Okay so yesterday was like any other day until I logged onto Facebook ( oh I love you Facebook.) To my surprise I had received a lengthy note from an old friend. My daughter has shown since she was very young a propensity for music. As young as age three she would bang away at the little xylophone and quickly tap out tunes like "Mary had a Little Lamb" and "Twinkle Twinkle." She just could hear the notes. I have never been musically inclined, so I jumped at the chance to send her to lessons. It so happened that her preschool music teacher was also a piano instructor. Like many folks the preschool I sent her to was faith based. All important fact to the larger story. She began her lessons and truly thrived. Her teacher is well- adorable in a word. I have likened her to Snow White on many occasions. She is just so radiant and pure. She exudes kindness and is heartfelt and good. It was nice to have my child being taught by and in the care of someone so kind. Through the years I have seen her family grow as has mine. She has three kids now and so do I. I have watched her become this beautiful mom. She is patient and loving with her kids and they are so happy. I was grateful to know her and so happy to see how content with life she had become. I felt like I watched her become a woman. That may seem silly but when we met she was only like 23 and just married and is now, nearing 29 and has three kids. Sadly this last year I had to make the decision to use a new piano teacher. It had nothing to do with her at all. In fact I stayed with her two years longer than I probably should have because I loved her so much. The distance was the only factor. We were making a 45 minute drive each way ever Tuesday night just for the 30 minute class. It was taking a toll on our evenings with homework being regular and taking a toll on my pocket book with gas and all. We switched to a class nearer my child's school. I kept in touch with the teacher as I truly felt sad to be leaving her. Like we had made a connection- kindreds in motherhood.
The letter I received was from her. It was well- uncomfortable a bit for me. It was as nice as it could be and it was sort of beautiful but the more I read it the more strange I felt. It was a letter that basically said that she loved my family and I and that she wanted to share the kingdom of Heaven with us so she felt compelled to reach out and bring us home to God. She felt that God had lead her to send this letter. She said she loved my beautiful family so much that she had longed to write this letter to me for quite some time. She asked if I ever felt that all I had done for my kids was still falling short and assured me that God would take up where I had left off with them.
It was such a nice letter yet some how it made me feel a little bit bad. It made me feel "judged." I am 100% positive that that was NOT the intent. I am 100% positive that she would never hurt me. But still it was there and it is what I felt. That must be acknowledged. Now why? I have read this book "The Four Agreements" buy it now... now now now.. I'll wait.. no really it's a must read. It's short and to the point. Basically one of the agreements is to understand that "this is not about me." That is hard for me in general but especially when it feels like someone is saying I am not a good mother. That always knocks the wind out of me and doubt washes over me like a flood. No like a tidal wave. So here I sit. Here I sit thinking that this woman I admired feels like my kids and I are on the express train to Hell. As always I ponder, sort, scrape, mash, peel, tear apart and reconstruct my feelings on the matter. I ask for guidance from my tribe. One friend said that anyone who has met my kids even for a minute or in this case has had the chance to spend a great deal of time with them must know how happy and how kind they are. Finn at age four even holds open doors for ladies. He is a true gentleman. Jude carries my bags and says let me help you all the time. Char is so intuitive about feelings and knows how to heal all around her. They are GOOD kids. One friend said I should be flattered. That I should know that most people want to recruit those who are not that far gone. They want to help those up who are almost there already. They dont want to drag people from the pits. Ha Ha... I still fretted. This was after all not the first time something like this had happened. Once a woman close to me (even staying in my home for a few days) told me that my family was beautiful and my husband was such a good father.. "but it was too bad that we were all going to Hell since we were not saved." It was not the first time I'd heard these words. It was like the fifth.
In fact it made me think of a funny joke my Grandpa used to tell.
"It was flooding. As the flood waters were rising, a man
was on the roof of his house and another man in a row boat came by.
The man in the row boat told him to get in and he'd
save him. The man on the roof said, no, he had faith in God and
would wait for God to save him. The flood waters kept rising. A man in a motor boat came
by and told the man on the roof to get in because he had come to
rescue him. The man on the house said no thank you. He had perfect
faith in God and would wait for God to save him. The flood waters kept
rising. Pretty soon they were up to the man's roof. A helicopter then came by, lowered a rope and the pilot
shouted down in the man in the house to climb up the rope because the helicopter had come to rescue him. The man in the house wouldn't get
in. He told the pilot that he had faith in God and would wait for God
to rescue him. The flood waters kept rising and the man in the house
drowned. When he got to heaven, he asked God where he went wrong. He
told God that he had perfect faith in God, but God had let him drown.
"What more do you want from me?" asked God. "I sent you two boats and a helicopter."
So were these people sent to me as a life raft? a helicopter? a boat to save me from drowning? If God is so wise and so all knowing would he/she not have sent me a messenger I'd be more likely to listen to? Would he/she not have clothed them in garments I'd recognize? Make them someone who's council I'd be likely to seek?
My friend Tracey said it to me best.. If this is like the fifth time you'd had someone say these things to you, well then you should be feeling over-joyed. (WHAT??) Because obviously you are good enough that they want you on their team. Yay! So I wont be picked last in the cosmic game of kickball to Heaven. Sweet.....Whew what a load off....
I guess this is where I am and this is basically how I responded. Religion to me is private, more private than politics in fact. Some may have you believe you'd only keep it quiet if you were ashamed but in fact I keep it quiet because it's mine. It's a place in my heart that I hold sacred and you will rarely be invited there. No matter who you are. My children and my husband reside there. There we run freely together in the multitude of blessings and of love we have for each other and for this life we were given. I love this man I married and I know he was brought to me by a higher power and for a higher purpose. I love these little sprouts I birthed. I know they are from the divine source. I share with these humans the beauty of life everyday. In an average day I tell them- "I love you, and I am thankful for you" over 1000 times. I am thankful to the Holy Spirit for the gift of them. My sermons are held each day at breakfast when we talk about what's good and right, when we talk about life and history and language and travel. My sermons are held at dinner when we talk about our day and our food and what we loved and what made us sad and what lifted us up. My sermons are held at bath time, when their tiny naked bodies are flailing around in suds and being silly and giddy my choir is their laughter. My sermons are held at bedtime when I kiss foreheads and linger in the smell of their hair or when my husband and I lie awakes and talk or hold each other close and warm. This house is my church and this life I have built my temple. Any one who enters can feel this love. I know I am loved by this higher power for I look around me each and every day and I am so blessed- Would someone undeserving or bound for Hell be this happy and this filled with gratitude?
I will face the end of my life with these people and I will not fear what comes next because this right here and now is my Heaven.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Friday, November 8, 2013
Listen to Your Mother, Excitement, and Random Thoughts..
I was pondering the other day, as I often do, about the life and happiness. I was with my kids at an amusement park and they were so excited to be running from one ride to the next. They were seeing new sites and feeling over the moon hopped up crazy on adrenaline. I was thinking about when as an adult I had that feeling last. I know I was excited on my wedding day. I know I was excited to leave for our honeymoon. I get that butterfly feeling of possibility when I travel to a foreign country. I know on the way to the hospital to give birth I was ecstatic. But when had I felt it last? I started to be a bit jealous. Who knows when again as adults we might get that rush of new and amazing excitement, haven't we experienced so much that very little is new to us and still awe inspiring that is THRILLING? I'm not saying I'm unhappy or that my life is boring- far from it. I am simply saying that I wonder if much as a grown up makes us feel that pit of your stomach nervous excitement.
Well, I can say with complete satisfaction that the "Listen to Your Mother 2014" show announcements made me feel that way.
Giddy Goofy Happy Three Years Old again Excited!!
THRILLED
I know I have been telling anyone within earshot how great this thing is but until you actually see the show, hear these stories, FEEL the energy you will not understand. This is excitement, this is life, this is empowered funny and smart women telling the story that is life- that gave life- that sustains life, like only we can. It is beauty, pain, and overwhelming love and laughter all packed into one hour. I am so giddy to be a part of the creative team in Kansas City this year. I hope my story will make you laugh and make you love this show as much as I do!
Here is a sample of what you can expect. This is one of my favs from the 2013 show in Chicago.
Well, I can say with complete satisfaction that the "Listen to Your Mother 2014" show announcements made me feel that way.
Giddy Goofy Happy Three Years Old again Excited!!
THRILLED
I know I have been telling anyone within earshot how great this thing is but until you actually see the show, hear these stories, FEEL the energy you will not understand. This is excitement, this is life, this is empowered funny and smart women telling the story that is life- that gave life- that sustains life, like only we can. It is beauty, pain, and overwhelming love and laughter all packed into one hour. I am so giddy to be a part of the creative team in Kansas City this year. I hope my story will make you laugh and make you love this show as much as I do!
Here is a sample of what you can expect. This is one of my favs from the 2013 show in Chicago.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Reconciled 8===D
Oh this is one of those where I have no idea how to begin. My process in writing is weird and simple. Most sit with some sort of device even if it's purely paper and pencil, not me though. I am in my own head. That is where my writer lives, her hunkered down comfy cozy self. She is in there thinking, editing, reworking the whole thing until the body wants to sit and actually do the typing. I've always been this way. Roommates used to laugh at me in college. Have you started that paper yet? It's due tomorrow! I'd always have it completely written and completely perfect IN MY HEAD. Then the day it was due it's type it out. Rough drafts are for pussies.. ha ha ha (of course this is why I have so many spelling and grammar errors...) I love to write, I just dont love the actual writing.. ha ha...
Ever read Tommy-knockers? by Stephen King? He has that device that the writer just uses, it reads her thoughts and puts them to paper. Oh how I wish I had that. Of course then over half would need to be censored (X RATED!!) and the other half would need to be edited for content as my mind wanders like the dog on the movie "UP".... squirrel!!!! See I'm wandering off even now.
The beginning....
I had said I wanted to write a piece about how I am not reconciled. I do accounting work as a PAYING job. In that world "reconciliation" means to make sure all the numbers add up. Everything is accounted for all the zeros and decimal points align. In my world in this head of mine it means a similar thing, but without the numbers. My image of myself does not add up. My image in the mirror and my image in my head are not the same. The me I am inside is not the same as the me I see in the mirror... Which one is right? Which one is real? I am not reconciled....
In writing one of the first things you learn is self- i.e - your perspective, your point of view. It can get a bit philosophical here... Freud's model of the psyche.. the ID the EGO and the SUPER EGO. There is the self as you see you, the self as others see you, and the self that you truly are. Which self is REAL? Then comes the question of what is REAL? and oh my God I dont have time for all that and my head hurts from the thought of it. Maybe I had time for that in my 20's but now in my 40's I'm too busy trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up and too worried I may have run out of time to make up my mind. Now I just know that these selves are not adding up.
In my head I am this attractive, funny, smart, pretty (not beautiful but pretty), girl who is always on the go. The girl who is always moving, never sits still and is always up to some new feat. I am this modern ninja warrior woman who kicks butt! The girl who has breakfast lunch and dinner made, kids dropped off at school, house cleaned, laundry started, a few phone calls made to get a $4000 check issued to finish off the new slide on the playground , bank book balanced, and status updated all before 9AM. This is the me of my head.
In the mirror, I am a tired, old, very over weight, fluffy, cranky, haggard.. hag. Old..hag. IN THE MIRROR that is who I am.
Where is the disconnect? (And jeez.. am I just schizophrenic??? After reading and re-reading those thoughts I sound like I might be?)
and then she thinks----
(I'm sitting here talking to myself- nay- arguing with my self over whether or not I am sane. That in and of itself may answer the question....)
ANY HOW-
So I struggle with this day in and day out. I see my beautiful daughter growing into this woman, and I am terrified (poop your pants, hair turns white, scared straight TERRIFIED) that she will become this unaccounted for column... How do I stop that? Nail biting, stomach in knots here.. How do I stop that from happening? By the end of my stories I usually have some perspective ladies and gents but not on this one. I really mean HOW? I really dont know. I am scared for her. Scared of the mean girls, the mean comments, the mean boys she will face if her body is not "just right." I am scared it will change the beautiful little soul she is right now. I am scared she will retreat into a shell and hide if those mean words are spoken to her and I KNOW they will be. Hell it has already begun. How do I shield her from this? How do I keep her safe?
It's not the same for boys. I dont worry about F and J this way. They will be fine. Pretty much none of a guy's self image is tied up in his reflection in the mirror. Good looking, or ugly, fat or thin, zit faced or baby faced.. a guy can still be THE GUY. The big fat guy can still get the girl, the car, the friends, the invites to the parties. He can still be popular. He can still be IN and he can still move around in our society without much of a grimace from anyone. NOT THE FAT GIRL. The fat girl wont be called for a date, she wont have a healthy relationship with a guy, she wont get asked to the prom, or have a herd of girl friends vying for her attention. She is punished day in and day out for who she is. The ugly girl too... but there is at least some small amount of sympathy for the ugly girl. She was born that way. NOT THE FAT GIRL. She must be LAZY.. a PIG.. she must stuff her face, eat bon bons while sitting on the sofa watching teen heart throb movies or soap operas. The fat girl is not just an outcast but she is actually and enemy, she is despised. She is like a virus the other girls think they might catch. They FEAR her, they fear they may become her.
I want my daughter to grow a penis so she never has to deal with this crap.....
(suddenly a light comes on and you were the first to witness this epiphany right here and now)
See I said I had no solution but there it is, the answer to all the problems women face day in and day out .... I just solved em all.! GROW A PENIS. There we go.. (she says as she brushes her hands together in the air) problem solved. I'll just tell Char to grow a penis. We will skip all the self image issues of teen years, we will hop right on over the MEAN GIRL BULLSHIT she will soon be facing, she will not worry about date rape, she will finish at the top of her class and get a high paying job without worry of sexual discrimination at all, she will always get the promotion, and she will never fear it was because the boss wanted to sleep with her- and it's all accomplished by the simple task of growing a fucking penis. Whew- what a relief.
Wow- okay- that is all- carry on..... anyone know a good plastic surgeon???
Ever read Tommy-knockers? by Stephen King? He has that device that the writer just uses, it reads her thoughts and puts them to paper. Oh how I wish I had that. Of course then over half would need to be censored (X RATED!!) and the other half would need to be edited for content as my mind wanders like the dog on the movie "UP".... squirrel!!!! See I'm wandering off even now.
The beginning....
I had said I wanted to write a piece about how I am not reconciled. I do accounting work as a PAYING job. In that world "reconciliation" means to make sure all the numbers add up. Everything is accounted for all the zeros and decimal points align. In my world in this head of mine it means a similar thing, but without the numbers. My image of myself does not add up. My image in the mirror and my image in my head are not the same. The me I am inside is not the same as the me I see in the mirror... Which one is right? Which one is real? I am not reconciled....
In writing one of the first things you learn is self- i.e - your perspective, your point of view. It can get a bit philosophical here... Freud's model of the psyche.. the ID the EGO and the SUPER EGO. There is the self as you see you, the self as others see you, and the self that you truly are. Which self is REAL? Then comes the question of what is REAL? and oh my God I dont have time for all that and my head hurts from the thought of it. Maybe I had time for that in my 20's but now in my 40's I'm too busy trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up and too worried I may have run out of time to make up my mind. Now I just know that these selves are not adding up.
In my head I am this attractive, funny, smart, pretty (not beautiful but pretty), girl who is always on the go. The girl who is always moving, never sits still and is always up to some new feat. I am this modern ninja warrior woman who kicks butt! The girl who has breakfast lunch and dinner made, kids dropped off at school, house cleaned, laundry started, a few phone calls made to get a $4000 check issued to finish off the new slide on the playground , bank book balanced, and status updated all before 9AM. This is the me of my head.
In the mirror, I am a tired, old, very over weight, fluffy, cranky, haggard.. hag. Old..hag. IN THE MIRROR that is who I am.
Where is the disconnect? (And jeez.. am I just schizophrenic??? After reading and re-reading those thoughts I sound like I might be?)
and then she thinks----
(I'm sitting here talking to myself- nay- arguing with my self over whether or not I am sane. That in and of itself may answer the question....)
ANY HOW-
So I struggle with this day in and day out. I see my beautiful daughter growing into this woman, and I am terrified (poop your pants, hair turns white, scared straight TERRIFIED) that she will become this unaccounted for column... How do I stop that? Nail biting, stomach in knots here.. How do I stop that from happening? By the end of my stories I usually have some perspective ladies and gents but not on this one. I really mean HOW? I really dont know. I am scared for her. Scared of the mean girls, the mean comments, the mean boys she will face if her body is not "just right." I am scared it will change the beautiful little soul she is right now. I am scared she will retreat into a shell and hide if those mean words are spoken to her and I KNOW they will be. Hell it has already begun. How do I shield her from this? How do I keep her safe?
It's not the same for boys. I dont worry about F and J this way. They will be fine. Pretty much none of a guy's self image is tied up in his reflection in the mirror. Good looking, or ugly, fat or thin, zit faced or baby faced.. a guy can still be THE GUY. The big fat guy can still get the girl, the car, the friends, the invites to the parties. He can still be popular. He can still be IN and he can still move around in our society without much of a grimace from anyone. NOT THE FAT GIRL. The fat girl wont be called for a date, she wont have a healthy relationship with a guy, she wont get asked to the prom, or have a herd of girl friends vying for her attention. She is punished day in and day out for who she is. The ugly girl too... but there is at least some small amount of sympathy for the ugly girl. She was born that way. NOT THE FAT GIRL. She must be LAZY.. a PIG.. she must stuff her face, eat bon bons while sitting on the sofa watching teen heart throb movies or soap operas. The fat girl is not just an outcast but she is actually and enemy, she is despised. She is like a virus the other girls think they might catch. They FEAR her, they fear they may become her.
I want my daughter to grow a penis so she never has to deal with this crap.....
(suddenly a light comes on and you were the first to witness this epiphany right here and now)
See I said I had no solution but there it is, the answer to all the problems women face day in and day out .... I just solved em all.! GROW A PENIS. There we go.. (she says as she brushes her hands together in the air) problem solved. I'll just tell Char to grow a penis. We will skip all the self image issues of teen years, we will hop right on over the MEAN GIRL BULLSHIT she will soon be facing, she will not worry about date rape, she will finish at the top of her class and get a high paying job without worry of sexual discrimination at all, she will always get the promotion, and she will never fear it was because the boss wanted to sleep with her- and it's all accomplished by the simple task of growing a fucking penis. Whew- what a relief.
Wow- okay- that is all- carry on..... anyone know a good plastic surgeon???
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Kaitlyn and Braedon-Confidence- and The Insignificant Day
Uggg- Sometimes sitting down to write is like when I used to walk into a record store to buy music. You have all these albums you want then when you walk in you can't even think of one thing. I had all these posts I wanted to write but now sitting here I can't think of one of them. I need to get on a schedule where I write everyday even if it's blather because at least then the good stuff wont get lost. Okay so I'm talking to you like you are part of some sort of inner monologue in my head (PSYCHO?) but here goes.
As promised the post about Braedon and Kaitlyn. Who are they you ask? Truth be told I don't really even know but this is how it all went down. I took my fam in the last days of summer break to the lake for a nice relaxing day at the beach. It was all perfect and wonderful and totally relaxing until these teenagers showed up. They were not really obnoxious so much but I found myself glued to them like watching a train wreck. I just couldn't turn away. I kept reminiscing about my own teen years and then my mind would float off and day-dream about what Char and Jude would be like as teens.
Kaitlyn and her little friend whose name I never heard, came first. They very carefully and calculatedly picked a spot and begin laying themselves out ever so perfectly for view by the near-by life guard whom they knew from school. So much care and time went into this it was mesmerizing. I remember what it felt like to be that girl who tried so hard to get that boys attention. Kaitlyn was sort of built like I was in high school although to her credit she had much more self confidence than I had then. Already pretty tan from the summer of beaching it, and long dark hair that she literally flipped about 2000 times while arranging herself neatly on her towel and applying oil or lotion of some kind. She was "curvy"- "built"-"thick" as some might put it. Not fat at all in my opinion. She was bigger than the other very waif-ish girl. She had big boobs, and a big but. This is what I looked like in school but back then I thought I was fat. Hid behind my clothes instead of wearing them. Hated my own body each time I glimpsed it in the mirror and would NEVER have worn a bikini like Kaitlyn was, or shown myself so confidently on the beach like she was. That is why I started looking at her in the first place. I felt pride in her for not being self loathing, and a tiny bit of jealousy for having confidence in HIGH SCHOOL for goodness sakes. Then from behind us came a very loud very large group of testosterone filled teen boys. About 12 of them to be sure. They were all sweaty and goofy and all of them had one thing in common. They thought they were totally cool. Obviously the cool kids,obviously the varsity team of something. They knew Kaitlyn and waif girl.They knew them well. The cool kids group. One boy stood out from the others. Not because he was cuter, or in any way superior but there was just something about him. The other boys kept calling his name. Braedon this and Brady that.. Hey over here Brady, Hey wanna play volleyball? All the guys wanted to be him or be his friend and Kaitlyn wanted to date him. It was obvious from the hair flipping. I just could not look away from this group. Frumpy old lady gawking on. It was shameful and I felt all pervy but, still I could not look away.
I found myself wondering why they so held on to my attention. In part it was a desperate feeling of my own fleeting youth. I don't feel OLD yet but way past this stage for sure and in a way, in that moment, wanting it back. Wanting to be that young again and have my whole life in front of me. Wanting to be that naive. But mostly it was this intangible need to know why they were so confident and how in the hell do I instill that in my own kids? I sure as heck did not have it as a teen. I don't want Charley to hate her body and I don't want Jude or Finn to be that guy always hoping Brady will play catch with him. I want them to BE Braedon and Kaitlyn. Is that vain? I am not so much caught up in that they will be sought after and "popular" but that they will be looked up to for the right things. Confidence, Poise, Kindness, and Loyalty- topping the list.
When my husband plopped down beside me he could clearly see I was in a far off place with my thoughts. He asked and instantly I began to tell him about this one.. very small very insignificant day that I went swimming. It was at a pool in an apartment complex where a friend lived. My mom and I went. I was wearing a new bikini I had bought with my step mom. It was cool, at least I thought so. It was black on bottom and black and white on top. I was tan and I had long blond highlighted hair. I was nervous, but I felt good, felt like I looked good and felt somewhat comfortable in my own skin. I think I was 15 maybe? A boy I had known since the fifth grade and whom I had a severe crush on came up to me. I had no idea he was working there part time as a pool guy. He sat down on the edge of the pool next to me. We were talking and laughing, we had been friends a while. I felt good, I was flipping my own hair I am sure. I was Kaitlyn. That moment was fleeting and would be the last time I ever wore a bikini and the last time I ever felt like that again. I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture. At first I had no idea what she was saying. I was leaning against the wall and had my elbows propped back on the wall and feet floating out. Trying to be coy, trying to impress Jason in anyway I could. She was motioning to me that I should not lean back like that as it made my stomach look fat all pushed out that way. She came over to tell me since I did not understand her sign language. She whispered it to me. I remember feeling like I'd been stung by 10,000 bees. Hot and embarrassed. I wanted to die. I mostly wanted out of the bikini. I put on my t-shirt and sat out on a lounge chair until it was time to leave. I never wore it again. It became a symbol to be of my own self loathing. One insignificant day, one tiny remark that I am sure was never meant to inflict the kind of damage that it did. No one had ever told Kaitlyn she looked "thick" in that suit she had on. She looked so cute to me. She looked happy and she looked confident. She loved herself and truthfully that made me a bit jealous.
Everyday I wonder if something I might say to one of my kids might be the equivalent of this "bikini comment". Everyday I ask myself if this one seemingly insignificant thing I said to them might be the thing that makes them feel less than the spectacular and beautiful beings they are. I'd like to tell you by the end of this post that I have the answer and that I know the right thing to do to make it all turn out well for them in the end. I can't. because I dont know. I struggle everyday on these things and sometimes am taken aback at the weight my words carry.
Mother= confidence.
Staggering math.
or maybe Mother = complete self loathing.....
What goes into making a Kaitlyn and a Braedon? Lots of hugs and kisses, lots of speeches about self worth? I fear it's some of that but more the example I set in how I treat myself. I wish I was Kaitlyn. So confident, so flirtly, so young, so naive. Instead I am me. Jaded a bit, getting older, but hoping beyond all hope I can muster enough confidence in my own mothering skills to teach my kids to love themselves and hoping to get back to where I love ME a little more.
ummmmm... and no that does not mean I'll be wearing a bikini any time soon.
As promised the post about Braedon and Kaitlyn. Who are they you ask? Truth be told I don't really even know but this is how it all went down. I took my fam in the last days of summer break to the lake for a nice relaxing day at the beach. It was all perfect and wonderful and totally relaxing until these teenagers showed up. They were not really obnoxious so much but I found myself glued to them like watching a train wreck. I just couldn't turn away. I kept reminiscing about my own teen years and then my mind would float off and day-dream about what Char and Jude would be like as teens.
Kaitlyn and her little friend whose name I never heard, came first. They very carefully and calculatedly picked a spot and begin laying themselves out ever so perfectly for view by the near-by life guard whom they knew from school. So much care and time went into this it was mesmerizing. I remember what it felt like to be that girl who tried so hard to get that boys attention. Kaitlyn was sort of built like I was in high school although to her credit she had much more self confidence than I had then. Already pretty tan from the summer of beaching it, and long dark hair that she literally flipped about 2000 times while arranging herself neatly on her towel and applying oil or lotion of some kind. She was "curvy"- "built"-"thick" as some might put it. Not fat at all in my opinion. She was bigger than the other very waif-ish girl. She had big boobs, and a big but. This is what I looked like in school but back then I thought I was fat. Hid behind my clothes instead of wearing them. Hated my own body each time I glimpsed it in the mirror and would NEVER have worn a bikini like Kaitlyn was, or shown myself so confidently on the beach like she was. That is why I started looking at her in the first place. I felt pride in her for not being self loathing, and a tiny bit of jealousy for having confidence in HIGH SCHOOL for goodness sakes. Then from behind us came a very loud very large group of testosterone filled teen boys. About 12 of them to be sure. They were all sweaty and goofy and all of them had one thing in common. They thought they were totally cool. Obviously the cool kids,obviously the varsity team of something. They knew Kaitlyn and waif girl.They knew them well. The cool kids group. One boy stood out from the others. Not because he was cuter, or in any way superior but there was just something about him. The other boys kept calling his name. Braedon this and Brady that.. Hey over here Brady, Hey wanna play volleyball? All the guys wanted to be him or be his friend and Kaitlyn wanted to date him. It was obvious from the hair flipping. I just could not look away from this group. Frumpy old lady gawking on. It was shameful and I felt all pervy but, still I could not look away.
I found myself wondering why they so held on to my attention. In part it was a desperate feeling of my own fleeting youth. I don't feel OLD yet but way past this stage for sure and in a way, in that moment, wanting it back. Wanting to be that young again and have my whole life in front of me. Wanting to be that naive. But mostly it was this intangible need to know why they were so confident and how in the hell do I instill that in my own kids? I sure as heck did not have it as a teen. I don't want Charley to hate her body and I don't want Jude or Finn to be that guy always hoping Brady will play catch with him. I want them to BE Braedon and Kaitlyn. Is that vain? I am not so much caught up in that they will be sought after and "popular" but that they will be looked up to for the right things. Confidence, Poise, Kindness, and Loyalty- topping the list.
When my husband plopped down beside me he could clearly see I was in a far off place with my thoughts. He asked and instantly I began to tell him about this one.. very small very insignificant day that I went swimming. It was at a pool in an apartment complex where a friend lived. My mom and I went. I was wearing a new bikini I had bought with my step mom. It was cool, at least I thought so. It was black on bottom and black and white on top. I was tan and I had long blond highlighted hair. I was nervous, but I felt good, felt like I looked good and felt somewhat comfortable in my own skin. I think I was 15 maybe? A boy I had known since the fifth grade and whom I had a severe crush on came up to me. I had no idea he was working there part time as a pool guy. He sat down on the edge of the pool next to me. We were talking and laughing, we had been friends a while. I felt good, I was flipping my own hair I am sure. I was Kaitlyn. That moment was fleeting and would be the last time I ever wore a bikini and the last time I ever felt like that again. I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture. At first I had no idea what she was saying. I was leaning against the wall and had my elbows propped back on the wall and feet floating out. Trying to be coy, trying to impress Jason in anyway I could. She was motioning to me that I should not lean back like that as it made my stomach look fat all pushed out that way. She came over to tell me since I did not understand her sign language. She whispered it to me. I remember feeling like I'd been stung by 10,000 bees. Hot and embarrassed. I wanted to die. I mostly wanted out of the bikini. I put on my t-shirt and sat out on a lounge chair until it was time to leave. I never wore it again. It became a symbol to be of my own self loathing. One insignificant day, one tiny remark that I am sure was never meant to inflict the kind of damage that it did. No one had ever told Kaitlyn she looked "thick" in that suit she had on. She looked so cute to me. She looked happy and she looked confident. She loved herself and truthfully that made me a bit jealous.
Everyday I wonder if something I might say to one of my kids might be the equivalent of this "bikini comment". Everyday I ask myself if this one seemingly insignificant thing I said to them might be the thing that makes them feel less than the spectacular and beautiful beings they are. I'd like to tell you by the end of this post that I have the answer and that I know the right thing to do to make it all turn out well for them in the end. I can't. because I dont know. I struggle everyday on these things and sometimes am taken aback at the weight my words carry.
Mother= confidence.
Staggering math.
or maybe Mother = complete self loathing.....
What goes into making a Kaitlyn and a Braedon? Lots of hugs and kisses, lots of speeches about self worth? I fear it's some of that but more the example I set in how I treat myself. I wish I was Kaitlyn. So confident, so flirtly, so young, so naive. Instead I am me. Jaded a bit, getting older, but hoping beyond all hope I can muster enough confidence in my own mothering skills to teach my kids to love themselves and hoping to get back to where I love ME a little more.
ummmmm... and no that does not mean I'll be wearing a bikini any time soon.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
The summer of our contentment... uhhhh and why I have not posted in a while..
Aside form the usual bullshit life has to offer (two vehicle replacements due to major repair, a leaking hot water heater, a new washing machine, and two cavities, and a stray cat caught in a tree all in the span of a two month period) this has been truly one of the best summers I can remember. Don't laugh I am totally serious.
If you know me you'd know I am all about gratitude on any given day. Aside from looking these problems square in the eye and saying, "Ehhhh you wont win," I have been truly HAPPY. I caught myself thinking it the other day and almost freaked. When was the last time I felt that. I felt "content"? That is the best word I can use to describe it. Not ecstatic, not joyous, not elated- but content. Which to me is WAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY better. That word lends itself toward a peaceful calm happy that sort of washes over and coats your soul. Content is like floating.
During the school year I allow myself to get so caught up, wrapped up in the kids lives. Their homework is my homework, their project is my project. I room parent in at least two rooms, team up to deliver at least one sometimes three art projects for the big school fundraiser, collect donations for the classroom baskets, attend every PA meeting, plan teacher gifts, plan things like field days and picnics and school halloween parties, coordinate snack schedules, make sack lunches everyday and drive to pick up and drop off each kid at their respective schools. I am on the Board of Directors at the school as well and we are currently in the middle of creating a three year strategic plan. I volunteer at Harvesters, and recently engaged in speaking at a live performance of "Listen to Your Mother." I blog, I tweet, Instagram, and FB galore. ( oh and I have a full time job did I mention? ) My husband says he never sees me. Which in all reality is pretty close to true. These three babies are my life and when I say that I mean it to my core. I make sure each and every aspect of their lives is as perfect as I can possibly make it. I'm that mom you hate. Oh except that I'm overweight and usually look like a haggard old mess, with a stain and a hole in my clothes somewhere.... so you hate me less than the skinny mom that rocks the makeup and hair to parent pick up.
But this summer- boom- I decided to halt it all. I can't halt the Board of Directors things but they are minimal over the summer. Everything else has completely stopped. I decided on day one to simply ask my kids what they think would be fun to do for the summer. Not the token "Summer Bucket List" I've heard tossed around. Just a simple what do you all want to do today? Not here is what we are doing but what do YOU think would be fun? Mostly I found what they said -SHOCKING- "Sleep in and cuddle you mom." Finn even said in his little guy voice.. "I wish dad did not have a job so he could be with us all day too." So that is what we have done. No running, no appointments, no early to bed and rise, no schedules, no yelling, tyrant me who needs to be somewhere at a certain time with a thousand things in tow. Ahhhhh. it's nice. Just us. Just to be a family. Why did I think all that other stuff was so important?
So each day I am greeted with kisses instead of alarm clocks and cuddles instead of sack lunches and book bags. Now I know it can't always be this way. I know we have to go to school and be on time. I know we need to do homework and stay on task, but will my kids fall apart if I dont plan each of their holiday parties or bake something for each event, or spearhead the fund raising efforts? All of it pales in comparison to the freckled, sun kissed, very relaxed, adoring faces of my three babies. This is what contentment feels like. Home, love, calm, peace, and my babies in my arms.
If you know me you'd know I am all about gratitude on any given day. Aside from looking these problems square in the eye and saying, "Ehhhh you wont win," I have been truly HAPPY. I caught myself thinking it the other day and almost freaked. When was the last time I felt that. I felt "content"? That is the best word I can use to describe it. Not ecstatic, not joyous, not elated- but content. Which to me is WAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY better. That word lends itself toward a peaceful calm happy that sort of washes over and coats your soul. Content is like floating.
During the school year I allow myself to get so caught up, wrapped up in the kids lives. Their homework is my homework, their project is my project. I room parent in at least two rooms, team up to deliver at least one sometimes three art projects for the big school fundraiser, collect donations for the classroom baskets, attend every PA meeting, plan teacher gifts, plan things like field days and picnics and school halloween parties, coordinate snack schedules, make sack lunches everyday and drive to pick up and drop off each kid at their respective schools. I am on the Board of Directors at the school as well and we are currently in the middle of creating a three year strategic plan. I volunteer at Harvesters, and recently engaged in speaking at a live performance of "Listen to Your Mother." I blog, I tweet, Instagram, and FB galore. ( oh and I have a full time job did I mention? ) My husband says he never sees me. Which in all reality is pretty close to true. These three babies are my life and when I say that I mean it to my core. I make sure each and every aspect of their lives is as perfect as I can possibly make it. I'm that mom you hate. Oh except that I'm overweight and usually look like a haggard old mess, with a stain and a hole in my clothes somewhere.... so you hate me less than the skinny mom that rocks the makeup and hair to parent pick up.
But this summer- boom- I decided to halt it all. I can't halt the Board of Directors things but they are minimal over the summer. Everything else has completely stopped. I decided on day one to simply ask my kids what they think would be fun to do for the summer. Not the token "Summer Bucket List" I've heard tossed around. Just a simple what do you all want to do today? Not here is what we are doing but what do YOU think would be fun? Mostly I found what they said -SHOCKING- "Sleep in and cuddle you mom." Finn even said in his little guy voice.. "I wish dad did not have a job so he could be with us all day too." So that is what we have done. No running, no appointments, no early to bed and rise, no schedules, no yelling, tyrant me who needs to be somewhere at a certain time with a thousand things in tow. Ahhhhh. it's nice. Just us. Just to be a family. Why did I think all that other stuff was so important?
So each day I am greeted with kisses instead of alarm clocks and cuddles instead of sack lunches and book bags. Now I know it can't always be this way. I know we have to go to school and be on time. I know we need to do homework and stay on task, but will my kids fall apart if I dont plan each of their holiday parties or bake something for each event, or spearhead the fund raising efforts? All of it pales in comparison to the freckled, sun kissed, very relaxed, adoring faces of my three babies. This is what contentment feels like. Home, love, calm, peace, and my babies in my arms.
We are floating.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Writer's Block, Sentiment, and Sangria
Can't write- have summer writer's block. I know I know it's a cheat to say but
it's totally true. My brain is absorbed elsewhere with other things. The number
one thing being how my kids are growing and how I feel like the time is
slipping away from me. So two things will happen here. The first is that I will
spend that time this summer with them cherishing every little word they say and
every little hilarious thing they do. The second is that I will drink. ha ha
ha... really I will. Heavily- to ease the pain and to slow my roll. Ha- I need
to chill a little I know on the sentimentality of it all. At 9, 7, and 4 I
still have them and I just need to enjoy the now. J's cleaning up the fort mess
of a room he made, Fi's following his every move and hanging on his every word.
C's designing jewelry for her Yia Yia. My kids are awesome.
In other news my job stopped paying me for the food blog which is sort of fine.
But now what to do with it? So since I'm dismantling it and since I need a
drink and since I can't write, I'm cheating. I'm going to take a few of those
posts and put them here. Just the ones I wrote about my own recipes and my own
food feelings. So sue me if you are bored with it but I think every mommy needs
a sangria recipe. So here you go! Eat, DRINK, and enjoy your summer of kids
moms. I am sure going to try.
Gin and tonic’s are my usual fall back summer drink of choice but a few years
back, when we traveled to Spain I got a little bit “hooked” on Sangria. Light
crisp and slightly fruity if it’s done right, red or white, it can be the most
easy to drink summer cocktail out there. I have to take a min to add a note
here. Rick and I found a tree at the top of the "mountain" in San Sebastian
Spain. We carved our initials into it's trunk. We got wasted on blush wine and
ate cheese and bread. It was one of the greatest days of my life. So this
recipe brings me to summer, to love, and to Spain. I hope you love it as much
as I do! Most people think that it’s as simple as adding some chopped fruit to
a glass of iced wine. They’d be wrong. There is a trick, and a secret
ingredient that most miss. Without it, it’s a total miss. Bet you can’t guess?
I’ll wait…
Brandy! Who
knew? And it really can’t just be any old Brandy. It needs to be something
elegant, sophisticated, and fresh. Cardenal Mendoza Solera comes with my
highest recommendations. Slightly dark fruit waves rush over crisp orange
notes, giving a glass of sangria exactly the perfect flavor. Added to a light
red that is not to acidic, like a Rioja. Hailing from North Central Spain this
wine is primarily made from the Tempranillo grape. Marques de Caceres is
my brand of choice because it’s usually very inexpensive. No sense in spending
a lot of money on a wine when you should be saving those extra pennies for the
Brandy. Finally a slight hint of fruit juice is needed. You can really go with
just about anything here; orange or pineapple, but I prefer apricot. I
know it’s unusual but I think it makes the drink. I have seen recipes that add
sugar. I do not. I think the apricot juice does that for me. A splash of 7-up
and then diced apples and sliced oranges. An additional trick I use is to
freeze grapes and then use them instead of ice cubes. It leaves less chance of
a watered down beverage. Try this with red or white, you can even use a rose.
The specific measurements are listed below. I dare you to find a better recipe
anywhere!
- 1 Bottle of Rioja
- 1 Apple cut into wedges
- 1 Orange cut into thin slices
- 1 Cup frozen grapes red or white
- Splash of apricot juice
- 3 Shots of Brandy
- 2 cups 7-Up
P.S.-
I also was on the crew that helped open La Bodega here in KC. If you love their
Sangria.. pssssst...lean in close now...... this is pretty much it. I think I
remember distinctly going through about 12 recipes before we settled on this
one. Oh what a night that was....
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