I turned off my computer a while ago with the intent to veg out and watch a little television. I had been trying, in vain, to read blogs on another site and answer some e-mails on facebook. The damn thing kept crashing on me or my Internet connection somehow disconnected.

But I turned it back on again (obviously) after spending an evening thinking a lot about a particular e-mail from one of my most favourite people in the whole wide world… Melodie.

She and I e-mail back and forth pretty regularly and when I haven’t had Internet, we have talked on the phone which was a most coveted gift considering that she is really not a phone person. I even had the chance to catch up with her over iced coffees and danishes the last time she was in Ontario, visiting family.

I have known Melodie most of my life.

One might say we grew up together in her parents’ basement and backyard. Her mother was one of my primary babysitters growing up and we spent many a summer together, scaring ourselves stupid while listening to Ghostbusters in her basement (and then running up the stairs like maniacs) and even more lunches together, sitting in front of the television (back in those days, kids who could were almost always sent home for lunch) and watching the Flintstones.

To this day, watching that cartoon makes me crave a sandwich.

Anyway, I adore Melodie. Truly, truly adore her. She has been one of my great inspirations in life and I treasure our friendship and her words and her thoughts and insights. Have I mentioned that I adore her?

In her last e-mail to me, she mentioned being worried about me and wishing that life could give me a break some time (I’m totally paraphrasing here) and I blushed at her words. Blushed so deep it stained my socks because, well, I don’t mean to sound so damn whiny all the time. I don’t mean to send the message that my life is a big negative.

It really got me thinking.

First about how I present myself to the world.

This is, as I have mentioned before, my forum to vent. To be honest. To get it all out. And truth is, I tend to blog when something is bothering me or when I’m angry or upset about something-or-other. When I’m happy, I eat frozen yogurt and watch Criminal Minds (although, I truly have to stop watching that show….nightmares!) or read a book or paint or whatever….

But then I thought about her words some more.

And I realized that what she was saying was not that I am a whiny snot (at least, I hope not!) but rather that she sees and hears what the struggles are and wishes life was a bit easier.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I do have a lot to complain about. It’s staggering, really. I mean, I can name several people right off the top of my head who could use a life like mine as a reason to never, ever be sober or never, ever do anything, and to always, always be a complete and total asshole to the world.

I do have a lot to complain about.

And sometimes, I do.

But when I do let it out, I feel so much better. And for the most part, that source of aggravation or frustration or tears or whatever ends up motivating me in the end to do something.

I don’t believe that life is a test. Not at all. But I do believe in lessons. I do believe that this life is a long string of lessons that sometimes (or maybe even often) present themselves as challenges and obstacles. I don’t think that someone needs to believe in God or the Universe or Allah or whatever or whoever in order to see this. I mean, life is learning, isn’t it?

Somebody once said to me that they believe God learns through us. Because He or She or It or whatever or whoever can’t take on a physical existence, they use us to learn. I don’t remember if I liked it or not when they said it. Probably I didn’t. But that’s sort of irrelevant, isn’t it?

Because the lessons and learning are there regardless of who (or if) you believe is orchestrating them.

I always like Ani Difranco’s line… “Up, up, up points the spiral of the steeple. But God’s work isn’t done by God, it’s done by people.”

I say all of this because I believe that, with every part of myself, that everything I am facing is important. On little levels and grand ones…it is so very important.

And I am learning.

Every step of the way, I am learning.

And the truth is that I wouldn’t change these experiences for anything.

I wouldn’t change Julian for anything.

He alone (and I talk mostly about him on this blog, right?) has already taught me so much about so many things. I am forever changed because of the experiences of being his mother and I am grateful for those lessons and believe that someday, down the road, they will help to bring me to another level of learning and another level of giving back. I may not have realized that I needed those lessons the day that I pushed him out on a stretcher in a hallway, all alone but I realize now that everything I have experienced as his mother and his advocate and his caregiver have been pivotal. And I do believe that those lessons will matter greatly in the next stages of my life.

What I said to Mel was this,

“Most of the time, I feel blessed.”

And I mean that. It might sound crazy. And I wouldn’t blame you for wondering how, through all of the shit I shovel in a day, I can feel blessed at the end of every night but I do.

Why?

Well, it’s the little things.

A hot bath with really nice, super smelly shampoo and conditioner that I could have because they were both so on sale the last time I was in Zellers. That same hot bath with moisturizing body was that is scented with pomegranate and citrus which was also on sale when I was in Shopper’s Drug Mart a few weeks ago. It’s hard not to smile when you’re smelling something this good.

A VCR. There are so many wonderful movies available for next to nothing at thrift stores simply because they are VHS tapes. No, I can’t rent or buy a new release to watch on the old VCR but there are plenty of favourites to be found including some that never seemed to make it to DVD (like the Saint of Fort Washington, one of my all time favourite movies which also stars Danny Glover and now I swear to leave Melodie out of it!).

Erica and Olivia telling me that they look forward to their weekends with me because we have fun. All we ever really do is have a movie night and get subs and maybe take a cruise through the dollar store but this is what is fun for my girls. And me, too.

My twice monthly breaks. I don’t take them for granted. Yes, I get lonely from time to time. Yes, it is a hard road to hoe being a single mother and having a child with special needs. But one of the perks is my alone weekends when I do have a chance to catch up on sleep and make bad art and watch those VHS movies. And I love my own company. I have never been afraid of being alone. I like being alone much of the time. I don’t need to go out or see people or whatever in order to have a good time. Some cheap pastels and a Sex and the City re-run and I’m good to go.

Julian telling me two things about Santa. One, he has boots. Two, he smells like candles. This is cute and funny in it’s own right but it’s also a sign of progress. The fact that he made the association of sitting on Santa’s knee at the Christmas Party last night and the smell of candles is a really, really good sign. The hard language work I’ve done with him is paying off and his brain is able to make associative language leaps. Good. For. Him.

Having someplace to go on Christmas night. I wasn’t sure I would. My kids will leave Christmas afternoon to have dinner with Troy’s large, extended family and my own parents’ Christmas plans were pretty much dictated by my sister. I just found out that I am, in fact, invited to their place for Christmas dinner since my sister won’t be making any rounds until after the big day. This is a good example of having something to complain about (and I did complain to my distance sister! Poor girl)…my sister and the dynamics (or lack thereof) there and the fact that I had to wait to see what she would want before I could be invited to my own parents’ home. But instead, I’ll just feel grateful for not having to spend the night alone.

Poverty. I know, I know…how can someone feel blessed for being poor? A lot of it sucks. A lot. But it does mean that I am always grateful for every single cent that comes my way. I sometimes put MTV on in the afternoons so that it’s boring and Julian will fall asleep a bit easier and it’s usually that Cribs show. I watched it the other day, thinking, “those people will never know the joy of a tax rebate cheque of a couple hundred dollars” and while that’s certainly not sad and not having to every worry about money would be grand, I am grateful for the way an unexpected bit of cash makes my day.

My family doctor. Just having a doctor in this day and age in Ontario seems to be something to be happy about. And my doctor is amazing. Kind, yet straightforward. Thorough, yet concise. There is never more than a week’s wait to see him and if you’re really in a bind, his receptionist always finds a way to get you in. So while my health is not great, as I have mentioned, it’s not for lack of good care.

And finally…

Friends. Really, truly wonderful friends. Who listen and accept without judgment everything that comes out of my mouth or through my fingers.

On that note, I will crawl into something else I’m grateful for…

My bed.

Goodnight all.