Free Weight

posted by Momo Fali on July 31, 2014

At the BlogHer ’14 Closing Party last Saturday night, I was in the front row when Rev Run from Run-D.M.C. took the stage. Sure, I’m white with size 11 feet which make it impossible to dance without tripping over myself and it’s true that the front row should have probably been reserved for attendees and not employees, but I also know that life is short and opportunities to be sweat upon by one of the pioneers of rap don’t happen very often. If at all.

rev run

I also laid down on the floor in the middle of the Expo Hall with a dog from Pets Add Life. You know why? Because pets add life. I don’t have a picture of the dog because two days later I had to FEVERISHLY delete pictures and video from my phone to make room for pictures and video of Justin Timberlake. As my friend Melisa says, “I see where your priorities are.”

Justin 3

Objects are closer than they appear.

Justin1

So close, yet so far.

Justin 2

What?

In the last week, I sipped sangria under the setting sun and the Santa Cruz mountains, took a road-trip with my daughter, spent time with wonderful friends and inspirational writers, and took a beautiful walk with my son. I also drank a Sonic slush with Nerds in it. Hashtag, livin’ large.

walking

I also had a pretty rough, emotional breakdown.

Yesterday my Zoloft was all, “I don’t THINK so” and I spent a good portion of the day crying and wishing I could crawl into bed and wake up to find all my problems solved. Luckily, I have children who kind of still need me to take them places, a puppy who is relentless about needing to pee, and work deadlines that kept me from lying in a horizontal position all day.

I also have a husband who, despite his own frustrations, called me and told me to meet him at the gym and a trainer who would not take no for an answer. Those two guys, and a whole lot of free-weights, pulled me from the depths. I showed up at the gym a swollen, red, splotch-faced mess, but I haven’t shed a tear since my first set of exercises last night.

There were times yesterday when I felt like I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, but I did. Lunge-style. I can’t tell you how my mind and body are connected, but they most definitely are.

What I can tell you is that this living life to the fullest thing? It’s exhausting. I don’t know who would imagine that physically exhausting yourself MORE is the answer, but for me it is.

Now I know the next time I feel that down, all I need to do is get up. I’m not saying that it’s easy and I’m not saying this will work for you. But, me? I’ll take anything that lets me keep making memories. Me and my Adidas have things to do.

Writer’s Block Does Not Exist

posted by Momo Fali on July 15, 2014

I am coming on here to tell you what a friend told me today; writer’s block does not exist. Elan said on Twitter that “…if you can say a sentence, you can write one.” So I’m here with nothing planned but what flows from my fingertips. This post is probably going to turn out to be what we call verbal diarrhea.

I certainly have no shortage of sentences to say. I talk on the phone for work, I tweet a lot and the conversations I have with my kids, alone, are enough to fill the pages of a book each day. Someone recently told me that mosquitoes are attracted to the carbon dioxide we emit, which would scientifically connect my numerous bites to my rambling mouth. Pass the Benadryl.

Oh, and the stories I have in my head! I have books and screenplays rolling around; their characters quite fully developed. But they, along with most of my words, get lost because I don’t make the time to write them down. I schedule time to go to the gym, since my DVT diagnosis I’ve been forcing myself to walk almost every day, I find the hours needed to cook, clean, and do laundry, and it’s high-time I set aside time to write.

Of course, I choose to make this statement just nine days before BlogHer ’14, the largest social media conference for women in the world…oh, and I MANAGE THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA. And, are you ready for this? We’re very seriously considering moving from the house where we’ve lived for 17 years so we can enroll our son in a different school district. I can’t think of a more perfect time to commit to more writing! Can you?

So, you see? I thought I had writer’s block, but it wasn’t that at all. It’s time block. Elan was right. I have the words. I just can’t spare a minute to share them.

I’ll Give You a Hint – It’s Mine

posted by Momo Fali on July 2, 2014

Anyone want to guess whose puppy ran across the neighbor’s freshly tarred driveway?

photo(47)

There’s No Crying at Old Navy!

posted by Momo Fali on June 30, 2014

If I hadn’t been there myself I wouldn’t have believed it. My son made a stranger cry today.

My 12 year old with special needs, who struggles desperately with decision making, had a melt-down in the patriotic shirt section of Old Navy today. We spent 15 minutes going back and forth between the shirts and the register because he couldn’t pick the one he liked. Because we’re trying to get him to focus on this much-needed skill I told him that he had to make a final decision and couldn’t change his mind again – it was that shirt or NO shirt.

Of course, by the time we got to the front of the store he had decided he wanted a different one. Again.

So I took the shirt back and told him he wasn’t getting anything and that’s when the melt-down began. He doesn’t throw traditional tantrums with kicking and screaming, but with tears and thoughtful manipulation. He stood in front of the check out line with sweet, silent tears then said, “Please, mom! I will sacrifice myself for that shirt!”

photo(44)

imagine those eyes, filled with tears

By the time we got in line, his face was red and splotchy and his shirt was dotted with tears. Did I mention the line was LONG. It looked like Black Friday and we were sandwiched between people in the front and back and the racks of impulse purchases on the sides. Well played, Old Navy. Well played.

My son continued his pleas and I continued to say that he was not getting a shirt, that he has to work on decision making because if he can’t make a choice about a t-shirt, how can I trust him to make big decisions later in life, to which he replied, “I WILL make big decisions! I will be a good driver and I won’t do drugs!”

Then I got tapped on my shoulder. I turned around to see the woman behind us crying. With heartfelt sympathy for the 12 year old she probably thought was 6, she said, “He’s making me so upset.”

I nodded and said, “I know. This is hard, but I’m trying to set a precedent here.”

Then my son looked at her with his sad, tear-filled eyes and said, “Sometimes kids have a hard life.”

As we neared the register we stood next to a bin full of miscellaneous things like dog antlers, plastic Slinkies, and Beanie Babies; to one of which my son became quite attached. Since he couldn’t get the shirt he asked if he could get the Beanie Baby instead. Because I’m the meanest mom ever, I said no. The woman behind us continued to cry.

And, wouldn’t you know, that lady who was moved to tears by my kids dramatic display ended up buying him the Beanie Baby? As she handed it to him she said, “Here you go. Now maybe your life won’t be so hard.”

Though in the end he got his way and that was not what I wanted, part of me was moved by her gesture and how she was touched by this little boy and his sadness.

But, really? Couldn’t she have bought him one of those shirts?