At some point, especially today, I realize I am going to have to let go.
I haven't written in a while. I think it is because I honestly don't think anyone gives a shit about what I have to say.
Today, I don't care about that. After what has happened this week in Boston, and the gun control fail in Washington, and Texas, and the earthquakes, and the other bombings, I don't care. Because it really doesn't matter.
Dylan and Eli are growing up so fast, in this scary, scary world. As much as I yell and scream at them, and as much as I feel I am losing my mind, I never ever forget to tell them a hundred times a day how much I love them. I want to put them in a bubble, to keep them safe from all the madness, all that is fucked up in this world, but I know I can't.
There was a huge storm here last night, tornado warnings, and when it ripped thru, Eli was crying, missing his dad, saying we were all going to die.
As much as I wanted to crawl in the closet with him, I realized I had to stay in control. I calmly said that no one would die on my watch, and to chill, I got this. We will be ok.
Did I really believe this? Last night yes. 9/11, no. Other tornados, no.
I am doing the best that I can possibly do raising these two beautiful boys. I will screw it up royally along the way, of that I am sure. The world is such a scarier place than it was when I was young.
Even my mom, who was born as WWII was getting into full swing, lived thru Korea, Vietnam, The Cold War, Afghanistan, Iraq, says that it is just scarier now. She is very level headed, so this hits hard when she says this.
This has been a very emotional week for me. Looking into the eyes of my boys, knowing I will have to let them go, all too soon, into the world on their own. And hoping I have done a good enough job as their mom. It weighs on me. But when it does, I take comfort in the fact that my 13 year old still lets me hug him in front of his friends, appreciates my taste in music and comedy, and still wants to snuggle.
Hold them close everyone, all whom you love.
20 April 2013
07 January 2013
The Identity Piece
The boys went back to school today after their three week Christmas break. I feel that some of my purpose went with them.
It was never an issue making the decision to be a stay-at-home mom. I was grounded in that choice, feeling like, finally, I know what I am supposed to do with my life!
Now that they are older I often feel lost, or better yet, a loss.
I will get asked the question from the boys, "What did you do today?"
Sometimes this stupefies me. On the days when I am not volunteering at school, really, what do I do?
I do a lot. I manage the house, the boys schedule, and yet I feel like I do nothing now, like I am making no difference in the world, not leaving any mark whatsoever.
When they were little, and so needy, I never had a chance or wondered what it would be like when they weren't so needy, when they grew up.
I feel the loss of their neediness. Now I know they will always need me, I do know that. And I know that they will need me in different ways through different times in their life. But it was just so much easier, somehow, when they needed me constantly. I didn't think about me, I was so focused on the tasks at hand.
Eli walked through the laundry room the other day as I was doing my billionth load, and said, "It's hard to believe you do this for a living, Mom." Touché Eli.
That's the moment it really hit me. That is what my boys think I do, and that's what bothers me. I guess I need to feel that I am so much more to them, to the world.
Until I find my next purpose or path, I will take comfort in the fact that I am always here for my boys, and that they are safe, wearing clean underwear.
20 February 2012
"Real" housewives
I admit it. I am hooked on the Real Housewives: two cliques in particular, O.C. and Beverly Hills. Am I proud of this? Absolutely not, but I own it. They make me feel so much better about myself. They are train wrecks from which I cannot look away.
This week, there have been episode after episode on in the afternoon, and I have been doing a lot of catching up. Watching these "women", I am pretty sure this is why many people across the world hate us. It is sickening. The narcissism, the alcohol abuse, the constant bickering over who did what or who did whom, and the amount of cleavage shown must make a lot of people look at American women as simple whores, with nothing better to do than talk about their money and their men, or lack thereof.
I mean there is not a damn thing about these women that I see as being real. Not. A. Damn. Thing. For shizzle. Not their boobs, their hair, their homes, their lips, their skin, the list goes on and on. I would, at this point, prefer to see "The Real Housewives of the Trailer Park." Now THAT would be real! To see women struggling to keep their jobs, food on their kids' table, the laundry done, the homework challenges, make the mortgage payments, pay for the doctor visits, sit in carpool, and so on and so on...To see them worrying over their kids education, their husbands (at all), the cost of gas, what the kids are seeing on T.V. (including these women's behavior) and the internet. Again, that would be real.
But the new season starts tonight for the O.C housewives, which cracks me up as well, because less than 50% are actually wives at this point.
...so here we are, the new O.C. year has begun. It is on at this very moment, so this blog will continue with me ranting about them specifically. One wife has the Nanny/ assistant driving her to work while she tries to call her husband to make sure the kids are up for school. The wife cannot call the house phone because she does not know the number. REALLY? Who does this in my world? NOT. A. DAMN. PERSON. It is not REAL in any way. And this is the first fifteen minutes of the show. I am not jealous of these women. I SWEAR!!! I pity them. I really do, for their lack of perception of reality, and for whatever karma has in store for them.
These women walk around in 5 inch heels if they go to the grocery store, and it blows my mind. They are such bitches, and I do not feel bad saying this, because these bitches actually get paid for simply being a bitch. Which pisses me off even more, because when I am a bitch I end up crying into my pillow and apologizing to everyone around me, for what? No reason, other than me just feeling bitchy. Do I get paid? Oh, yes...with the undying love of my family. cough, cough....
Now there is the new O.C. girl that they are "recruiting" as a potential new member this season. This chick acts like she is clueless coming into the group, when, in fact, we know she is not! We are not stupid women watching these stupid women. That is where I think the producers and ad execs get it wrong. We are "real" women wanting to watch these unreal women crash and burn. So don't play down to us, acting like these women are coming into "the group" not knowing what is in store for them and their families. The divorce rate for "REAL" housewives must be 85%? Maybe, I dunno. What I do know is that is am a REAL housewife, one who has none of the issues that these women have, who is happy to have the struggle, and the trials of my day-to-day life, who is proud to be a real Mom, with real emotions, and a real life, full of uncertainty and doubt and fear.
This week, there have been episode after episode on in the afternoon, and I have been doing a lot of catching up. Watching these "women", I am pretty sure this is why many people across the world hate us. It is sickening. The narcissism, the alcohol abuse, the constant bickering over who did what or who did whom, and the amount of cleavage shown must make a lot of people look at American women as simple whores, with nothing better to do than talk about their money and their men, or lack thereof.
I mean there is not a damn thing about these women that I see as being real. Not. A. Damn. Thing. For shizzle. Not their boobs, their hair, their homes, their lips, their skin, the list goes on and on. I would, at this point, prefer to see "The Real Housewives of the Trailer Park." Now THAT would be real! To see women struggling to keep their jobs, food on their kids' table, the laundry done, the homework challenges, make the mortgage payments, pay for the doctor visits, sit in carpool, and so on and so on...To see them worrying over their kids education, their husbands (at all), the cost of gas, what the kids are seeing on T.V. (including these women's behavior) and the internet. Again, that would be real.
But the new season starts tonight for the O.C housewives, which cracks me up as well, because less than 50% are actually wives at this point.
...so here we are, the new O.C. year has begun. It is on at this very moment, so this blog will continue with me ranting about them specifically. One wife has the Nanny/ assistant driving her to work while she tries to call her husband to make sure the kids are up for school. The wife cannot call the house phone because she does not know the number. REALLY? Who does this in my world? NOT. A. DAMN. PERSON. It is not REAL in any way. And this is the first fifteen minutes of the show. I am not jealous of these women. I SWEAR!!! I pity them. I really do, for their lack of perception of reality, and for whatever karma has in store for them.
These women walk around in 5 inch heels if they go to the grocery store, and it blows my mind. They are such bitches, and I do not feel bad saying this, because these bitches actually get paid for simply being a bitch. Which pisses me off even more, because when I am a bitch I end up crying into my pillow and apologizing to everyone around me, for what? No reason, other than me just feeling bitchy. Do I get paid? Oh, yes...with the undying love of my family. cough, cough....
Now there is the new O.C. girl that they are "recruiting" as a potential new member this season. This chick acts like she is clueless coming into the group, when, in fact, we know she is not! We are not stupid women watching these stupid women. That is where I think the producers and ad execs get it wrong. We are "real" women wanting to watch these unreal women crash and burn. So don't play down to us, acting like these women are coming into "the group" not knowing what is in store for them and their families. The divorce rate for "REAL" housewives must be 85%? Maybe, I dunno. What I do know is that is am a REAL housewife, one who has none of the issues that these women have, who is happy to have the struggle, and the trials of my day-to-day life, who is proud to be a real Mom, with real emotions, and a real life, full of uncertainty and doubt and fear.
26 January 2012
One LEGO piece
My oldest son is LEGO-obsessed. I absolutely love this about him. His desire to construct things and to put small pieces together to make them whole and strong amazes the shit outa me.
It is all so logical, yet, at the same time, so fragile.
I was dusting the LEGOs in his room the other day (a chore that I can only do once a quarter because of the stress) when I went into a panic. Because, you see, they always break for me, and it depends on the creation that I break that determines whether or not my son will go crazy.
And it was amidst my dusting I had this metaphorical moment. Both of us over the years have gotten better with my dusting of the LEGOs. I don't mess things up too much anymore, and if I do, my son has learned to control his fits.
I was dusting the LEGOs, and he was moving the LEGOs, and we were finally working together, at a good pace. We were both patient, doing everything so slowly and with quiet breath. I looked over at him moving his entire LEGO city off of his built-especially-for-LEGOs table and realized that going thru life is like dusting LEGOs.
We are constantly thrown things our way that we have to deal with, and even with the best of intentions, we never know what the outcome will be. I have moved the most elaborate of sculptures and never disturbed a piece, while other times I would move a tiny car, and the whole thing shatters in between my fingers.
Sometimes, you have the best of intentions, and everything still breaks. Don't ever be over-confident. And sometimes, you feel as if you are going to crack, yet all is well. So don't underestimate yourself either. Look out for those little pieces that may trip you up...but be aware that broken pieces can make you stronger as well as you rebuild.
The trick of it all is to build the pieces back up, and press on. Easier said than done most times.
It is all so logical, yet, at the same time, so fragile.
I was dusting the LEGOs in his room the other day (a chore that I can only do once a quarter because of the stress) when I went into a panic. Because, you see, they always break for me, and it depends on the creation that I break that determines whether or not my son will go crazy.
And it was amidst my dusting I had this metaphorical moment. Both of us over the years have gotten better with my dusting of the LEGOs. I don't mess things up too much anymore, and if I do, my son has learned to control his fits.
I was dusting the LEGOs, and he was moving the LEGOs, and we were finally working together, at a good pace. We were both patient, doing everything so slowly and with quiet breath. I looked over at him moving his entire LEGO city off of his built-especially-for-LEGOs table and realized that going thru life is like dusting LEGOs.
We are constantly thrown things our way that we have to deal with, and even with the best of intentions, we never know what the outcome will be. I have moved the most elaborate of sculptures and never disturbed a piece, while other times I would move a tiny car, and the whole thing shatters in between my fingers.
Sometimes, you have the best of intentions, and everything still breaks. Don't ever be over-confident. And sometimes, you feel as if you are going to crack, yet all is well. So don't underestimate yourself either. Look out for those little pieces that may trip you up...but be aware that broken pieces can make you stronger as well as you rebuild.
The trick of it all is to build the pieces back up, and press on. Easier said than done most times.
19 January 2012
The First Political Piece
As we approach this evening's South Carolina GOP debate, I have one thing to say. I HATE POLITICS!
Not one of those who will be on stage this evening do a damn thing for me. It is a pissing match, or a "let's measure our dicks" match. Forgive my Philly mouth, but it is how I truly feel. Seriously, I want Stephen Colbert to win, and if you haven't heard, he is telling South Carolinians to vote for Herman Cain, which means a vote for him. More than anyone Stephen Colbert has made me understand how money makes everything work in Washington.
Oh God, it is 8:00 EST...here we go. I will talk back to the TV for however long this lasts, and put up with unapproving and frustration glances from my husband. Why do I subject myself to these debates? I guess cause I give a shit about what is happening in this, the best country in the world.
Personally, I won't vote for whoever makes the GOP ticket, but I am inudated every single minute, it seems, with these nimrods. I can't stand the airs these politicians put on, the holier-than-thou attitudes they have and the rhetoric they toss around.
I do like Ron Paul. Not all of his ideas, as they are extreme. But he is a normal guy, and he is persistent.
See? They started the friggin debate with the topic of the Newt's ex-wife's claims. (see whatever news network you wish)
Gotta go, gotta yell at the TV like Newt is. Uneffinbelievable.
Not one of those who will be on stage this evening do a damn thing for me. It is a pissing match, or a "let's measure our dicks" match. Forgive my Philly mouth, but it is how I truly feel. Seriously, I want Stephen Colbert to win, and if you haven't heard, he is telling South Carolinians to vote for Herman Cain, which means a vote for him. More than anyone Stephen Colbert has made me understand how money makes everything work in Washington.
Oh God, it is 8:00 EST...here we go. I will talk back to the TV for however long this lasts, and put up with unapproving and frustration glances from my husband. Why do I subject myself to these debates? I guess cause I give a shit about what is happening in this, the best country in the world.
Personally, I won't vote for whoever makes the GOP ticket, but I am inudated every single minute, it seems, with these nimrods. I can't stand the airs these politicians put on, the holier-than-thou attitudes they have and the rhetoric they toss around.
I do like Ron Paul. Not all of his ideas, as they are extreme. But he is a normal guy, and he is persistent.
See? They started the friggin debate with the topic of the Newt's ex-wife's claims. (see whatever news network you wish)
Gotta go, gotta yell at the TV like Newt is. Uneffinbelievable.
10 January 2012
The Composure Piece
It just happened again. Right after I titled this piece. I lost my composure.
As a mom, it happens all the time. Well, I try to limit it to twice a week, but...
I am sorry, but if I have to tell you "no" more than once, or anything more than once for that matter, I get pissy. Seriously pissy. Perhaps I should have taken much more of a bad-ass-mom sorta stance when the boys were younger and more pliable. It may be too late now. Let us all, for the children's sake, hope not.
See, one night, not very long ago (cue dream sequence music here) this happened...
My two cherubs were pleasantly watching TV as I was on the computer in the family room. Spouse was away (don't remember where), but away. Yes, I was probably facebooking (is this an acknowledged verb yet?) but 'tis totally beside the point. One sweet child spilled his peanuts all over the floor and proceeded to SIT THERE, waiting for the dog to devour them or for them to magically disappear.
Me: "Pick up the peanuts, please."
No response from spawns.
Me: "Pick UP THE peanuts, please."
No movement. One says, "Wasn't me."
Me: "PICK UP the PEANUTS, PLEASE!" (insert various curse words anywhere in that statement)
Again, for real, NOTHING!
Now, you know that scene in "Terms of Endearment" when Shirley MacLaine's character is in the hospital with Debra Winger and Shirley (Aurora) wants Debra (Emma) to have her pain shot. It is a little past the time when she was due to receive the shot, and Aurora goes on and on about how she shouldn't have to wait, that it was past time, and then she goes all medieval on the nurses' asses, and shouts, "GIVE MY DAUGHTER THE SHOT!"
That was me...about friggin' peanuts. Not kidding. In. Any. Way.
"PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS!" Literally I was jumping up and down, pounding on my legs. Swear.
Now I do not like to lose my composure like this, but it was absolutely necessary.
The upside of this loss of control is that now when I say calmly to my two beautiful children, "Pick up the peanuts", it clearly means that mommy is about to lose it in a big and ugly way, no matter what. It has brought results.
Here is my justification on that peanut behavior...It may be better to have my boys THINK I am legitimately crazy and have them be afraid of me when I get that crazed look in my eyes, than for me to actually GO crazy trying to supress it and maintain my composure.
Will the boys need therapy? No doubt. If they invite me to partake in any way, I will. And I will try to maintain my composure on the couch.
As a mom, it happens all the time. Well, I try to limit it to twice a week, but...
I am sorry, but if I have to tell you "no" more than once, or anything more than once for that matter, I get pissy. Seriously pissy. Perhaps I should have taken much more of a bad-ass-mom sorta stance when the boys were younger and more pliable. It may be too late now. Let us all, for the children's sake, hope not.
See, one night, not very long ago (cue dream sequence music here) this happened...
My two cherubs were pleasantly watching TV as I was on the computer in the family room. Spouse was away (don't remember where), but away. Yes, I was probably facebooking (is this an acknowledged verb yet?) but 'tis totally beside the point. One sweet child spilled his peanuts all over the floor and proceeded to SIT THERE, waiting for the dog to devour them or for them to magically disappear.
Me: "Pick up the peanuts, please."
No response from spawns.
Me: "Pick UP THE peanuts, please."
No movement. One says, "Wasn't me."
Me: "PICK UP the PEANUTS, PLEASE!" (insert various curse words anywhere in that statement)
Again, for real, NOTHING!
Now, you know that scene in "Terms of Endearment" when Shirley MacLaine's character is in the hospital with Debra Winger and Shirley (Aurora) wants Debra (Emma) to have her pain shot. It is a little past the time when she was due to receive the shot, and Aurora goes on and on about how she shouldn't have to wait, that it was past time, and then she goes all medieval on the nurses' asses, and shouts, "GIVE MY DAUGHTER THE SHOT!"
That was me...about friggin' peanuts. Not kidding. In. Any. Way.
"PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS, PICK UP THE PEANUTS!" Literally I was jumping up and down, pounding on my legs. Swear.
Now I do not like to lose my composure like this, but it was absolutely necessary.
The upside of this loss of control is that now when I say calmly to my two beautiful children, "Pick up the peanuts", it clearly means that mommy is about to lose it in a big and ugly way, no matter what. It has brought results.
Here is my justification on that peanut behavior...It may be better to have my boys THINK I am legitimately crazy and have them be afraid of me when I get that crazed look in my eyes, than for me to actually GO crazy trying to supress it and maintain my composure.
Will the boys need therapy? No doubt. If they invite me to partake in any way, I will. And I will try to maintain my composure on the couch.
08 January 2012
The Friends Piece
It is pronounced "Ritz", like the cracker. And yes, I guess I am one. Just sayin.
The holidays are over, and they went quite smoothly. As smoothly as these things go. My regret is that I did not see as many of my friends as I would have liked to. My friends, my chosen family. They are such a diverse group. They have made me who I am, and each and every one has come into my life with a sense of purpose. For instance:
I texted a friend to ask with what topic I should start this blog. About which Piece of my life. He said "Me!"
I am so grateful that my husband has allowed me to maintain and entertain my male friends. SO GRATEFUL! These men crack me the hell up. I have many male friends, and somehow they all seem to be single. Perhaps this is why we are friends, there are no women getting in the way of our relationship. This man-friend Piece has given me so much insight, and laughter with unconsitional acceptance.
I mean no disrespect to my female friends, but there is a certain rawness that is wrong on so many levels, but oh so right. I was told by one of my male friends that I am the only woman in the world he likes (this includes his mother). See? Raw, and real.
This same man has given me so many quotes that I keep in my Journey Journals. Some of you have partaken in these Journals. I have been keeping these journals since 1997, my own since 1982. Tis quite scary to go back and read. But I digress...
My Journey Journals have taken me to Vail, San Fran, the Caribbean, England, Ireland, Wales, Amsterdam, Carolina Beach, Philly, and many more places. In each of these, my man-friends seem to open up the most. Not sure why.
Quotes from some of my best man-friends, in no particular order, and names withheld:
"I am somewhere between whale shit and the bottom of the ocean...I don't even qualify to be her bed (other word actually used here)buddy."
"Cream-based soups make me bloated."
"These beer festivals can only happen once every six months. Hey, is there one next week?"
"I bought it from a crackhead in Greensboro."
"I like dancing to Madonna, and I am not gay."
"Look at the colors! Wait, maybe I am gay."
"I banged who? What?"
"It's not just the choking issue with her, she just has a lot of baggage."
"I don't even have enough credibiltiy with my best friend for him to introduce me to a drug dealer."
"Now I know why women are beaten and put in dumpsters."
See what I mean? Some of these statements are extremely offensive. I acknowledge this. But they make me laugh...and I guess that makes me crackers. Thanks man-friends for endlessly entertaining me. I am so looking forward to 2012.
The holidays are over, and they went quite smoothly. As smoothly as these things go. My regret is that I did not see as many of my friends as I would have liked to. My friends, my chosen family. They are such a diverse group. They have made me who I am, and each and every one has come into my life with a sense of purpose. For instance:
I texted a friend to ask with what topic I should start this blog. About which Piece of my life. He said "Me!"
I am so grateful that my husband has allowed me to maintain and entertain my male friends. SO GRATEFUL! These men crack me the hell up. I have many male friends, and somehow they all seem to be single. Perhaps this is why we are friends, there are no women getting in the way of our relationship. This man-friend Piece has given me so much insight, and laughter with unconsitional acceptance.
I mean no disrespect to my female friends, but there is a certain rawness that is wrong on so many levels, but oh so right. I was told by one of my male friends that I am the only woman in the world he likes (this includes his mother). See? Raw, and real.
This same man has given me so many quotes that I keep in my Journey Journals. Some of you have partaken in these Journals. I have been keeping these journals since 1997, my own since 1982. Tis quite scary to go back and read. But I digress...
My Journey Journals have taken me to Vail, San Fran, the Caribbean, England, Ireland, Wales, Amsterdam, Carolina Beach, Philly, and many more places. In each of these, my man-friends seem to open up the most. Not sure why.
Quotes from some of my best man-friends, in no particular order, and names withheld:
"I am somewhere between whale shit and the bottom of the ocean...I don't even qualify to be her bed (other word actually used here)buddy."
"Cream-based soups make me bloated."
"These beer festivals can only happen once every six months. Hey, is there one next week?"
"I bought it from a crackhead in Greensboro."
"I like dancing to Madonna, and I am not gay."
"Look at the colors! Wait, maybe I am gay."
"I banged who? What?"
"It's not just the choking issue with her, she just has a lot of baggage."
"I don't even have enough credibiltiy with my best friend for him to introduce me to a drug dealer."
"Now I know why women are beaten and put in dumpsters."
See what I mean? Some of these statements are extremely offensive. I acknowledge this. But they make me laugh...and I guess that makes me crackers. Thanks man-friends for endlessly entertaining me. I am so looking forward to 2012.
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