Many, many moons ago, in my pre-soccer mom kid days, I was a mega star in the sales and marketing world. Every where I worked I was always at the top of my game, the top seller, the biggest producer, an up and coming media star. I often managed to get my name in the news, I was interviewed on TV and on NPR, my clothing line was featured on national talk shows and I was even mentioned on Page 6 of the New York Post. And then something happened. I got into a funk. I lost my courage and my confidence. I forgot who I was.

It all started when my daughter Eva was born 14 years ago and  I quit my job to stay home with my children. At least that is what I said I wanted.  I’m sure my ex-husband will remember things differently, that I made the choice of my own free will. But that is not how I saw it. As a mother of  an infant and a toddler married to a work-a-holic husband with no family support nearby, I really didn’t see that I had any other option. I just couldn’t see myself working all day and then coming home to care for young children while my then husband worked 80 hour weeks. I was tired of fighting him for help and attention so I just gave in. And then five years later, just when Eva was starting kindergarten, we got divorced. As a means to reignite my former self, I started a small business which was a modest success, but it could have been so much more. It was a struggle working on it alone as a single mother of small children so once again, I took the Mommy track and settled for less than what I knew I could produce. I laid low. I licked my wounds. I lost my groove.

But not anymore.

These past few months working on my master’s degree have served to set the stage for my big comeback, which was this past week at a business convention in Reno. Paul was slated to instruct a class and was lobbying hard for me to teach a break out session on Internet marketing. He felt I had a lot to contribute and I agreed. When the convention organizers gave me the green light, I hurriedly put together a Power Point presentation and crossed my fingers that people would show up and I would calm my nerves long enough to get through it. People showed up and I got through it OK, or so I thought. There were about a dozen attendees in the room and everyone came up to me afterward raving about the presentation. They gave my their business cards and asked me to send them the presentation. One person told me she learned more from me than from anyone else and that seeing my presentation was worth the cost of the convention. I couldn’t believe it. I started to feel the successful rumblings of my former self, but it wasn’t until a few hours later when I was convinced that the old me was back.

Lunch was served to all trade show attendees in a large, cavernous hall with high ceilings, a big stage and  lots of tables. Paul and I found a seat in the back of the room to listen to the keynote speaker give a talk on “overcoming one’s fears” to an audience of at least 300 people. As a demonstration of his message he asked for volunteers to get up on stage and tell everyone why they were there. I thought about going up, but someone beat me to it and I was relieved. A few minutes later he asked again, but this time there were no takers. I knew if I didn’t go up there I would always regret it. I’m the marketing director for our company for crying out loud. What better opportunity to promote our business than to get up on stage, grab the microphone and tell everyone about it. Before I could lose my nerve, I found myself rushing up to the front up the room and bounding up the stairs to the stage. I made my speech. I was nervous. My voice quivered a bit, but I told everyone there about our product and why we were there. Afterward Paul beamed with pride. Several people came up to him to tell him they were interested in hearing more about our product and to congratulate him for having such a courageous wife.

The next day I attended a seminar and the man in front of me turned around and said, “You’re that lady who got up on that stage.” He gave me his card and told me to have Paul contact him. I got Paul a lot of leads by doing that. But in the end I didn’t do it for him, and I didn’t do it to promote our business. I did it for me. I was that lady who got up on that stage, and in the process, I got my groove back.

The casino, with its  tall ceiling, flashing neon lights and  popping sounds of slot machines can best be described as  walking through a life size pinball machine. That was the image that came to my mind. The Oceano Restaurant, complete with hanging jelly fish chandeliers has to be experienced in order to be fully appreciated.  The hotel room itself, however,  conjures an entirely different image. There is  a large Jacuzzi tub (for two)  in the center of the room with mirrors on the ceiling, naturally, and get this… there is a double strand of rope lighting  surrounding the perimeter of the ceiling that when lit up in the evening resembles an airport landing strip. Who designs these places I want to know? The trip was very successful but I am anxious to go home. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I miss my children.

One of the many swimming pools at Bellagio.

After my wonderful four days with the girls touring colleges, shopping and sightseeing  in San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara, I headed home Tuesday night only to unpack and repack to head out to Las Vegas with Paul for a business conference. We stayed at the opulent, over-the- top hotel, Bellagio.

I had only been to Las Vegas once before, a year ago, which was also a work related trip. From a business perspective, the trips were both  huge successes. From a personal perspective, I have to say, Vegas is not my cup of tea. Or martini, or vodka tonic or whatever they drink in Sin City.

The town simply offends me on so many levels. I don’t know what bothers me the most, the manufactured ambiance, (fake oceans for instance), the cigar/cigarette smoke everywhere (Paul requested a non-smoking section in a restaurant and was informed there is no such thing.) the over-stimulating excess (re-touched posters of Cher) or the Frank Sinatra/Julio Iglesias/Celine Dion music blaring from the sound system.  Just in case you haven’t heard, Frank Sinatra was a member “the Rat Pack” and he and his buddies, Dean, Sammy and Joey, used to play a lot of gigs in Vegas. Lest we forget, his image and voice are everywhere. So are impersonators of Marilyn and Elvis. The best comparison I can make is to say  visiting this town is like sitting through a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show … on steroids.

But I was never a party girl. I like dressing up for maybe an hour and then my feet hurt from the high heels and I want to kick them off, put on some sweats, crawl into a club chair and read a book. OK, so I’m boring. I missed my kids. We are already planning our next college tour.

No kids this weekend. I just poured myself a glass of wine and am settling in to finish up some homework. This is my final week of my third class in graduate school so I am now a quarter of the way through. Did I mention that I am going to Full Sail University? Perhaps I should give them a plug here. I absolutely love it. Could not be happier. I am learning so much and my mind is just BURSTING with creativity. I wake up excited every morning and I just love the added boost it is giving my career. Paul is thrilled with my added and continued contribution to our business. Yeah.

Our business model has changed considerably in the past few months and Paul and I are enjoying working together and planning our new marketing strategies. My current studies in Internet Marketing are helping immensely. Yesterday Paul presented a seminar and afterward I was in the mood for sushi. They have great sushi restaurants here in L.A. Instead we tried something different and very unusual to me: shabu shabu. It is so cool. You have to try it. You cook your own food in pots of boiling water at your table. I know. It sounds treacherous, but it’s not. The meat is sliced very thin and it only takes a few minutes to cook. You can add your own spices and garnishes and top with sauces like miso and soy. Boiling the water draws out the fat in the meat. Then it is served with vegetables and noodles. Very good and very satisfying.

The greatest part of all of this is that this whole experience has brought Paul and me even closer together. We talk endlessly all day (we work together, remember) and into the night about  how we can work what I am learning into our current and future business plans. I have to create a marketing plan for my master’s thesis on a company of my choice so I am doing mine on our business. Paul tells me he has never seen me so happy, energized and creative. I agree. Going back to school at 48 , with five children has been an amazing experience. Everyone chips in to help out and whatever doesn’t get done I am learning to ignore. My standards of cleanliness have gone lower than ever before but who cares? I am a vessel of knowledge now and nothing is going to stop me.

On Friday afternoon Paul got a call from his friend Jack who lives in the South Beach section of San Francisco, right near the harbor and the AT&T stadium (formerly PacBell)  where the San Francisco Giants play. He invited us to come up and stay on his boat in the harbor and we impulsively jumped at the chance. We packed an overnight bag (it was a no kid weekend) and by 3PM we were on the road to San Francisco.

The weather was gorgeous. It was the perfect Indian summer evening by the bay. It was just the two of us sitting alone sipping wine on the deck of the boat. We could both feel all of our troubles and worries melting away. We walked around the harbor for a bit, soaking up the atmosphere, smelling the salt air, listening to the sounds of seagulls and boats creaking, and enjoying the beautiful views. We ate dinner at the Acme Chop House, a lovely steak house and pregame hang out. Afterward we walked through Willie Mays Plaza and caught the last three innings of the game. The Giants lost, but we didn’t care.

We slept on the boat, dozing off to its therapeutic rocking and woke early the next morning to beautiful sunshine. Jack and his wife met us for breakfast at a cafe and afterward we drove home.

Saturday afternoon we picked up the kids from  their other parents’ houses and took them to an Oktoberfest we are invited to every year. Friends of ours have a house on a lot of acreage out in the country and they host this giant potluck party every fall. Local bands play and several (I think 13 this year) home beer brewers come to enter the beer tasting contest. The kids all run through the woods and play and when it gets dark they light a huge bonfire and make s’mores. Hundreds of people come to this event. It is really special. Everyone had a great time.

The kids went back to their other parents and Paul and I had Sunday to ourselves. We took a long walk along the ocean and then came home and took a nap. Paul puttered around the yard while I made us a special dinner of leek, bacon and pea risotto. Paul grilled some salmon and I tossed a salad. When I came outside to see what he was doing, I discovered  he had cleaned the outside patio, lit the outdoor fireplace and set up a cafe table in front of it. Candles were lit all around, soft music was playing and  a glass of wine was waiting for me. Perfect.

We reminisced about how we first met 4 1/2 years ago and how we used to spend our kid free weekends like this all the time. Then we got married, remodeled our house, blended our families and started a business and  got sidetracked from focusing on just us and our relationship. At the end of the evening I turned to Paul and said, “I think we got our groove back.” He agreed. We made a vow to each other to have a lot more weekends like this one.

One of my cyber step mom friends, Peggy, from The Stepmom’s Tool Box  answered this question on her blog after she read it on two other blogs, La Belle Mere and Steph in the City. I thought I should respond too since just recently Paul told me how much he enjoys reading my blog. As you may already know, he travels quite a bit on business and we are apart 2-3 days a week. He told me while he is away, reading my blog, (particularly all of the wonderful things I write about him) keeps him feeling connected to me. “They are like love letters,” he said. Knowing that, yes,  I would have to say his reading my blog does influence what I write, especially when I want to send him a message, like I did recently in my post “We’re not butter, babe, we’re steel.”

Modern romance at its best.