The Couch Chronicles...Continued

Let's be honest, if you're my friend, how lucky are you?  Maybe winning the lottery lucky or not stepping in dog shit lucky.  I'll let you ponder that one.   But if you're my friend, chances are, I have called you in the middle of the night and said, "If anyone asks, I was with you."  If you have ever heard the following: Girrrrrl, we need to talk. You're not gonna believe this shit . I can't make this shit up. This pansy ass mother fu*ker. What the fu*k was I thinking? Yup, you're my friend.   If you know that I like to call my dad Henry and that I love to have Saturday chisme sessions with him, you are definitely my friend.  You are a super friend if you've heard me tell one of his stories or if I have shared a famous one-liner of his.  You are a super elite friend, if he's offered you an "ice cold beer."  If you needed help moving or you randomly asked if someone wanted to come help you paint and I volunteered, you are indeed m...

Today is the Little One's prom.  Not sure how we got here so fast, but here we are.  Why didn't anyone warn me about Pre Prom meltdowns?  They are a real thing.  Well, maybe I heard rumors about nail fiascos and hair disasters but those things only happened to other people.  Like exaggerators and cry babies.   Nope, they happen to real people, people like me that claim to have their shit together and people like my kid who is one of the strongest, most dynamic forces I know.   And let me tell you, they are not pretty.  And they come on fast and out of freakin nowhere.  I'm pretty sure I had a mini one in the car as I was running Pre Prom errands and listening to Bizarre Love Triangle on repeat.   I was looking for last minute things and I wanted to call my mom and talk shit with her.  And then I remembered she was gone.  I couldn't call her.  But I remembered aunt Mary said I could talk to my mom whenever I ...

Mama, I started this letter in January 2021, when it started to sink in that this battle was bigger than all of us.  I remained hopeful but there was a deep sense of dread in my soul.  I needed to prepare myself for life without you.   In early October 2020, you shared news with me that I processed immediately as bad news.  I stayed calm and asked what you would like me to do next.  You said, "wait until I get the biopsy." We ended the call.  I fell apart.  I guess I knew then, or at least my mind did what it always does, prepare for the worst. It's not good that my brain is conditioned to do that but I would rather be prepared than blindsided.   In late November, the kids and I went for a visit.  We cleaned, we laughed, we rushed around frantically at your requests and we carried on with business as usual.  You were still you; funny, witty, fiery, but you tired easily.  You weren't running circles around me, and again, I ...

Five years ago, on this very day, a very worn out Honda Pilot pulled up to the Rosewood Tavern (the nickname of the house we live in) filled with the most precious and essential belongings.  The driver, a tired, single mom of two, the copilot, a strong, caring 8th grade boy and the backseat passenger, a courageous, 7th grade spitfire too much like her mama.   We arrived late that evening, unloaded as much as we could and settled in for the night as quickly as possible because the next day, I would begin "new" teacher orientation at a school district that had offered me a job just 10 days earlier.   We really did hit the ground running when we arrived and California came for us, hard.  I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.  For the first few months, the punches kept coming and for a brief moment I thought I had made a terrible mistake.  I had left behind friends, family, a great job and my cat.  I had relocated this tight triad for a b...

Saturdays have become so difficult for me.  Maybe it's the slow start, the silence, the stillness of the house that allows my thoughts to consume me.  Every Saturday since I've been back in my normal routine, I have experienced such great sadness.   I'm not boarding a plane, or picking up a rental, driving down 37 South and pulling into your driveway like I used to when I was in college, kicking up sand because I drove in too fast.  "One of these days you're going to hit one of those poles." I would laugh and say, "No I'm not mom."   I never did hit one of the poles, not physically anyway.  But metaphorically, I hit one every Saturday morning.  It takes me most of the day to come out of it.  Today, I actually thought cleaning the bathrooms would be a good idea.  Who the hell thinks that?  But then my mind fills with memories of our house on Glen Garden and how we used to clean on Saturday mornings and then to recent times when ...

Every single frustration I have had in my life has had a lesson behind it.  I wish I had kept numerical track of them.  I would then get to start this post with Lesson:  2,384.  But actually, the order in which lessons happen isn't sequential.  That's either really great or really fucked up.  So I am going to rank this lesson pretty high.  Let's make it one of the top ten.   If you want something and can afford it, buy it!  Don't wait for someone to buy it for you.  Don't feel like you have to justify your purchase.  And please don't feel like you have to explain to anyone why you want the things you want, especially if you are financially responsible for yourself.  Oh and that's another lesson!  Strive to be financially responsible for the number one person in your life; yourself.   Another life lesson brought to you by Cynthia, master of her own universe.  Stay tuned for more...

Disclaimer:  My mind is all over the place today.  This blog will not flow well or even make sense to some of you and that's ok.  Read it.  Don't read it.  :) I moved to California a little over three years ago.  I have had the chance to go back home a few times but this last trip, well, it just hit different, like today's youth says. It was a quick visit, very busy and like the ones that came before, it was bittersweet.  I didn't get to see everyone I wanted.  I didn't get to bring back all the things on my list and I didn't get into any shenanigans and we all know how much I love shenanigans. What I did get from my time back home was this wonderful sense of belonging, familiarity, absolute ease, like a warm blanket, soft and comforting.  I was able to see a few friends, shop at HEB (no store does more) and got in some quality time with my family, especially my dad.  That ol' Henry really came through.  It's like he knew what...

So lately I have felt the Universe stirring, swirling, a little off.  It's made me ask , “Is this what you want?”   It's made me reflect and wonder what it's set out to teach me.  I had to ask myself some honest questions and here is what I have come up with. The universe is wanting me to grow and one of my takeaways is that I need to make amends with my stepmom for our rocky relationship.   We were both in the wrong because we were both pining for my dad’s attention.   It also wants me to step up in the role of bonus parent because there are some young adults in my life that still need parenting and I know how it feels to be in their shoes, but right now it feels unwelcome.   The universe wants me to be aware of my role with Thomas and Carolyn and that as much as I want to indulge them because of single mom guilt, I too must let them fail and become independent of my safety net because they are ready and capable. **I read some gre...

So my dad calls me a firecracker.  He has also been known to say things like, "You know how she is." and "She moves all way to California and she's still fighting with people."  That was actually one of my favorites.   I like to think of it more like, "She calls it like she sees it."  It's been said that if you want the truth, ask Cynthia.  Here's the thing...I have spent the last decade trying to own my shit.  So when I'm around someone who doesn't, it annoys me.  It frustrates me.  It also makes me a little sad.  Deep down in the sensitive part of my gut (those of you that endured the time I suffered from gastritis, pronounced in Spanish, of course, will remember I have a very sensitive gut) I feel bad for people living in denial.   Looking through the lens of awareness is both a blessing and a curse.  I love that it allows me to be reflective.  You see, I stumble, we all do, and when I do, I stop and I ask ...

I don't know where I heard this, but it was something I was watching or listening to last week and it caused me to pause and write those two words down.  I scribbled it on a sticky note and stared at it, then gently placed it on the computer where I would see it, daily.  Why did this resonate with me?  Why was it sitting deep inside, where all of my stormy thoughts go? Then it hit me. I saw myself the other day, but it wasn't me, it was someone in my not so immediate circle, but someone I consider dear, someone I haven't let in because I must have subconsciously known I had to distance myself.  You see, what I saw in this person was the me I used to be.  The girl in a bad relationship, the girl who drank to numb the pain, the girl who over extended herself so no one would see the dysfunction she was in.  I saw the delusion, the sadness, the fog that surrounded her.  I recognized myself and all I could do was confide in a good friend, someone who migh...

So it's taken some time to truly embrace this title, but the reality is this, I am a single mother of two. I have been since June 2013 and probably way before that, if we look at who managed the household.  It's taken some soul searching to grasp the magnitude of my responsibilities and also it's taken it's tole.  I check off the divorced box or the single box in all of my applications, questionnaires, surveys.  I am entirely responsible for the welfare of these two.  I am financially responsible for my future and everything that comes with that. What I am reminded of, daily, is that the second half of that title includes two of the best (and sometimes worst) things to ever have happened in my life.  Funny, most days I can't remember where I left my keys, or my phone, or fill in the blank with anything important but I can tell you, with very specific detail, the events that took place the day my children were born.  I can describe those days with all fi...

I am not going to define, explain or describe this type of person.  If you read the title and immediately conjured an image, then you know.  Chances are, you know more than one.  I've known a few and I'm going to keep it 100, sometimes I was ok playing along.  I've learned women can play that role too.  It's all about self appreciation and worth. If you are a young single girl and you're still trying to figure things out, not sure whether you even want to be in a committed relationship, then I say go out and have fun.  Explore. Experiment.  Educate yourself and find what is pleasing to you.  Two can play this game so develop some guidelines and go for it. When that day comes and you find the one, be smart.  Use your experience with that Fu** Boy to know if you have someone willing to be your person, your 80/20 on somedays, your 50/50 on other days.  But if you suspect otherwise, don't settle.  You might recognize the signs, you ...

Originally, this was going to be titled “It’s not me, it’s you” but after some reflection, I decided to spin it in the other direction.  You see sometimes this line is used to let someone down easy so the fault lies on the one letting go, so in my case, I thought it would be funny to turn it around and put the blame where I believe it belonged.  But really, there is no blame to place.  No one person is at fault.  Like the old saying goes, “It takes two to tango.” Let me clarify something real quick before you stop reading and start texting me, I am not ending my current relationship.  I am not on a break.  I am still smitten as ever. I am, however, letting go of something.  I am letting go of the notion that other people will live up to my expectations.  In fact, my expectations of others has only left me disappointed, deflated and defeated and it’s because everyone is doing the best they possibly can, which doesn’t always work in my favor and...

"I can't see Texas from here."  That's one of my all time favorite George Strait songs and before I became a transplant here in the Golden State, I enjoyed the catchy tune because after all, George is one of my all time favorite singers.   Well, I can't really see Texas from here but Texas is who I am and when I was asked, "Do you miss Texas?' I confidently said, "No, I don't miss Texas.  I miss people in Texas.  Not everyone, but there are a few I really miss." So here you have it...my "basket of deplorables." My dad...having breakfast with him and shooting the shit aka getting all the family chisme and talking a little sports. My mom...her big smile and warm embrace.  Her IDGAD attitude and her undying ability to help those around her. My Bestie Esmer...sitting at her kitchen table and laughing at pendejadas and tonteras...oh wait...we still do that but now it's on the phone. My Big Mijo Eduardo...coffee or Shiners...

Life has a funny way of bringing things back into your life until you have learned whatever it is you need to learn.  This I have found out, the hard way.  Too many times I have asked, "Why does this shit keep happening?"  Well my friends, it happens so you can wake up!  Snap out of it!  Get a grip!   Lately I've become painfully aware of some things I like to refer to as character flaws.  The first step is recognizing that they exist and for someone like me, a self-proclaimed badass, admitting that there might be some work to do is not easy.  I think I'm pretty great.  I think others would agree and if they don't agree they're probably too scared to admit it.  So what I know about the universe is that what you send out you get right back.  It is a daily struggle to send out happy, positive vibes because we all know I get fired up from time to time.  The fiery Texas girl wants to put people in check...imagine Yosemite S...

*a   rising   again,   as   from   decay,   disuse,   revival;  the act of causing something that had ended or been forgotten or lost to exist again, to be used again, etc. The title of this blog post is in no way meant to offend anyone and by no means is it a comparison to religious beliefs.  It is simply a word taken from the dictionary to best describe the return of my blog on a day in which many acknowledge Christ's Resurrection.   As I sit alone today, preparing to celebrate my first Easter in a new place, away from my kiddos, my parents, my siblings and close friends, I have time to reflect on the events of the last few years.  To say they have been challenging would be an understatement.   The Couch Chronicles was my escape, my outlet, a place to unplug from the world and let out my frustrations.  Once I had reached the place where I felt contentment and peace, I believed it was time to say farewell to my per...

A little over three years ago I embarked on creating an outlet, a place to let it all out, to rant, vent and release the storm stirring inside of me.  I was, to put it lightly, a Hot Ass Mess or as my good pal Charlene used to say, a HAM.   The Couch Chronicles became the one thing I had absolute control over.  It was mine, to do with as I pleased.  Many times it came under fire from people not willing to see passed their own nose, the chismosos who wanted to dissect it and read between the lines.  The blog was made public for a reason, I have nothing to hide.  There is no hidden agenda.  What you see is what you get.  Like it, don't like it.  If you want to know something, ask.  If I want to share something, I will.  If I want it kept private, I won't.   I've decided that 2016, although quite the ratchet year for ShowBiz, has not been my worst.  In fact, it's become one of the best in recent years.  So it's ...

A wise man (Eddie) once told me that we see what we want to see...I'd even take it a step further and say that we hear what we want to hear.  And with today's flood of posts and tweets it's easy to see how we've become obsessed with putting on a display.  After all, a glimpse into someone's reality might not go over as well.  For example, I like to post happy pictures of me and the biologicals.  I like to tweet articles on ways to be a great teacher.  I use my Instagram for silly memes and pictures of my favorite beverages; the images and thoughts of happy times because ultimately that's what I'm trying to send out into the world...positive, uplifting vibes.   But my reality can be a much darker place.  It can be filled with sorrow and angst, with a storm of thoughts swirling violently and the only way to silence the noise is to disconnect, to unplug, to tune out the world around me.  The challenge, of course, is delaying the storm o...

I have used the hashtag #pamf many times on social media and my network of friends, my inner circle, the people I secretly refer to as the Cynsters, they all know that #pamf is short for Pansy Ass Mutha Fucka!  Now, before you go trying to figure out who this refers to, let me stop you right there by stating it can refer to one or many individuals I have known or have yet to meet.  It's my hashtag and I will do with it as I please... So it's no secret I have had my fair share of #pamf experiences but recently, I stumbled upon something new...a rare finding, the #bamf or Bad Ass Mutha Fucka.  The Bamf is the complete opposite of the Pamf.  Hero v. Villain if you will.  Where as the pamf would work my last good nerve, the bamf tickles my funny bone.  Pamfs are condescending and inconsiderate, Bamfs are respectful and go the extra mile.   Allow me to illustrate the difference in an easy to read table.  (Tables and charts are some of my favorite t...