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Friday, January 24, 2014

Kevin Sorbo, as Hercules, and I are super good friends. No...He doesn't know about it.

Oh, Kevin - you're so funny.
Kevin and I first "met" when my son was little - very little, like 3 or 4 years old.  My son was all about Hercules:  The Legendary Journeys, or as my son referred to him, Perc-a-lese.  It was a show my son used to watch with his father.

After his father and I separated, it became my solemn duty to be my dear child's viewing partner, and when it was time for Hercules to begin, my little boy was ready to go on a Legendary Journey, action figure in hand.

"Let's go mommy!"

Let me again state, for the record,  I did NOT start out watching this show with him.  I was just the ever devoted mommy, catering to my young child's every need.  I had no clue of the wonders about to be set forth before me.

Preparation was important.
I created a perfectly comfy nest in Kyle's polyvinyl Batman tent (the tent, that I'm sure the fumes of are responsible for the death of many brain cells, which led to my inability to properly cook popcorn in the microwave).  I smoothed the Hercules sleeping bag and filled our viewing area with lots of big fluffy pillows.  Then brought the popcorn and climbed in...my dear sweet child by my side, the Kevin, I mean Hercules action figure between us, popcorn bowl in front of us.

Let the viewing begin.

Back then, Kevin was like sparkling new china to me.  He was just this long haired, shirtless, totally ripped hottie - a delight to the eye!  I mean, come on - HERCULES!!  Duh.  What's not to love?

Many a morning, I'd wake up all snuggled closely with the Kevin / Hercules action figure (jammed in my rib cage), popcorn stuck to the side of my face, on the floor - while my son was ferociously sword fighting with his Eolis action figure because Herc was sleeping with mom again.

Please don't get the wrong idea.  It was perfectly innocent, I swear!

Our time together was consistent.  Every, um Friday night, I believe??  I can no longer recall the dates, just the routine; Dinner, bath, popcorn, polyvinyl tent, Hercules sleeping bag - Hercules action figure...Legendary Journeys.

I soon began to not mind waking to the Kevin / Hercules figure in my side.  The impression would there for a week, sure, and every time I leaned the wrong way, I'd feel that sharp pain in my side.  Then I'd remember.... It's OK, Jenn... It's just Kevin/Herc.

I didn't even feel guilty about the time we were spending together.  After all, I didn't have to worry about introducing him to my son.  My son already knew and loved him.  Our relationship blossomed from there.

The was also shopping, and role play!

When one of the many a Hercules action figure became decapitated, I got to run to the nearest Toys r Us to find another.  Who would have known Eolis' strength in action figure form???  Every decapitation came with tears - and mommy running to buy another...until there were none in the stores. Left only to scoured the internet, I bought 4.  (Two of which are still in a box in my attic. I swear I don't sleep with them anymore.)
We would never run out again!

I got to be "your" ever faithful sidekick, Eolis.  I was - after all, the short goofy one, even if I was mom.  Why would I ever think I could be the mighty Hercules??  My son had that covered....

Then I met my husband, who just didn't get the routine.  He didn't snuggle in the Batman tent on the sleeping bag with us, nor did he appreciate Kevin / Herc's place beside us.  He, instead, watched from afar.
I think he may have been jealous of our secret friendship.

He even went so far as teasing me with the... "ooooh, Kevin Sorbo" in total school boy / school yard fashion.  Jealous.  He never understood.

I mean... Hercules AND of viking descent... Be still my heart.

I'll admit...I did, also, become jealous.  A Golden Hind??  Really???  I could have been a goddess, ya know - given the opportunity to shave BOTH legs.  And my hind isn't so bad, if I do say so myself.  It was the immortality bit, wasn't it??  I mean, it's not like the Golden Hind even shaved one leg!  Pfftt.

OK, FINE - she's pretty.  She's immortal and she's empathetic.  Big whoop.  I'm over it.

Our ritual continued, nevertheless...week after week, until just like that...you were gone.

We didn't know you were sick.  We never had a clue.  Sure, there was Xena... but ya know, I wanted my hard bodied Herc.  While my son and husband thought Xena was hot stuff...her tight body just didn't do it for me.

For years, I wandered blindly through celebrity hunks.  Matthew McConaughey, David Beckham - OK.  Pretty to look at, but not the mighty viking / Herc.  Never the mighty viking / Herc.

:sigh:

Then, one day, just like that - there you were.  Right in front of me... on Facebook.

I rubbed my eyes - I couldn't believe it!

My world, all at once seemed brighter.  The stale smell of poly vinyl faded and the delightful scent of freshly popped popcorn gently wafted through the air...Could it be?

Then I saw it...in writing - the book of explanation...True Strength.

It was as if you knew you owed me an explanation as to your whereabouts over the years.

I finally understood.

Now, here you are again...no longer Herc - but Kevin.  My buddy, my pal.  A friendship of the mind and figment of my imagination... no matter. You're back, you're back!

True, there are still Hercules action figures somewhere in this house, but I haven't had to sleep with them in YEARS and my young boy is now a man, serving our country.

Those days seem so far away now, but always remain close at heart.  My friend, Kevin/Hercules/Perc-a-lese, it was wonderful having you along on our Legendary Journey.

Thanks for the memories!

See people... It's true.  I REALLY AM super good friends with Kevin Sorbo, as Hercules.  He just doesn't know it.

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn

As a side note... I have highlighted Kevin's book, True Strength.
While I will always admit that his Hercules character got my attention - this book will get your attention.  This book truly shows another side of Kevin Sorbo.  He is an amazingly strong individual, devoted husband and family man.  I have gained so much respect for this man and his fight while reading this book.  I highly recommend the read.  Especially if you are someone, like me, who has or continues to fight through a health issue you didn't think you'd see the other side of.

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Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Time passes by....so quickly

As I looked out my front window last night, watching my three children frolic in the snow, I realized - this may be the last time I ever get to see all of my children, as "children," playing together.


My son is 21, home on leave from the Navy.  He's not a "children" anymore.  He's a grown man. Something, that even though he's been out of the house since December 2011, I've never completely gotten a grasp on. He's a man.

Since he's been home, we've had our first beer together.  We went to Atlantic City.  He tried his first Martini and had his first crack at a casino. Yes, maybe I've introduced him to the world's evils all at once - but he got to see it as I want him to.  In moderation.  One martini, not 12.  $20 bucks to gamble...not a week's salary and once it's gone, it's gone.  (Yes, I'm a wimp.  I don't like to set my money on fire.)  We had a beautiful dinner with amazing friends and enjoyed each other.  That's how life should be. Family, friends, fun. Close, quality time.

It's hard for me to not be choked up writing this.  Even as I watched out the window, I didn't see a grown man playing in the snow with his two little sisters.  I saw my little boy, rolling in the snow - making snow angels, building forts and having snow ball fights.  I saw my little boy coming into the house drenched in snow, freezing - looking for mommy hugs and a giant hot chocolate.

Yes, the tears are flowing now.

My little boy is a grown man.  He will be leaving in just a day's time to report back for duty.  The next time I see him home - for any period of time - he may not want to frolic in the snow with his sisters.  He may be tired and just want to relax in front of the TV.  A grown man, tired after a long day's work.

I watched them; he, his little sister and the short one - soon to be his official little sister in just a few short months.  They sledded.  They threw snow.  They laughed - they got mad at each other as one jammed snow down the back of the other.

And then they came in... 

Drenched in snow.  Looking for warm mommy hugs and hot chocolate.
...But he wanted Bailey's in his.

Time passes by so quickly.

Suck up each and every second that passes.

Thank you for reading my blog!!

~Jenn

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Monday, January 20, 2014

What makes them tick?

I try really hard to NOT make this a "suicide blog".

As a suicide survivor two times over in my immediate family, I'm ultra sensitive to suicide.  When I learn of a suicide around me, or even in the newspaper - it hits home.

I can feel all those feelings all over again.  The pain, the loss, the confusion.  The WHY?

There's a couple of things in the news today here in the wonderful world of Jersey.  One, a confirmed suicide of a bright young woman.  Someone who so seemingly had everything going for her.
Perfect, as the article writer suggested.

The others, unconfirmed - but why people would want to speculate is beyond me.  Is it the hype?  There is no hype.  There is no cool.  There is no wow.  There is loss and there is pain.

Growing up, I always knew in my heart that my brother wanted to leave this planet.  Even when he was very young, he was always the kid that had that black cloud following him.  He'd try really hard to do something and something else would kick it over.  Nothing seemed to go right for him.  He always had a smile - but he was also always sad.  Always looking for ways to get into trouble and always looking for ways to numb his pain.  When he left this planet at 39 years old - I wasn't completely shocked.  I was sad.  I was hurt. I wondered why, for a moment.  I was never completely shocked.

I still never REALLY understood.

I don't understand how the basic instinct to survive could be overcome by the desire to die.
I don't understand how the person wanting to die could turn it all off and just leave.  Forget about those who love them.  Those who depend upon them.  Those who will never, ever understand.

What makes them tick?

I have said more than once - my brother's suicide was my undoing.  It's what changed me.  It's what brought every emotion that I'd suppressed in my life; every bad situation that I'd stashed away, rise to the surface for me to confront.  Like it or not.

A lot of the stuff that's come forward is incredibly difficult.  There are plenty of things I never wanted to face, or remember, or deal with.  Things I would have been perfectly content to have stayed buried forever, that hurt me to my very core.
As difficult as these things have been, I never wanted to die.

My father left this planet when I was just 18.  He was my best friend, my care taker, my daddy.  He and I were like peanut butter and jelly, as he'd always said.  I know with every fiber of my being that my dad loved me and loved so many others around him.  He knew he was loved.

But he left.  Just like that.

I never knew why.  Not really.  He was my daddy.  I didn't see the pain within him.  I only saw my daddy.  The sun rose and set over him.  I never had a clue.  When I looked at my dad, I saw a man who overcame so many obstacles and remained true to himself and others.  In so many ways I always wanted to be like him.


I still don't understand.

Now, today I read about this bright young girl.  An amazing athlete, beautiful, smart ... "Perfect."

Gone.

What makes them tick?

What makes a person decide, "That's it.  I can't do this anymore."?  And leave.  Just like that.

I'm emotional.  True.  Things may touch me on levels that no one else could or would even comprehend because they haven't lived through the loss of someone close to them by suicide.

No one needs to die.

Life is hard.  Super hard.  As a kid, as a teen, as an adult - life is hard.  Some days are harder than others, but you can't see the beauty at the top of the mountain without the climb.  Sometimes you'll trip and fall and be disappointed along the way, but the climb is always worth it.

If you are someone struggling with suicidal or depressive thoughts - please reach out.  Do not be ashamed to talk to someone and ask for help.  Reach out your hand - someone will take it.
You are not alone!

For those of you, like me, who were left behind to wonder why - you are not alone either.  You didn't do this.  This is NOT your fault.

We don't know what makes them tick.

Thank you all for reading this and for your continued support of my blog.

Big love,
Jenn

If you are in crisis, call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

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Thursday, January 9, 2014

Their socks DON'T MATCH!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi, I'm Jenn.  I'm a Virgo by birth sign, anal by nature, OCD by chance and my kids socks....DO.NOT.MATCH!

Got teen girls??  Heck -- got girls aged 5-25???  Do their socks match??

My kids socks don't match.

WHAT IS UP WITH THIS???

As toddlers they took such great pride in matching their socks.
OK, fine...their socks were all the same color to make things easier, but you get where I'm going here.

Did I mention the OCD analities I suffer??? When you come into my house and there is balance.  Even if it's just MY balance, it's balance.  If there is a candle holder on the left, their is an equal matching one on the right.  If one is burned down further than the other, they're trash.  If one is sun faded and the other not - trash.  There are no crooked pictures and the sofas and rugs are lined up with the lines in the hard wood floor.

BALANCE... OCD crazy, yes - but balance.

These are the kind of things that I know that I have complete and total control over in my world. The thing that I do not have control over is the crazy, my socks do not match habit my children have.


On laundry day (which is basically every day) I painstakingly sort socks. I match the socks; by color, by size, by type.  I check to be sure whose socks are whose and I put them into their drawers carefully by style.  If there is a non-matcher, I generally keep that stray sock aside until the match eventually shows up.  No more.

Those days, my friends... OVER!

Over, because my dear, sweet, beautiful girls prefer unmatched socks. Apparently it's the new trend.  Everyone's doing it!!  It's very cool.

Don't think I haven't discussed this situation with other moms.  Would you believe that some of the moms I've spoken to - LOVE this?? They throw all the socks into one basket and let their girls have at it.  I just can't do it.  It freaks me right out.  It upsets my balance.

I don't understand.
How can they do this?  Mismatch??
Personally, I like to know that if I have one sock that feels cozy and fluffy that there will be an equal match in fluffiness, color, style, elasticity, etc. for my other foot.  How could you possibly wear one flat sock and one full, fluffy stock??

My OCD senses are more than tingling.  They're bouncing off the walls uncontrollably.  (Yes, it's sock day at Casa Jenn)

My girls laugh... they have at the basket just like other moms prefer.  Their only real concern is that one does NOT have the other's precious mustache sock.

Me??  I'm huddled in a corner, in a fetal position, shaking and sucking my thumb because THEY DON'T MATCH??  It's just not right!

What has this world come to if we can no longer match a sock??

Where have I gone wrong?

I worked so hard training my children to match their clothes and now this...unmatched socks business???  I'm not sure I can deal!

On the upside, I no longer need to freak out when I notice I have on one black and one navy sock - I'll now be thought of as totally IN and very cool!

Clearly it's time for a big ol glass of vino, because after all.... red matches most everything.

Thank you for reading my random silliness!

I wish you a day full of balance and a whole lot of silly!!

Your support is greatly appreciated!

~Jenn


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