The Date Draws Near

posted by Momo Fali on September 9, 2011

I sat down at my keyboard this morning ready to type a lighthearted post. I am pressed for time (what else is new?) and looked down at the clock on my monitor to note it and keep myself to a strict 20 minute limit. Then I saw the date.

9/9/2011

And, I completely erased what I had started.

There is nothing lighthearted about being two days away from the 10th anniversary of the attacks. It is a date, 10 years old, that feels like yesterday; the images so clear that I am sure a decade could not have possibly passed.

Seeing the calendar takes me away from this still, quiet room. My mind, instantly, sees the Trade Center with smoke billowing from the sides. It sees faces looking up in terror, thousands of people walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and it imagines what it was like to be on one of those planes.

I can’t see a clear blue sky without thinking of that day. I can’t hear planes flying overhead and think nothing of it. That day changed every bit of normal that I ever felt.

I think about these people.

I wonder how to explain to my children that there are people who are, inexplicably, evil, or why they have had three cousins fight in Iraq and Afghanistan. One of our nephews is over there now. He was the ring bearer in my wedding 14 years ago; young enough to be called a kid…though, undoubtedly, now a man.

I see lives lost, lives changed and I see the world in an entirely different light. A light dimmed by my own skepticism and worry.

Next week, I will come back to this new normal and write again without consideration of the date. I will find humor in the mundane and laughter in the everyday.

But, I will never, ever forget.

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Instinct

posted by Momo Fali on September 6, 2011

What is your natural instinct when something scares you? Do you cover your eyes? Scream? Run? Fight?

I hate being scared and my knee-jerk reactions prove it. Last year at the Boy Scouts’ haunted forest when the boys jumped out from behind the trees, I grabbed my daughter and used her as a human shield.

But, that wasn’t when she first learned about my impulsiveness. The poor girl once made the mistake of standing behind my bedroom door, underneath a white sheet and when I least expected it, she jumped out at me and screamed. I screamed too. I also hit her in the face.

Last week, my husband had just climbed the steps when I entered the dark hallway right in front of him. He said…something…who knows what it was…and it scared me because I expected the dark hallway to be empty. I hit him so hard in the chest that I thought, for a second, he was going to fall down the stairs.

Fair warning, if I hear something go bump in the night, I’m going to shoot it. Just sayin’. I can’t help the way I react.

This has never been more evident than a few weeks ago on a trip to Lake Erie. My family and I were taking a tour of a one-room cave. I was shoved up against the back wall with a large crowd between me and the only exit. My head was about six inches from the ceiling.

I looked down at my son who was staring at something above me when he said, very nonchalantly, “Mom, there’s a bat.”

I was sure I misunderstood.

“What, buddy?”

Again, he looked just past my head and calmly said, “There’s a bat.”

I turned around to see a mouse-like, winged creature within inches of my face.

I can only describe what happened next as half slow-motion, half George Constanza. I nearly trampled my own kids so I could get out of there.

What can I say? My motherly instincts are pretty awesome.

But, as I was getting ready to throw people to the side, the tour guide said, “It’s okay! It’s fake!”

The picture is so blurry because I was still shaking. You know, because of a Beanie Baby.

But, on the upside, I didn’t knock anyone out.

If You Don’t Have It, Wait for It

posted by Momo Fali on September 1, 2011

After I dropped the kids off at school this morning, I drove to the library to return some books.

Next to the library there is a long path which runs for miles to the north and south, mostly used by runners and bikers and one loose dog who once darted up the riverbank, through the trees and sent a biker flying over her handlebars onto the asphalt. I don’t know who that dog belonged to, but I have seen her sleeping in my daughter’s bed.

I digress.

Because it was so early when I returned the books, the path was mostly empty, save for a lone, young mother with a jogging stroller. My initial reaction was that she didn’t seem much different than I used to be; which, after some thought, wasn’t really true at all.

Of course, I don’t know the woman so it’s quite possible that we are a lot alike…though, when I say that, I mean her young-self and my middle-aged self, because I could tell by looking at her that she had her act together far more than I did at her age.

First of all, it was 8:00 AM. And, she was jogging. With a baby.

Second, she was color-coordinated and wearing nice workout gear.

Third, see the first thing again.

I was SO not that mother. As a matter of fact, I can recall feeling very disheveled inside and out. I can remember not wanting to leave my house because of the way I looked and I canceled plans all the time. I was overweight, my hair was completely unstyled and my clothes were outdated. Inside, I was a mess because I thought all of that mattered. I felt like a hag at the age of 27.

Now? I’m MORE overweight, my hair is a disaster and I’m currently wearing a shirt with a coffee stain and my husband’s running shorts from 1990. The ones that I fished out of the Goodwill bag because, hello? Perfectly good running shorts! Even though the stripe down the left leg has detached itself and hangs loosely.

But, inside I’m not disheveled anymore, no matter what I look like on the outside when I show myself in public. I don’t stay home and make excuses. I am living my life, enjoying my family, friends, work and the confidence that comes with age. Well, in my case anyway. After seeing that young mother and knowing that I would have never done what she was doing, I realized that 40 isn’t such a bad place for me to be. Either that, or it’s my Zoloft.

All I can say is that it feels good.

And, I didn’t even have to go jogging.

Something’s Fishy

posted by Momo Fali on August 29, 2011

On Saturday night, our family joined another family for dinner at a local restaurant. I got hooked on fish tacos in San Diego, so that was what I ordered. Note to self: Ohio is not San Diego and all fish tacos are not created equal.

Nevertheless, I ate my meal. My son was sitting next me and when I finished, I wiped my mouth, then discreetly leaned over and whispered, “Hey, do I have any food in my teeth?” Then I flashed him my pearly whites.

But, instead being discreet himself, my son loudly replied, “No, but your breath sure smells like fish.”