Posts Filed Under My Better Half

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.

I’ve Got 99 Problems, but this Blog Ain’t One

posted by Momo Fali on February 25, 2014

I didn’t think I’d ever write again.

I’m not trying to be dramatic; if so, I would admit this with a slumped neck and the back of my hand held to my forehead. If you’re not dramatic like a southern belle, well you’re just not dramatic at all.

No, there’s no drama in the statement that I didn’t think I’d ever write again. It was just a matter of fact; a brick wall into which I ran. Actually, I just kind of walked into it and there I gazed into the mortar every day, trying to move my feet forward while facing that brick wall. I took steps, but I didn’t go anywhere.

brick wall

What bothered me, was that this didn’t bother me. I was okay with being in this place, because I didn’t really have any other choice. There was this ho-hum acceptance of where I was over the last couple of months. Ho-hum, brick wall, la dee dah.

So what were the things that kept me from writing? If I had to guess I’d say first and foremost, winter. If I could weave you any tale with grandeur, it would be my disdain for winter. It would sound very Shakespearean and involve a lot of “doths,” like, “Back off winter, I am doth DONE with you.”

Because of my husband’s schedule, I spent a lot of January in a bad place; a lonely, dark, FREEZING COLD place. Hi, honey! Love you! It was so bad that I actually looked at homes for sale in L.A. Mmm hmm, Los Angeles, people. I needed real people to talk to and I didn’t care if they were complete strangers and mostly said, “Dude.”

But, February meant my husband was home more often and it means that March is coming soon and thank goodness it’s a short month! *said with slumped neck and back of hand to forehead*

There was also the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. No, I didn’t know him. I didn’t even know his name was spelled with one ‘l’ until he died, but when he passed it felt like someone came up behind me at the brick wall, picked me up and threw me into it.

I know people who have died from heroin overdoses. I know people who are in jail because of heroin. It’s personal. And, here was this guy with nearly-limitless resources, talent, assistants, managers, and no doubt housekeepers and a nanny, who could not keep this demon at bay. That scares me.

What about the people who are struggling to just keep their jobs and houses out of foreclosure, and take care of the kids, who might have the urge to take away some of the stress and pain? How do we stop them from using heroin to take them to a place that makes them feel better? How do we stop them from trying it the first time? How do we make sure our kids don’t try something the FIRST TIME? I still don’t know the answer to that. Damn it.

And there was Dylan Farrow (I will not type his name here), the terror threats in Sochi, and so much unbelievable news that I just couldn’t be that One. More. Voice. on the Internet.

But then something snapped, and by snapped I mean it was like a twig soaked in water, then bent back and forth until the bark came off. Then I twisted the wet, woody fibers underneath and gnawed on them a little. It was like that kind of snap. All of a sudden, or not suddenly at all, I wanted to write again.

And, I can’t really tell you why. Maybe it was my med changes, spring on the horizon, tougher workouts, completion of some work projects, more time with friends…I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. All I know is that I turned my back on that brick wall and I was writing.

I don’t know which direction I’m heading, but damn it feels really good to be moving again.

Well, They are Pretty Frightful

posted by Momo Fali on January 29, 2014

As my 15 year old daughter came out of the bathroom last night, her 11 year old brother was waiting outside the door. When she entered the hallway, he jumped toward her with a loud, “BOO!” and scared the daylights out of her. I laughed. Mostly because she does her fair share of frightening people around here. Paybacks, dear. Paybacks.

I saw everything from where I was in my bedroom so I gave my son a thumbs-up and said, “Good job! You got her, but you’d better be careful because Dad scared me in that exact same spot when I came out of the bathroom one time and I almost pushed him down the stairs.”

He stared at me. “Really?”

I said, “Yes, really. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just a reflex.”

And, the hearing impaired kid who suffered with belchy acid reflux for years said, “Ohhhh, I get it! So you burped and it almost knocked him down the stairs!”

He Gets That From You

posted by Momo Fali on January 14, 2014

Last week my son got upset by something he had seen on television. He was sitting with both of us, completely supervised, but it was a movie scene which was a little too violent for his special needs brain to wrap itself around. Thanks a lot, Gollum.

My husband kept playing the stereotypical man card saying things like, “You’re fine! Go to bed.” I, on the other hand, hugged my boy, wiped his tears, and explained why we thought he’d be able to handle watching it (even though *cough* I knew he wouldn’t) and then we discussed, at length, the difference between traditional animation and computer animation.

At the end of the night, he put his 50 lb. body on my lap and said, “Dad says I got upset because I have too much of you in me, but I’m glad I do because you care.” I told him that he has plenty of his father in him and that Dad does care, but doesn’t know how to show it. Then I called a therapist for my husband. Not really, but I thought about it.

A couple of days later, my son and I were driving when we saw a stray dog. I stopped my car to help, but someone came out of a nearby apartment and took over the rescue operation. As we drove away, my son piped up from the back seat, “I’m kind of glad we didn’t have to help that dog.”

“Why, buddy?”

He replied, “Well, I can say this because it’s just you and me, right? I thought it was kind of ugly because it was one of those dogs whose tail stands up in the air and you can see its butthole.”

I laughed, “You sound like your dad!”

Excitedly, he said, “I do? I guess I do have him in me after all!”