human Being. I was finding it extremely hard to get past this and clear my head enough to experience completely the story my friends wife shared. I was able to listen to her very touching account of the struggles she had faced growing up, in her 20’s and her marriage and was very impressed because I know how utterly accepting and gracious a person she is and to now know what she has gone through in her life and how for her, God has helped her through many trials and tribulations made me so happy for her journey – but…if I’m honest, that kids voice kept echoing in my head the whole time and my heart sunk in my chest a little bit.

But getting back to this recovery from homosexuality…I guess I’m just worried about this young man’s well-being. Stifling who you are for acceptance – seeking forgiveness and peace for something that you are so hard-wired to be, seems almost abusive in some way. I don’t really know how to articulate what I’m feeling. I do know that his journey is his alone. And you have to believe in SOMETHING…even if it’s nothing. For him, God is helping him understand himself. Perhaps I should have spoken to him after the service to truly understand what he meant. I don’t know.

I feel that God is the only judge that matters and for those that are Christian believers and should be following the bible (yes…there’s that whole passage about a man lying with a man and it being an abomination in Leviticus)…but there are also parts where it says that God is the only true judge.

James 4:12 There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you–who are you to judge your neighbor?

I believe that the God I love and worship in my own way, forgives when you ask to be forgiven, but living the truth of who you genuinely are and doing so with compassion when necessary, giving and asking for forgiveness when necessary, showing love and acceptance for those around you and giving respect to those that need and deserve it are things that we will ultimately be judged for…not by any human walking the earth, but by God, Himself.

I feel so flip-floppy with this post, because I realize this Blog is filled with me passing judgment in a satirical and profane way – which is something that it will ALWAYS have – but at the same time, those who know me know that I am extreeeeeeemely accepting of people – except the assholes – and truly – down to my TOES want people just to be happy. Gloriously drunk with JOY, is my wish for people of all kinds, shapes, colors…just happy-ness. And to feel loved, by me. I’m a pretty mushy bitch, y’all. Seriously.

Anyway – this was weighing on my heart and I needed to share it. And don’t you dare think for even one split second, that I am one of those groups of people that give Christian’s a bad name – because this is the sort of sign I’d be holding if I saw a group of these poor excuse for human beings anywhere in my vicinity:

I'd be the dude in the hat...only more girly and probably with a barrette in my hair or something.

I’d be the dude in the hat…only more girly and probably with a barrette in my hair or something.


The internal dialogue of falling asleep…and math.

It’s 11:00pm and I start the internal dialogue…

“If I close my eyes now, I will get approximately 8 hours of sleep. That’s enough, right?”

a few minutes later…

“I’m never going to fall asleep. Why does this happen? Maybe if I roll over onto my stomach and tuck my arm under my pillow and wrap the free arm around my chest and tuck my hand under my shoulder, I’ll be comfortable enough to doze off.”

“Why is he BREATHING LIKE THAT! Sweet JESUS he needs to get a sleep study done! That can’t be healthy!”

…I kick him a little under the covers…

“Good…he gasped for air…he’s still alive. THANK GOD!”

…peeks at the clock…

“Holy shit, it’s 11:45…that means I have 6 hours and 15 minutes until I have to get up. Tomorrow is going to suck ASS!”


“Did I set the alarm for 7 or 8? Jesus…where is my phone?! It’s so fucking dark in here!” 18 items hit the floor from my nightstand…met with a grumble and snort from my erratically sleeping husband.

Blinded by the light of the display on my phone, I wince and shut my eyes quickly realizing that my glasses were one of the 18 items that fell to the floor in my attempt to feel where my phone was placed on my nightstand. Realizing I’m blind enough to not be able to read the time display on my phone and also the fact that I had not reset my alarm clock on my bedside since the last time we tripped a breaker in our rather old house, I figured I’d squint to bring the numbers into focus…I had set my phone alarm to wake me up at 8am.

It’s midnight.

“I better set my alarm for 7am. That way, I can psyche myself out and hit the snooze a few times before I actually have to get out of bed.”  I adjust my alarm for 7am. I set the phone back on the nightstand.

“So, if I wake up at 7…and don’t *really* have to get up until 8…I can hit the snooze button…how many times? One hour = 60 minutes. 60 divided by 9…SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can hit it 6 times. Whew. Glad we got that figured out.”

“What was that noise? Did I lock the door after I let the dogs back in? Crap…if I didn’t…no, I did. I must have. Shit. FINE. I’ll go check.” Carefully getting out of bed so as to not step on the glasses that fell off of my nightstand.

yyyyeeaaahhh…it was locked. Good thing I got up, though. Now I have to pee.

Climbing back into bed…

“Seriously, I can’t keep living like this. That’s IT! I’m going to brush my teeth at 8:30 tomorrow go to bed early! I mean it this time…I’m SICK of it!”


Calm down crazy, you know your favorite TV shows start at 8pm. There’s no way you’re going to follow through with this plan. You and I both know – wait…”You” and “I” are the same people…this just got really weird. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep you freak!”

The sad part is…most of this happens the same way while I’m sitting on the couch until 11pm…”I swear I’m getting up at the next commercial…”







Hi Sassyland: Parenting ain’t for sissies, you guys.

Y’all…there is some brutal honesty in this post…

Lately, things have been pretty tense in the house with my extremely moody teenager.

Let’s just say that I probably won’t be getting the Parent of the Year Award this year. Ya wanna know why? M’kay…

I told her, and I quote, “Get the fuck OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” the other night. Yeah…it wasn’t my best moment. Here’s the deal, yo…

Parenting ain’t for sissies, y’all…

These creatures that I brought into the world are beautiful, articulate, highly intelligent and downright frustrating as all hell. I knew the minute I said it I’d feel bad about it…and I did – sorta. But I’ll be honest…it took awhile for the eye rolling and the heavy sighs and the stomping around the house and the door slamming and the acting like a complete twit to bring me down to that level.

So here is what I’m going to fucking do about it:

I’m going to leave the room and compose myself from now on. I’m going to focus on positive reinforcement instead of getting pissy about the attitude.


Every time I get an eye roll, I’ll tell her that her eyes are REALLY BIG AND BRIGHT TODAY…


When she stomps up the stairs, I’ll tell her I love her shoes or socks.


When she slams the door, I’ll tell her she’s got one heck of an arm.



And when she talks back to me, I’m gonna ask her “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!”

…I may have to work on that last one. Your suggestions are welcome.

So I’m going to LAVISH her with positive reinforcement, asking about her day – which I normally do, but I’m going to take it to a new level. I’m going to schedule time for us to just hang out together alone. Just the two of us. I’ll show interest in different ways with regards to the things that make her tick. I’ll cook her special meals…all to win her back and extinguish the attitude. Then, at least I won’t be able to say I didn’t try. And if it continues…I’ll plunk her ass in therapy so quick it’ll make her head spin.


Apartment Manager Tales # 42: A rooster in a van.

This goes into my “You’ve *GOT* to be fucking kidding me” file.




10:17 AM November 17th, 2014

Caller: Hi – I wanted to let you know that the new people that moved in above me have a rooster in their van and it’s been crowing really early in the mornings and it’s been waking me up for quite some time. It’s been getting really cold out lately and I  think you should call animal control or something because this is really quite ridiculous.

Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa…hang on a second. I’m sorry if I’m cutting you off or laughing at what you’re telling me right now, but did you just say the people who moved in above you are keeping a *rooster* in their *van*?

Caller: Yes, that’s what I’m saying.

Me: I mean, I’m sorry if I’m laughing, but this might be the best call yet. And you are giving me some really good Facebook material right now if I heard you correctly. [yes – I really said all of this as I was laughing…] I’m going to just repeat what you said, you said there is a rooster in a van and it’s been in there for awhile and it “crows” in the morning – waking you up, right? Like, this is really happening?

Caller: Yes, that’s what I said. I walked up to it because I was washing my windows and I saw a cage in there…and a rooster.

Me: Wow. Okay. We will….address this and deal with it. Thanks for calling.

Now…I’d like it to be known that our “Pet Policy” already reads like a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not marketing piece…or maybe a Candid Camera episode…but I never thought I’d have to add “rooster” to the list. (We actually had to add “Flying Squirrels” to this list…as my maintenance guy says…it only takes one idiot to ruin it for the whole group.)


It’s SASSYWEEN, y’all!!!!

Halloween has passed and has left its shrapnel strewn around my house. Masks, lights, skeletons, grave markers, wet artificial spider web, wigs, disrobed costumes and rotten pumpkins ooze down my steps to my front door.

After 200+ trick or treaters, our neighborhood is prepping for the next phase…the planning of Christmas Light Extravaganzas! We slowly turn “Scarecrow Row” (literally…our entire block lines our street with scarecrows) into “Candy Cane Lane”. We do our best to put a dent in the environment by burning copious amounts of energy with our over the top light displays.

Last year we advertised in the paper and asked folks to drive through the neighborhood and bring non-perishable food donations for a local food bank. We collected over 400 pounds of food. This year we got a jump on the invites to Candy Cane Lane by handing out flyers to the parents of our trick or treaters as they demanded treats. Hopefully, we will beat last years food collection totals.

Here’s a few shots of my various costumes and pictures of my house.




Here’s the thing, Sassyland

Hi Sassafrasses,

I’m going to go ahead and post some snark that will be laden with profanity – so if you’re new around here…this probably isn’t one of the best posts to sink your little Sassyland Virgin Teeth into. Season yourself on a few older posts and then come back to this one, if you scare easily. I’ll give you time to click away…really…it’s for your own good.

Okay – are we good? Excellent.

You know what I’m fucking SICK AND TIRED OF?!?! RIGHTEOUS ASSHOLE POLITIC HATE-SPEWING ASSTARDS, THAT’S WHAT! And that INCLUDES family members that feel it’s necessary to call you stupid or an idiot or make you feel unintelligent because you ask a question or have an opposing view.

I was reading a post that a friend posted on the Facebook…seemed innocent enough…then someone with his same last name – I assume it was a relative – started calling him and all his friends “LIBTARDS”. Now, I don’t give a rats ass what your political affiliation is, I truly don’t. When you spew your hatred towards other people who may not – OR MIGHT – (sometimes, I don’t know WHAT my political affiliation is) have your same viewpoint, how you respond speaks volumes about YOU as a person. If you cannot have a conversation without showing disrespect and name-calling then you can simply FUCK OFF. I have no use for you. Figure out a way to have an intelligent conversation. Try to understand and show compassion for someone that may not understand your point. There is ABSOLUTELY NO NEED to speak down to them, be condescending and name call. How is talking down to someone you are supposed to love – who is part of your family – going to get you anywhere? How is that not going to create tension?

I speak to you with experience on this matter. I have a family member who is a devout republican. In every sense of the word. FOX NEWS ALL THE WAY – RUSH LIMBAUGH – GLENN BECK…all of the right-wing big media guns – she eats that stuff up and shits it out – through her mouth mostly. All I know is that having an intelligent conversation with this person was so extremely difficult, I can’t even put it into words. The thing is – she’d say one thing one day, then contradict herself the next and when you call her out on it, she’d delete any evidence that she had said what she said – then type something like, “I’m not sure where all this VITRIOL is coming from.” Yeah…I had to pull that word up on Webster.com, too. It means – and I’m paraphrasing – “To speak with a hateful tone”…so here’s the thing, because I feel this way about politics – and that it’s never good to mix politics with ANY relationships I tend to read a lot of bullshit on Facebook but keep my opinions to myself. A LOT.  But when someone says something like, “Michelle Obama is a big fat cow.” and then I look in the mirror, all I can think is…”If she thinks Michelle Obama is a big fat cow, what do you think she thinks of ME?! I’m probably 1 1/2 times her size! Her own daughter is like, 2-3 times the size of our first lady. How can she say something like that?!” Clearly, Michelle Obama is not fat nor do her looks take after a bovine. She’s clearly being hateful. Then in the same breath, she praises her Lord and Savior for something and I sit there and think to myself, “A Christian, huh? She’s not really displaying the qualities that a bible believing Christian is asked to display. Kindness, compassion, understanding.” She called me an idiot on more than one occasion just for simply asking her a question – it wasn’t even argumentative, yet I’m the stupid one….

Here’s the thing, Sassyland. There has to be a better way to talk to each other. There has to be a better way to get your point across without making yourself look like an asshole. There HAS to be a better way. We cannot continue on this path of thinking that anyone with opposing views is WRONG. Social Media and THE media have created a MONSTER allowing us to be as outspoken as we want to be. We are PAINFULLY outspoken. I bury my hands in my face multiple times a day reading some of the things people put out there on the internet.

I’m tired of thinking less of people because they think so much of themselves that they can’t possibly learn anything from others. They CLAIM to want to have a constructive conversation – but it never ends that way. Family members ESPECIALLY need to show more care when expressing their opinions to other family members. After all, you LOVE this person, why would you want to make them feel less than or stupid because you have differing political views?

*mic drop*

You guys! I’m a stagemom! My poor kid…

It’s something that I don’t mind sharing with you because – let’s face it…I’m not like those Dance Mom’s – I swear, y’all…I’m NOT!

I’m more of a gentle whisper than a BIG FAT ASSHOLE. So when we visited The Great State of Texas last week and pulled an old fogey move and went on a tour of the State Capitol Building in Austin, being a person that appreciates acoustics, I asked my daughter to get to the highest point in the rotunda – which just happens to be the 4th floor – and sing the National Anthem. And then…?…this happened, y’all – THAT IS MY BABY!!!!!!!!!

Yes, I was all the way across the other side…and the sound isn’t all that great…but man…that kid can SING HER FACE OFF!

I couldn’t help but share because I’m braggy like that and stuff. Have a great weekend!

Apartment Manager Tales #27 (I’m just making up numbers at this point)

People are moving out like a MOFO up in this piece, y’all! I had 7 people move out last month and another 4 this month. It’s like…where are you people going?!? Of course I’m re-renting the units at a RECORD PACE.

There are two things that the owner of an apartment complex should be ECSTATIC about – IN THIS ORDER:

  1. Everyone – and I mean EVERYONE paying their rent EVERY MONTH.
  2. ALL of the apartments in the entire complex being rented and occupied.

As a Property Manager there are a couple things that make you stand out from the rest of the property managers. And they are:

  1. Collecting all rent due(internally this means by the 20th of the month – externally to residents it means the 10th of the month).  This means you have to call the ones that don’t pay on time…and you threaten the SHIT out of them with evicting them if they don’t pay up by a certain day. It helps to have a bitch streak running through you – or a bastard streak…can’t leave out the gentlemen out there…
  2. Rent every single apartment in your complex.

I’m proud to say that I have accomplished this goal 3 months in a row…except this month – when SEVEN people jumped ship on me. Never fear…I am a MARKETING IDIOT SAVANT and have almost all of those seven rented already. BOOM.


If that one inch piece of carpet that has come up underneath the built in window seat aaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllll the way in the back against the wall  is such an embarrassment for you when your friends come over? Maybe I should show them pictures of how you left your last apartment when you transferred to the new one. Yeah…shut the hell up.

So, my maintenance guy thinks that he can just come and go whenever he wants to. Today – he thought it would be fun to take a couple hours for lunch – at first he was talking like he wasn’t coming back to work and I was all: Uh…so when I can I expect you back? He was all: Uh…couple hours. I was all: M’kay. That was at 1pm. It’s now 4:55pm. Someone is getting a RATION OF SHIT tomorrow. And it ain’t gonna be me. NOPE.


That bitch who complained about her carpet? She tried to THREATEN me yesterday with GOING OVER MY HEAD…only little does she know, that I pretty much am an open book and I tell my boss EVERYTHING…even when I fuck up so bad I think I’m gonna get fired? He laughs and thinks I’m funny and tells me I’m a dork for worrying so much. So when she said that? I was all: M’kay…g’head…can’t wait to see how this ends…

So sent a text to my boss and I told him about the situation and his response? Oh – I usually just let people blab on and on and set the phone on the desk – or I’ll just delete the message.

I love him.


PEOPLE ARE NOT PICKING UP AFTER THEIR DOGS AROUND HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s driving me BATSHIT CRAZY! Like, if anyone rents from me? I’m CRYSTAL CLEAR about the leash law around here and the fact that they have certain places to take their dogs and that THEY MUST PICK UP THE DOG SHIT. Absolutely NO excuses. NONE. $50 fine. I just posted nastygrams all over the complex and will be kicking some people out that can’t take care of their animals. I’m about to not allow dogs here anymore.

I was really hoping to give you some randomness today – but this turned out to be an Apartment Manager Tales post in its entirety. There’s always next time.



The Journey of Motherhood

This isn’t your typical “Sassy” post…

As I embark on a new phase of parenting my first born, I’m forced to look back at the job I’ve done as a mother and reflect.

My daughter is graduating High School in 44 days. And in 57 days, her father and I are sending her 1/2 way around the world with one of her friends for a 3 week European adventure.

Reflection #1: When I found out that I was pregnant with her, it was a shock. At first completely terrified. Then overjoyed. The 42 weeks I was pregnant with her were the most glorious days of my life. I enjoyed every moment. Those moments when I was in the bedroom putting my clothes on in the very first trimester and falling  back onto my bed because a wave of nausea had come over me…the never-ending craving for Taco Bell…until that fateful day my husband brought it home to me and I turned into the DEMON FROM HELL and threw a hissy-fit in the living room and declared, “I DON’T EVER WANT TO EAT TACO BELL EVER AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?!”…when I had to move from my Drive-Thru Teller job at the bank to the teller at the window because my belly was in the way and I couldn’t push the drawer out to the cars anymore…to the day that my water trickled down my leg as I stood in the doctor’s office with my kindred spirit Missy, who had tagged along just to hear the baby’s heartbeat, only for me to bend down to pull up my socks and whammo! My water broke. To the 36 hours I was in labor and she finally was here to hold and kiss and snuggle, it was my job to keep her alive. It was my joy to care for her and see her many firsts.

When you reflect this way and you see a human beings life unfold in front of you, it’s very overwhelming to take in – she’s been my daughter OTW (outside the womb) for 6455 days. Which is 922 weeks and 1 day. That’s 17 years and 246 days, including 4 leap years*, or 17 years, 35 weeks and 1 day. In other words, that’s 212.1 months.

Reflection #2: When I was pregnant I sang NON-STOP. It should come as no surprise then, that by the age of 2, she had an affinity for music and was already vocally gifted. She sang TONS of songs – she called them “girl songs”. She wanted to hear girl songs and if a “boy song” came on, she would lose her SHIT. She would sing every word to every Martina McBride song you could play – whether she could pronounce the word properly or not – and hit most if not all of the notes. We were not phased then, when she began singing more and more as she grew into the pretty little girl that she became.

I remember that when she was 3, we took her to a Martina McBride show at a fairground one summer. We were standing about 3 people from the front of the stage. She was sitting on her Daddy’s shoulders and singing at the TOP OF HER LUNGS every single word. It had gotten to the point that the people around us were watching our little 3 year old singing every word than watching the superstar on the stage…it was a sign of what was yet to come.

Reflection #3: Middle School and finding out who her true friends really are as she transitions into her high school years are probably some of the hardest to deal with. The friends she have had all her life begin breaking away from the rules their parents set and new personalities form. Waters are tested. Friendships are challenged to the breaking point. It’s this time when she really came into her own. Thinking back on my life, I don’t remember going through these moments…but it’s clear that they were there. One moment, her best friend was over spending the night, the next moment that same best friend spread totally false accusations about her through school. Not being the kind of person to talk about her feelings, we found out what had happened only after a complete meltdown had occurred. The stresses of those relationships ending were hard for her, but she came out the other side the type of person that she was happiest being and has really settled into friendships that I’m sure she will have for a lifetime.

The agony of not being able to help your child through those transitions so that they can objectively look at the situation is probably one of the hardest. They are hurting so much, not only at the loss of a friendship, but the simple fact that things are being completely fabricated about your child and there really isn’t anything that they or you can do about it other than rise above it and eventually those people who thought one thing about her will see that it was untrue and they will see her for the amazingly caring, talented and compassionate person that she is and always has been.

Reflection #4: The end of her high school year is staring at us in the face. I struggle with letting go. I struggle with her changing her mind with her career path – yet in the same breath, want her to be unimaginably happy with everything that she chooses to do with her life. Trying to instill in her the fact that higher education is something that will certainly benefit her – while at the same time impressing upon her that I did not choose that path and in hindsight, wish I had – but her desire to take time off from school is a factor she is seriously entertaining. Realizing that this is her life. I cannot live it for her. That she needs to make her own mistakes and not just listen to the stories that I tell about the mistakes I’ve made. I have to remember that sometimes life is messy. Not everyone finds their life partner at the ripe old age of 19 and lives happily ever after like her father and I did. There will be relationships – grown up relationships. And those relationships will come and go. She will be hurt. She will recover. She will be made stronger by the wise and not-so-wise decisions she makes. We will be there to help her if she falls. It’s a difficult pill for a parent to swallow.

We’ve raised a beautiful young woman. She is intelligent. She is gracious and humble, but at the same time is strong in her convictions and has a self-love that I wish I had at that age, and if truth be told, wish I had now. She’s extremely talented and very caring. If the measure of Motherhood is based off of the reflection in your children’s eyes when they look at you, then I’d have to say that I’ve done well. It’s time for her to spread her wings and experience life. This will be the truest test of parenthood yet. Letting go.