I have had a really hard time trying to process the recent goings on in our world. I haven't stopped crying for 2 days, and am at such a loss for the correct words... I felt I needed to ramble out a bunch of incomplete, incoherent thoughts... and hope some day I can make sense of it all...
I am not a religious person. I don't pray, and I don't fall back on churchie stuff in a time of need. However, this is one of those times, when I wish I had that in my life. Maybe those who speak to God would be able to explain this to me. Maybe a Priest or Minister would be able to shed a little light... or hope... onto the horrible, unspeakable, disgusting tragedy that happened yesterday in Connecticut. A madman opened fire in an elementary school. Brutally murdering 18 Kindergarteners, 6 adults, and 2 other students at that school. One of them being his Mother. Turning an entire country upside down, and ruining the lives of so many innocent people.... I still can't wrap my brain around it. I feel like my heart may explode from all of the sadness and empathy I feel. What the hell has this world we live in become!? I am raising children. Young, impressionable, compassionate... and somewhat desensitized children. This just makes me ill.
I spent the day glued to my tv... as most of us did. In shock, in tears, and overcome by feelings of hopelessness and confusion. HOW did this happen?! WHO would do such a thing?! Is this even real?! Who can we blame!? I don't understand. My babies are safe and sound at their own elementary school right now... aren't they? There are tens of thousands of elementary schools in this country... and this is happening in Connecticut, for crying out loud! Why is this too close to home, regardless of the fact that is clear across the country?! Is it out of line if I go pick them up!? They should be home with me. They are not safe. They are never safe. What do we do? Do we add more guns... to deal with all the...guns?! Do we move to London!? I really wish someone would explain prayer to me right now... I would pray my ass off for the rest of my life, if I even remotely thought it would help.
When my kids got off the bus and walked in the door, I burst into uncontrollable tears. The ugly cry. The kind you can't control... no matter how much you bite the inside of your cheek, or clench your jaw. There were facial contortions... and snot. I had no control. They were in such happy moods... shivering from their wintry walk home, wanting a snack, and asking if they could go play at friends' houses. My Husband hurried them over to me... and we hugged. We hugged for a really long time. I wasn't letting them go for anything. My kids know I only 'ugly cry' when it is necessary, so they were worried and wanted to know what was wrong. I had to tell them... didn't I? Ugh. Was I about to rock their little worlds?! What do I say?! That frumpy, Child Psychologist that was interviewed on CNN, said you shouldn't volunteer information to your children. Let them 'lead' the conversation. Mmmkay. Should I make them guess, then?! These are my children. The ones I hover over, incessantly. Part of me wants to make them sit down and watch every moment of coverage, and wrap their minds around the fact that this shit fucking happens. The whole, ugly truth of it. The other part of me wants to shuffle them off to play dates, go into protective mode, and pretend none of this even happened. They are too innocent and vulnerable to know the truth. We are not violent people. I don't allow guns in my house (Much to my Husband's dismay... big fight when we first moved in together... I won.) Hell, I don't even let my Son play those disgusting war games for the Xbox. (I'm the 'mean Mom' who won't, under any circumstance, have him engage in those, and half-judges other parents for allowing them... He has learned to just accept it...) I decided I would tell them a 'buffered truth'... and see what happens. All three of us are Libras. We hate violence more than anything. Since they clearly have never heard of such a tragedy... this is probably going to send them into a tailspin. Or, not...
My 9-year-old Son, who is so sensitive, he can't even watch "The Never Ending Story"... because Bastian gets tossed into a dumpster, said "WHAT!? Not AGAIN!! That's really sad. Why do people keep shooting everyone all the time!? I'm sorry, Mom." He hugged me really hard, and then went on the hunt for the cookies he smelled when he walked in the door. Okay... what? That didn't go quite as I expected. I guess he took that... fairly... well? Hmmm.
My 11-year-old Daughter sat next to me for a while... watching the first press conferences, and grown-ups crying on tv. She kept looking at me... tears streaming down my face... almost like she felt badly for ME. Like she didn't quite 'get' why I was so bent. This happens all the time! Why am I so upset?! She was visibly, a lot more shaken than her Brother, but I still didn't quite 'get' why she only had a couple of questions, and wasn't bawling right along with me! She said "I don't understand what would make someone so mad. Why would he DO this?!" and "I would never want to go back to my school. Ever again. Those poor kids."
I wasn't sure what to expect out of them. Would I have to console them, answer a million questions, explain a lot of stuff, and hold them and tell them it's gonna be ok? Or would I have to pick them up off the floor and rock them into submission?! The news people made such a big deal about 'how to talk to your kids about this'... I figured we were in for an absolute melt down. None of that happened. I've been set up! Something ain't right! Don't get me wrong... they were upset. They felt sad. Their hearts were broken... but something dawned on me. They didn't fall completely apart, because they really ARE used to this. This wicked, evil display of insanity. Mass shootings... and devastation. This, in some fucked up way, is their normal. Holy shit. That is a giant pill of "WTF" I'm not prepared to swallow. My poor babies...
Like I said... I don't allow guns in my home. Nor, do I believe everyone should be 'packing' at any given time. I'm not a fan. I guess you could say I am an anti-guns gal. (Go ahead and hate... I couldn't care less) I understand that there is no way to make guns illegal. I'm not an idiot. If somebody wants to get high... they can find illegal substances. If a man wants to bang someone, other than his wife, he can find/pay someone to do so with him. If somebody wants to shoot up a classroom full of babies... they can find the weapons to do just that. It's just that seedy of a world we live in. Anyting you want... annnyyyyting. Ugh. Gross. What makes me the saddest, is what it has done to our kids. With things like the internet, social media, and live footage of EVERYTHING... we have real-time access to every devastating event that takes place around the world. And everyone's points of view. (Whether or not you agree with them) Our kids are so used to seeing this, and digesting this... even in the background of their lives... they have become almost immune. Desensitized. I'm not ok with it. At all.
Even if you monitor everything you think they see... you are failing. If you think other people's opinions aren't heard by them... you are wrong. If you think that mass shootings, dead babies, and chaos are going to shock them into a state of despair... guess again. They are part of a new generation. A generation that has seen, live and up close, some of the most brutal acts of mankind. Heard words and discussions we never did. Have had to process so much... and mature so quickly... I'm actually grateful I'm not them. The never ending coverage of this tragedy, considering the recent pattern of this insanity, will definitely plant the seed in some mentally unstable mind, and it'll only be a matter of time until the next, big, mass shooting/murder. You can pray... and pray... and pray for that to not be the truth. But... like everything else... you'll be doing it in vain. It won't change the inevitable. It WILL happen again. I feel like I am going to throw up.
As I grieve for these Mothers and Fathers, who will not get to spend Christmas with their beautiful children, and the community that will never be the same... I have to remember my job as a Mother. I guess the best thing I can do for now, is to reiterate... over and over again... how important it is to see this as a learning experience. I can't fall apart anymore. I need to let my kids know how I feel about all of this, and make them talk to me about it. Coherently. There is a big part of me that thinks they have been molded into these desensitized, little beings... because we don't have the capacity to explain the things they know about at such a young age. I know some will take solace in the fact that these babies are now with God. In Heaven. Some will be grateful it didn't happen to them. Others will pass blame... It's the NRA's fault. It's the media... it's video games... When the truth is, it's not anyone's fault. It just is what it is. This is our world now. As sick as it is, we now need to treat this as our normal. We need to prepare ourselves, and our children, to handle epic tragedies in the manner we feel most suitable. And THAT... is a tragedy all on it's own.
I may say a little prayer tonight. I'll probably fail at that, too. (I mean... are ya there, God? It's me... Salina. Nice to... meet you?) We'll see how that goes. If it gives so many people hope... it's worth a shot... I literally don't know what else to do. Except hug my kids... and try to form complete thoughts at some point in the next few days? That may help, as well....
Rest in peace, all 26 victims. You will never be forgotten.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Whenever I Call You Friend....
According to the Urban Dictionary... A Friend is:
"A friend is someone you love and who loves you, someone you respect and who respects you, someone whom you trust and who trusts you. A friend is honest and makes you want to be honest, too. A friend is loyal.
A friend is someone who is happy to spend time with you doing absolutely nothing at all; someone who doesn't mind driving you on stupid errands, who will get up at midnight just because you want to go on an adventure, and who doesn’t have to talk to communicate with you.
A friend is someone who not only doesn't care if you're ugly or boring, but doesn't even think about it; someone who forgives you no matter what you do, and someone who tries to help you even when they don't know how. A friend is someone who tells you if you're being stupid, but who doesn't make you feel stupid.
A friend is someone who would sacrifice their life and happiness for you. A friend is someone who will come with you when you have to do boring things like watch bad recitals, go to stuffy parties, or wait in boring lobbies. You don't even think about who's talking or who's listening in a conversation with a friend.
A friend is someone for whom you're willing to change your opinions. A friend is someone you look forward to seeing and who looks forward to seeing you: someone you like so much, it doesn't matter if you share interests or traits. A friend is someone you like so much, you start to like the things they like.
A friend is a partner, not a leader or a follower."
I happen to agree with all of that. 100% of it! :)
In the spirit of giving thanks, and seeing I only touched on this topic in my last post... I must concentrate on my girlfriends for a minute. They happen to be some of the most important people in my life... Plus... it would be a really fun thing for me to write about :) (Warning: this may get extremely long... so... just wanted to let you know.) :)
Starting from childhood, I realized that having a group of tight-knit friends was of the utmost importance in my life. I'm a Libra... I'm a social person... and I hate being by myself. What better way to remedy all of that, but to surround myself with chicks that fulfill all of those needs... and then some. Thanks to facebook.. I have been able to get in contact with my best friends from my early days, who were such an integral part of my growing up. We are all busy moms now, and don't always have time to catch up, physically. It is wonderful for me to be able to see that these childhood besties are so happy and successful. I get to see pictures of their darling kids... and still be a tiny piece of their lives. It's kind of like...a moment on the lips... a lifetime on the hips... (Whoops!! sorry.. inner fat kid moment. I made cookies yesterday, and have been dwelling on the fact that they are in the kitchen... and I am... not.) I meant to say, A few years as a best friend... a lifetime in my heart. As cheesy as THAT sounds... It works :) Even if you grow apart, they still are a part of who you are.
I am fortunate enough to have a rather expansive group of girls, who I hold so dear to my heart. My 'Lifetime Besties'. They are like my family, and an extension of who I am. I have been known to put them before myself, and take on their pain, joy, fear, and struggles as if they were my own. They have all done that for me, too. They have been constants in my life for as long as I can remember. As I have grown and changed, and become my more 'adult' self... (term used loosely) I have both, made new friends, and held onto a few childhood friendships that mean the world to me. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to do so! On a regular basis, I have 7 or 8 girls with whom I share everything, and keep up on what is going on in their lives. (Counting my Sister and Cousin) We all live in different cities... and have different, sometimes majorly conflicting, schedules... but they are the real deal, and I'm so proud of who they are, and even more proud to call them my 'peeps'. (Although, I don't usually call them that specific term... out of... respect? Or because they aren't made of marshmallow? I don't know...) Anyhoo... Some are crazy, and are necessary for fun things. Some are my emotional support, and just... necessary for life. :) Some are my favorite 'laugh till you pee' partners, but as a whole, these chicks rock! They are the reasons I plan Girls weekends and Girls Christmas Parties. Any chance I have to gather them all up, I will take it and run with it! I mean every word of what I'm about to say about them. And I love them all so much... I can't begin to describe it :)
Two of my best friends are friends I made in Jr. High, and have, literally, grown up with them. These 2 women serve such completely different purposes in my life... it's almost comical that they are from the same time frame. :) The one who I call my "Easy Friend" is just that... easy. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and tries so hard to always do the right thing. She is kind to everyone, and always gives you the benefit of the doubt... even if you do not deserve it. She just had her second baby, and is filling her days by breast feeding, and dealing with a 4 year old. It's been fun to be able to share all of this with her. She is so relaxed about almost everything... that when she has hormonal breakdowns, my heart actually hurts for her. I remember those days... She will always be one of those people in my life that calms me... and makes me laugh :) We are the Godparents to each other's children, and one of the first, daily phone calls... every day. On the flip side... my other friend from that time has been more of a Sister to me. We have a much more 'passionate' friendship. We fight like Sisters, love like Sisters, support each other like Sisters, and at the end of the day... we probably have the longest history of anyone in my life... besides my Sister and me. She is extremely passionate about things, and has taught me a lot about how to be more like that. She doesn't take no for an answer, and is probably one of the most 'colorful' characters I have in my life. She can be sweet as pie, yet she can also be 'the one' I hate fighting with. She isn't an apologizer, and I sometimes love that about her. (sometimes) :) She goes through life with a confidence we all should have more of. The things she and I have been through, and done together in our lives are not comparable with any relationship I will ever have. Ever. She is my favorite travel partner, and my rock through so much of the 'ick' in my life. For that, I will always love her. (Even if we aren't speaking) I could actually write a whole book about this one person... Maybe some day I will :) (Like.. for her Christmas/Birthday present or something... I'm sure she'd love that. I'll include that elusive 'Europe scrap book', too...) :)
I have another best friend with whom I can laugh until I can't breathe, and snot is coming out of places it doesn't belong. It happens a lot, actually. She is probably the longest friendship I have, other than my school friends and Sister. Sometimes I feel like we are 'Kindred Spirits'? (Even though I'm not sure what that means, really... but it sounds right?) We became friends in beauty school, and it was like... an immediate connection. There are few things in my life since then, that haven't had her as a part of it. Some/most/frickenlots of my all time favorite memories are with her. It's something I can't describe. I just love her a whole bunch, and she really is my fravit frend. :) I can bawl my eyes out about anything, and she listens, and always knows what to say to make me feel better and laugh. She truly is one of the funniest, smartest, most compassionate, most beautiful people I have ever met. (Seriously... she's fucking gorgeous... it's gross...) :) She is an amazing mom, who happens to share the same 'momming' values that I do. We have been through SO much together, and can spend hours just laughing about dumb shit... cuz we just 'get it'. I don't have to explain things to her, because she already knows everything... even the meaning of red... and puffy lips... and charity. ugh. It's hard for me to not talk to her for whatever reason. Even if I'm pissed... or whatever... I still have to call her or text her, because it is imperative that she knows whatever info I need her to know... right at that moment. I can't stay mad for more than 5 minutes. :) One simple text... with nothing but an emoji... and I'm sobbing from laughter. That running man totally means something... and I'm not sure why. :) I love her so much, and am thankful I have been able to call her my best friend for so many years! We are so alike, in so many ways, it's almost bizarre we didn't grow up together. From music choices, and knowing every word to the music in the elevator... to boys we both knew, and things we find Illanoying... we are very similar people. We even resemble each other. People have always asked us if we are sisters, and she was my fake ID for years :) I'm pretty sure we were destined to be friends at some point... even without Scot Lewis. :) (Is that what Kindred Spirits means?! Mj!) This one is getting a book, too. Unfortunately, it won't make sense to anyone else... only she and I know how funny she and I are. :)
Another best friend of mine, couldn't be more opposite of me if she had a penis... and was... Chinese? She happens to be the person who talks me off a ledge, and makes me see a different side to everything from religion and politics (Samesies in my book) raising kids, dealing with family and friends... everything that life throws at me. We have been known to 'debate' for hours about everything under the sun. (She was a 'debater' in high school... I was busy... doing other things? And being naughty. I don't have those skills on my resume... so she usually wins. But, I give it my all to keep up) :) She keeps me informed of the goings on in the world, and is the first one to admit when she is wrong. She is beyond intelligent, and I love her for that. She sees the best in people... no matter what. She has had so many life experiences, she really does know what to do in most situations. I lean on her often, and hold her opinion in the highest regard. She inspires me and makes me feel like a better person just for having her in my life. We have been through so much together, as well... and have been friends for over 20 years. One of my favorite hings about our friendship, is that we have been each other's support system... when nobody else was there. Most people wouldn't pair us up as besties... but for whatever reason... it works. And I'm so thankful it does. She is one of the most patient people on the planet. She is a kick ass Mom, and an even better friend. She doesn't let many people 'in'... but when she does, you are 'in' for life. I'm honored to call her my friend, and know she will be there until one of us no longer is alive. :)
It's not often, in your adult life, that you make friends that seem to have just been there forever. I have a tiny, little, friend, that fits into that category. She and I met about 13 years ago, and instantly became best friends. It was weird. She started out as my client, and within a year... she was in my wedding. :) She married one of my Husband's best friends, and the 4 of us were inseparable for years. We did EVERYTHING together, and had some of our favorite times with them. She is one of those people that will cry WITH me when I'm sad. She is honest, loving, sweet, kind, not judgmental, caring, compassionate, funny as hell, loves to have a good time, and is a really good mom. I have learned so much from her. Especially from all of her struggles in the last few years. She is now a single mom, who works her ass off to ensure her kids have the best life she can give them. She puts them first, and I have grown to understand how strong she really is. She has really been through a lot, and has come out the other side, ready to be happy again. THAT takes amazing strength, to not lose yourself through that. She hasn't. She is still the same girl I met... she just found her spine. I love her so much, and am just dumbfounded that she hasn't ended up in the loony bin!! I admire her... and wanna call her right now... and cry about it. :)
Then there is my other tiny friend... she is the best! We met right after beauty school, at my first 'big girl' job. She was the receptionist, and I was a stylist. We have been friends ever since. She is such a huge part of my life, and I love her so much... I could squeeze her right fricken now! She is always the first one to offer to help with anything. It doesn't matter what it is. She is funnier than shit, and we have laughed until there were fluids. She makes amazing, crowd pleasing, effortless dips... and is ready for anything! She never misses anything important to me, and I can always depend on her to tell me to calm the fuck down. :) She is one of the most genuine people I know. She just is who she is, and who she is rocks :) We have lived together, laughed together, cried together, consumed lots of chemicals together, and have never been in a fight. (Which... in girlfriend world.. is unheard of.) Just the sound of her voice makes me laugh, and her laugh is contagious!! She is gorgeous, smart, loyal, sweet, honest to a fault, and is just one of those people you always want to have around. She also has a really perfect butt... but that isn't why I love her, I swear :) She is wonderful to my kids, and is one of the biggest supports my husband and I have. She has been through a lot, but remains the same person she has always been :) I just love her to death! She will Krump for Christ... and go to church the next day. Does it get better than that? :)
I have a newer addition to my list. She and I (she will understand that) have only been friends for about a quarter of the length of time as the rest of these girls... but I, for some reason, don't remember what it's like to not have her in my life. The first time I met her, I invited her to Girls Weekend. She has been one of my favorite people ever since. She is, hands down, the life of every party! She says and does things... on such an epic level... that nobody could ever compare to her! I think she is everyone's favorite! We have more inside jokes than should ever be allowed. She is one of the funniest bitches in the land. I made tank tops for girls weekend one year, with funny sayings on them. Because she has so many... the only way to narrow it down, was to save hers for last, and see what letters I had left :) That same year, she coined a few phrases that have been used repeatedly... (Almost redundantly) for years. She has been MIA for a year. She just gave birth to twins. Nothing has been even remotely the same without her! She is one of the most honest people I know. Almost to a fault. She works hard, is an awesome mom, and when she put her mind to something... she does it with zest! I love her! She has a lot of friends, and I understand why. She truly is a great friend! I don't get to see her very often, or talk to her much, as she is feeding 2 babies... and has another child to take care of. We text almost every day, and that is almost as good... but when I get to see her face, my day just feels stage 4 complete :)
I have had many other girlfriends that have impacted my life in huge ways. (I just can't type anymore... I lost an eyeball about an hour ago...) :) I keep in contact with many... and some deserve a novel or two, themselves :) In the scheme of things, friendship is something that isn't a given. I pride myself on taking my friendships seriously, and giving as much, if not more, than I take. I have noticed the impact my friendships have been starting to have on my Daughter. She equates every one of her friends with one of mine... and it helps her work through certain situations with them. I am proud that she can take that from me, and be a better friend because of it. I am truly thankful for all of these women, and hope to continue our friendships for always. Whether we are going to see Madonna, sitting in sweats and laughing our asses off, crying and consoling, discussing important topics, and solving all the world's problems, heading up north, not dancing to G6, wearing a punnytail, reminiscing about trips, sharing our thoughts (and, yes... occasional judgements), sharing clothes, helping each other through divorces, child births, drunk puking, or... just checking in... I love you, and Thank You For Being A Friend. :)
"A friend is someone you love and who loves you, someone you respect and who respects you, someone whom you trust and who trusts you. A friend is honest and makes you want to be honest, too. A friend is loyal.
A friend is someone who is happy to spend time with you doing absolutely nothing at all; someone who doesn't mind driving you on stupid errands, who will get up at midnight just because you want to go on an adventure, and who doesn’t have to talk to communicate with you.
A friend is someone who not only doesn't care if you're ugly or boring, but doesn't even think about it; someone who forgives you no matter what you do, and someone who tries to help you even when they don't know how. A friend is someone who tells you if you're being stupid, but who doesn't make you feel stupid.
A friend is someone who would sacrifice their life and happiness for you. A friend is someone who will come with you when you have to do boring things like watch bad recitals, go to stuffy parties, or wait in boring lobbies. You don't even think about who's talking or who's listening in a conversation with a friend.
A friend is someone for whom you're willing to change your opinions. A friend is someone you look forward to seeing and who looks forward to seeing you: someone you like so much, it doesn't matter if you share interests or traits. A friend is someone you like so much, you start to like the things they like.
A friend is a partner, not a leader or a follower."
I happen to agree with all of that. 100% of it! :)
In the spirit of giving thanks, and seeing I only touched on this topic in my last post... I must concentrate on my girlfriends for a minute. They happen to be some of the most important people in my life... Plus... it would be a really fun thing for me to write about :) (Warning: this may get extremely long... so... just wanted to let you know.) :)
Starting from childhood, I realized that having a group of tight-knit friends was of the utmost importance in my life. I'm a Libra... I'm a social person... and I hate being by myself. What better way to remedy all of that, but to surround myself with chicks that fulfill all of those needs... and then some. Thanks to facebook.. I have been able to get in contact with my best friends from my early days, who were such an integral part of my growing up. We are all busy moms now, and don't always have time to catch up, physically. It is wonderful for me to be able to see that these childhood besties are so happy and successful. I get to see pictures of their darling kids... and still be a tiny piece of their lives. It's kind of like...
I am fortunate enough to have a rather expansive group of girls, who I hold so dear to my heart. My 'Lifetime Besties'. They are like my family, and an extension of who I am. I have been known to put them before myself, and take on their pain, joy, fear, and struggles as if they were my own. They have all done that for me, too. They have been constants in my life for as long as I can remember. As I have grown and changed, and become my more 'adult' self... (term used loosely) I have both, made new friends, and held onto a few childhood friendships that mean the world to me. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to do so! On a regular basis, I have 7 or 8 girls with whom I share everything, and keep up on what is going on in their lives. (Counting my Sister and Cousin) We all live in different cities... and have different, sometimes majorly conflicting, schedules... but they are the real deal, and I'm so proud of who they are, and even more proud to call them my 'peeps'. (Although, I don't usually call them that specific term... out of... respect? Or because they aren't made of marshmallow? I don't know...) Anyhoo... Some are crazy, and are necessary for fun things. Some are my emotional support, and just... necessary for life. :) Some are my favorite 'laugh till you pee' partners, but as a whole, these chicks rock! They are the reasons I plan Girls weekends and Girls Christmas Parties. Any chance I have to gather them all up, I will take it and run with it! I mean every word of what I'm about to say about them. And I love them all so much... I can't begin to describe it :)
Two of my best friends are friends I made in Jr. High, and have, literally, grown up with them. These 2 women serve such completely different purposes in my life... it's almost comical that they are from the same time frame. :) The one who I call my "Easy Friend" is just that... easy. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and tries so hard to always do the right thing. She is kind to everyone, and always gives you the benefit of the doubt... even if you do not deserve it. She just had her second baby, and is filling her days by breast feeding, and dealing with a 4 year old. It's been fun to be able to share all of this with her. She is so relaxed about almost everything... that when she has hormonal breakdowns, my heart actually hurts for her. I remember those days... She will always be one of those people in my life that calms me... and makes me laugh :) We are the Godparents to each other's children, and one of the first, daily phone calls... every day. On the flip side... my other friend from that time has been more of a Sister to me. We have a much more 'passionate' friendship. We fight like Sisters, love like Sisters, support each other like Sisters, and at the end of the day... we probably have the longest history of anyone in my life... besides my Sister and me. She is extremely passionate about things, and has taught me a lot about how to be more like that. She doesn't take no for an answer, and is probably one of the most 'colorful' characters I have in my life. She can be sweet as pie, yet she can also be 'the one' I hate fighting with. She isn't an apologizer, and I sometimes love that about her. (sometimes) :) She goes through life with a confidence we all should have more of. The things she and I have been through, and done together in our lives are not comparable with any relationship I will ever have. Ever. She is my favorite travel partner, and my rock through so much of the 'ick' in my life. For that, I will always love her. (Even if we aren't speaking) I could actually write a whole book about this one person... Maybe some day I will :) (Like.. for her Christmas/Birthday present or something... I'm sure she'd love that. I'll include that elusive 'Europe scrap book', too...) :)
I have another best friend with whom I can laugh until I can't breathe, and snot is coming out of places it doesn't belong. It happens a lot, actually. She is probably the longest friendship I have, other than my school friends and Sister. Sometimes I feel like we are 'Kindred Spirits'? (Even though I'm not sure what that means, really... but it sounds right?) We became friends in beauty school, and it was like... an immediate connection. There are few things in my life since then, that haven't had her as a part of it. Some/most/frickenlots of my all time favorite memories are with her. It's something I can't describe. I just love her a whole bunch, and she really is my fravit frend. :) I can bawl my eyes out about anything, and she listens, and always knows what to say to make me feel better and laugh. She truly is one of the funniest, smartest, most compassionate, most beautiful people I have ever met. (Seriously... she's fucking gorgeous... it's gross...) :) She is an amazing mom, who happens to share the same 'momming' values that I do. We have been through SO much together, and can spend hours just laughing about dumb shit... cuz we just 'get it'. I don't have to explain things to her, because she already knows everything... even the meaning of red... and puffy lips... and charity. ugh. It's hard for me to not talk to her for whatever reason. Even if I'm pissed... or whatever... I still have to call her or text her, because it is imperative that she knows whatever info I need her to know... right at that moment. I can't stay mad for more than 5 minutes. :) One simple text... with nothing but an emoji... and I'm sobbing from laughter. That running man totally means something... and I'm not sure why. :) I love her so much, and am thankful I have been able to call her my best friend for so many years! We are so alike, in so many ways, it's almost bizarre we didn't grow up together. From music choices, and knowing every word to the music in the elevator... to boys we both knew, and things we find Illanoying... we are very similar people. We even resemble each other. People have always asked us if we are sisters, and she was my fake ID for years :) I'm pretty sure we were destined to be friends at some point... even without Scot Lewis. :) (Is that what Kindred Spirits means?! Mj!) This one is getting a book, too. Unfortunately, it won't make sense to anyone else... only she and I know how funny she and I are. :)
Another best friend of mine, couldn't be more opposite of me if she had a penis... and was... Chinese? She happens to be the person who talks me off a ledge, and makes me see a different side to everything from religion and politics (Samesies in my book) raising kids, dealing with family and friends... everything that life throws at me. We have been known to 'debate' for hours about everything under the sun. (She was a 'debater' in high school... I was busy... doing other things? And being naughty. I don't have those skills on my resume... so she usually wins. But, I give it my all to keep up) :) She keeps me informed of the goings on in the world, and is the first one to admit when she is wrong. She is beyond intelligent, and I love her for that. She sees the best in people... no matter what. She has had so many life experiences, she really does know what to do in most situations. I lean on her often, and hold her opinion in the highest regard. She inspires me and makes me feel like a better person just for having her in my life. We have been through so much together, as well... and have been friends for over 20 years. One of my favorite hings about our friendship, is that we have been each other's support system... when nobody else was there. Most people wouldn't pair us up as besties... but for whatever reason... it works. And I'm so thankful it does. She is one of the most patient people on the planet. She is a kick ass Mom, and an even better friend. She doesn't let many people 'in'... but when she does, you are 'in' for life. I'm honored to call her my friend, and know she will be there until one of us no longer is alive. :)
It's not often, in your adult life, that you make friends that seem to have just been there forever. I have a tiny, little, friend, that fits into that category. She and I met about 13 years ago, and instantly became best friends. It was weird. She started out as my client, and within a year... she was in my wedding. :) She married one of my Husband's best friends, and the 4 of us were inseparable for years. We did EVERYTHING together, and had some of our favorite times with them. She is one of those people that will cry WITH me when I'm sad. She is honest, loving, sweet, kind, not judgmental, caring, compassionate, funny as hell, loves to have a good time, and is a really good mom. I have learned so much from her. Especially from all of her struggles in the last few years. She is now a single mom, who works her ass off to ensure her kids have the best life she can give them. She puts them first, and I have grown to understand how strong she really is. She has really been through a lot, and has come out the other side, ready to be happy again. THAT takes amazing strength, to not lose yourself through that. She hasn't. She is still the same girl I met... she just found her spine. I love her so much, and am just dumbfounded that she hasn't ended up in the loony bin!! I admire her... and wanna call her right now... and cry about it. :)
Then there is my other tiny friend... she is the best! We met right after beauty school, at my first 'big girl' job. She was the receptionist, and I was a stylist. We have been friends ever since. She is such a huge part of my life, and I love her so much... I could squeeze her right fricken now! She is always the first one to offer to help with anything. It doesn't matter what it is. She is funnier than shit, and we have laughed until there were fluids. She makes amazing, crowd pleasing, effortless dips... and is ready for anything! She never misses anything important to me, and I can always depend on her to tell me to calm the fuck down. :) She is one of the most genuine people I know. She just is who she is, and who she is rocks :) We have lived together, laughed together, cried together, consumed lots of chemicals together, and have never been in a fight. (Which... in girlfriend world.. is unheard of.) Just the sound of her voice makes me laugh, and her laugh is contagious!! She is gorgeous, smart, loyal, sweet, honest to a fault, and is just one of those people you always want to have around. She also has a really perfect butt... but that isn't why I love her, I swear :) She is wonderful to my kids, and is one of the biggest supports my husband and I have. She has been through a lot, but remains the same person she has always been :) I just love her to death! She will Krump for Christ... and go to church the next day. Does it get better than that? :)
I have a newer addition to my list. She and I (she will understand that) have only been friends for about a quarter of the length of time as the rest of these girls... but I, for some reason, don't remember what it's like to not have her in my life. The first time I met her, I invited her to Girls Weekend. She has been one of my favorite people ever since. She is, hands down, the life of every party! She says and does things... on such an epic level... that nobody could ever compare to her! I think she is everyone's favorite! We have more inside jokes than should ever be allowed. She is one of the funniest bitches in the land. I made tank tops for girls weekend one year, with funny sayings on them. Because she has so many... the only way to narrow it down, was to save hers for last, and see what letters I had left :) That same year, she coined a few phrases that have been used repeatedly... (Almost redundantly) for years. She has been MIA for a year. She just gave birth to twins. Nothing has been even remotely the same without her! She is one of the most honest people I know. Almost to a fault. She works hard, is an awesome mom, and when she put her mind to something... she does it with zest! I love her! She has a lot of friends, and I understand why. She truly is a great friend! I don't get to see her very often, or talk to her much, as she is feeding 2 babies... and has another child to take care of. We text almost every day, and that is almost as good... but when I get to see her face, my day just feels stage 4 complete :)
I have had many other girlfriends that have impacted my life in huge ways. (I just can't type anymore... I lost an eyeball about an hour ago...) :) I keep in contact with many... and some deserve a novel or two, themselves :) In the scheme of things, friendship is something that isn't a given. I pride myself on taking my friendships seriously, and giving as much, if not more, than I take. I have noticed the impact my friendships have been starting to have on my Daughter. She equates every one of her friends with one of mine... and it helps her work through certain situations with them. I am proud that she can take that from me, and be a better friend because of it. I am truly thankful for all of these women, and hope to continue our friendships for always. Whether we are going to see Madonna, sitting in sweats and laughing our asses off, crying and consoling, discussing important topics, and solving all the world's problems, heading up north, not dancing to G6, wearing a punnytail, reminiscing about trips, sharing our thoughts (and, yes... occasional judgements), sharing clothes, helping each other through divorces, child births, drunk puking, or... just checking in... I love you, and Thank You For Being A Friend. :)
Little Bits Of Thanks
Just like everyone else, this time of year makes me reflect on all sorts of things for which I give thanks. Some are silly... like, I'm thankful my hair has finally grown back, after that little midlife I went through... as a Brunette. And the fact that my kids are finally old enough that I can break out my china and crystal for Thanksgiving dinner... without having the sweats and thinking they are gonna break it. :) I'm thankful the Twilight movies are done. And I'm thankful I got to check 'Seeing Madonna live, from the front row' off my bucket list. There are also the really important things... like, I'm thankful for everyone's health, all of our parents are with us, I have a wonderful extended family that I adore, a Nephew that loves the shit outta me, a Niece who is the cutest thing on the planet, that fricken election is OVER, my cat has stopped leaking an abundance of worm sacs out of her butt... and we can (sort of) afford Thanksgiving dinner for a dozen people. (I mean really... I'm keeping the leftovers... as collateral... to ensure someone else has to do it next year...) :) But mostly... I'm thankful we are having a peaceful year. Some are not so peaceful, and those have made us learn to appreciate a good one...
Over the past month, I have been reading everyone's "I'm thankful for..." posts on facebook, and feeling a tad guilty. I think I'm in the stage of life, where I am forced to focus more on the stuff I'm not as thankful for. Life is crazy, and I seem to always be trying to put out fires, (And deworm cats) and keep everyone happy and healthy. I lose sight sometimes, of what is really there to be thankful for. Life is good... and sweating the petty is overrated. It's time for me to give some thanks...
If you ask my 9 and 11 year old kids what they are thankful for, they would most likely answer with a bunch of material biz. Their gaming systems, 3rd row seats to Justin Bieber, ipods, iPads, iPhones (Don't judge. Remember... it's in the spirit of Thanksgiving not to... and we like Apple products. So what?) and all that other junk. I would feel like I failed as a Mother, but when you are that age... that shit is important! Don't get me wrong, they also know (I remind them often) how lucky they are that their Father and I forgo vacations, and a whole mess of other things every year... so they can live where we do, dance, play hockey, wear clothes... and fricken... eat? Kids are not cheap. (Perhaps, my Husband was onto something when he cut me off at 2. I was going for the Breeder's Cup... and he was waiting in the parking lot of the nearest vasectomy joint... whatevs. I'll never tell him he was right... but that goes without saying.) :) We have a very happy, loving family. Their Dad and I genuinely love each other. We are both healthy, young(ish), don't argue much, make it our lives work to ensure they have the best family unit we can give them, and show them what that exactly means. We still hug and kiss... a lot. (We even put a lock on our bedroom door recently... so they don't bust in ever again... wondering what all the hugging and kissing is about... and accidentally learn alll about it. That was the worst... Oh my God... shake it off... Ugh.) Even if they don't get that yet... and their 'stuff' trumps our loving environment... some day it will be very apparent to them, and they will come to me with all sorts of "Thank you"s... and... gifts? I don't know... it could happen. :) Until then... I'm also grateful for their 'things' that keep them busy and happy. As, sometimes... I'm not in the mood to be all of that. :)
As I mentioned, in so many words, I have a wonderful marriage. I'm pretty sure that is the thing in my life, for which I'm most thankful. We celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary last year, and are even more in love (Or... dependent on one another? Jury is still out...) than we were when we tied the knot. That man truly is my everything. He is my best friend, and makes me laugh every, single day. In fact, that has become our method of dealing with everything that comes our way. We laugh. As a family. A lot. We even have really funny kids. It helps, and makes me like them even more than I'm already expected to. :) We couldn't have made it through 2011 without a few, good, belly laughs. They were hard to find... but we managed. My Husband works his ass off, and brings home the bacon, like I'm thankful I don't have to. I'm beyond thankful to him, that I was able to stay home and raise my kids. It is the one thing I would not give up for anything in the world. Even in his heart of hearts, (Or... Jar of Hearts? Not sure...) he doesn't even know how thankful I am for that. He allowed me to be able to be that person... and I'm forever grateful.
I'm also really thankful for my girlfriends. I would be a much different (and lesser) person, without each and every one of them. I'm so thankful they are in my life... and each one serves a different purpose to me and my family. My closest, sister-like friends, are my go-to girls for everything. Most of them have been in my life for decades... and I would die without them. (Especially my actual Sister... but I've already covered that a bunch... She rules... I'd die... lucky panties... blah blah blah...) I have always been the type of person that surrounds myself with people I dig for different reasons. A plethora of varying personalities makes me tick. Samesies is boring. In that area... I have never been lacking. From the ones I talk to daily, to the ones I see a few times a year, they all are amazing women in their own ways. I learn so much about life through our (sometimes drunken) conversations and debates. What would life be without your girlfriends?! I hope I never know... they make everything better, and I'm so thankful for them.
I'm thankful my Husband and I have jobs. Thanks to an economy that is in the shitter... that isn't a given anymore. We may not live in a mansion... or spend our Winters on a yacht, in St. Barts... but we get by. We have a home we love, food on the table, reliable, safe vehicles, and a bunch of other things we feel we need. I'm immensely thankful for that.
I'm thankful for wine. The end.
I'm thankful we live in a country where I don't have to be afraid to let my children go outside. In a world full of crazies... we live in a place where that is taken for granted.
I'm thankful for my darling, furry, babies. They make me happy, and even with worm sacks leaking out of their asses... they still warm my heart. We have lost many animals. (And probably shouldn't be allowed to adopt any... ever again...) but the ones we have right now, are the perfect trifecta of awesomeness. My oldest, Bijou, is the only thing I have left of my 'single girl' life. (I hold that dear to my heart... really... really... dear.) :) When she croaks, I will lose it. Until then... I'm just thankful I was able to nurse her back to health, and keep her for the last 15 years. She was my first baby. She rules.
I'm thankful I had so much fun, and made so many memories in my singlehood. (Is that even a word? I'm making it be one for now...) I have had some life experiences that still amaze/shock/tickle(?) me. I never had a problem with packing in as many 'fun units' as possible... whenever I could. I'm thankful a lot of that is in my past, but I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't want to do it all over again. Thanks late teens/early twenties! You were everything I ever wanted you to be... and then some.
I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is not a religious holiday. Unlike other holidays, I have no need to feel like a hypocrite celebrating it, and being a glutton... and drinking in excess... and all those other 'ungodly' things that people judge you for when it's supposed to be about Jesus.
I'm thankful, also... for Amazon.com. With Christmas fast approaching, that invaluable website will most likely save my life more than once. Fuck Black Friday... crazy people trampling each other for bath towels. No thanks. I'll forever be thankful for Cyber Monday :) (And sorry I said fuck just now... it was supposed to be about Jesus... see what I mean? WWJD?!!) :)
I have to try to remember how many things I have to be thankful for. I could go on and on... but I have too much cooking, cleaning and laundry to do. I'm hosting Thanksgiving on Thursday. Busting out my 'good dishes', blending our families, and being EXTREMELY thankful that is supposed to be in the 60s all week. As much as I am thankful for my home and all of that... I would eat my first born for a bigger kitchen. Since my Mother and Law and I are doing the cooking... it's a good thing everybody else can go play outside... away from the... well... the other stuff that goes along with cooking in a tiny kitchen with your Mother in Law. :)
Before I go... there is one more thing... I'm having trouble figuring out if I'm thankful for Ke$ha or not. She was on the Today show this morning... in all her pantsless glory. She only has what... 2 songs!? And she took time off to play with animals? I don't get it... what does she have against pants? I'm confused... and would be thankful for any inpt on how I'm supposed to feel about that broad. :)
Count your blessings, and Gobble Gobble!!
Over the past month, I have been reading everyone's "I'm thankful for..." posts on facebook, and feeling a tad guilty. I think I'm in the stage of life, where I am forced to focus more on the stuff I'm not as thankful for. Life is crazy, and I seem to always be trying to put out fires, (And deworm cats) and keep everyone happy and healthy. I lose sight sometimes, of what is really there to be thankful for. Life is good... and sweating the petty is overrated. It's time for me to give some thanks...
If you ask my 9 and 11 year old kids what they are thankful for, they would most likely answer with a bunch of material biz. Their gaming systems, 3rd row seats to Justin Bieber, ipods, iPads, iPhones (Don't judge. Remember... it's in the spirit of Thanksgiving not to... and we like Apple products. So what?) and all that other junk. I would feel like I failed as a Mother, but when you are that age... that shit is important! Don't get me wrong, they also know (I remind them often) how lucky they are that their Father and I forgo vacations, and a whole mess of other things every year... so they can live where we do, dance, play hockey, wear clothes... and fricken... eat? Kids are not cheap. (Perhaps, my Husband was onto something when he cut me off at 2. I was going for the Breeder's Cup... and he was waiting in the parking lot of the nearest vasectomy joint... whatevs. I'll never tell him he was right... but that goes without saying.) :) We have a very happy, loving family. Their Dad and I genuinely love each other. We are both healthy, young(ish), don't argue much, make it our lives work to ensure they have the best family unit we can give them, and show them what that exactly means. We still hug and kiss... a lot. (We even put a lock on our bedroom door recently... so they don't bust in ever again... wondering what all the hugging and kissing is about... and accidentally learn alll about it. That was the worst... Oh my God... shake it off... Ugh.) Even if they don't get that yet... and their 'stuff' trumps our loving environment... some day it will be very apparent to them, and they will come to me with all sorts of "Thank you"s... and... gifts? I don't know... it could happen. :) Until then... I'm also grateful for their 'things' that keep them busy and happy. As, sometimes... I'm not in the mood to be all of that. :)
As I mentioned, in so many words, I have a wonderful marriage. I'm pretty sure that is the thing in my life, for which I'm most thankful. We celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary last year, and are even more in love (Or... dependent on one another? Jury is still out...) than we were when we tied the knot. That man truly is my everything. He is my best friend, and makes me laugh every, single day. In fact, that has become our method of dealing with everything that comes our way. We laugh. As a family. A lot. We even have really funny kids. It helps, and makes me like them even more than I'm already expected to. :) We couldn't have made it through 2011 without a few, good, belly laughs. They were hard to find... but we managed. My Husband works his ass off, and brings home the bacon, like I'm thankful I don't have to. I'm beyond thankful to him, that I was able to stay home and raise my kids. It is the one thing I would not give up for anything in the world. Even in his heart of hearts, (Or... Jar of Hearts? Not sure...) he doesn't even know how thankful I am for that. He allowed me to be able to be that person... and I'm forever grateful.
I'm also really thankful for my girlfriends. I would be a much different (and lesser) person, without each and every one of them. I'm so thankful they are in my life... and each one serves a different purpose to me and my family. My closest, sister-like friends, are my go-to girls for everything. Most of them have been in my life for decades... and I would die without them. (Especially my actual Sister... but I've already covered that a bunch... She rules... I'd die... lucky panties... blah blah blah...) I have always been the type of person that surrounds myself with people I dig for different reasons. A plethora of varying personalities makes me tick. Samesies is boring. In that area... I have never been lacking. From the ones I talk to daily, to the ones I see a few times a year, they all are amazing women in their own ways. I learn so much about life through our (sometimes drunken) conversations and debates. What would life be without your girlfriends?! I hope I never know... they make everything better, and I'm so thankful for them.
I'm thankful my Husband and I have jobs. Thanks to an economy that is in the shitter... that isn't a given anymore. We may not live in a mansion... or spend our Winters on a yacht, in St. Barts... but we get by. We have a home we love, food on the table, reliable, safe vehicles, and a bunch of other things we feel we need. I'm immensely thankful for that.
I'm thankful for wine. The end.
I'm thankful we live in a country where I don't have to be afraid to let my children go outside. In a world full of crazies... we live in a place where that is taken for granted.
I'm thankful for my darling, furry, babies. They make me happy, and even with worm sacks leaking out of their asses... they still warm my heart. We have lost many animals. (And probably shouldn't be allowed to adopt any... ever again...) but the ones we have right now, are the perfect trifecta of awesomeness. My oldest, Bijou, is the only thing I have left of my 'single girl' life. (I hold that dear to my heart... really... really... dear.) :) When she croaks, I will lose it. Until then... I'm just thankful I was able to nurse her back to health, and keep her for the last 15 years. She was my first baby. She rules.
I'm thankful I had so much fun, and made so many memories in my singlehood. (Is that even a word? I'm making it be one for now...) I have had some life experiences that still amaze/shock/tickle(?) me. I never had a problem with packing in as many 'fun units' as possible... whenever I could. I'm thankful a lot of that is in my past, but I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't want to do it all over again. Thanks late teens/early twenties! You were everything I ever wanted you to be... and then some.
I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is not a religious holiday. Unlike other holidays, I have no need to feel like a hypocrite celebrating it, and being a glutton... and drinking in excess... and all those other 'ungodly' things that people judge you for when it's supposed to be about Jesus.
I'm thankful, also... for Amazon.com. With Christmas fast approaching, that invaluable website will most likely save my life more than once. Fuck Black Friday... crazy people trampling each other for bath towels. No thanks. I'll forever be thankful for Cyber Monday :) (And sorry I said fuck just now... it was supposed to be about Jesus... see what I mean? WWJD?!!) :)
I have to try to remember how many things I have to be thankful for. I could go on and on... but I have too much cooking, cleaning and laundry to do. I'm hosting Thanksgiving on Thursday. Busting out my 'good dishes', blending our families, and being EXTREMELY thankful that is supposed to be in the 60s all week. As much as I am thankful for my home and all of that... I would eat my first born for a bigger kitchen. Since my Mother and Law and I are doing the cooking... it's a good thing everybody else can go play outside... away from the... well... the other stuff that goes along with cooking in a tiny kitchen with your Mother in Law. :)
Before I go... there is one more thing... I'm having trouble figuring out if I'm thankful for Ke$ha or not. She was on the Today show this morning... in all her pantsless glory. She only has what... 2 songs!? And she took time off to play with animals? I don't get it... what does she have against pants? I'm confused... and would be thankful for any inpt on how I'm supposed to feel about that broad. :)
Count your blessings, and Gobble Gobble!!
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Ain't No Thang But A Helicopter Wing (Or... Blade? Whatever...)
I am a self- admitted 'Helicopter Mom'. (Well... and the butt of my non 'heli mom' friends' jokes... Cuz... it's super helpful and original, when you tell me I should put my kids in a bubble. I've never heard that before... good one. You really got me) :) Much to the dismay of my children, I am all up in their biz, monitoring every single thing they do. (Except when they are at school. I hate school. I've actually toyed with the whole home school option for some time... I just... don't have it in me. BUT... I'd at least know what they were doing every second. Man... I could really mess them up for life...) :) I don't let them do much that could possibly cause harm to them... or a heart attack for me. In fact... I have turned my Husband into a 'Helicopter Dad' as well. It's kind of funny, actually. He may even be worse than me... which makes me love him even more. (And judge him like he is a crazy person... Dude... settle down... They are just kids!) :)
For example... Say one of my children is running through the house. We both, in an instant, survey the area for sharp objects, or any sort of obstacle, and yell "STOP RUNNING!!!" Then, simultaneously, break down every possible scenario of possible injury... yell-screaming over each other to get our story across. I will yell "You could trip on that rug, and smash your face, break your teeth, and sprain your ankle... or poke an eye out!!!" Not that they hear what my totally rational scenario is... because at the very same time... in a deep, booming, man voice... my Husband yells out "You could HIT that corner, TRIP on that dog bed, fall on that box, (Yes... we DO pick up our house... but there are just bound to be objects in their way... we DO live in tight quarters, after all) break your arm, and be paralyzed from the waste down for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!!! Do you WANT to be in a wheelchair!?!?!?" (To which, I respond by looking at him like he has lost it completely, and is an overbearing Dad... they are just KIDS and stuff... JEEZ! Lighten up!) :) It is getting worse and worse as the years go on, though. God forbid, someone tries to walk through the kitchen while we are making dinner... it's just... bad. You should hear what could happen if there are sharp knives in the closed drawer... or mac and cheese in a pan, on the stove. Or a stray cheese grater in the dishwasher. You'd be amazed... and scared for your life. It's pretty serious stuff.
That may sound dramatic... and even a bit (Ok... a lot) over the top, and hysterical, but in all honesty... these are the things that run through my head. Even with my nonstop hovering, we have had our fair share of injuries throughout the years. So, anything I can do to hysterically warn them of oncoming catastrophes... may soften or prevent the inevitable outcome. Nobody wants to have to call an ambulance. Butter knives CAN slip... and you only get 10 fingers. :)
I have always been a worrier... I thought. Then I became a Mom. The thought of my babies being hurt, or in pain, is overwhelming and unbearable. (Yes, I have been medicated... it didn't work.) I'm not sorry for it, and personally think you are asking for disaster if you do not hover. Having a daughter first made it really easy for me to be all high and mighty in my hovering. I've got this down to a science. She knows the rules... and follows them to a T. Easy breezy... Then I had a Son. My guy isn't as rambunctious as some boys his age, or as defiant as he could be... but he still has given me a run for my hovering money. He has always had this 'side glare' he throws at me when I tell him to knock something off. He'll do it one more time, pushing his limit, and then... stop. Out of fear I will ground him from his ipod. I don't let him crawl over the top of monkey bars, or ride his bike, unsupervised, all over town. He knows the rules, too... and I'm all good. Nothing can happen if I'm on top of all of this 'how far can I push my limit' stuff. And so I thought....
All of that changed a year ago, today. The day after his Golden birthday. I had, against my better judgment, started to let him go on bike rides with my 15 year old neighbor. We live on a lake, and there is a pretty safe path around it to bike. I figured he was 8, knew my rules, and was with a responsible, 15 year old. He was also wearing a helmet... how bad could it be?! Ugh... I was soon to find out how bad... it really could be.
To get to the bike path, he had to go around the corner from our house, via the street. It was a Sunday afternoon, at about 3:30, and he was leaving for a quick ride around the lake with the neighbor. I double checked that he had his helmet.. and off they went. My daughter and I were leisurely watching "Dance Moms" on the couch, and my Husband was painting the house. All was well... until the phone rang. Every Mom's nightmare.
Something told me to answer this call from an unknown number. I don't typically do that, especially on a Sunday... but this felt different. I said hello... and got "Is this Skylar's mom?" I said something. Then... "Hi. My name is Mary Blah blah. I don't want you to panic, honey, but I have your son. There has been an accident. The police are here, and the paramedics are on their way. You need to get here....." That's all I remember. It didn't really register. Is this real? She told me not to panic. Where am I? What is going on? Who WAS that? Am I wearing a bra?
I went on a mad hunt for my Husband (I think...). I was yelling for him, and he wasn't anywhere. I didn't realize he was already there. At 'the scene'. The neighbor kid had started yelling for him, and he just... knew. He ran... Full of paint from head to toe, and in complete disarray. I think I grabbed my daughter by the hair... or... ear? And we were off to meet them. This is starting to seem real. Shit. That Mary lady said don't panic... didn't she? It probably isn't that bad... just hold it together and breathe. He knows the rules. This can't happen to us. I hover.
We rounded the corner... and there they were. All of them. Running, yelling, and hovering over my baby as he just laid there... bleeding. :( The neighbors were all coming out, staring at this horrific sight, and I immediately became a crazed Mama Bear. I started yelling at all of them to go away... and giving them serious stank eye. It was all I could do. Don't just sit there and stare at my baby, you assholes!! Give us some space! I'm about to lose it....
I did what any Mom would do, and dropped to me knees, next to my bloody baby... and left my body. I'm serious. I had heard of out-of-body experiences, but until October 9th, 2011, had never thought that they were a real thing. Let me reassure any doubters... they're fucking real. I don't remember a whole lot of the details, but I do remember biting the crap out of the inside of my cheek, and calmly trying to talk to him, through the bandages and towels that were covering his face. His beautiful face... that they wouldn't let me see.
He had been knocked unconscious, and they were asking him all sorts of stupid questions now that he had come to. He kept looking at me with his terrified, big, teary, blue eyes... like he wanted me to tell him it was ok. Was it ok? He was doing his best to answer who the president was... and what year it was... but all he wanted was his sister. Shit! His Sister was there... she was seeing all of this!! I looked over my shoulder, and there she was... huddled into her Dad's chest... sobbing. This is just brutal.
Some more ishy stuff happened... lots of tears and me glaring at meddling neighbors. Then the ambulance arrived. My kid was strapped in a neck brace, on a stretcher... being loaded into a fricken ambulance... and we were off. The Paramedics were really sweet. Taking care of my baby... and me. They meant business, though. Their conversations with the hospital scared me to death. They were shouting things like "ARE YOU READY FOR US!?" "8 YEAR OLD VICTIM... POSSIBLE BROKEN BONES... LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS AT THE SCENE... MULTIPLE CONTUSIONS... ARE YOU READY!??!!?" (I mean... What is a contusion? ugh... I hate this...) I just had to concentrate on making sure my baby was going to be ok. He was starting to realize what had happened... maybe he can fill me in, cuz I'm clearly having a nightmare. Who does this kid belong to? Obviously a non-hovering Mom... not me. This is just a cruel joke. It is not an option. He knows the rules.. right?!
When we got to the hospital, we ran (And when I say "Ran".... I mean ran. I guess they don't mess around when it comes to kids...) down a couple of corridors until we got to emergency. My paint covered Husband, and my Daughter, were already there. (What? I guess when your kid is in an ambulance... you don't eff around with the speed limit.) He was treated immediately, barfed up a bunch of blood, got a bunch of medication, barfed up some more blood... and grinned a little bit behind the blood and tears covering his face, as the Doctors that saw his broken helmet, high-fived him, and told him how awesome he was for wearing it. That piece of equipment... most likely, saved his little life. He got taken out of the neck brace, and his pain meds kicked in. I do believe he even cracked a joke or two before we left the hospital. PHEW! He's gonna be ok... ohmyfuckinggod. I never want to go through that ever again. Now I'm gonna puke.... I'll wait till we get home, though. When I have my nervous breakdown... and the shock wears off.
The next few days were really awful. We started to piece together what had happened. Somebody in a car, hit my kid on his bike... and took off. TOOK OFF!! Who DOES that!?!?! They left him bleeding and unconscious in the street. I could puke... again. There were multiple doctor appointments, dentist appointments, detectives, tears, supportive friends and family, more tears, worried buddies of his, infections, plastic surgeons... in the weeks to come. I spent my 35th birthday at Children's Hospital. It was groovy... ugh. It is all a blur. But he is ok. Kids are amazing. In the first few days, he went from bleeding and infected... to... well... let's just say "sorta better". And I went from having a few greys and wrinkles... to... I don't really want to talk about it. I aged 5 years that month.
It has been a year. I can't even believe it. It still seems like yesterday. I guess we are the lucky ones. Our baby is going to live and be ok. His lip still is mangled... and there is a tooth growing out of the side of his face... but he is still darling. And alive. It could have been SO much worse! He now has a whole new respect for riding in the street... and I think I have a whole new respect for dangerous situations. (My poor kids...) :) The invaluable lessons I have taken away from this are:
No matter how much you hover... or create fake scenarios to scare the shit outta your kids.... life happens.
Accidents happen.
Helmets save lives.
I can't control everything.
My Husband isn't always wrong about the butter knives. (Just maybe the wheel chair thing... I mean... they are kids...) :)
One day I am going to have to send them out into the world, and all I can do is try to give them the skills to do so successfully.
Kids don't like tracking devices in their arms.
I don't have to like any of this, but I need to accept it.
Being a Helicopter Mom does not leave me exempt from feeling like a bad mom.
I/they/we will make bad decisions that we regret.
I will pay 1,000,000 dollars for that elusive 'bubble' that everyone, sarcastically, keeps tells me I should have. :)
I should probably be medicated still.
Happy birthday to my guy... he turned 9 yesterday. :) Needless to say, it was a much better birthday than last year. We spoiled the shit out of him, and loved every minute of being able to do so :) October 9th used to just be a day on the calendar. The day after his birthday... and 3 days before mine. Now, it will always be "The day that could have ruined our lives, but thankfully didn't." I'm sure I will relive that nightmare every year on this day. I'm sure I will continue to hover, and they will continue to groan at me through their teeth... This I know. But it's my job. A year has passed... and most of his physical scars have healed... but the emotional ones will stay with me forever. What can I say?!?! If you hear a "woosh woooosh wooosh wooosh" in Eden Prairie... don't be alarmed. It's just me. In my helicopter. Making sure they are ok. Alone. Because it is FAR too dangerous for them to be in it with me :)
For example... Say one of my children is running through the house. We both, in an instant, survey the area for sharp objects, or any sort of obstacle, and yell "STOP RUNNING!!!" Then, simultaneously, break down every possible scenario of possible injury... yell-screaming over each other to get our story across. I will yell "You could trip on that rug, and smash your face, break your teeth, and sprain your ankle... or poke an eye out!!!" Not that they hear what my totally rational scenario is... because at the very same time... in a deep, booming, man voice... my Husband yells out "You could HIT that corner, TRIP on that dog bed, fall on that box, (Yes... we DO pick up our house... but there are just bound to be objects in their way... we DO live in tight quarters, after all) break your arm, and be paralyzed from the waste down for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!!! Do you WANT to be in a wheelchair!?!?!?" (To which, I respond by looking at him like he has lost it completely, and is an overbearing Dad... they are just KIDS and stuff... JEEZ! Lighten up!) :) It is getting worse and worse as the years go on, though. God forbid, someone tries to walk through the kitchen while we are making dinner... it's just... bad. You should hear what could happen if there are sharp knives in the closed drawer... or mac and cheese in a pan, on the stove. Or a stray cheese grater in the dishwasher. You'd be amazed... and scared for your life. It's pretty serious stuff.
That may sound dramatic... and even a bit (Ok... a lot) over the top, and hysterical, but in all honesty... these are the things that run through my head. Even with my nonstop hovering, we have had our fair share of injuries throughout the years. So, anything I can do to hysterically warn them of oncoming catastrophes... may soften or prevent the inevitable outcome. Nobody wants to have to call an ambulance. Butter knives CAN slip... and you only get 10 fingers. :)
I have always been a worrier... I thought. Then I became a Mom. The thought of my babies being hurt, or in pain, is overwhelming and unbearable. (Yes, I have been medicated... it didn't work.) I'm not sorry for it, and personally think you are asking for disaster if you do not hover. Having a daughter first made it really easy for me to be all high and mighty in my hovering. I've got this down to a science. She knows the rules... and follows them to a T. Easy breezy... Then I had a Son. My guy isn't as rambunctious as some boys his age, or as defiant as he could be... but he still has given me a run for my hovering money. He has always had this 'side glare' he throws at me when I tell him to knock something off. He'll do it one more time, pushing his limit, and then... stop. Out of fear I will ground him from his ipod. I don't let him crawl over the top of monkey bars, or ride his bike, unsupervised, all over town. He knows the rules, too... and I'm all good. Nothing can happen if I'm on top of all of this 'how far can I push my limit' stuff. And so I thought....
All of that changed a year ago, today. The day after his Golden birthday. I had, against my better judgment, started to let him go on bike rides with my 15 year old neighbor. We live on a lake, and there is a pretty safe path around it to bike. I figured he was 8, knew my rules, and was with a responsible, 15 year old. He was also wearing a helmet... how bad could it be?! Ugh... I was soon to find out how bad... it really could be.
To get to the bike path, he had to go around the corner from our house, via the street. It was a Sunday afternoon, at about 3:30, and he was leaving for a quick ride around the lake with the neighbor. I double checked that he had his helmet.. and off they went. My daughter and I were leisurely watching "Dance Moms" on the couch, and my Husband was painting the house. All was well... until the phone rang. Every Mom's nightmare.
Something told me to answer this call from an unknown number. I don't typically do that, especially on a Sunday... but this felt different. I said hello... and got "Is this Skylar's mom?" I said something. Then... "Hi. My name is Mary Blah blah. I don't want you to panic, honey, but I have your son. There has been an accident. The police are here, and the paramedics are on their way. You need to get here....." That's all I remember. It didn't really register. Is this real? She told me not to panic. Where am I? What is going on? Who WAS that? Am I wearing a bra?
I went on a mad hunt for my Husband (I think...). I was yelling for him, and he wasn't anywhere. I didn't realize he was already there. At 'the scene'. The neighbor kid had started yelling for him, and he just... knew. He ran... Full of paint from head to toe, and in complete disarray. I think I grabbed my daughter by the hair... or... ear? And we were off to meet them. This is starting to seem real. Shit. That Mary lady said don't panic... didn't she? It probably isn't that bad... just hold it together and breathe. He knows the rules. This can't happen to us. I hover.
We rounded the corner... and there they were. All of them. Running, yelling, and hovering over my baby as he just laid there... bleeding. :( The neighbors were all coming out, staring at this horrific sight, and I immediately became a crazed Mama Bear. I started yelling at all of them to go away... and giving them serious stank eye. It was all I could do. Don't just sit there and stare at my baby, you assholes!! Give us some space! I'm about to lose it....
I did what any Mom would do, and dropped to me knees, next to my bloody baby... and left my body. I'm serious. I had heard of out-of-body experiences, but until October 9th, 2011, had never thought that they were a real thing. Let me reassure any doubters... they're fucking real. I don't remember a whole lot of the details, but I do remember biting the crap out of the inside of my cheek, and calmly trying to talk to him, through the bandages and towels that were covering his face. His beautiful face... that they wouldn't let me see.
He had been knocked unconscious, and they were asking him all sorts of stupid questions now that he had come to. He kept looking at me with his terrified, big, teary, blue eyes... like he wanted me to tell him it was ok. Was it ok? He was doing his best to answer who the president was... and what year it was... but all he wanted was his sister. Shit! His Sister was there... she was seeing all of this!! I looked over my shoulder, and there she was... huddled into her Dad's chest... sobbing. This is just brutal.
Some more ishy stuff happened... lots of tears and me glaring at meddling neighbors. Then the ambulance arrived. My kid was strapped in a neck brace, on a stretcher... being loaded into a fricken ambulance... and we were off. The Paramedics were really sweet. Taking care of my baby... and me. They meant business, though. Their conversations with the hospital scared me to death. They were shouting things like "ARE YOU READY FOR US!?" "8 YEAR OLD VICTIM... POSSIBLE BROKEN BONES... LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS AT THE SCENE... MULTIPLE CONTUSIONS... ARE YOU READY!??!!?" (I mean... What is a contusion? ugh... I hate this...) I just had to concentrate on making sure my baby was going to be ok. He was starting to realize what had happened... maybe he can fill me in, cuz I'm clearly having a nightmare. Who does this kid belong to? Obviously a non-hovering Mom... not me. This is just a cruel joke. It is not an option. He knows the rules.. right?!
When we got to the hospital, we ran (And when I say "Ran".... I mean ran. I guess they don't mess around when it comes to kids...) down a couple of corridors until we got to emergency. My paint covered Husband, and my Daughter, were already there. (What? I guess when your kid is in an ambulance... you don't eff around with the speed limit.) He was treated immediately, barfed up a bunch of blood, got a bunch of medication, barfed up some more blood... and grinned a little bit behind the blood and tears covering his face, as the Doctors that saw his broken helmet, high-fived him, and told him how awesome he was for wearing it. That piece of equipment... most likely, saved his little life. He got taken out of the neck brace, and his pain meds kicked in. I do believe he even cracked a joke or two before we left the hospital. PHEW! He's gonna be ok... ohmyfuckinggod. I never want to go through that ever again. Now I'm gonna puke.... I'll wait till we get home, though. When I have my nervous breakdown... and the shock wears off.
The next few days were really awful. We started to piece together what had happened. Somebody in a car, hit my kid on his bike... and took off. TOOK OFF!! Who DOES that!?!?! They left him bleeding and unconscious in the street. I could puke... again. There were multiple doctor appointments, dentist appointments, detectives, tears, supportive friends and family, more tears, worried buddies of his, infections, plastic surgeons... in the weeks to come. I spent my 35th birthday at Children's Hospital. It was groovy... ugh. It is all a blur. But he is ok. Kids are amazing. In the first few days, he went from bleeding and infected... to... well... let's just say "sorta better". And I went from having a few greys and wrinkles... to... I don't really want to talk about it. I aged 5 years that month.
It has been a year. I can't even believe it. It still seems like yesterday. I guess we are the lucky ones. Our baby is going to live and be ok. His lip still is mangled... and there is a tooth growing out of the side of his face... but he is still darling. And alive. It could have been SO much worse! He now has a whole new respect for riding in the street... and I think I have a whole new respect for dangerous situations. (My poor kids...) :) The invaluable lessons I have taken away from this are:
No matter how much you hover... or create fake scenarios to scare the shit outta your kids.... life happens.
Accidents happen.
Helmets save lives.
I can't control everything.
My Husband isn't always wrong about the butter knives. (Just maybe the wheel chair thing... I mean... they are kids...) :)
One day I am going to have to send them out into the world, and all I can do is try to give them the skills to do so successfully.
Kids don't like tracking devices in their arms.
I don't have to like any of this, but I need to accept it.
Being a Helicopter Mom does not leave me exempt from feeling like a bad mom.
I/they/we will make bad decisions that we regret.
I will pay 1,000,000 dollars for that elusive 'bubble' that everyone, sarcastically, keeps tells me I should have. :)
I should probably be medicated still.
Happy birthday to my guy... he turned 9 yesterday. :) Needless to say, it was a much better birthday than last year. We spoiled the shit out of him, and loved every minute of being able to do so :) October 9th used to just be a day on the calendar. The day after his birthday... and 3 days before mine. Now, it will always be "The day that could have ruined our lives, but thankfully didn't." I'm sure I will relive that nightmare every year on this day. I'm sure I will continue to hover, and they will continue to groan at me through their teeth... This I know. But it's my job. A year has passed... and most of his physical scars have healed... but the emotional ones will stay with me forever. What can I say?!?! If you hear a "woosh woooosh wooosh wooosh" in Eden Prairie... don't be alarmed. It's just me. In my helicopter. Making sure they are ok. Alone. Because it is FAR too dangerous for them to be in it with me :)
Friday, September 21, 2012
Fall... And A Dragon Tale
I have to say, Fall is my absolute favorite time of year. Not only do the kids go back to school, but I can finally put way the tank tops, flip flops that have been demolished, Mom-like bathing suits and cover ups... and sweat rags. The leaves are changing, and there is a crispness in the air and an energy that don't accompany any other change of seasons. (Even though said 'crispness' makes me sneeze, makes my throat close, and makes my eyes swell shut and itch... I still dig it.) :) If I close my eyes (Not a huge feat these days) and take a big whiff of the Fall air, I can picture myself getting ready for my first day of school, celebrating birthdays, football games, going to parties and Homecomings, bringing home babies... so many things, it kind of makes my head spin. (Or, that head spinning could be from the Lyme's Disease I acquired this Summer. From all of the ticks I encountered on nature hikes that didn't happen? Ugh.) This time of year really is a cornucopia of emotions for me.
There are so many fond memories of Fall from my life. I can sniff and smell the Fall air till I get a bloody nose, or end up in anaphylactic shock.... but what really throws me for a 'trip down memory lane' loop, more than anything, is music. I often wonder what life would be like without it. Every memory that is sparked, with my canine-like air sniffing, has a certain song attached to it. I grew up in a very musical family. (I can't even imagine the visual that I just gave you. Like we sat around on our floor.... playing banjos and harmonicas... slapping our knees to the beat. :) If you didn't get that visual... you're welcome. I'm actually dying a little bit.) :) We were no Von Trapp Family Singers, but there was ALWAYS music on in the background of my childhood. It was one of those things we never discussed... it just... was.
I learned to love music from my parents. My Mom and her Kenny Loggins, Mamas and Papas, and Boz Scaggs. My Dad with the Spinners, James Brown and The Kinks. We were constantly singing and dancing. Not much has changed. I still put on my favorite jams while I vacuum or do... anything. Anyone who knows me well will tell you, I know every word to every song... ever. (It isn't really true... but it sure has been a fun party trick my whole life...) :) It seemed natural that my childhood dream would be to be a rock star. Fuck being a Princess or a Doctor... I wanna yell-sing and dance around on a stage in front of thousands of adoring fans. Hell, Choir was even the only class I attended regularly in high school. If I'm gonna show up... there better be music involved. :) Unfortunately... I realized I can't sing well. Unless I've had a few shots... then I truly should try out for the Voice... Shouldn't I? I would have all 4 judges turned around, begging me to be on their teams. I'd pick Cee Lo... just to throw everyone off... cuz who really picks Cee Lo, if they can actually sing!? He and I would do a Pat Benetar duet... and I'd win. I'd have haters on Twitter, a song on itunes.... and all that stuff. :) Ok, enough of my delusional fantasies. It isn't gonna happen. I'm a Mom/Stylist who just loves a good night of booze and Karaoke. Is that so wrong? I guess I'll just keep spending obscene amounts of money on concert tickets... to go see people who are actually living that dream. Bitches. :)
Sorry... Moving on...
The last few day have been filled with a plethora of memory sparking songs. There is a new radio station that I found, that plays a veritable 'mixed tape' of my life. I was driving to work, and "We Belong" came on. I almost crapped my pants. In the list of my top ten... that is right around number 3. It is one of those songs that has a very specific memory for me. I briefly shut the eyes, (I was driving) took a breath of Fall, and was immediately brought back to when we brought our Daughter home from the hospital, in the Fall of 2001. I had recently purchased a cd with this song on it, and I played it over and over. (You know... raging hormones... first kid... it's a fricken GIRL... she's perfect... my crotch hurts... I'm wearing a giant mesh diaper... we belong... yadda yadda...) I vividly recalled me and my husband standing over her bassinet in the living room, staring at her in awe, and thinking "What the hell do we do now? Is she breathing? Did she come with a manual?" It was one of the best times in my life. I picked her up and we danced in the living room to my 3rd favorite song. I actually wanted to go pick her up from school right then and there, and recreate that moment. It felt so real and recent... yet it was over a decade ago. Music does that to me. Too bad I was late for my appointment... it was a short lived warm fuzzy, but overwhelming, nonetheless. God I love that kid. :)
The next 'music moment' came later that day. Now, I know this may sound silly, and I can't help it, but the song "Ditty" came on... and I lost my marbles. (As I do every time) It is number 1 on my list. Numero uno. It brings me back to Fall of 11th grade. I was in high school, and my life hadn't quite become a disaster yet. I was meeting new friends and boys, going to parties as a 'job', I was darling, and I loved every minute of it. All that mattered was... well... meeting boys, being darling and... parties. Such a meaningful existence I was living :) Anyhoo... Whenever that song comes on, I am filled with so many different memories. It's one that doesn't lead me to one specific memory, but represents a list of good times that I'm so glad I had. It's hard to close my eyes or smell the air during this one... as I am out of breath from 'bounce dancing' like an old lady, and rapping (?) my heart out... out of the side of my mouth... like a total white girl. (My kids have come to the unanimous decision that I'm not allowed to listen to this song in the car while they are passengers. Someone is bound to see me, and they are way too mortified to embrace my love for it...) It just makes me feel things. I want to go back to that time in my life. Just for a week. I know that will never happen, and all I can do is blink a bunch, smell some shit... and remember how fun that was. Yo.. this is somethin' comin' from the 9 deuce... (92? yeah... I think that is what that means anyway.... It sounds right coming out the left side of my mouth... deal with it kids... I'm fricken old... and this is my jam.)
Those are both great songs, and the memories that go along with them are understandable (In my mind, anyway) but the ' Fall music moment' that came 2 nights ago, was the one that 'got me' the most, and made me have to write a really long, drawn out blog entry. My kids and I were flipping through channels the other night, and stumbled upon the cartoon "Dragon Tales". Now, that may sound ridonk to normal people, but as that theme song started... I got all weird and emotional. I cried. I have realized that I have a very blurry memory when it comes to having really little kids. I was home during the day with them, and worked three, really late, nights a week. I was absolutely exhausted, and I honestly don't remember much. It breaks my heart, and I dwell on it a bunch... but it just is what it is. It was fucking stressful to have a 3 year old and a one year old of my own... and watch my newborn Nephew 3 days a week... on days that I worked. (I'm stressed out just rereading that..) I had no idea that the Dragon Tales song could flood my brain with all sorts of gushy, lost memories. I was immediately taken back to the Fall of 2004. My son had just turned 1, and was already a total character. He had decided he hated wearing clothes, (A trait that has stuck with him through his last 8 years...) he also hated diapers and took them off all the time. He was the cutest kid I had ever seen. He loooved music, Bob the Builder, his hahee, (hammer) his bahoom, (vacuum) Dragon Tales and his Sister. Within the first few notes of that song, I pictured him in his diaper, (that he had half removed... hanging with one flap connected) with his baby mullet and soaking wet lips, bouncing in front of the tv. His huge, blue eyes would be glued to the tube for the entire half hour of that show. I sat there listening (feverishly sniffing and blind) and for a moment... all seemed right in the world. How could this stupid cartoon song fix all that had been wrong? I DO have memories of that time. I AM a good Mom. Can I get this song on repeat? It was just... the greatest thing ever. (and a huge relief... I mean... what Mom has no recollection of their kids' baby years? I was starting to worry! All I had were 7,000 pictures of them being cute and little. I guess it pays off to be the 'Momarazzi') :) I would also like to go back to that time in my life... for a week. But thanks to that song... I can go back any time I like :) To a time when nobody was in charge of my darling babies.... but me. They had everything they needed and were always happy. I could monitor what they ate, when/how much they pooped, who they hung out with, what they wore, what songs they loved.... all of that stuff I have lost control of. It's funny how that works. I wonder if 10 years from now, I'll hear a Justin Bieber song and be brought back to this time in their lives. I wonder what kind of emotions I'll have. I wonder if the "Dragon Tales" time will seem silly. It was so much simpler then. It boggles my mind how much things have changed. Thank God I have the music to remind me. Time goes too fast. So many 'Falls' under my belt...
Speaking of so many Falls under my belt... I also have a Fall birthday. I'm going to be 36 in a matter of weeks. I'm usually really gung ho about my birthday every year... but this one seems different. I don't care much. I guess I'm just getting too old for zebra buses and tent/garage parties. I'm not sure if all of this 'trip down memory lane' biz is due to me getting old and reflecting on things, or just randomly timed song appearances. Either way, I still love to hear a song that can bring me back to a time when things were different. Not better or worse... just different. Some would say 36 isn't old.... (Can someone please say that?) but when I start thinking and reflecting... and smelling the air and blinking... I realize that life is full of stuff. People, places, trips, milestones, etc... I'm fortunate that all it takes is for "Desert Rose' to come on... and I'm 23 and back in Europe. Or, Dragon Tales comes on, and I'm magically transported back in time, and watching my babies grow up. How cool is that? Who knew music could be so powerful? :) At weddings or funerals... I'm only brought to tears when the music starts. It really does affect me.
More often than not, songs also remind me of a person. In fact, when a person pops into my head, there is a song attached. Like a conversation bubble over their head. (Are you wondering what your song is? I'll tell you if you want to know. Some even have their own soundtrack...) :) I have actually said to my best friend "If you ever croak... I'll NEVER be able to listen to the radio again." She and I also have a joke that when certain songs are on... we feel like we 'have been there'. She is like me with music too. As are my Sister... and my Mom. We can't get through a conversation without turning something into song lyrics. Can't imagine life without it. My husband told me a few years ago, that I 'gave him' music. He wil never know how much that meant to me. :) I hope to pass that on to my kids too. I hope when my daughter is 35... she will hear "Since You've Been Gone" and remember us... singing and laughing... and making memories :) Or my kids will hear "Pumped Up Kicks" and think of their birthday parties... that revolve around a dj, dancing, and singing along to their favorite songs.
So, I guess I'm going to keep my radio tuned in to that radio station, and enjoy breathing in the rest of Fall in Minnesota. I know it eventually leads to Winter... and it is short lived. I'll have another birthday, pack a few lunches, get back into the swing of homework, dance and hockey just in time for the snow to fly. And I'm going to secretly download the theme songs from Caillou and Dragon Tales to my ipod... (Btw... does anyone know if Caillou has any hair yet? Or... has stopped whining? Roooooossssiiieeeee.... ugh.) :) I'm also going to secretly hope for a frost to happen real soon. I'm kind of getting sick of feeling like I need an epipen for my dramatic, deep breathing, song hearing, eye closing episodes...) :)
I better go breathe in some Fall air while I learn all the lyrics to all the songs on Pink's new cd... I'm sure there will be some memories made to that one that I'll need to reflect on some September a few years from now... :)
There are so many fond memories of Fall from my life. I can sniff and smell the Fall air till I get a bloody nose, or end up in anaphylactic shock.... but what really throws me for a 'trip down memory lane' loop, more than anything, is music. I often wonder what life would be like without it. Every memory that is sparked, with my canine-like air sniffing, has a certain song attached to it. I grew up in a very musical family. (I can't even imagine the visual that I just gave you. Like we sat around on our floor.... playing banjos and harmonicas... slapping our knees to the beat. :) If you didn't get that visual... you're welcome. I'm actually dying a little bit.) :) We were no Von Trapp Family Singers, but there was ALWAYS music on in the background of my childhood. It was one of those things we never discussed... it just... was.
I learned to love music from my parents. My Mom and her Kenny Loggins, Mamas and Papas, and Boz Scaggs. My Dad with the Spinners, James Brown and The Kinks. We were constantly singing and dancing. Not much has changed. I still put on my favorite jams while I vacuum or do... anything. Anyone who knows me well will tell you, I know every word to every song... ever. (It isn't really true... but it sure has been a fun party trick my whole life...) :) It seemed natural that my childhood dream would be to be a rock star. Fuck being a Princess or a Doctor... I wanna yell-sing and dance around on a stage in front of thousands of adoring fans. Hell, Choir was even the only class I attended regularly in high school. If I'm gonna show up... there better be music involved. :) Unfortunately... I realized I can't sing well. Unless I've had a few shots... then I truly should try out for the Voice... Shouldn't I? I would have all 4 judges turned around, begging me to be on their teams. I'd pick Cee Lo... just to throw everyone off... cuz who really picks Cee Lo, if they can actually sing!? He and I would do a Pat Benetar duet... and I'd win. I'd have haters on Twitter, a song on itunes.... and all that stuff. :) Ok, enough of my delusional fantasies. It isn't gonna happen. I'm a Mom/Stylist who just loves a good night of booze and Karaoke. Is that so wrong? I guess I'll just keep spending obscene amounts of money on concert tickets... to go see people who are actually living that dream. Bitches. :)
Sorry... Moving on...
The last few day have been filled with a plethora of memory sparking songs. There is a new radio station that I found, that plays a veritable 'mixed tape' of my life. I was driving to work, and "We Belong" came on. I almost crapped my pants. In the list of my top ten... that is right around number 3. It is one of those songs that has a very specific memory for me. I briefly shut the eyes, (I was driving) took a breath of Fall, and was immediately brought back to when we brought our Daughter home from the hospital, in the Fall of 2001. I had recently purchased a cd with this song on it, and I played it over and over. (You know... raging hormones... first kid... it's a fricken GIRL... she's perfect... my crotch hurts... I'm wearing a giant mesh diaper... we belong... yadda yadda...) I vividly recalled me and my husband standing over her bassinet in the living room, staring at her in awe, and thinking "What the hell do we do now? Is she breathing? Did she come with a manual?" It was one of the best times in my life. I picked her up and we danced in the living room to my 3rd favorite song. I actually wanted to go pick her up from school right then and there, and recreate that moment. It felt so real and recent... yet it was over a decade ago. Music does that to me. Too bad I was late for my appointment... it was a short lived warm fuzzy, but overwhelming, nonetheless. God I love that kid. :)
The next 'music moment' came later that day. Now, I know this may sound silly, and I can't help it, but the song "Ditty" came on... and I lost my marbles. (As I do every time) It is number 1 on my list. Numero uno. It brings me back to Fall of 11th grade. I was in high school, and my life hadn't quite become a disaster yet. I was meeting new friends and boys, going to parties as a 'job', I was darling, and I loved every minute of it. All that mattered was... well... meeting boys, being darling and... parties. Such a meaningful existence I was living :) Anyhoo... Whenever that song comes on, I am filled with so many different memories. It's one that doesn't lead me to one specific memory, but represents a list of good times that I'm so glad I had. It's hard to close my eyes or smell the air during this one... as I am out of breath from 'bounce dancing' like an old lady, and rapping (?) my heart out... out of the side of my mouth... like a total white girl. (My kids have come to the unanimous decision that I'm not allowed to listen to this song in the car while they are passengers. Someone is bound to see me, and they are way too mortified to embrace my love for it...) It just makes me feel things. I want to go back to that time in my life. Just for a week. I know that will never happen, and all I can do is blink a bunch, smell some shit... and remember how fun that was. Yo.. this is somethin' comin' from the 9 deuce... (92? yeah... I think that is what that means anyway.... It sounds right coming out the left side of my mouth... deal with it kids... I'm fricken old... and this is my jam.)
Those are both great songs, and the memories that go along with them are understandable (In my mind, anyway) but the ' Fall music moment' that came 2 nights ago, was the one that 'got me' the most, and made me have to write a really long, drawn out blog entry. My kids and I were flipping through channels the other night, and stumbled upon the cartoon "Dragon Tales". Now, that may sound ridonk to normal people, but as that theme song started... I got all weird and emotional. I cried. I have realized that I have a very blurry memory when it comes to having really little kids. I was home during the day with them, and worked three, really late, nights a week. I was absolutely exhausted, and I honestly don't remember much. It breaks my heart, and I dwell on it a bunch... but it just is what it is. It was fucking stressful to have a 3 year old and a one year old of my own... and watch my newborn Nephew 3 days a week... on days that I worked. (I'm stressed out just rereading that..) I had no idea that the Dragon Tales song could flood my brain with all sorts of gushy, lost memories. I was immediately taken back to the Fall of 2004. My son had just turned 1, and was already a total character. He had decided he hated wearing clothes, (A trait that has stuck with him through his last 8 years...) he also hated diapers and took them off all the time. He was the cutest kid I had ever seen. He loooved music, Bob the Builder, his hahee, (hammer) his bahoom, (vacuum) Dragon Tales and his Sister. Within the first few notes of that song, I pictured him in his diaper, (that he had half removed... hanging with one flap connected) with his baby mullet and soaking wet lips, bouncing in front of the tv. His huge, blue eyes would be glued to the tube for the entire half hour of that show. I sat there listening (feverishly sniffing and blind) and for a moment... all seemed right in the world. How could this stupid cartoon song fix all that had been wrong? I DO have memories of that time. I AM a good Mom. Can I get this song on repeat? It was just... the greatest thing ever. (and a huge relief... I mean... what Mom has no recollection of their kids' baby years? I was starting to worry! All I had were 7,000 pictures of them being cute and little. I guess it pays off to be the 'Momarazzi') :) I would also like to go back to that time in my life... for a week. But thanks to that song... I can go back any time I like :) To a time when nobody was in charge of my darling babies.... but me. They had everything they needed and were always happy. I could monitor what they ate, when/how much they pooped, who they hung out with, what they wore, what songs they loved.... all of that stuff I have lost control of. It's funny how that works. I wonder if 10 years from now, I'll hear a Justin Bieber song and be brought back to this time in their lives. I wonder what kind of emotions I'll have. I wonder if the "Dragon Tales" time will seem silly. It was so much simpler then. It boggles my mind how much things have changed. Thank God I have the music to remind me. Time goes too fast. So many 'Falls' under my belt...
Speaking of so many Falls under my belt... I also have a Fall birthday. I'm going to be 36 in a matter of weeks. I'm usually really gung ho about my birthday every year... but this one seems different. I don't care much. I guess I'm just getting too old for zebra buses and tent/garage parties. I'm not sure if all of this 'trip down memory lane' biz is due to me getting old and reflecting on things, or just randomly timed song appearances. Either way, I still love to hear a song that can bring me back to a time when things were different. Not better or worse... just different. Some would say 36 isn't old.... (Can someone please say that?) but when I start thinking and reflecting... and smelling the air and blinking... I realize that life is full of stuff. People, places, trips, milestones, etc... I'm fortunate that all it takes is for "Desert Rose' to come on... and I'm 23 and back in Europe. Or, Dragon Tales comes on, and I'm magically transported back in time, and watching my babies grow up. How cool is that? Who knew music could be so powerful? :) At weddings or funerals... I'm only brought to tears when the music starts. It really does affect me.
More often than not, songs also remind me of a person. In fact, when a person pops into my head, there is a song attached. Like a conversation bubble over their head. (Are you wondering what your song is? I'll tell you if you want to know. Some even have their own soundtrack...) :) I have actually said to my best friend "If you ever croak... I'll NEVER be able to listen to the radio again." She and I also have a joke that when certain songs are on... we feel like we 'have been there'. She is like me with music too. As are my Sister... and my Mom. We can't get through a conversation without turning something into song lyrics. Can't imagine life without it. My husband told me a few years ago, that I 'gave him' music. He wil never know how much that meant to me. :) I hope to pass that on to my kids too. I hope when my daughter is 35... she will hear "Since You've Been Gone" and remember us... singing and laughing... and making memories :) Or my kids will hear "Pumped Up Kicks" and think of their birthday parties... that revolve around a dj, dancing, and singing along to their favorite songs.
So, I guess I'm going to keep my radio tuned in to that radio station, and enjoy breathing in the rest of Fall in Minnesota. I know it eventually leads to Winter... and it is short lived. I'll have another birthday, pack a few lunches, get back into the swing of homework, dance and hockey just in time for the snow to fly. And I'm going to secretly download the theme songs from Caillou and Dragon Tales to my ipod... (Btw... does anyone know if Caillou has any hair yet? Or... has stopped whining? Roooooossssiiieeeee.... ugh.) :) I'm also going to secretly hope for a frost to happen real soon. I'm kind of getting sick of feeling like I need an epipen for my dramatic, deep breathing, song hearing, eye closing episodes...) :)
I better go breathe in some Fall air while I learn all the lyrics to all the songs on Pink's new cd... I'm sure there will be some memories made to that one that I'll need to reflect on some September a few years from now... :)
Friday, August 3, 2012
Welcome To The 2012, Summer, Olympic Games. May The Odds Be... Ever In Your Favor?
Here's the thing... I sorta love the Summer Olympics. There is something about the whole world, rallying behind people who have given up everything to do what they love, that just... gets me. I have to admit, there is also a part of me that is that crazy, undereducated fan... who thinks I know everything there is to know about Gymnastics, Swimming, Synchronized Diving, Bicycle Racing... and... Archery? :) I sit, glued to the edge of my seat, watching complete strangers, whose names I have literally never heard before this week, compete in their sport of choice, (That I have never been interested in until today) and yell at the tv like I know what I'm talking about. (I'm a really good coach) :) I have caught myself saying things like "Ugh... that dive was terrible. They totally weren't matching when they hit the water." or "Yeah... she was doing really well... until that hop at the end." or "He should get closer to the wall before turning around and heading back to the other side of the pool." Ok, champ. Settle down. You're a 35 year old Mom... who can barely turn a cartwheel without pulling a hammy, or injuring your wrist. You did Gymnastics for 5 minutes of your life... not even long enough to qualify being called a 'Gymnast'. You will clearly never be called 'The Flying Squirrel'. And your 'time in the pool' is long gone. Remember? You don't even own a bathing suit anymore. After I finish scolding myself for being ridiculous... It's on to judging yet another sport I know nothing about. I love it. :)
I, in my afterglow of wining the gold in Women's Gymnastics, called my Sister to talk about it. I asked her if she caught me and my girls... doing our thing... and her response was this (And I quote) "Yeah... I read the Hunger Games. The Olympics creep me out now." Ok.... what? What the hell does THAT mean? She can be really cynical about stuff (Yes... it's genetic...) so I just blew it off, and chalked it up to her not being supportive. (I mean... my feelings were hurt... but I moved on...) I do, however, understand her blase attitude about the games. We have a joke in our family. Whenever it is time for the Olympics... the shit hits the fan. We get Mono... For the second time? Tires pop on our cars... kids get Strep... people die... It just has always been a bad omen. Mostly for her... but I am not exempt. During the opening ceremonies, we are both nervous wrecks. Shaking, and dreading what is to come, while the rest of the world oooohs and aahhhs over the spectacle they have created for our viewing pleasure. (Well.. and I'm nervous that all of my teams are not at the top if their games.. we don't want to let America down...) Is she just being her 'I hate everything' self right now... or is she actually onto something? Are the Olympics and Hunger Games on some similar playing field? Pssshhh... that is nonsense. The Hunger Games is so... fiction. And the Olympics are amazing.... right? I better investigate! (Or... get a hobby... or a real problem? Either way... I'm intrigued...)
I started to analyze both of these 'games'... and low and behold... I make a connection! They are totally the same!! (Yet... totally different. But... just go with it for now...) I'm actually dumbfounded that I didn't put it together, prior to her brazen statement. There are tons of similarities! Why was I so disgusted with the premise of Hunger Games... and yet cheer on the Olympians like it is the greatest thing since sliced bread? What an idiot. Am I metaphorically challenged? They can't be one in the same. That would be way too disturbing!
In all actuality... even though one is fiction... the similarities are astounding. I'm going over and over things... and its all unraveling! My mind starts going back and forth making sense of it all. I'm overwhelmed by the absurdity... and like usual... when all else fails... I made a list. (Again... any suggestions for a hobby would be greatly appreciated at this point) :)
Similarities-
- We prime our promising, young athletes to give up being a normal kid, train their butts off, move far, far away from their families, develop eating disorders, stunt their growth, monitor their food supply... just in case some day, if they are designated the 'chosen one', they will be prepared, and have a fighting chance.
-If they win, their families are taken care of for the rest of their lives. If they lose... well... you know. Certain death. (Mostly via social media... but still. In all seriousness, though... if one more tweeter calls Michael Phelps a buttface... I will delete my account. Just to prove a point. That'll show those hottie haters.)
-The whole country is glued to their televisions at night... waiting for the final count of the day.
-There are huge ceremonies at the beginning and end. Mostly to draw you in, and make you keep watching. They players are put on a pedestal, dressed in some odd fashion statement, and paraded in front of the world. Their stories are over dramatized, and put out there for everyone to become attached to them. "The girl who came from nothing... suddenly we all are rooting for her" or "This boy doesn't even know his father... yet... he overcame the..." blah blah blah. Aren't we all touched. We feel like we know them. But we don't. (And I know Chinese people made that get-up you are wearing... America.)
-The terrain is rough, and well thought out by the 'Gamemakers'.
-If things are going smoothly... there will most certainly be some sort of scandal to draw us all back in.
-We sit in judgement. As if we could even remotely hang... or do a better job. (I'm that girl..)
-The commentators are assholes.
-We all shed a tear for the beautiful, little, waif-like girl... from a less fortunate country/district... when she is deemed not good enough, and is 'eliminated'. Her story touched us too. Tito... will you pass the tissues?
-There are sponsors. And under the table betting. And... shady biz surrounding all of it. But yet... we act like there isn't.
-The contenders are all suddenly famous... and scrutinized, and... have become instant celebrities. They are included in breaking news... and the top stories of all news casts. (Did I already cover that? Ok.. maybe I'm reaching now...)
-Partial/almost complete nudity is the norm. I mean... although I've never seen it in person... I think I know every contour of Michael Phelps' junk. (Not that I've been studying it... cuz that would be weird... so..... yeah...)
-The whole thing is just one, giant love story. (Or... not... ?)
-Then there is my favorite. Effie and Queenie. Think about it.
They totally did that on purpose. And I now appreciate it. (seriously... what took me so long?)
Differences-
-The contenders in the Olympics don't actually kill each other. As much as they would like to... It just isn't tolerated.
-The Queen wears far less makeup than Effie Trinket.
-The Triathletes don't get little packages parachuted down to them, packed with 5 Hour Energy, when they are starting to fade. That sort of thing is shunned. (Although... that would be awesome. Perhaps in 2016?)
-The Olympians choose to be there. (They aren't entering because they want to protect little sis....)
-The Gamemakers aren't actually trying to kill anyone in the Olympics. It is way more civilized. They don't sleep in trees, and they get food whenever they want.
-There is no Cornucopia in the Olympics. But... there is Water Polo? Hm. That's weird.
-There is no facebook or Twitter in the Hunger games. Nobody can talk shit about the contenders, hiding behind some fake name. You have something to say... you own it.
-The Hunger Games are fiction. The Olympics are real.
And that is about it.
I've been informed that all of this comparison business is common knowledge. I was just the last to know. It isn't actually a conspiracy theory after all. Nor is it a life changing, profound enlightenment in my life. It's just I feel stupid that I never put it together. Maybe it is because I'm old now, and nothing is as it has seemed my whole life anymore... or maybe it is just... The Author of the HG saw another angle of the Olympics that we all missed all these years. It really is a battle that more goes into than any of us realize. These kids are deprived of normalcy. Only the strong survive. Dog eat dog... And all of that melodramatic shit. Just because I have had this epiphany, and I now understand the trilogy I enjoyed so much... doesn't mean I'm not going to rally behind, support, criticize and cheer on my favorite athletes as they compete... with the same zest as before. :) I will also be more prepared to deal... the next time Captain Obvious throws something in my face.
The good news is... as I'm getting older, and solving mysteries like the super sleuth I am... the Olympics have started to take it easy on me. Nothing unruly has happened so far... and we're almost done! My Sister... not so much. Her car is being towed as we speak... The odds are just not in her favour for the next few days. That much I know. Now I better get back to junk studying... as I'm running out of time... and about to win the gold! :)
USA! USA! USA!
I, in my afterglow of wining the gold in Women's Gymnastics, called my Sister to talk about it. I asked her if she caught me and my girls... doing our thing... and her response was this (And I quote) "Yeah... I read the Hunger Games. The Olympics creep me out now." Ok.... what? What the hell does THAT mean? She can be really cynical about stuff (Yes... it's genetic...) so I just blew it off, and chalked it up to her not being supportive. (I mean... my feelings were hurt... but I moved on...) I do, however, understand her blase attitude about the games. We have a joke in our family. Whenever it is time for the Olympics... the shit hits the fan. We get Mono... For the second time? Tires pop on our cars... kids get Strep... people die... It just has always been a bad omen. Mostly for her... but I am not exempt. During the opening ceremonies, we are both nervous wrecks. Shaking, and dreading what is to come, while the rest of the world oooohs and aahhhs over the spectacle they have created for our viewing pleasure. (Well.. and I'm nervous that all of my teams are not at the top if their games.. we don't want to let America down...) Is she just being her 'I hate everything' self right now... or is she actually onto something? Are the Olympics and Hunger Games on some similar playing field? Pssshhh... that is nonsense. The Hunger Games is so... fiction. And the Olympics are amazing.... right? I better investigate! (Or... get a hobby... or a real problem? Either way... I'm intrigued...)
I started to analyze both of these 'games'... and low and behold... I make a connection! They are totally the same!! (Yet... totally different. But... just go with it for now...) I'm actually dumbfounded that I didn't put it together, prior to her brazen statement. There are tons of similarities! Why was I so disgusted with the premise of Hunger Games... and yet cheer on the Olympians like it is the greatest thing since sliced bread? What an idiot. Am I metaphorically challenged? They can't be one in the same. That would be way too disturbing!
In all actuality... even though one is fiction... the similarities are astounding. I'm going over and over things... and its all unraveling! My mind starts going back and forth making sense of it all. I'm overwhelmed by the absurdity... and like usual... when all else fails... I made a list. (Again... any suggestions for a hobby would be greatly appreciated at this point) :)
Similarities-
- We prime our promising, young athletes to give up being a normal kid, train their butts off, move far, far away from their families, develop eating disorders, stunt their growth, monitor their food supply... just in case some day, if they are designated the 'chosen one', they will be prepared, and have a fighting chance.
-If they win, their families are taken care of for the rest of their lives. If they lose... well... you know. Certain death. (Mostly via social media... but still. In all seriousness, though... if one more tweeter calls Michael Phelps a buttface... I will delete my account. Just to prove a point. That'll show those hottie haters.)
-The whole country is glued to their televisions at night... waiting for the final count of the day.
-There are huge ceremonies at the beginning and end. Mostly to draw you in, and make you keep watching. They players are put on a pedestal, dressed in some odd fashion statement, and paraded in front of the world. Their stories are over dramatized, and put out there for everyone to become attached to them. "The girl who came from nothing... suddenly we all are rooting for her" or "This boy doesn't even know his father... yet... he overcame the..." blah blah blah. Aren't we all touched. We feel like we know them. But we don't. (And I know Chinese people made that get-up you are wearing... America.)
-The terrain is rough, and well thought out by the 'Gamemakers'.
-If things are going smoothly... there will most certainly be some sort of scandal to draw us all back in.
-We sit in judgement. As if we could even remotely hang... or do a better job. (I'm that girl..)
-The commentators are assholes.
-We all shed a tear for the beautiful, little, waif-like girl... from a less fortunate country/district... when she is deemed not good enough, and is 'eliminated'. Her story touched us too. Tito... will you pass the tissues?
-There are sponsors. And under the table betting. And... shady biz surrounding all of it. But yet... we act like there isn't.
-The contenders are all suddenly famous... and scrutinized, and... have become instant celebrities. They are included in breaking news... and the top stories of all news casts. (Did I already cover that? Ok.. maybe I'm reaching now...)
-Partial/almost complete nudity is the norm. I mean... although I've never seen it in person... I think I know every contour of Michael Phelps' junk. (Not that I've been studying it... cuz that would be weird... so..... yeah...)
-The whole thing is just one, giant love story. (Or... not... ?)
-Then there is my favorite. Effie and Queenie. Think about it.
They totally did that on purpose. And I now appreciate it. (seriously... what took me so long?)
Differences-
-The contenders in the Olympics don't actually kill each other. As much as they would like to... It just isn't tolerated.
-The Queen wears far less makeup than Effie Trinket.
-The Triathletes don't get little packages parachuted down to them, packed with 5 Hour Energy, when they are starting to fade. That sort of thing is shunned. (Although... that would be awesome. Perhaps in 2016?)
-The Olympians choose to be there. (They aren't entering because they want to protect little sis....)
-The Gamemakers aren't actually trying to kill anyone in the Olympics. It is way more civilized. They don't sleep in trees, and they get food whenever they want.
-There is no Cornucopia in the Olympics. But... there is Water Polo? Hm. That's weird.
-There is no facebook or Twitter in the Hunger games. Nobody can talk shit about the contenders, hiding behind some fake name. You have something to say... you own it.
-The Hunger Games are fiction. The Olympics are real.
And that is about it.
I've been informed that all of this comparison business is common knowledge. I was just the last to know. It isn't actually a conspiracy theory after all. Nor is it a life changing, profound enlightenment in my life. It's just I feel stupid that I never put it together. Maybe it is because I'm old now, and nothing is as it has seemed my whole life anymore... or maybe it is just... The Author of the HG saw another angle of the Olympics that we all missed all these years. It really is a battle that more goes into than any of us realize. These kids are deprived of normalcy. Only the strong survive. Dog eat dog... And all of that melodramatic shit. Just because I have had this epiphany, and I now understand the trilogy I enjoyed so much... doesn't mean I'm not going to rally behind, support, criticize and cheer on my favorite athletes as they compete... with the same zest as before. :) I will also be more prepared to deal... the next time Captain Obvious throws something in my face.
The good news is... as I'm getting older, and solving mysteries like the super sleuth I am... the Olympics have started to take it easy on me. Nothing unruly has happened so far... and we're almost done! My Sister... not so much. Her car is being towed as we speak... The odds are just not in her favour for the next few days. That much I know. Now I better get back to junk studying... as I'm running out of time... and about to win the gold! :)
USA! USA! USA!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
To Be, Or Not To Be... A Housewife. That Is The Question. I Think?
I have somewhat of a 'newer' inner struggle these days. I'm not talking about my inner fat kid again either... I'm talking about my personal title. When people ask me what I do, I have no idea what to say anymore. Do I throw out the... "I'm a stay at home Mom", "I'm a wife", "I'm a hairstylist a few hours a week", "I'm a professional Bridesmaid after being in 19 weddings", "I could be a competitive eater", (just not hot dogs... but Kobayashi has nothing on this broad...) :) Or, "I'm kind of a professional friend, and I plan Girls Weekends and Christmas parties"? I mean..... all of them would make more sense, and give me more satisfaction than saying the ever dreaded... "I'm a housewife." It really shouldn't make much of a difference what I say, right? After all, my days are spent catering to my peeps, and keeping my house running. There is the laundry, (literally 7 loads a day... I, personally, have a pair of undies in each load. Otherwise, it's allll theirs. How many outfits do these people WEAR a day? Jesus!), I drive kids everywhere they need to go, vacuum every day, scrub floors and toilets, do the Target runs, do the grocery store runs, water the plants, clean some more, weed the gardens, make the beds, do the dishes, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, do more dishes, finish laundry, return emails about camps, classes, teachers, etc... I even decorate, paint walls so well I don't even tape anymore, fix broken toilets, and leaky faucets. Hell, I have even been known to sheetrock my own walls, and build my own furniture. (Ahem... excuse me... I had to scratch my balls for a second...) :) all without monetary compensation. So... why does that have a certain stigma attached that I can't quite stomach? I am a mutha effin' housewife. I need to learn to deal... I'm pretty sure that ain't changin' anytime soon.
I never really thought I'd be this person, in all honesty. I always thought of 'Housewife' like this...
When I was growing up, Women were no longer the 50s, June Cleaver types... aspiring to be a housewife, for lack of other options. Wearing a dress, full makeup, heals and an apron, eagerly waiting for Ward, the Beav (Not to be confused with the 'Biebs') and Wally to come home, so she could dote on them hand and foot, make their favorite meat-and-potato dinners... followed by a from-scratch apple pie that is cooling on the window ledge... and keep her opinions to herself.
Not that there is anything wrong with that scenario... because there truly isn't. It's a beautiful thing. It just wasn't what I ever wanted in my life. I am a product of the 80s and 90s. I always saw myself being strong, intelligent, self-sufficient, and successful. Bitch... I don't need no man! I'm gonna pay my own bills! (I learned that from Latifah, TLC, Beyonce and the ladies of Destiny's Child... I'm not gonna burn your house down... or use correct grammar... but I'm gonna pay my damn bills...) :) Women, to me, were CEOs of companies, making shitloads of money, being almost 'equals' with Men... You clearly had no drive or self confidence if you didn't work your ass off. My Mom gave up her career, and was a SAHM/Housewife. It didn't really appeal to me... until I had kids. :)
Once upon a time, I did have a pretty killer career. For many years, I was a young, single, girl... partying and working my ass off. It was a very rewarding place to be. If I wanted something... I got it. On my own. If I wanted to take a vacation... I booked it and left. If I didn't feel like doing laundry... I went shopping. I paid other people's bills... and took pride in being able to help. People asked me what I 'do'... and I never hesitated to tell them exactly what I did. I was proud as hell! I was the girl who was booked out weeks in advance with people's hair appointments. My clients, whose hair was so important to them, freaked out on me when I left for a month to go to Europe. You should have heard the meltdowns about 9 weeks of maternity leave. They needed me. And I needed them. I was self sufficient, passionate, doing what I had set out to do, and yet... I had this nagging feeling that something was missing. How can that be?
When I hooked up with my Husband (obviously boyfriend back then) I knew that was it. I knew he was the one I was going to build a life with, and eventually breed with. (Again... wanted my kids to have those eyes... I win!) :) He was gorgeous, had an amazing work ethic, was so sweet and respectful, and we had so much fun together. I literally never looked back. He had a good job... but I was making 3 times as much money as he was back then. It was ok in my eyes. His... not so much. When we went to qualify for our house, (We wasted no time... it was within the first year... I also had pushy bitch on my resume) I am the one whose income mattered most. He hated that. Or... he secretly liked it... hard to tell with him... :) Little did he know how quickly that would change. (Like... 'I was pregnant when we bought our house' quickly...) We should probably talk about some stuff.... like... we will never play 'Hid the Pickle' at Christmas again. At least until we are married... capiche!? :)
After giving birth to, who I happen to think is the most perfect, little, specimen to walk the planet, I realized my passions were elsewhere. It started to make so much sense to me how women have such a hard time juggling everything. Maybe those June Cleaver types were onto something, after all. One minute you are a happy, successful, independent woman.... payin' yo bills. The next thing you know... you are dirty, sleep deprived, exhausted like never before, and what the fuck are you wearing!?! Your boobs are leaking in public, and you don't care... and you are depended upon. Not by some wealthy client, in for her monthly 200 dollar service, but by this little person. Who would actually die without you. Whoa. I have to say, I was still in the mindset that I needed to work my arse off to be 'worth' something. So... after 9 weeks, I returned to work. I was broken hearted... and suddenly... not passionate about people's hair... or anything else for that matter. I wanted to be home with my baby girl. I was actually jealous of my Sister, who was home with her, 3 days a week while I worked. It was nice to get out of the house, and be social again, but my heart wasn't in it. I get it, June. (And Mom...) I would haul ass home, on my 45 minute drive from work, just to have missed her. She was already sleeping. Fuck. I'm not good at this. Tears were flowing regularly. My poor Husband. I mean... HE has to work everyday... but it's different. He knows that now.
Shortly thereafter, I switched jobs. I moved to a salon a couple miles from my house. I was renting my station, and in charge of making my own schedule... I could get used to this :) After my second child, within 2 years, I gave up working days all together. I worked 3 nights a week, and it was a pretty good deal. I got to still be 'me', and I still contribute enough financially, that I'm at peace, and still can justify the spordic, manic, purchase from time to time. I get to be home with my babies, and I can sneak out for Thursday night happy hour with my work besties, after work, without guilt... cuz I am already out... and you can't stop me :) It's funny... When I became a SAHM, there wasn't facebook to show off their first... everythings, and feel like I was being somewhat 'social' from my living room computer. No Pinterest, to find activities for the overwhelmed mommy. There weren't 'Mommy Blogs' either... to read and find support when I wanted to throw in the towel. It was me, and my babies. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and I started to kind of miss being 'somebody' in the real world. My Husband's job got better and better. We did well for many years, with my little bit of an income. (My clients all ditched me when I moved across town... oh well. That was a good way to weed out the crazies..) I never quit my job all together... that wouldn't work either. I had a good thing going, and kids that napped. I worked out, yapped on the phone, and played till 4... then off to work. Low and behold... I'm balanced :)
I will never be the SAHM/Housewife you see on Bravo. (Or, the city I live in...) Although, part of me is thankful for those broads. They have made the word 'housewife' make a very attractive comeback. Nowadays, you can be at home, work some, take pride in things, and speak your mind.... all while being the 'housewife'. I will never have that opportunity, but I don't hate. I don't have a slew of staff that do my 'grunt work' for me, or a nanny (or 3) to look after my children, while I'm off at the Country Club playing tennis, or out to lunch with my other fancy girlfriends. I won't work out at the elite fitness clubs or live in a gated community. I live in a community that is full of that... excess everywhere you look. I don't let it get to me when I'm driving through stunning neighborhoods, while my kids oooh and aaaah over the castle-like mansions we are passing by... that their friends live in... (Ok... sometimes I let it get to me... but I made a conscious choice to be home. Not that my Stylist income would help us attain that lifestyle anyway... I will never be that chick... I married for love... did they? Wait a minute... I hate these people! Well.. your Husband looks like a Cro Magnun! And your kids are mini magnons... so there!) :) I'm just trying to find the happy medium between this
and the new and improved version... Housewife on 'roids...
It's doable, right? :) I mean... Even though I am the staff around here, and the personal chef etc... Who says you need breast implants, mansions, sugar daddies, live in nannies, Botox, Jimmy Choos, Birkin bags, Bentleys and bleach to be a happy housewife. I can throw in the morals, values, cooking skills, etc... (Man... that was a shorter list) and combine the best of June and Tamra. :) I do know the Housewife title in my life is going to be short lived. Eventually, my kids will be gone, and I'll be bored to tears, looking back at this time fondly, and wishing they had an activity or play date for me to bring them to. I have no regrets. Well... that's a lie. I have some regrets. Looking at myself today, I have a long way to go before I'm at my happy medium between June and Tamra. I'm sure my 3 inch roots, mom-boobs, farmer tan, non-botoxed wrinkles, Isaac Mizrahi (for Target) flip flops, and toenail polish that has been dissolved by Deet... because I have to be outside with my kids... cuz my nanny doesn't exist... wouldn't fly in the glamorous O.C.. But I take June-like pride in the fact that none of that actually matters. (Although... not even June would condone my feet right now... get a pedi, you dirt ball. The 'ya dipped those feet in battery acid and walked on hot coals, didn't ya' look is out...) Fresh apple pie IS amazing :) Is that considered balance?
Nobody can explain why some women choose the career path, and some don't. I believe, unless it is strictly financial, (I totally get that) it is a personality thing. Completely driven by need for success. I guess, ultimately, as much as I thought that was my personality, that isn't me. (But it kind of is...) Who knew? I can't say part of me doesn't wish things would have played out differently... I always dwell on the what ifs. For now, as much as I hate saying the word... I am a Housewife. (Part time Stylist... SEE! had to throw it in there!) I'm dealing with it, and learning to accept it. :)
I must run... gotta go pick up a kid, and the laundry blob has doubled since I sat down to type this... Anyone need their hair done? Just get a hold of your favorite Housewife/stylist, Salina/Junemra :) OMG!! Who AM I!?!? I'm calling Latifah.. If she doesn't answer... I'm asking Beyonce! :)
I never really thought I'd be this person, in all honesty. I always thought of 'Housewife' like this...
When I was growing up, Women were no longer the 50s, June Cleaver types... aspiring to be a housewife, for lack of other options. Wearing a dress, full makeup, heals and an apron, eagerly waiting for Ward, the Beav (Not to be confused with the 'Biebs') and Wally to come home, so she could dote on them hand and foot, make their favorite meat-and-potato dinners... followed by a from-scratch apple pie that is cooling on the window ledge... and keep her opinions to herself.
Not that there is anything wrong with that scenario... because there truly isn't. It's a beautiful thing. It just wasn't what I ever wanted in my life. I am a product of the 80s and 90s. I always saw myself being strong, intelligent, self-sufficient, and successful. Bitch... I don't need no man! I'm gonna pay my own bills! (I learned that from Latifah, TLC, Beyonce and the ladies of Destiny's Child... I'm not gonna burn your house down... or use correct grammar... but I'm gonna pay my damn bills...) :) Women, to me, were CEOs of companies, making shitloads of money, being almost 'equals' with Men... You clearly had no drive or self confidence if you didn't work your ass off. My Mom gave up her career, and was a SAHM/Housewife. It didn't really appeal to me... until I had kids. :)
Once upon a time, I did have a pretty killer career. For many years, I was a young, single, girl... partying and working my ass off. It was a very rewarding place to be. If I wanted something... I got it. On my own. If I wanted to take a vacation... I booked it and left. If I didn't feel like doing laundry... I went shopping. I paid other people's bills... and took pride in being able to help. People asked me what I 'do'... and I never hesitated to tell them exactly what I did. I was proud as hell! I was the girl who was booked out weeks in advance with people's hair appointments. My clients, whose hair was so important to them, freaked out on me when I left for a month to go to Europe. You should have heard the meltdowns about 9 weeks of maternity leave. They needed me. And I needed them. I was self sufficient, passionate, doing what I had set out to do, and yet... I had this nagging feeling that something was missing. How can that be?
When I hooked up with my Husband (obviously boyfriend back then) I knew that was it. I knew he was the one I was going to build a life with, and eventually breed with. (Again... wanted my kids to have those eyes... I win!) :) He was gorgeous, had an amazing work ethic, was so sweet and respectful, and we had so much fun together. I literally never looked back. He had a good job... but I was making 3 times as much money as he was back then. It was ok in my eyes. His... not so much. When we went to qualify for our house, (We wasted no time... it was within the first year... I also had pushy bitch on my resume) I am the one whose income mattered most. He hated that. Or... he secretly liked it... hard to tell with him... :) Little did he know how quickly that would change. (Like... 'I was pregnant when we bought our house' quickly...) We should probably talk about some stuff.... like... we will never play 'Hid the Pickle' at Christmas again. At least until we are married... capiche!? :)
After giving birth to, who I happen to think is the most perfect, little, specimen to walk the planet, I realized my passions were elsewhere. It started to make so much sense to me how women have such a hard time juggling everything. Maybe those June Cleaver types were onto something, after all. One minute you are a happy, successful, independent woman.... payin' yo bills. The next thing you know... you are dirty, sleep deprived, exhausted like never before, and what the fuck are you wearing!?! Your boobs are leaking in public, and you don't care... and you are depended upon. Not by some wealthy client, in for her monthly 200 dollar service, but by this little person. Who would actually die without you. Whoa. I have to say, I was still in the mindset that I needed to work my arse off to be 'worth' something. So... after 9 weeks, I returned to work. I was broken hearted... and suddenly... not passionate about people's hair... or anything else for that matter. I wanted to be home with my baby girl. I was actually jealous of my Sister, who was home with her, 3 days a week while I worked. It was nice to get out of the house, and be social again, but my heart wasn't in it. I get it, June. (And Mom...) I would haul ass home, on my 45 minute drive from work, just to have missed her. She was already sleeping. Fuck. I'm not good at this. Tears were flowing regularly. My poor Husband. I mean... HE has to work everyday... but it's different. He knows that now.
Shortly thereafter, I switched jobs. I moved to a salon a couple miles from my house. I was renting my station, and in charge of making my own schedule... I could get used to this :) After my second child, within 2 years, I gave up working days all together. I worked 3 nights a week, and it was a pretty good deal. I got to still be 'me', and I still contribute enough financially, that I'm at peace, and still can justify the spordic, manic, purchase from time to time. I get to be home with my babies, and I can sneak out for Thursday night happy hour with my work besties, after work, without guilt... cuz I am already out... and you can't stop me :) It's funny... When I became a SAHM, there wasn't facebook to show off their first... everythings, and feel like I was being somewhat 'social' from my living room computer. No Pinterest, to find activities for the overwhelmed mommy. There weren't 'Mommy Blogs' either... to read and find support when I wanted to throw in the towel. It was me, and my babies. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and I started to kind of miss being 'somebody' in the real world. My Husband's job got better and better. We did well for many years, with my little bit of an income. (My clients all ditched me when I moved across town... oh well. That was a good way to weed out the crazies..) I never quit my job all together... that wouldn't work either. I had a good thing going, and kids that napped. I worked out, yapped on the phone, and played till 4... then off to work. Low and behold... I'm balanced :)
I will never be the SAHM/Housewife you see on Bravo. (Or, the city I live in...) Although, part of me is thankful for those broads. They have made the word 'housewife' make a very attractive comeback. Nowadays, you can be at home, work some, take pride in things, and speak your mind.... all while being the 'housewife'. I will never have that opportunity, but I don't hate. I don't have a slew of staff that do my 'grunt work' for me, or a nanny (or 3) to look after my children, while I'm off at the Country Club playing tennis, or out to lunch with my other fancy girlfriends. I won't work out at the elite fitness clubs or live in a gated community. I live in a community that is full of that... excess everywhere you look. I don't let it get to me when I'm driving through stunning neighborhoods, while my kids oooh and aaaah over the castle-like mansions we are passing by... that their friends live in... (Ok... sometimes I let it get to me... but I made a conscious choice to be home. Not that my Stylist income would help us attain that lifestyle anyway... I will never be that chick... I married for love... did they? Wait a minute... I hate these people! Well.. your Husband looks like a Cro Magnun! And your kids are mini magnons... so there!) :) I'm just trying to find the happy medium between this
and the new and improved version... Housewife on 'roids...
It's doable, right? :) I mean... Even though I am the staff around here, and the personal chef etc... Who says you need breast implants, mansions, sugar daddies, live in nannies, Botox, Jimmy Choos, Birkin bags, Bentleys and bleach to be a happy housewife. I can throw in the morals, values, cooking skills, etc... (Man... that was a shorter list) and combine the best of June and Tamra. :) I do know the Housewife title in my life is going to be short lived. Eventually, my kids will be gone, and I'll be bored to tears, looking back at this time fondly, and wishing they had an activity or play date for me to bring them to. I have no regrets. Well... that's a lie. I have some regrets. Looking at myself today, I have a long way to go before I'm at my happy medium between June and Tamra. I'm sure my 3 inch roots, mom-boobs, farmer tan, non-botoxed wrinkles, Isaac Mizrahi (for Target) flip flops, and toenail polish that has been dissolved by Deet... because I have to be outside with my kids... cuz my nanny doesn't exist... wouldn't fly in the glamorous O.C.. But I take June-like pride in the fact that none of that actually matters. (Although... not even June would condone my feet right now... get a pedi, you dirt ball. The 'ya dipped those feet in battery acid and walked on hot coals, didn't ya' look is out...) Fresh apple pie IS amazing :) Is that considered balance?
Nobody can explain why some women choose the career path, and some don't. I believe, unless it is strictly financial, (I totally get that) it is a personality thing. Completely driven by need for success. I guess, ultimately, as much as I thought that was my personality, that isn't me. (But it kind of is...) Who knew? I can't say part of me doesn't wish things would have played out differently... I always dwell on the what ifs. For now, as much as I hate saying the word... I am a Housewife. (Part time Stylist... SEE! had to throw it in there!) I'm dealing with it, and learning to accept it. :)
I must run... gotta go pick up a kid, and the laundry blob has doubled since I sat down to type this... Anyone need their hair done? Just get a hold of your favorite Housewife/stylist, Salina/Junemra :) OMG!! Who AM I!?!? I'm calling Latifah.. If she doesn't answer... I'm asking Beyonce! :)
Friday, June 22, 2012
Peaches and Cream and LPs... The Condensed History of Two Sisters
You know... I consider myself somewhat of a lucky broad. I'm so grateful for so many things in my life. I really am. Some more than others, of course, but I still try to count my blessings as often as possible. I have a wonderful marriage, healthy, amazing kids, a cute, (albeit little) roof over our heads, food on the table, a good job (When people have money to spend on their hair), great friends, a loving family... and my relationship with my Sister. That relationship has topped my list for as long as I can remember, and saved me so many times... I cannot even begin to count. I, honestly, don't know how I would have made it through my life without her. She is my best friend, my source of support and hysterical laughter, my shoulder and ear, my sissy/soneji... and for that I will consider myself forever blessed.
When I was little (Eons and eons ago...) I constantly begged my Mom for a Sister. I named EVERY baby doll 'Sissy', and was relentless. I wanted a damn Sister. Thankfully, I hit the motherload when my Mom got knocked up with Morgan. I was almost 3 when she was born, and I actually have some recollection of it. I hovered over that baby like she was my own. I remember flipping out on other kids when they would hold her... or even look at her. She was mine. My partner in crime. (But that 'crime' part didn't come to fruition till much, much later...) :) For the most part... I was smitten with her. I could feed her, haul her around, help get her dressed, pick out her outfits... you know... she was my living baby doll. It was my favorite! :) But then... people stopped paying attention to me. (Which, if you know me at all, you know didn't go over well) She was the darling, little, baby... with the curly hair and chubby cheeks, and I was just... the 3 year old. What!? Hello? Remember me?! I'm the one that was here first!! And so it begins....
We moved around a lot during the first few years of our lives. She was my only constant. She thought I was funny, and hung on every word I said. (I mean... wouldn't you?) :) I dressed her up in doll clothes and did her hair. (yes, I started early. Perhaps it is my calling?) :) I taught her stuff, we snuck treats together, and collapsed into uncontrollable giggles over absolutely nothing. (We still do that... and we jump/perculate for hoooouuurrss... right, Morn?) :) We stuck up for each other... becoming completely enraged at our parents for yelling at the other one for something, and we held hands... a lot. Our parents dressed us in matching clothes (Thanks for that). We spent our days painting nails, singing Kenny Loggins into hair brushes with Mom, playing outside, and we were one, big, happy, family. I got my Sister... holla at your girl :)
We finally settled into a teenie, tiny house in Minneapolis. I was almost 5, and she was 2. I started Kindergarten, and was becoming a 'big girl'. We still were besties at home... but I got a little taste of what it is like to be just me... outside of the home. I was making friends, and she wasn't old enough to do all the things I could, and wanted to, do. We still revolved around her nap time and schedule. I got a lot of "No, Salina. I can't bring you to Jane's house right now... your Sister is sleeping."s and I wasn't too thrilled. Again... I was here first! She and my Mom would walk to get me every day after school. She was always so excited to see me. She would run to me and hug the shit outta my leg, when I was saying "bye" to all my new friends. I started to resent the fact that everywhere I went.... there she was.
By the time I finished kindergarten, my Sister and I had been through the unthinkable. We went through something that is one of every parent's worst nightmares. We were violated by someone we all trusted. We had no idea the impact it would have on us... for the rest of our lives. I couldn't save her, and felt like I had failed her. That was a game changer in my 'I wanna be solo' attitude... and from there on out, I had her back... no matter what. You will not fuck with my Sister. Or you will deal with me. Nobody will ever understand that overwhelming feeling of protectiveness. No matter how I try to explain it. It's so on...
Things got kinda weird in our family after that, for many years. We spent most of our time in our basement... playing Barbies, and doing little girl stuff. We were back to being inseparable, and we went pretty much everywhere together. (I wasn't letting her outta my sight...) :) She was Ken... and I was Peaches and Cream Barbie. (Which happened to be the Barbie she got for HER birthday.... but she was the prettiest one... so I just... well... you know... I got to be her. Again, I was here first.) :) She started to become a person... and I liked her. We had neighborhood friends by then, and she didn't always want to join us in our shenanigans. She was pretty attached to our Mom, and didn't have a real adventurous side yet. She didn't want to play kickball... or climb trees... or play night games. Kick the Can was out of the question. :) She loved to yell sing, and had become a little character, though... so when we would put out a sheet/dance floor, in front of the tv, on Friday nights... she would dance and sing her little heart out to the songs on Solid Gold. (And the theme song to "The Greatest American Hero") We had a blast together.
Things continued in that fashion for quite a while. I was busy with an active social life, and she hung out at home, with our Mom. (I'm making her sound like a freakish homebody... she did have friends... and left the house from time to time... I swear. Just not as often as I did. It's still that way...) :) Life had mended itself for the time being, and we were back to being one happy(ish) family. We had buried (Or.... swept under the rug) the past, and we were moving on. And then, suddenly, we were physically moving on... to Edina? A foreign city, that we were not looking forward to blending into. Will we fit in? Isn't everyone there rich and snotty? Are we really moving? What about our friends? Ugh... Thanks Mom and Dad. Jr. High isn't hard enough as it is... let's just add insult to injury, how 'bout...
So... We moved. I sat in my closet for a week... she cried a bunch. But... we still had each other. Thank God. Barbie was a thing of the past... and New Kids on the Block had entered our lives. We wore bras and talked about boys. (Talked a lot... about boys...) We were 4 years apart in school, so we never got to do that part of life together. She was still in elementary school... and I was in 8th grade. We got acclimated fairly quickly, and began to 'blend in' as best we could. I made some really awesome friends right away... with whom I'm still in contact. :) She made a group of good friends as well. She got picked on a lot, however... and it made me mental. I remember going to her school, and staring down kids as they mocked my Sister. Don't you know!? You don't get to fuck with her! Things have been hard enough! Assholes. I made many threatening phone calls, and a few more threatening appearances... but it didn't really help. Once again... I failed her. Something has got to give...
My new friends were awesome to her, and she started to hang with us more and more. By the time she was 12... we would take her glasses from her, make up her face, stuff her bra... and take her with us (Blind and naive) to parties. I got her drunk for the first time, and took her to the lakes with me. Our schools were connected, so my friends and I would go pull her out of school when we were leaving (Unbeknownst to our parents... She had many Dentist appointments... and my 15 year old self was taking her? They bought it... and off we went. Naughty). I introduced her to hot boys from other cities, colored her hair blond, included her in everything, and had my partner in crime back. I even made her change what kind of undies she sported. Boys don't like 'Granny Panties' (Or... GPs)... and that is what is important in life. Right? :) We took to buying each other what we called 'lucky panties'. 'LPs'. The more stripperish, the better. Tiny, made of string and bling, butt floss. Every birthday and Christmas... we exchanged LPs. (I still have a few of them... for old school, good measure) She was no longer tattling on me to Mom and Dad... because she was with me, and wearing tiny undies. It was a win-win. :) I was still getting straight As, and ended up having a darling (Mmmm hhhmmm) boyfriend. (Yeah... he tricked me...) :) She and I had a lot of fun, and things were good... for a minute.
Meanwhile... back at the ranch...
Our 'happy' family had started to fall apart. Things from the past had reared their ugly heads, and my parents had begun to loathe each other. My Mom was sleeping on the couch, my Dad was angry 24/7... and my Sister and I were teenagers. Hormonal, emotional, teenage girls. Can you imagine the stress level? Holy shit. You could have cut the tension with a knife most days. To make matters worse, she and I had grown into ourselves. We became darling overnight, and there were suddenly lots of boys. Stemming from issues in our past... we definitely struggled with how to deal with that. So... we just... went crazy. Our poor parents. On top of their foul, failing marriage... they had to deal with 2 unruly girls, who had some serious anger and men issues. For the love... ugh. We spent many nights crying on my bed, and solving the world's problems. We were in this together, and we were our main support. None of our friends understood... like we understood. I'm surprised any of them even talked to us at this point. We became even closer, and our bond was what helped us through the next few brutal years.
Our parents divorced when I was 17 and she was 14. It was the beginning of what we remember as... Hell. I took my Dad's side, and moved in with him. My Sister and Mom were living together, and my Mom was losing it. We lost a loooong list of people during that time, including my Grandpa Bud, and Morgan's best friend Henry. He was murdered. It was swell... :( She still cries about it. I'll never forget that phone call. My Mom's best friend and her 3 daughters were killed in a plane crash (The pilot was a man my Mom had recently dated, and flown all over with...) They were our second family, and I'm not sure any of us have even dealt with that. I will leave out a bunch of terrible things that happened... just because it is just too much... but trust me... it was a brutal 5 or 6 years. Nonstop tragedy and turmoil. Rape, money issues, family issues, depression, my 'dark period'. I believe there were even... dog fights? In St. Paul? Somewhere in there, anyway. :) But... the thing is... we had each other. During all of the 'Hell' years, we still found reasons to laugh. Reasons to be happy, and things for which to be grateful. (We reached... believe me... but we made it happen) :) We always joke about finding our inner Polyanna. Sometimes even that bitch won't cut it. :) We still bought LPs, and still sat on beds and laughed. It was how we coped.
Somehow, in the aftermath of all of that madness... we both ended up ok. We only carry some of that with us in life... once again, denial and selective memory work wonders. :) We both married amazing, hard working, kind, hot, only children. (Who needs another Sister anyway?) We both did that fairly young. We both have a beautiful Son and Daughter, and we love each others kids like our own. We, of course, helped each other deliver all 4 children. I even got to don scrubs, and be in the room for her c-section. We can't do that stuff without one another. It just ain't happenin'. :) She is the first person I call in the morning, and the only person who knows as much about me... as I do. Our Husbands have never really understood our relationship. Only a few of our closest friends even get it. We have our own language, and voices we use while speaking of certain things. We can laugh about the dumbest shit... for hours, and speak in broken sentences. Cuz... "I know what you are saying." I have to admit, I felt like I did my daughter a disservice when I didn't give her a Sister. She and her Brother are sooo close. I might even say 'besties', but it just can't be the same... can it? I never had a brother, so I'm not sure if it will ever be the same bond. I do know one thing, though... I will do everything in my power to make sure they never have to go through what we did... to build that type of relationship. They will be besties... just because they are. Even trade? :)
People have said that every child in a home has a different 'childhood'. She saw everything from her own perspective, of course, and would maybe disagree with me on a few things. Like... the part when I said it was my 'calling' to do hair. You should have seen her bangs on any given day :) I will never know what it would have been like to go through my crazy life without Morgan. (Or my mom...) I look back at some of the shit storm that was our lives, and think how fortunate I am that things turned out the way they did. I literally am forever grateful. Even if LPs have turned into GPs... and we aren't the darling sissies we once were... and talking about boys has turned into convos about 'obeseness', (that's what we lovingly call obesity... cuz if you don't call it the real name... it can't be really happening... right?) wrinkles, bullies, health scares, dance, bills, husbands etc... we are still the same best friends who have been through the ringer and came out the other side. 2 girls that depend on each other, and are the only constants we will ever have. My Husband could leave me tomorrow (He won't... but... in theory... it could happen) and I'd still have Morgan. We can't stay mad at each other for more that 5 minutes... because we have something really important to tell each other that just can't wait. We don't agree on everything, but we always hear each other out. We cheer each other on through life. And, basically live by the saying "when life hands you lemons... call your Sister." I could go on and on... but I think you get the point. :)
A friend of mine with 2 daughters once asked me how my Sister and I are so close. Her girls are always at each others throats. I simply answered with this "It's never a guarantee that you will be close to your siblings. But... when you go through what we have together... there really isn't another option." End of story.
I Love you, Chunkin. Love, Punkin. :)
When I was little (Eons and eons ago...) I constantly begged my Mom for a Sister. I named EVERY baby doll 'Sissy', and was relentless. I wanted a damn Sister. Thankfully, I hit the motherload when my Mom got knocked up with Morgan. I was almost 3 when she was born, and I actually have some recollection of it. I hovered over that baby like she was my own. I remember flipping out on other kids when they would hold her... or even look at her. She was mine. My partner in crime. (But that 'crime' part didn't come to fruition till much, much later...) :) For the most part... I was smitten with her. I could feed her, haul her around, help get her dressed, pick out her outfits... you know... she was my living baby doll. It was my favorite! :) But then... people stopped paying attention to me. (Which, if you know me at all, you know didn't go over well) She was the darling, little, baby... with the curly hair and chubby cheeks, and I was just... the 3 year old. What!? Hello? Remember me?! I'm the one that was here first!! And so it begins....
We moved around a lot during the first few years of our lives. She was my only constant. She thought I was funny, and hung on every word I said. (I mean... wouldn't you?) :) I dressed her up in doll clothes and did her hair. (yes, I started early. Perhaps it is my calling?) :) I taught her stuff, we snuck treats together, and collapsed into uncontrollable giggles over absolutely nothing. (We still do that... and we jump/perculate for hoooouuurrss... right, Morn?) :) We stuck up for each other... becoming completely enraged at our parents for yelling at the other one for something, and we held hands... a lot. Our parents dressed us in matching clothes (Thanks for that). We spent our days painting nails, singing Kenny Loggins into hair brushes with Mom, playing outside, and we were one, big, happy, family. I got my Sister... holla at your girl :)
We finally settled into a teenie, tiny house in Minneapolis. I was almost 5, and she was 2. I started Kindergarten, and was becoming a 'big girl'. We still were besties at home... but I got a little taste of what it is like to be just me... outside of the home. I was making friends, and she wasn't old enough to do all the things I could, and wanted to, do. We still revolved around her nap time and schedule. I got a lot of "No, Salina. I can't bring you to Jane's house right now... your Sister is sleeping."s and I wasn't too thrilled. Again... I was here first! She and my Mom would walk to get me every day after school. She was always so excited to see me. She would run to me and hug the shit outta my leg, when I was saying "bye" to all my new friends. I started to resent the fact that everywhere I went.... there she was.
By the time I finished kindergarten, my Sister and I had been through the unthinkable. We went through something that is one of every parent's worst nightmares. We were violated by someone we all trusted. We had no idea the impact it would have on us... for the rest of our lives. I couldn't save her, and felt like I had failed her. That was a game changer in my 'I wanna be solo' attitude... and from there on out, I had her back... no matter what. You will not fuck with my Sister. Or you will deal with me. Nobody will ever understand that overwhelming feeling of protectiveness. No matter how I try to explain it. It's so on...
Things got kinda weird in our family after that, for many years. We spent most of our time in our basement... playing Barbies, and doing little girl stuff. We were back to being inseparable, and we went pretty much everywhere together. (I wasn't letting her outta my sight...) :) She was Ken... and I was Peaches and Cream Barbie. (Which happened to be the Barbie she got for HER birthday.... but she was the prettiest one... so I just... well... you know... I got to be her. Again, I was here first.) :) She started to become a person... and I liked her. We had neighborhood friends by then, and she didn't always want to join us in our shenanigans. She was pretty attached to our Mom, and didn't have a real adventurous side yet. She didn't want to play kickball... or climb trees... or play night games. Kick the Can was out of the question. :) She loved to yell sing, and had become a little character, though... so when we would put out a sheet/dance floor, in front of the tv, on Friday nights... she would dance and sing her little heart out to the songs on Solid Gold. (And the theme song to "The Greatest American Hero") We had a blast together.
Things continued in that fashion for quite a while. I was busy with an active social life, and she hung out at home, with our Mom. (I'm making her sound like a freakish homebody... she did have friends... and left the house from time to time... I swear. Just not as often as I did. It's still that way...) :) Life had mended itself for the time being, and we were back to being one happy(ish) family. We had buried (Or.... swept under the rug) the past, and we were moving on. And then, suddenly, we were physically moving on... to Edina? A foreign city, that we were not looking forward to blending into. Will we fit in? Isn't everyone there rich and snotty? Are we really moving? What about our friends? Ugh... Thanks Mom and Dad. Jr. High isn't hard enough as it is... let's just add insult to injury, how 'bout...
So... We moved. I sat in my closet for a week... she cried a bunch. But... we still had each other. Thank God. Barbie was a thing of the past... and New Kids on the Block had entered our lives. We wore bras and talked about boys. (Talked a lot... about boys...) We were 4 years apart in school, so we never got to do that part of life together. She was still in elementary school... and I was in 8th grade. We got acclimated fairly quickly, and began to 'blend in' as best we could. I made some really awesome friends right away... with whom I'm still in contact. :) She made a group of good friends as well. She got picked on a lot, however... and it made me mental. I remember going to her school, and staring down kids as they mocked my Sister. Don't you know!? You don't get to fuck with her! Things have been hard enough! Assholes. I made many threatening phone calls, and a few more threatening appearances... but it didn't really help. Once again... I failed her. Something has got to give...
My new friends were awesome to her, and she started to hang with us more and more. By the time she was 12... we would take her glasses from her, make up her face, stuff her bra... and take her with us (Blind and naive) to parties. I got her drunk for the first time, and took her to the lakes with me. Our schools were connected, so my friends and I would go pull her out of school when we were leaving (Unbeknownst to our parents... She had many Dentist appointments... and my 15 year old self was taking her? They bought it... and off we went. Naughty). I introduced her to hot boys from other cities, colored her hair blond, included her in everything, and had my partner in crime back. I even made her change what kind of undies she sported. Boys don't like 'Granny Panties' (Or... GPs)... and that is what is important in life. Right? :) We took to buying each other what we called 'lucky panties'. 'LPs'. The more stripperish, the better. Tiny, made of string and bling, butt floss. Every birthday and Christmas... we exchanged LPs. (I still have a few of them... for old school, good measure) She was no longer tattling on me to Mom and Dad... because she was with me, and wearing tiny undies. It was a win-win. :) I was still getting straight As, and ended up having a darling (Mmmm hhhmmm) boyfriend. (Yeah... he tricked me...) :) She and I had a lot of fun, and things were good... for a minute.
Meanwhile... back at the ranch...
Our 'happy' family had started to fall apart. Things from the past had reared their ugly heads, and my parents had begun to loathe each other. My Mom was sleeping on the couch, my Dad was angry 24/7... and my Sister and I were teenagers. Hormonal, emotional, teenage girls. Can you imagine the stress level? Holy shit. You could have cut the tension with a knife most days. To make matters worse, she and I had grown into ourselves. We became darling overnight, and there were suddenly lots of boys. Stemming from issues in our past... we definitely struggled with how to deal with that. So... we just... went crazy. Our poor parents. On top of their foul, failing marriage... they had to deal with 2 unruly girls, who had some serious anger and men issues. For the love... ugh. We spent many nights crying on my bed, and solving the world's problems. We were in this together, and we were our main support. None of our friends understood... like we understood. I'm surprised any of them even talked to us at this point. We became even closer, and our bond was what helped us through the next few brutal years.
Our parents divorced when I was 17 and she was 14. It was the beginning of what we remember as... Hell. I took my Dad's side, and moved in with him. My Sister and Mom were living together, and my Mom was losing it. We lost a loooong list of people during that time, including my Grandpa Bud, and Morgan's best friend Henry. He was murdered. It was swell... :( She still cries about it. I'll never forget that phone call. My Mom's best friend and her 3 daughters were killed in a plane crash (The pilot was a man my Mom had recently dated, and flown all over with...) They were our second family, and I'm not sure any of us have even dealt with that. I will leave out a bunch of terrible things that happened... just because it is just too much... but trust me... it was a brutal 5 or 6 years. Nonstop tragedy and turmoil. Rape, money issues, family issues, depression, my 'dark period'. I believe there were even... dog fights? In St. Paul? Somewhere in there, anyway. :) But... the thing is... we had each other. During all of the 'Hell' years, we still found reasons to laugh. Reasons to be happy, and things for which to be grateful. (We reached... believe me... but we made it happen) :) We always joke about finding our inner Polyanna. Sometimes even that bitch won't cut it. :) We still bought LPs, and still sat on beds and laughed. It was how we coped.
Somehow, in the aftermath of all of that madness... we both ended up ok. We only carry some of that with us in life... once again, denial and selective memory work wonders. :) We both married amazing, hard working, kind, hot, only children. (Who needs another Sister anyway?) We both did that fairly young. We both have a beautiful Son and Daughter, and we love each others kids like our own. We, of course, helped each other deliver all 4 children. I even got to don scrubs, and be in the room for her c-section. We can't do that stuff without one another. It just ain't happenin'. :) She is the first person I call in the morning, and the only person who knows as much about me... as I do. Our Husbands have never really understood our relationship. Only a few of our closest friends even get it. We have our own language, and voices we use while speaking of certain things. We can laugh about the dumbest shit... for hours, and speak in broken sentences. Cuz... "I know what you are saying." I have to admit, I felt like I did my daughter a disservice when I didn't give her a Sister. She and her Brother are sooo close. I might even say 'besties', but it just can't be the same... can it? I never had a brother, so I'm not sure if it will ever be the same bond. I do know one thing, though... I will do everything in my power to make sure they never have to go through what we did... to build that type of relationship. They will be besties... just because they are. Even trade? :)
People have said that every child in a home has a different 'childhood'. She saw everything from her own perspective, of course, and would maybe disagree with me on a few things. Like... the part when I said it was my 'calling' to do hair. You should have seen her bangs on any given day :) I will never know what it would have been like to go through my crazy life without Morgan. (Or my mom...) I look back at some of the shit storm that was our lives, and think how fortunate I am that things turned out the way they did. I literally am forever grateful. Even if LPs have turned into GPs... and we aren't the darling sissies we once were... and talking about boys has turned into convos about 'obeseness', (that's what we lovingly call obesity... cuz if you don't call it the real name... it can't be really happening... right?) wrinkles, bullies, health scares, dance, bills, husbands etc... we are still the same best friends who have been through the ringer and came out the other side. 2 girls that depend on each other, and are the only constants we will ever have. My Husband could leave me tomorrow (He won't... but... in theory... it could happen) and I'd still have Morgan. We can't stay mad at each other for more that 5 minutes... because we have something really important to tell each other that just can't wait. We don't agree on everything, but we always hear each other out. We cheer each other on through life. And, basically live by the saying "when life hands you lemons... call your Sister." I could go on and on... but I think you get the point. :)
A friend of mine with 2 daughters once asked me how my Sister and I are so close. Her girls are always at each others throats. I simply answered with this "It's never a guarantee that you will be close to your siblings. But... when you go through what we have together... there really isn't another option." End of story.
I Love you, Chunkin. Love, Punkin. :)
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