Bleach, memories and the random things that stick.

It’s funny how the smallest, simplest things can flash you back to a very specific person, place, or exact moment in time. A song on the radio can take you right back to a summer night with the windows rolled down, a certain perfume might remind you of a high school crush, and sometimes, it’s not something romantic or beautiful at all…sometimes, it’s bleach.

Yep, bleach.

Today, as I was graciously maintaining my obligatory pro bono role as Molly Maid (half a bleach bottle deep, mind you), I couldn’t help but think of my buddy Eric. I really miss him. And also, he hated my bleach obsession.

Back in the day, I kept the cleanest bar rail you’d ever see. I’m talking spotless. No napkins out of place, no fingerprints, no dirty glasses. I’d come in early and clean like my life depended on it, and before I left, you’d better believe it was back in the same condition. Everyone appreciated it… well, everyone except Eric.

Eric would roll his eyes and say, “Babe, did you know a good cold glass of bleach beer is my favorite?” That was his way of letting me know I might’ve been just a little over the top. But don’t get me wrong, he did appreciate my knack for cleaning, he just didn’t exactly thrive in that area himself.

This was a man who would happily slide a server $20 to sweep and mop his rail. Meanwhile, he’d sit back and watch me scrub down every nook and cranny of the restaurant because he knew that was our deal: I cleaned, he did his thing…bullshitting, pouring beers (perfectly, I might add), and just being Eric. Somehow, it worked. We thrived as a team, even though on paper we were absolute opposites.

I wish he were here today so I could send him a video of me, gloves up to my elbows, clutching a bottle of bleach with the caption “Doin’ me things.” And without a doubt, I’d get a selfie back of him, wild hair, cigarette in hand, with the caption “Doin’ me things (with absolutely no pants).” That was our friendship in a nutshell. Give and take. Opposites that somehow balanced out, and a whole lot of mutual respect.

It’s never fair how life works out. People leave too soon, and we’re left with this heavy mix of sadness, regrets, and all the “never enough time” feelings. But then there are days like today, when the sharp, clean scent of bleach drifts through the air and instead of sadness, I feel gratitude. Gratitude for the memories, for the time we had, and for the fact that I never once took our friendship for granted.

So here’s to memories and the random, ridiculous triggers that bring them rushing back. Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes it’s a smell, and sometimes it’s a bottle of bleach reminding you of someone who made your world a little brighter (and a whole lot messier).

Miss you buddy, cheers 🖤

Work Ethic, Careers, and Finding My Fit.

There are days when I feel like I was always meant for more. I was never quite sure what “more” was supposed to look like. My path didn’t include a shiny college degree or a string of fancy acronyms after my name. Instead, my education came in a very different form.

I became a mom as a teenager, started a family in my early twenties, and spent years working late nights, weekends, and sometimes three jobs at once. All while raising kids, being a wife, keeping a home running, serving as PTO president, baseball mom, snack mom, Brownies mom, lunch lady, HOA president, friend, daughter and sister. You name it, it probably landed on my lap at some point. I didn’t nail every role, and I made more mistakes than I can count. But those mistakes were teachers. Those detours built me.

Some people say I’m a leader because I’m bossy. And well….let’s blame that on my Greek heritage. But truthfully, I come from a generation that worked for everything. The generation that picked up the phone instead of texting, looked people in the eye and shook hands, bought their own cars, paid their own insurance, and learned resilience the hard way. We didn’t get participation trophies—we got told to dust ourselves off and get back out there. And honestly, I’ve never been more grateful for that upbringing.

Over the years, I’ve worked jobs I hated, jobs I loved, and jobs people probably wouldn’t even believe I actually did (yes, it’s true. I once taught pole dancing classes). Every single one of those experiences gave me skills, grit, and perspective that no textbook ever could.

Now, at 44, I’ve built a career I love. Some days I feel overqualified, other days underqualified, but both have pushed me to keep learning and growing. I don’t have a framed diploma hanging on my wall, but I do have a resume full of diverse experience and stories that taught me everything from perseverance to leadership to humility. I’ve worked with people who inspired me and people who drained me. Both shaped me into the person I am today.

I am proud of the work ethic I’ve built and the example it sets for my kids. My husband and I raised them in a generation that often glorifies shortcuts, entitlement, and “participation trophies,” but we raised them with old-school values. We taught them that nothing is given, everything is earned, kindness matters, and grit will carry you through when talent and privilege can’t. And you better believe I’ll pat myself on the back for that.

If I leave behind any kind of legacy, I hope it’s this:

1. Expect nothing, but work hard for everything.
2. Be kind to everyone, but trust carefully.
3. Don’t give up, but know when to adjust your sails.
4. And most of all, enjoy the fruits of your hard work. Explore, live, and savor every damn thing this life has to offer.
   

Because if there’s one thing I know for certain… its that our time on Earth doesn’t last forever and you can’t take it with you when you leave!

It’s a fact… I’m a better person when I’m tan.

There’s a kind of clarity that comes when you decide to stop numbing yourself. When you choose, intentionally, to honor your body and your mind instead of filling them with things that leave you more drained than whole. For me, sobriety wasn’t born from rock bottom or a problem with alcohol. It was born from a desire to live better, deeper, and with more honesty toward myself.

I didn’t need another glass of wine or a round of cocktails to escape. What I needed was space. Space from the busy schedules that left me too tired to notice joy. Space from one-sided relationships that drained me dry. Space from my own habits of self-sabotage and the numbing choices I made in the name of “fun.”

And what’s filled that space? Gratitude. Peace. A calmness I never once knew. It turns out, there’s something pretty powerful in waking up clear-headed, not just physically but emotionally. Finally able to sit with myself instead of running from myself.

Now, a weekend by the ocean looks different. It’s not about sunbathing, rum runners, and curating perfectly filtered photos for social media. It’s about slowing down. Letting the rhythm of the waves settle me. Breathing deeply and letting the beauty around me soak in. And yes, soaking up every second of that sunshine too…because let’s be honest, I’m just a better person when I’m tan.

Sobriety, for me, is less about what I’ve given up and more about what I’ve gained. It’s choosing presence over performance. Peace over pressure and most importantly…clarity over chaos. With every choice, I feel myself moving closer to the life I was always meant to live. One filled with intention, honesty, and an unshakable kind of joy.

Love, Letting Go…and everything in between.

In just a few weeks, I’ll watch my son, (my first born, my sweet baby boy) marry the love of his life. I’m excited, I’m proud and I’m overjoyed with emotion seeing my son happy. Then, just when I thought my heart couldn’t possibly stretch any wider, my daughter got engaged last week to the man of her dreams. Truthfully, they were equal parts made for one another…he’s the kind of man her Dad and I dreamt for her too.

My babies, grown now, building lives of their own and choosing forever partners. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s the kind of joy that sneaks up on you and fills your soul until you feel like you might just burst. Trust me bursting with tears has become my new norm.

But if I’m honest, there’s another layer to it. Motherhood has always been about holding on and letting go in waves. The first day of school, driver’s license, moving out, and now here we are, at the biggest wave yet. Giving my children away isn’t just a sweet phrase in a ceremony. It’s a heart-shaking reminder that the babies I once rocked to sleep are now adults stepping fully into a life where I’m no longer the center of their world.

And that’s exactly what I’ve been raising them for, isn’t it? To find love, to stand on their own two feet, to create families and futures that reflect who they are. Still, no one tells you how hard it is to loosen that grip, to unclench those mama fingers that have been holding on since the day they were born.

So here I am—half bursting with pride, half crying into my morning protein shake, and fully aware that this is the most bittersweet season of motherhood yet. But when I see the way my son looks at his bride-to-be, and the way my daughter lights up when she talks about her fiancé, I know they’re exactly where they’re meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, I am too.

Because love doesn’t get smaller when you share it. Somehow, it only grows. ❤️

-Signed Gigi in Training

Mourning ME

When my kids were little, people would say, “Enjoy every moment, because you’ll blink and one day they’ll be grown.”

Well, I must’ve blinked like I was in a staring contest with a dust storm, because here I am, standing in front of two fully grown adult humans… and I’m still trying to figure out how they’re my babies. The same babies who once demanded every ounce of my time, my energy, and honestly, the air I breathed. Everyone was right, twenty years disappeared in a blink.

And here’s the thing: I did enjoy every stage. I was obsessed with baby snuggles, mesmerized by their curiosity as toddlers, and surprisingly found the teenage years to be some of my favorites. Watching their independence take shape, seeing their unique personalities shine, it was magic. These two humans are, without a doubt, my whole wide world.

I poured myself into motherhood. PTO Mom. Snack Mom. Sports Mom. Travel Baseball Mom. Organic-Food Mom. Meal-Prep-Lunches-Daily Mom. But my favorite? Always-There Mom. I gladly gave up every piece of who I was as an individual and became “Stella and Cameron’s Mom.” Those years? Some of the best of my life.

Being a mom became my identity, my safe place, my purpose, and my full-time job. I made lifelong friends on ballfield bleachers, at PTO meetings, and in the chaos of school events. So much goodness came from those years, and I’ll forever be grateful.

I can still picture it like it was yesterday…lying in bed with Stella having deep, curious conversations. Watching Cameron pull out of the driveway for the first time after getting his license (me smiling on the outside, crying on the inside). The goofy car games on family road trips. Sunday dinners. Graduation day. Oh, Graduation… that one broke me a little.

And then came the curveball….moving ten hours away from my 19 and 22 year-old kids. I told myself they’d be fine. I knew they’d be fine. But I was not fine. Suddenly, I had the chance to live in a new city, meet new people, and for the first time in decades, be me. Not Stella’s Mom. Not Cam’s Mom. Not PTO President. Not Brian’s Wife. Just… me.

It sounded exciting in theory. But in reality? I didn’t want to talk to strangers. I didn’t want to make new friends. And I missed my kids so much it felt like my heart was physically breaking. The depression, anxiety, and loneliness were relentless.

Eventually, I realized something: I wasn’t just missing my kids. I was mourning the old me. The woman who’d spent decades being needed every second of every day. And so, I shifted. I let her go—not completely, but enough to make room for the new me. I read self-help books, set physical and mental goals, and started appreciating who I was becoming.

And you know what? I love her. This version of me fills her own cup first. She pours love intentionally into the people who matter. She’s healthy, she’s intentional, she doesn’t just dream, she lives those dreams.

I’m still a mom. Some days, I hop in the car and drive ten hours just for a hug. I have friends I miss like crazy, but the distance has only deepened our connection. Daily calls, “love you, girl” texts, the comfort of knowing they’ll be in my life forever. My family, always my greatest gift. Reminds me exactly why I keep striving to be the best version of myself.

I have loved both versions of me. I’m endlessly thankful for the years of being “Stella and Cam’s Mom” (and always will be). But I’m just as thankful for the woman I am now. She is strong, grateful, and living a life she once only dreamed of.

And best of all? She is ME!!!!!!!

Welcome to My Corner of the World

For most of my adult life, people have told me I have a gift when it comes to writing. Maybe its because I have lived a life full of adventure, motherhood, challenges, pain, growth and I've never been afraid to FEEL it all. This blog is where I am gathering those moments. The raw truths, the honest emotions and the pure joys that have shaped me. 

I'm writing for my children, my grandchildren, my family, my friends and maybe for you, too. One day, I hope these words will be my legacy. A collection of stories and reflections that speak of where I've been, what I've learned, and the beauty I've found in simply living. 

I have started and stopped "blogging" a handful of times and something just keeps pulling me back here. A need to share, a desire to help others not feel alone.... a way to process life in general I suppose. From me to you, a gift of words. My words, my pain, my joys, my hopes and my dreams.... and maybe just a bit of random things at times. 

-R