I am google-able. Search my name and there is stuff to be found. Old demos, the link to this blog, a slew of reporter stories, discussions about my comings and goings work wise, photos…that terrible Nyberg interview where I look like death.

Aidan and Zach and I have a very honest relationship. I think it’s healthiest to keep discussions open and let them know nothing is off the table. If they have questions, I will try to have answers. They think it’s amusing when I get recognized, which is happening now more than ever, and while they often give me the, “mooooooommmmmm” when I say something they perceive as embarrassing, at the end of the day they know we have a unique mother/son bond and they appreciate that.

Recently we were talking about me doing comedy and they wanted to know if I wanted to stop doing news and just be funny. It’s a delicate balance, my day job and a hobby that I wish I had more time to pursue. I tried to explain that I can’t be as honest in my comedy as I’d often like to be because I have to be careful not to upset the reputation I have as a journalist. They then told me they’d watched my comedy routine.

Wait, what???? We talk about penises and vaginas all day around here. Dating, love, the pursuit of happiness. But for them to watch my comedy felt a little taboo. (Which is incredibly strange to say because last night Aidan was tinder-ing for me…I don’t tinder anymore but they were curious and we had some great laughs at the expense of men posing in front of mirrors, standing next to urinals, with tigers, with dogs, with women, and without their shirts on Suddenly they understood my frustrations with the dating scene ala 2015.)

“When did you watch my routine?” I asked.

“We googled you. We watched the one where you were wearing the black shirt,” Aidan said.

“How much did you watch?????” I asked, slightly concerned but not really…..I keep it pretty clean.

“We stopped like the 4th time you said the f word,” he said. “You say it a lot.”

Phew! They stopped before I said I put out…my poor father is still trying to recover from that one.

Google is a powerful thing. In the on-line dating world it offers insight, good and bad, into the people we meet or are planning on meeting. When I first met what’s his face almost 3 years ago, I googled him and found some incriminating info. It stopped me from a second date until he pursued to the point I convinced myself it was ok and aren’t we all lucky we don’t have those on our records?!?! Lesson learned?! Probably not.

Lately it seems as if the people I connect with in the dating world are just as google-able as I am, albeit in different ways. I google to find out if there is a mug shot or arrest or if they’ve made the Drudge report. What I find is employment records, names of ex-wives, and articles about business happenings and their comings and goings. I suppose I could feel bad about sneaking a peak into their lives but I’ve found they do the same, and often come to the date knowing a hell of a lot more about me than I do them. We tell each other we’re googling. It’s strange.

We are all google-able…some of us just more so than others. Our addresses, phone numbers, marriage records, divorce records, Facebook, linkedin…all out there for everyone and anyone to find. I don’t have anything to hide, really. I’m just not quite at the point where I lay it all out there for EVERYONE to know. I’m trying to get better at it as I do think my sarcasm and stories could enlighten others and possibly save a heart or two. (I’ve been told they could and when I post an edited version those who heard the entire truth tell me to stop holding back.) When I feel a connection to someone I’ll send the link to my comedy routine and ask them not so nicely to please not watch Nyberg until the third date and second bottle of wine.

Recently I started seeing someone who is perhaps MORE google-able than I am, in the sense that what I found lead me to question why he was investing his time in getting to know little ol’ me. (Self doubt is a terrible thing…..but inevitable after a couple of failed marriages.) His response, even after googling, was to say I seem real. I assume he’s had his fair share of the fakes and phonies. I am what I am and I won’t make apologies for that. He’s made me want to be more real and share some of the moments I often hold back.

So, here goes one of my favorites:

Aidan: Mom, there’s a condom wrapper in the trash.

Me: (oh, shit.) Yeah. So?

Aidan: Why is there a condom wrapper in the garbage?

Me: Cause safe sex is better than no sex…after you’re 18.

Aidan: (laughs) Is he a Bruins fan?

Me: He is now.

Google has been kind to me so far, mostly. Dig deep and there is one hurtful comment I could live without but know it’s BS. Someday, given the profession I’ve chosen and the path I’m on, maybe it won’t be so kind. I don’t care what anyone else sees or thinks…but for my kids, I hope I’ve set the right foundations so that they’ll know what’s true and what’s not, what matters and what doesn’t, and that mom was a well balanced mixture of  all the things that make up life as only we know it.

Merry Christmas 2015.

This was the first Christmas that I’ve been alone, just me and the kids, on Christmas morning. I thought I’d be a little depressed, possibly cry, meltdown, or everything would go to shit if I realized I had labeled a present wrong, forgotten a gift, or even worse… dropped a bunch of boxes down the stairs while setting everything up and suddenly shatter the innocence of my two believers.

I, of course, did fine. Why? Because I’ve always been Santa. Even during the married years I was Santa. I made the lists, checked them twice, made more lists, decorated trees, picked out coordinated paper, shopped, cooked, baked, wrapped, made sure we had Xmas jammies, stuffed the stockings and took all the pictures.

I remember crying on the living room floor that first Christmas I was divorced and Aidan and Zach left in the early afternoon to be with their dad…2006. It started the divorced parent tradition of me having them Xmas Eve and them going to dad’s around 11:30 Christmas Day. We’ve done it every year for 10 years. I think I’ve cried every year for ten years, for various reasons. Broken toys, not enough stuffing, break-ups, misunderstandings with in-laws or relatives, a car crash or two, not enough wine…

This was the first year I didn’t. I have been so incredibly busy I don’t think I had time to even realize it was Christmas. I’ve been working weekends, juggling parties,  old friends and new friends and kids. Shopping happened mostly on-line and only two days in stores. December has been a whirlwind of rush, rush, rush  and some amazingly wonderful moments of surprise.

Wrapping happened in two sessions…both before my usual Christmas Eve wrapping fest because I had to work it. Silly me, I pulled an all-nighter on the 23rd and went into XMAS Eve on just two hours of sleep. By 3 o’clock I had to throw my hands up in the air and hope for the best. The presents and stockings were on stand-by in my closet.

I solo-anchored 3 hours of news, the kids went to my mom’s, and I snuck in a quick visit during my dinner break. My parents brought them back to my house around 10 and I got home at midnight. I waited about an hour to play Santa and then it took about an hour to lug everything down and set it up around the tree. I poured a glass of wine…sat quietly on the couch for 20 minutes…and didn’t cry.

At 4:30 a.m. the lights went on and the kids were all awake making noise in their room. In a groggy haze I looked at the time and proceeded to yell at them to shut the lights off and not bother me until at least 6:30. Aidan informed me Cameron had wet the bed, which he does from time to time, especially when mommy isn’t there to make sure he watches the fluid intake. (I had told multiple people to make sure he had a pull-up on but alas, it didn’t happen.) Aidan was awesome and was trying to take care of the situation without waking me up. We got everyone resettled until 6:15 at which point they woke me up again. 3 hours of sleep…I didn’t cry.

Next it was presents, Dunkin Donuts, Nerf gun wars, and a series of “can you help me open this” requests. A shower for Cameron, a shower for me, TV hair and make-up, and off to drop the kids. When I left the house it looked like Toys r us had exploded in my living room. ( I don’t do messy well…this would normally be a breaking point.)

I didn’t cry.

A quick visit with family, work from 3-11:30, and Chinese food for dinner. (Call me crazy but I’ve never had Chinese on Xmas.) After work I cleaned up the Christmas chaos and shared a glass of wine with one of December’s surprises. (I think it was more like half a glass…I was too tired to keep lifting it.)

Today, December 26th, at around 12:30 p.m., after abut 7 hours of sleep…I sat down in the dining room. I traded the bubbly sound of Britney Spears asking Santa to bring her Mr. Wonderful for the more sultry sound of Adele. I cried. Freaking Adele. Thanks for that.

So…what did I learn this Christmas???? Christmas isn’t Christmas if you can’t sit down and enjoy a meal and the season with your family. I feel as if the holidays didn’t happen and I was just in survival/get through it mode. I’m off the next 3 days so I’m hoping I can enjoy the post holiday slow down.

I’m grateful for the little moments, the smiles on their faces and the hugs and the kisses. Cameron and Cassandra made gifts for everyone. They were precious and they were so excited to hand them out. Aidan helping out in the middle of the night so I could sleep…priceless. The look on Zach’s face when he opened his drone…amazing. Clinking glasses and cheers-ing after the madness subsided…perfect ending.

I am Santa. Always have been and always will be and this year Santa had to do things a little differently. Christmas was Christmas for my 4 favorite people…and that is all that matters.