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.
26 January 2012
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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