Hey-Ho. Yes, yes, yes of course I have Christmas on my mind like every other stark-raving-mad-MommyDiva this time of year!!! But I wanted to chat with you about something other than the holidays.
I don't know if I've mentioned on the blog that I'm doing legal work again but....I'm doing legal work again. And I'm excited to feel engaged with my career again! The beginning of this road is a little scary but familiar and very satisfying.
Last week I accompanied hubby to court. I wanted to re-acquaint myself with domestic hearings and I wanted to take the opportunity to re-introduce myself to the Judge--who is a lovely woman and excellant Judge, with FIVE children of her own--a true MommyDiva!!! She is an inspiration.
"All Rise" the bailiff announced, in a loud firm voice. As the Judge walked in, the courtroom full of people came to their feet and I felt a strange comfort....this scene was familiar to me...this was not awkward at all (although my heart raced a little for hubby).....
"Hear ye, hear ye" the bailiff continued, and as I scanned the courtroom full of clients, families, court personnel and lawyers I realized there were no female attorneys. Not one. I counted seven or eight attorneys waiting to be heard, sitting with their court files, watching as the female Judge took the bench. In addition, my husband and counsel-opposite sat at their respective tables ready for the hearing, and their presence equaled nine or ten practicing attorneys in the courtroom--all male. I didn't bring this to hubby's attention, and if I had it wouldn't--it couldn't--have meant the same thing to him that it means to me, or to any woman. And I don't put too much emphasis on this fact, really, except to say that I noticed.
And...maybe the next time I'm in that courtroom there willl be at least one practicing female attorney!
Showing posts with label SAHM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SAHM. Show all posts
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
MUCH ADO About....
the Reading Fair???
You bet your sweet ass there is!
If your child hasn't participated in a reading fair you are missing out....on many levels.
Planning & executing is memorable but displaying the board is humbling!
We were feeling good as we walked into the school....my daughter selected Fancy Nancy, which is a purrrrfect choice (I applauded her selection) because she is 'fancy' after all.
The perfect book, the perfect personality that goes with the book...all the stars are lining up...
As if I didn't realize how lackluster my own craft skills are.....we have a gymnasium full of posters to remind me!
But this is HER project I remind myself. She did it. And she's supposed to.
Damn there are some crafty elementary school children, I think as I survey the gym.
I scan my daughter's tri-fold board....The sequin fabric applied as a dress to the hand-drawn body....
the title traced in glue and appropriately glittered.....
her handwriting visible on the board so it is adequately 'homemade'......
Just right I conclude.....UNTIL....
a GIANT paper-machie lighthouse is placed on the cardtable next to us.
My daughter's eyes get as big as saucers, as if to say "Mama LOOK at that."
"Ok honey," I avert my eyes, putting the final touches on our table--the lighthouse is like kryptonite--my God, that thing is HUGE.
"Stand in front of the table and let's get a picture," I say to my daughter.
"Maaaa-ma." She kinda rolls her eyes.....WE are worthy I'm thinking.....
"Do we haaaaave to?" She asks. And like a punch in the gut, there it is....she is no longer ecstatic about her project. "Damn lighthouse," I think. "Dont you have anything better to do? Who is it" I'm thinking while smiling through my teeth at my loving daughter. "Just one pic, honey." She complies.
I hold out my hand and she grabs it firmly. "Ok, let's go to class," I tell my daughter.
On the way out we smile at familiar faces--other adults and children we know.
"Well maybe she's still in it. It's possible. If judges like the homemade look." I think to myself.
As we make our way through the crowd of parents, cardtables and tri-fold boards we are pushed into a nice-looking family presumably of Middle-Eastern descent--the mother is casually dressed with a stylish scarf covering her hair.
What catches my eye as we pass this family is the beautiful, green-glittered styrofoam frog on the tri-fold board.....and the Dad's big ear-to-ear grin...
"You gotta be kiddin' me" I think--"they're not even American!"
My daughter and I make our way toward her room and I can't get the sparkling styrofoam frog outta my mind. Seriously. We should get bonus points for being natural-born citizens, I think as I smile, hug my daughter and wave goodbye. "Have a great day, honey."
Yes. I realize the pettiness of my redneck cracker thoughts.....No. I don't think any other family is less deserving....I was raised to judge people on their character, not by the color of their skin. Who am I to say....maybe their family has lived in this country for generations. Maybe their grandparents have served in the U.S. military, and if they haven't maybe they appreciate this country even more than me because they've seen and lived in other parts of the world where freedom of religion and speech are not part of daily life.
Well....that last part is just blasphemy--'cause there ain't NO family more patriotic than mine.
But whose to say....
You bet your sweet ass there is!
If your child hasn't participated in a reading fair you are missing out....on many levels.
Planning & executing is memorable but displaying the board is humbling!
We were feeling good as we walked into the school....my daughter selected Fancy Nancy, which is a purrrrfect choice (I applauded her selection) because she is 'fancy' after all.
The perfect book, the perfect personality that goes with the book...all the stars are lining up...
As if I didn't realize how lackluster my own craft skills are.....we have a gymnasium full of posters to remind me!
But this is HER project I remind myself. She did it. And she's supposed to.
Damn there are some crafty elementary school children, I think as I survey the gym.
I scan my daughter's tri-fold board....The sequin fabric applied as a dress to the hand-drawn body....
the title traced in glue and appropriately glittered.....
her handwriting visible on the board so it is adequately 'homemade'......
Just right I conclude.....UNTIL....
a GIANT paper-machie lighthouse is placed on the cardtable next to us.
My daughter's eyes get as big as saucers, as if to say "Mama LOOK at that."
"Ok honey," I avert my eyes, putting the final touches on our table--the lighthouse is like kryptonite--my God, that thing is HUGE.
"Stand in front of the table and let's get a picture," I say to my daughter.
"Maaaa-ma." She kinda rolls her eyes.....WE are worthy I'm thinking.....
"Do we haaaaave to?" She asks. And like a punch in the gut, there it is....she is no longer ecstatic about her project. "Damn lighthouse," I think. "Dont you have anything better to do? Who is it" I'm thinking while smiling through my teeth at my loving daughter. "Just one pic, honey." She complies.
I hold out my hand and she grabs it firmly. "Ok, let's go to class," I tell my daughter.
On the way out we smile at familiar faces--other adults and children we know.
"Well maybe she's still in it. It's possible. If judges like the homemade look." I think to myself.
As we make our way through the crowd of parents, cardtables and tri-fold boards we are pushed into a nice-looking family presumably of Middle-Eastern descent--the mother is casually dressed with a stylish scarf covering her hair.
What catches my eye as we pass this family is the beautiful, green-glittered styrofoam frog on the tri-fold board.....and the Dad's big ear-to-ear grin...
"You gotta be kiddin' me" I think--"they're not even American!"
My daughter and I make our way toward her room and I can't get the sparkling styrofoam frog outta my mind. Seriously. We should get bonus points for being natural-born citizens, I think as I smile, hug my daughter and wave goodbye. "Have a great day, honey."
Yes. I realize the pettiness of my redneck cracker thoughts.....No. I don't think any other family is less deserving....I was raised to judge people on their character, not by the color of their skin. Who am I to say....maybe their family has lived in this country for generations. Maybe their grandparents have served in the U.S. military, and if they haven't maybe they appreciate this country even more than me because they've seen and lived in other parts of the world where freedom of religion and speech are not part of daily life.
Well....that last part is just blasphemy--'cause there ain't NO family more patriotic than mine.
But whose to say....
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thanks Willie...
As I walked through our bathroom to the laundry room THIS is what I encountered!No. Growing up in Kentucky we didn't have lizards....or armadillos.
Yes. I jumped outta my skin when I saw him perched on our counter.
Clearly he (or she) are they asexual? Let's call it a 'he'--honey you know Mama lizard back at the ranch holding down the lizard-hole while this dude is runnin' around exploring. So. He is not that big, however, his presence was unexpected and I let out a shrill. Kids run in--"Mama what is it?" "Get me the broom" I say as I march toward the kitchen to the fetch the broom. The kids can't move quickly enough, I think, gotta do it myself--"Mamie can get it," my youngest declares. That's already crossed my mind. Our housekeeper-she picks them up by the tail and casually pitches him-or her-outside. I tried. I walked toward the lizard and took a deep breath.....and even reached for the long tail. Will his tail drop off? Or is that a chameleon? In my mind, I see myself holding the thin tail and the lizard wildly wriggling toward my wrist.....Nope. Can't do it. So I go for the broom. I hold the broom trying to get the small-minded beast to jump on. He races toward the corner of the mirror. I lay the broom out again, hoping he'll race up it and then I'll run outside....
He scoots to the edge of our counter....and then, incredibly, does a 'hail Mary' jump onto the bathroom floor. "Eeeeek" our children scream and run backwards to our closet. "Get in the shower" one of them screams. I'm stunned by the lizard's jump. Damn. Surely he's dead.
He wiggles around....and I begin sweeping him. If I can get him over the threshold and into the hallwayI think, we're almost outside. I give him a firm whack and he rolls into the hallway. As I scoot pass the door and get my broom ready for the next threshold....there stands our faithful dog Willie. Relief! Willie stands firm and looks at me....he senses tension, I see it in his stance.
I give the lizard a tap, "Look Willie," and Willie knows from the tone of my voice he has a treat. Willie braces his legs and eyeballs the little reptile.....before I can speak he pounces the lizard--I see the lizard wriggling--Willie readjusts his mouth and takes the green little varment outside.
Ahhhhh. Willie. Of course. Why didn't I think of him sooner.
I'm slightly embarrassed that I didn't just pick up the lizard.....what would Ma Ingalls have done? She could do it. My Appalachian ancestors could have picked it up--hell, they might have boiled it up for dinner.
I've been thinking lately about how comfortable life is today. I think of the struggles other generations of Americans have faced. I think of the suffering in other parts of the world. As a society and Nation we don't value the Blessings of freedom, of having plenty of food and shelter. When we're too hot we turn up the air conditioning and if we're too cold we turn up the heat. Gotta give a shout-out to hubby Buford T., who builds an exceptional fire and impresses me as a person who could truly live off the land. Me? I'd be fine, as long as I can bring Willie.
Ma Ingalls had a dog, I reassure myself. That's why pioneers had dogs--for protection and help as much as companionship. I'm not advocating we get a covered wagon, move out West and live in a yert, but I do want to be more intentional about counting my Blessings. Like our faithful dog Willie.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
God Bless the USA
Jar your brain hussies and rehearse the lyrics:
from the lakes of Minnesota, to the hills of Tennessee [Southerners let out a "Wha-hoooo"]
Across the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A.
Well there's pride in every American heart,
and its time we stand to say.
That I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me.
Surely you know the rest. Today, on Veteran's Day, belt it out hussies.
In carpool, at the dinner table at bedtime discuss the importance of this day with your children.
I've been thinking this morning about Roy, Earl, John B. and Bill. Our grandfathers who served in WWII and faced the world's biggest challenge--who gave the ultimate sacrifice and never, ever thought their actions were extraordinary. Their wives, our grandmothers, married, delivered babies, and cared for families all under the threat and cloud of war.
The servicemen and women of our military, and their families, confront different dangers and extremism today but face them with the same unparalleled courage and unwavering resolve as generations prior.
We thank them.
We honor all those who serve and we remember all those who died serving.
Let's talk with our children about the importance of these men and women who serve in the military, and their families who continue to live life in their absence.
Sam and I want to give a special shout out to our James stepbrothers who served in the military, and especially to John who packed a gun on the streets of Baghdad, and his wife Tisha who also served in Iraq.
We want to give another special shout to our dear friends the Tannehills, whose Daddy, Rhea, has been serving in Afghanistan for 11 months.....you can go up to our 'Soul Sisters' list and click on thetannehillfamily and check out Robyn and Rhea's website. Robyn is one of my very best friends and I am so proud of the way she held up her precious family while Rhea has been serving in Afghanistan. And of course to Jack Rhea himself--a true patriot. Thanks be to God for men and women like you Rhea!
We also want to give a shout out to the ROTC chapter at Ole Miss. Our brother, Will, serves in the Army ROTC. He and his friends give us faith that the next generation of soldiers will protect and defend this great country with the same honor and courage as those who served before them.
We can't change the world Mommy Divas.
But we can educate & inform our children on meaningful topics like Veteran's Day.
from the lakes of Minnesota, to the hills of Tennessee [Southerners let out a "Wha-hoooo"]
Across the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A.
Well there's pride in every American heart,
and its time we stand to say.
That I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me.
Surely you know the rest. Today, on Veteran's Day, belt it out hussies.
In carpool, at the dinner table at bedtime discuss the importance of this day with your children.
I've been thinking this morning about Roy, Earl, John B. and Bill. Our grandfathers who served in WWII and faced the world's biggest challenge--who gave the ultimate sacrifice and never, ever thought their actions were extraordinary. Their wives, our grandmothers, married, delivered babies, and cared for families all under the threat and cloud of war.
The servicemen and women of our military, and their families, confront different dangers and extremism today but face them with the same unparalleled courage and unwavering resolve as generations prior.
We thank them.
We honor all those who serve and we remember all those who died serving.
Let's talk with our children about the importance of these men and women who serve in the military, and their families who continue to live life in their absence.
Sam and I want to give a special shout out to our James stepbrothers who served in the military, and especially to John who packed a gun on the streets of Baghdad, and his wife Tisha who also served in Iraq.
We want to give another special shout to our dear friends the Tannehills, whose Daddy, Rhea, has been serving in Afghanistan for 11 months.....you can go up to our 'Soul Sisters' list and click on thetannehillfamily and check out Robyn and Rhea's website. Robyn is one of my very best friends and I am so proud of the way she held up her precious family while Rhea has been serving in Afghanistan. And of course to Jack Rhea himself--a true patriot. Thanks be to God for men and women like you Rhea!
We also want to give a shout out to the ROTC chapter at Ole Miss. Our brother, Will, serves in the Army ROTC. He and his friends give us faith that the next generation of soldiers will protect and defend this great country with the same honor and courage as those who served before them.
We can't change the world Mommy Divas.
But we can educate & inform our children on meaningful topics like Veteran's Day.
Monday, November 9, 2009
7:00 a.m.
The digital clock in my husband's car (that I loathe) says 8:13. In fact, it reads 9:13 but I know it's actually 8:13 because of the time change, and of course I have no f-ing clue and no interest in changing the time.
So. I really don't even know where to start. But something tells me the beginning.
I'll start at the beginning but first you should know this is unchartered territory for me.
Writing on the computer, that is.
I pulled into my drive...
(side note: my mother just called my home number, "I'm writing my novella, can't talk." I tell her. "Whaaaat??! Mom says in her best that-sounds-like-a-waste-of-time-and-something-your-father would-be-doing voice. I laugh. "Call you back" I say hurriedly. I'm thinking gotta get this down--get 'it' out of my mind to go on with my day. "Byeee." Mom says and I hear the doubt and sarcasm in her voice.)
So. Unchartered territory. Not the writing but actually sitting down at the computer.
I pulled into my drive awhile ago, and I immediately began looking for a pen. I now keep paper in my car so I can record my thoughts. No pen. I look in console--ahhh, the broken $5 Book Fair purple pen....maybe I can put the pen part....and here's the top with all the fun big beads....no use. My purse. I pull the top of a pen.....and it's broken too. Fuck. I'm gonna have to walk IN the house. Fine.
I walk in the house and grab a pen. No messages, I glance at our machine. I walk outside and get back into the car.
Ahhhhh. My office. My make-shift office. My 'rolling' office--hah!
My favorite hobby is to sit in my car (or my husband's shitty Lexus) and write. I like sitting in my drive-in this office I have a panaromic view of my yard. Which calms me. Depending on the season, I see shades of green, or even vibrant purple when the red-bud trees are blooming. Today there are piles and piles of brown and gold crunchy leaves.
I'm in the car. Comfortable.
The anticipation of writing--uninterrupted is very satisfying.
I'm relaxed--finally! I reach for my notebook. Open it.....flip thru my recent writings to a blank page..... and at the top of the page write 8:13 a.m.
Wait.
Hold on hussy, I tell myself. This is 'beautiful mind' style writing.....again. You told yourself NO more. I mean, I know this is heaven--just sitting and recording your thoughts. And you've worked through a ton of smuck but come on.....the blog? Instead of writing this shit in another notebook.....just document it on the computer. That's why you agreed to do the blog. So you'd have an avenue to share and record your thoughts, impressions and all the crazy shit going thru your fucked-up mind.
All true.
Do you know yourself well. Do you listen to yourself, even when you don't want to??
Sometimes I do. And sometimes I don't. This morning I do.
The beginning.
7:00 a.m.
"Can you take them to school?" John asks. Damn, I think. "Sure." I say. I need to get to the office also and finish discovery for his Dad but.....John does a lot and yes, of course I can.
"Get your clothes girls. You're both old enough to pick out your own outfits."
We should be picking them out the night before. I know this. My fault.
"Girls this is why we pick them out the night before," I tell them.
They're not even listening, or maybe they are.
"He wanted to wear his Halloween shirt." John tells me as I survey the shitty outfit he put on our youngest. I kinda roll my eyes. "What?" John takes issue with my eye-roll. "Hell, he wanted to get himself dressed, it's not a big deal." John is making his case. That's the only thing about 2 lawyers....."Whatever." I say shortly.
I'm thinking of all the cute outfits in his drawers. Fuck it. No time. Not this morning.
Just 30 minutes agoI was sitting blissfully in my den--cup of coffee. It was 6:39 am.
Talking with John."This is one of my favorite things to do--have coffee in the morning with you."
And now...at 7:07 am I'm in the middle of a shit-storm.
"I want pancakes." My youngest says. "Mama, you said we would have pancakes."
No time. I think. Hell, I blew that off at 6:36--I had a choice. Get my ass up to make the cakes, or sit for a minute with John.
"Honey, we'll have them tomorrow." I tell him.
"Mama will make them tomorrow, son." John backs me up.
"Come on girls. Frosted Flakes ok?" I hurry them up. They are dressed.
Not a typical outfit. Cute though. My girls usually don't go for the pants with matching top.
Ahhhh, hell no. We gotta mix it up. They both look darling.
Something tells me I have played subtle role in this---after all, their Mama isn't a matchy, simple person either.
Hmmmm. Sorry 'bout your luck girls, I think.
I'm just complicated, I think. Sometimes.
"NO. I not wearin' those." My 3 year old defiantly tells his Daddy.
"Oh yes you are son. You are gonna wear the green ones." Tennis shoes, that is.
My youngest is in the middle of a full-blown meltdown.
My middle child goes over to console him.
"I want the BLUE ones....." he cries.
Our Daddy is being pushed. "Nope. You're wearing these." John slams his foot into the shoe.
More tears.
The girls finished with cereal have moved on. My middle child playing her Nintendo.
"Get off the Nintendo." John says. She doesn't move.
Ahhhh, hell. I think, listening in the kitchen.
"GET OFF THE NINTENDO" he yells.
He grabs the game, "You are grounded for a week from that thing."
A week? Hell, that's too long, I think. Mama doesn't say a word. Even I know now isn't the time.
7:17 am
Youngest still crying. I walk to car and find his blue tennis shoes.
"Girls, brush your teeth." I tell them.
"Are we gonna be late?" My middle child asks.
"YES!" John responds....."NO" I respond, at the same time.
"You should be leaving now," John says with full authority--like he's the gestapo.
"We're fine." I say.
We have moved onto the BLUE tennis shoes. John has put one shoe on.
"That NOT the right foot......" my son screams. "It hurts me...." More tears.
I walk over with the other BLUE shoe--"honey, yes it is." "NO," he screams.
A boot is laying nearby. "What about the boots?" Anything--for God's sake shut him up.
I know where the other boot is--I found it and washed it. The mat. Also don't forget the sleeping mat in the dryer. And his sleep friend. Kinda wet--the boot. I get the hair dryer.....
7:24
"Alright, y'all gotta go. I'm done....just take him. I'm not doing this anymore." John declares.
The boots don't fit. Damn, these kids have the biggest feet I've ever seen.
John's family. They get that from John's family.
"Girls go ahead and get in the car, please." I say.
My youngest in the floor crying. No shoes.
I scoop him up.....take him to the car and put on our seat belts.
Throw his shoes in the floorboard.
Ahhhh. Somehow Mama is the good witch this am. Ahhhhhh. I like it.
My oldest is dropped off without incident. "Do I have soccer tonight?" she asks. "Yes." I say.
Plenty of time, I think. On schedule.
"Honey, have a great day."
Can't do the spanish I think. It's just too much. No spanish lessons after school. But another language is important, I think. I dunno. But her regular schoolwork....and doing the 'select' soccer team. Just can't do it all.
I turn left to take my middle child to school.
"Mama, I have no breakfast." My youngest says from the backseat "Mama I hungry."
Oh shit. He's right. He never ate. GREat. "Ok honey, we'll get you something," I say.
Look at that beautiful yellow tree." I point, as we are stopped to turn down the street.
"When you were 4, you would've said, 'that tree lost its chlorophyll.' " I remind my middle child, who enjoys these stories. She smiles a big toothless grin.
"And," I continue,
(my daughter loves this, and I must rehearse these stories so I don't forget them!)
"you were 4 when you recited the entire Thanksgiving story." "I know Mama."
"In 1620 the Pilgrims left England for a new home" I continue in my best 'drama' voice.
And I'm thinking, this is MY favorite story about her and generally I love the Pilgrims....
"Ohhhh no. Did I just pass your school?!"
Damn. I did.
"Mama, yes you did. You passed my school. What are you gonna do?"
My middle child is distraught.
7:44 am
No way I can circle back around.
"NO ENTRY...." I see the sign as I turn right into the bus-only entrance.
I follow a white jolopy who is pulling up to the sidewalk.
Here come the teachers---waving wildly at us not to stop at the sidewalk.
My children are mortified. "Daddy never does this," she says.
Daddy doesn't give a shit about the Pilgrims either, I think.
I roll down the window. "You gotta park." The woman yells at me. Her face full of disgust.
I pull into a shaded no-parking spot....."Honey, I can't walk you all the way."
"Mama, just walk up here, you HAVE to." I hold her hand tight. We stomp up the sidewalk to the corner of the school...."Bye Mama" she says lovingly. "Bye honey."
Oh God. I see the bus pull up. I see John's Lexus and driver door open....surely he won't get out.
Surely. He's buckled in the car. He wouldn't get out to follow us.
Ok. "Let's go get you a biscuit." I reassure my son.
7:53 TExt from John Door locked. Love you.
My youngest quietly eats the sausage from his biscuit--not great for his tummy, I think. Oh well.
And drinks his milk. "Ahhh. All gone." He says. Damn, he was thirsty.
"I not go to school." he threatens. "Oh. Ms. Anne Fairley has so many fun things planned."
Still hasn't put on his shoes.
We drive up to the school. Ok. He's eaten.
The mat. Fuck. Later, I'll bring the mat later.
I look around for his shoes. The teacher has opened the car door.
"See his shoes, they are..." I'm straining to reach behind me.
"Wait!"- the teacher yells, "You're movin'...."
I look at the dash "R".....
I quickly reach for the gear and attempt to move the gear--my Iphone is stuck behind it....
I push the phone....I feel us rolling backward--I look in the rear-view mirror, shit!
Get the MFer in park, I think---the P, look for "P."
Ok.
"Sorry....my foot was.....I thought I had put it in park but...." I try and explain.
"No problem," the college-age girl smiles.
Hm-hum. She thinks I'm crazy.
Soooo f-ing cute, well just wait until YOU have kids, a husband and a mortgage, I think.
As I drive off I notice 2 ladies laughing--I know them. I like them both a lot.
Huh.
They saw me. I've become one of 'those Moms.' The bat-shit crazy ones??
Maybe they are laughing at me. Shit. I'd laugh at me.
I was inches from a full-blown catastrophe.....
What if I'd hit the accelerator on accident when in "R" and smashed the Director who was behind us......
Dear Lord.
I wouldn't of. I didn't. Everything's fine.
8:01
Exhausted.
Change this Radio Disney shit.
Ahhhhh. Peace. Enjoying the ubiqutous coffee (got me a decaf at Mickey D's).
As I drive home. I smile. I kinda laugh.
I review our crazy morning in my mind. Just life.
My life isn't perfect. God knows I'm not perfect. Sometimes it's just crazy and mixed-up. Life.
You can't even make-up this stuff.....
BLack Eyed Peas come on.... I turn it up....loud. I'm singing, loudly. Snapping my fingers.
Get out of the way!! I almost run over an elderly woman turning into the animal clinic.
I'm so thankful. And grateful. To be at this point in my life. To feel settled.
I'm now on our road.
My neighbor lost her dog a few days ago.
"Dog Found. Thanks, everyone." The sign in her yard reads.
I'm more than comfortable in our community. I'm home.
I pull up our driveway. There are piles and piles of brown and gold leaves.
I think about our community.
My husband. My church friends. My Mom-friends. My girlfriends. My in-laws.
They've given me more than they will ever know.
Freedom.
Freedom to define myself.
Freedom from the control of my parents bitter separation and divorce.
I want to share my experience. I look for a pen. The purple Book Fair pen, it's broken.
I walk into the house to get a pen.
I walk back to the car.
I sit. Looking out the windows of my rolling-office-hah!
There must be others who could benefit from my experiences.
Other people--women--who sometimes feel alone and isolated even in the midst of family and friends. Not all the time but occassionally.
People who carry the burden of grief, loss, rage or bitterness.....whatever the cause.
My heart is so full, I think.
My husband, my family and my friends gave me the love, strength and courage to let go of the bitterness and sadness. And of course, my God.
The day in the courtyard at Everyday Sisters.
I want the world to know 'the peace that passeth all understanding' is available to everyone.
To anyone.
I reach for my notebook.
I write at the top of the page 8:13 am.
Wait. No more 'beautiful mind' writing. I tell myself.
Today, I listened.
Thanks be to God!
So. I really don't even know where to start. But something tells me the beginning.
I'll start at the beginning but first you should know this is unchartered territory for me.
Writing on the computer, that is.
I pulled into my drive...
(side note: my mother just called my home number, "I'm writing my novella, can't talk." I tell her. "Whaaaat??! Mom says in her best that-sounds-like-a-waste-of-time-and-something-your-father would-be-doing voice. I laugh. "Call you back" I say hurriedly. I'm thinking gotta get this down--get 'it' out of my mind to go on with my day. "Byeee." Mom says and I hear the doubt and sarcasm in her voice.)
So. Unchartered territory. Not the writing but actually sitting down at the computer.
I pulled into my drive awhile ago, and I immediately began looking for a pen. I now keep paper in my car so I can record my thoughts. No pen. I look in console--ahhh, the broken $5 Book Fair purple pen....maybe I can put the pen part....and here's the top with all the fun big beads....no use. My purse. I pull the top of a pen.....and it's broken too. Fuck. I'm gonna have to walk IN the house. Fine.
I walk in the house and grab a pen. No messages, I glance at our machine. I walk outside and get back into the car.
Ahhhhh. My office. My make-shift office. My 'rolling' office--hah!
My favorite hobby is to sit in my car (or my husband's shitty Lexus) and write. I like sitting in my drive-in this office I have a panaromic view of my yard. Which calms me. Depending on the season, I see shades of green, or even vibrant purple when the red-bud trees are blooming. Today there are piles and piles of brown and gold crunchy leaves.
I'm in the car. Comfortable.
The anticipation of writing--uninterrupted is very satisfying.
I'm relaxed--finally! I reach for my notebook. Open it.....flip thru my recent writings to a blank page..... and at the top of the page write 8:13 a.m.
Wait.
Hold on hussy, I tell myself. This is 'beautiful mind' style writing.....again. You told yourself NO more. I mean, I know this is heaven--just sitting and recording your thoughts. And you've worked through a ton of smuck but come on.....the blog? Instead of writing this shit in another notebook.....just document it on the computer. That's why you agreed to do the blog. So you'd have an avenue to share and record your thoughts, impressions and all the crazy shit going thru your fucked-up mind.
All true.
Do you know yourself well. Do you listen to yourself, even when you don't want to??
Sometimes I do. And sometimes I don't. This morning I do.
The beginning.
7:00 a.m.
"Can you take them to school?" John asks. Damn, I think. "Sure." I say. I need to get to the office also and finish discovery for his Dad but.....John does a lot and yes, of course I can.
"Get your clothes girls. You're both old enough to pick out your own outfits."
We should be picking them out the night before. I know this. My fault.
"Girls this is why we pick them out the night before," I tell them.
They're not even listening, or maybe they are.
"He wanted to wear his Halloween shirt." John tells me as I survey the shitty outfit he put on our youngest. I kinda roll my eyes. "What?" John takes issue with my eye-roll. "Hell, he wanted to get himself dressed, it's not a big deal." John is making his case. That's the only thing about 2 lawyers....."Whatever." I say shortly.
I'm thinking of all the cute outfits in his drawers. Fuck it. No time. Not this morning.
Just 30 minutes agoI was sitting blissfully in my den--cup of coffee. It was 6:39 am.
Talking with John."This is one of my favorite things to do--have coffee in the morning with you."
And now...at 7:07 am I'm in the middle of a shit-storm.
"I want pancakes." My youngest says. "Mama, you said we would have pancakes."
No time. I think. Hell, I blew that off at 6:36--I had a choice. Get my ass up to make the cakes, or sit for a minute with John.
"Honey, we'll have them tomorrow." I tell him.
"Mama will make them tomorrow, son." John backs me up.
"Come on girls. Frosted Flakes ok?" I hurry them up. They are dressed.
Not a typical outfit. Cute though. My girls usually don't go for the pants with matching top.
Ahhhh, hell no. We gotta mix it up. They both look darling.
Something tells me I have played subtle role in this---after all, their Mama isn't a matchy, simple person either.
Hmmmm. Sorry 'bout your luck girls, I think.
I'm just complicated, I think. Sometimes.
"NO. I not wearin' those." My 3 year old defiantly tells his Daddy.
"Oh yes you are son. You are gonna wear the green ones." Tennis shoes, that is.
My youngest is in the middle of a full-blown meltdown.
My middle child goes over to console him.
"I want the BLUE ones....." he cries.
Our Daddy is being pushed. "Nope. You're wearing these." John slams his foot into the shoe.
More tears.
The girls finished with cereal have moved on. My middle child playing her Nintendo.
"Get off the Nintendo." John says. She doesn't move.
Ahhhh, hell. I think, listening in the kitchen.
"GET OFF THE NINTENDO" he yells.
He grabs the game, "You are grounded for a week from that thing."
A week? Hell, that's too long, I think. Mama doesn't say a word. Even I know now isn't the time.
7:17 am
Youngest still crying. I walk to car and find his blue tennis shoes.
"Girls, brush your teeth." I tell them.
"Are we gonna be late?" My middle child asks.
"YES!" John responds....."NO" I respond, at the same time.
"You should be leaving now," John says with full authority--like he's the gestapo.
"We're fine." I say.
We have moved onto the BLUE tennis shoes. John has put one shoe on.
"That NOT the right foot......" my son screams. "It hurts me...." More tears.
I walk over with the other BLUE shoe--"honey, yes it is." "NO," he screams.
A boot is laying nearby. "What about the boots?" Anything--for God's sake shut him up.
I know where the other boot is--I found it and washed it. The mat. Also don't forget the sleeping mat in the dryer. And his sleep friend. Kinda wet--the boot. I get the hair dryer.....
7:24
"Alright, y'all gotta go. I'm done....just take him. I'm not doing this anymore." John declares.
The boots don't fit. Damn, these kids have the biggest feet I've ever seen.
John's family. They get that from John's family.
"Girls go ahead and get in the car, please." I say.
My youngest in the floor crying. No shoes.
I scoop him up.....take him to the car and put on our seat belts.
Throw his shoes in the floorboard.
Ahhhh. Somehow Mama is the good witch this am. Ahhhhhh. I like it.
My oldest is dropped off without incident. "Do I have soccer tonight?" she asks. "Yes." I say.
Plenty of time, I think. On schedule.
"Honey, have a great day."
Can't do the spanish I think. It's just too much. No spanish lessons after school. But another language is important, I think. I dunno. But her regular schoolwork....and doing the 'select' soccer team. Just can't do it all.
I turn left to take my middle child to school.
"Mama, I have no breakfast." My youngest says from the backseat "Mama I hungry."
Oh shit. He's right. He never ate. GREat. "Ok honey, we'll get you something," I say.
Look at that beautiful yellow tree." I point, as we are stopped to turn down the street.
"When you were 4, you would've said, 'that tree lost its chlorophyll.' " I remind my middle child, who enjoys these stories. She smiles a big toothless grin.
"And," I continue,
(my daughter loves this, and I must rehearse these stories so I don't forget them!)
"you were 4 when you recited the entire Thanksgiving story." "I know Mama."
"In 1620 the Pilgrims left England for a new home" I continue in my best 'drama' voice.
And I'm thinking, this is MY favorite story about her and generally I love the Pilgrims....
"Ohhhh no. Did I just pass your school?!"
Damn. I did.
"Mama, yes you did. You passed my school. What are you gonna do?"
My middle child is distraught.
7:44 am
No way I can circle back around.
"NO ENTRY...." I see the sign as I turn right into the bus-only entrance.
I follow a white jolopy who is pulling up to the sidewalk.
Here come the teachers---waving wildly at us not to stop at the sidewalk.
My children are mortified. "Daddy never does this," she says.
Daddy doesn't give a shit about the Pilgrims either, I think.
I roll down the window. "You gotta park." The woman yells at me. Her face full of disgust.
I pull into a shaded no-parking spot....."Honey, I can't walk you all the way."
"Mama, just walk up here, you HAVE to." I hold her hand tight. We stomp up the sidewalk to the corner of the school...."Bye Mama" she says lovingly. "Bye honey."
Oh God. I see the bus pull up. I see John's Lexus and driver door open....surely he won't get out.
Surely. He's buckled in the car. He wouldn't get out to follow us.
Ok. "Let's go get you a biscuit." I reassure my son.
7:53 TExt from John Door locked. Love you.
My youngest quietly eats the sausage from his biscuit--not great for his tummy, I think. Oh well.
And drinks his milk. "Ahhh. All gone." He says. Damn, he was thirsty.
"I not go to school." he threatens. "Oh. Ms. Anne Fairley has so many fun things planned."
Still hasn't put on his shoes.
We drive up to the school. Ok. He's eaten.
The mat. Fuck. Later, I'll bring the mat later.
I look around for his shoes. The teacher has opened the car door.
"See his shoes, they are..." I'm straining to reach behind me.
"Wait!"- the teacher yells, "You're movin'...."
I look at the dash "R".....
I quickly reach for the gear and attempt to move the gear--my Iphone is stuck behind it....
I push the phone....I feel us rolling backward--I look in the rear-view mirror, shit!
Get the MFer in park, I think---the P, look for "P."
Ok.
"Sorry....my foot was.....I thought I had put it in park but...." I try and explain.
"No problem," the college-age girl smiles.
Hm-hum. She thinks I'm crazy.
Soooo f-ing cute, well just wait until YOU have kids, a husband and a mortgage, I think.
As I drive off I notice 2 ladies laughing--I know them. I like them both a lot.
Huh.
They saw me. I've become one of 'those Moms.' The bat-shit crazy ones??
Maybe they are laughing at me. Shit. I'd laugh at me.
I was inches from a full-blown catastrophe.....
What if I'd hit the accelerator on accident when in "R" and smashed the Director who was behind us......
Dear Lord.
I wouldn't of. I didn't. Everything's fine.
8:01
Exhausted.
Change this Radio Disney shit.
Ahhhhh. Peace. Enjoying the ubiqutous coffee (got me a decaf at Mickey D's).
As I drive home. I smile. I kinda laugh.
I review our crazy morning in my mind. Just life.
My life isn't perfect. God knows I'm not perfect. Sometimes it's just crazy and mixed-up. Life.
You can't even make-up this stuff.....
BLack Eyed Peas come on.... I turn it up....loud. I'm singing, loudly. Snapping my fingers.
Get out of the way!! I almost run over an elderly woman turning into the animal clinic.
I'm so thankful. And grateful. To be at this point in my life. To feel settled.
I'm now on our road.
My neighbor lost her dog a few days ago.
"Dog Found. Thanks, everyone." The sign in her yard reads.
I'm more than comfortable in our community. I'm home.
I pull up our driveway. There are piles and piles of brown and gold leaves.
I think about our community.
My husband. My church friends. My Mom-friends. My girlfriends. My in-laws.
They've given me more than they will ever know.
Freedom.
Freedom to define myself.
Freedom from the control of my parents bitter separation and divorce.
I want to share my experience. I look for a pen. The purple Book Fair pen, it's broken.
I walk into the house to get a pen.
I walk back to the car.
I sit. Looking out the windows of my rolling-office-hah!
There must be others who could benefit from my experiences.
Other people--women--who sometimes feel alone and isolated even in the midst of family and friends. Not all the time but occassionally.
People who carry the burden of grief, loss, rage or bitterness.....whatever the cause.
My heart is so full, I think.
My husband, my family and my friends gave me the love, strength and courage to let go of the bitterness and sadness. And of course, my God.
The day in the courtyard at Everyday Sisters.
I want the world to know 'the peace that passeth all understanding' is available to everyone.
To anyone.
I reach for my notebook.
I write at the top of the page 8:13 am.
Wait. No more 'beautiful mind' writing. I tell myself.
Today, I listened.
Thanks be to God!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Mistletoe Madness...
Are you familiar with Mistletoe Marketplace??
The annual holiday extravaganza
put on by the Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi.
My soul sister, Robyn, and I have a tradition of attending every year. We normally bunk-up with my darling cousin-in-law, Christie Farese, but this year sick kiddies prompted a change of plans. Do you have a tradition where you 'get away' even for a night with a friend?
Mistletoe is the purrrrfect opportunity!
From the fabulously decorated booths...
to the funky & unique clothing, art and gifts available from vendors across the South...
Mistletoe Marketplace
is a fine example that Mississippi women just know how to throw a party.
These girls are NOT messin' around!!
Once you see, you'll agree Mississippi women take CUTE to a new level.
It's just true.
Give Mississippi #1 in putting-on-a-party....
They are inventive and original with decorating, design, advertising & events.
Beware, it's not simply the party atmosphere that's impressive.
The entire 4-day extravaganza is organized & planned with a corporate precision and effectiveness that would make any CEO green with envy.
The League's primary goal of raising funds for charity is accomplished within the confines of a true holiday wonderland....all executed by a group of dedicated Mommy Divas!!!
The girls at Monogram Magic have a booth that looks like my room in heaven! You can find them online at monogrammagic.com. Pop Fizz, a children's store in Jackson is a must-visit.
You never know when traditions will present themselves on this journey of life
but when they do make a committment to keep them....
Robyn & I have, and we both look forward to our annual Mistletoe trip....
Also--try the recently opened restaurant MINT, in Ridgeland's Regency Center.
Any Mommy Diva will LUV the atmosphere-it's moody & hip.
Executive Chef David Farris is a family friend.
You must have the Appalachicola oysters w/bacon & cheese. And the redfish is fab!
We stayed at the Embassy Suites in Ridgeland and it was v. nice (the Hyatt Place at Regency was booked). In addition to our annual TJMax & Marshall's run (Dr. Ash, the ultimate bargain-finder, I thought of you and Leslie) we hit Anthropologie & JCrew at Regency. Whew.
Wanna give a shout out to Buford T. who held down the fort while we were gone!!!
3 kids, carpool, homework and tests, while getting to court & managing his domestic relations clients all by his lonesome....
Buford T. you may qualify as a Mommy Diva....
nah, I like you better as a hot Daddy!!
The annual holiday extravaganza
put on by the Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi.
My soul sister, Robyn, and I have a tradition of attending every year. We normally bunk-up with my darling cousin-in-law, Christie Farese, but this year sick kiddies prompted a change of plans. Do you have a tradition where you 'get away' even for a night with a friend?
Mistletoe is the purrrrfect opportunity!
From the fabulously decorated booths...
to the funky & unique clothing, art and gifts available from vendors across the South...
Mistletoe Marketplace
is a fine example that Mississippi women just know how to throw a party.
These girls are NOT messin' around!!
Once you see, you'll agree Mississippi women take CUTE to a new level.
It's just true.
Give Mississippi #1 in putting-on-a-party....
They are inventive and original with decorating, design, advertising & events.
Beware, it's not simply the party atmosphere that's impressive.
The entire 4-day extravaganza is organized & planned with a corporate precision and effectiveness that would make any CEO green with envy.
The League's primary goal of raising funds for charity is accomplished within the confines of a true holiday wonderland....all executed by a group of dedicated Mommy Divas!!!
The girls at Monogram Magic have a booth that looks like my room in heaven! You can find them online at monogrammagic.com. Pop Fizz, a children's store in Jackson is a must-visit.
You never know when traditions will present themselves on this journey of life
but when they do make a committment to keep them....
Robyn & I have, and we both look forward to our annual Mistletoe trip....
Also--try the recently opened restaurant MINT, in Ridgeland's Regency Center.
Any Mommy Diva will LUV the atmosphere-it's moody & hip.
Executive Chef David Farris is a family friend.
You must have the Appalachicola oysters w/bacon & cheese. And the redfish is fab!
We stayed at the Embassy Suites in Ridgeland and it was v. nice (the Hyatt Place at Regency was booked). In addition to our annual TJMax & Marshall's run (Dr. Ash, the ultimate bargain-finder, I thought of you and Leslie) we hit Anthropologie & JCrew at Regency. Whew.
Wanna give a shout out to Buford T. who held down the fort while we were gone!!!
3 kids, carpool, homework and tests, while getting to court & managing his domestic relations clients all by his lonesome....
Buford T. you may qualify as a Mommy Diva....
nah, I like you better as a hot Daddy!!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Birthday Boy....
Happy Birthday to our nephew!!! Today--the 25th-- is his special day.
Our nephew who lives in Nashville--Sammy's little boy. (side note--we have another nephew who has a birthday coming up soon!)
We had a pre-birthday slumber party at Nana's (always fun!)
And birthday breakfast at Nana's.....with his cousins!
In fact, we got to spend the entire weekend with Aunt Sammy and her family. What a treat!
Nana & Big Woo are worn-ass out...but we all LOVED it....
I told our nephew how five years ago, when I got 'the call' from FL that he was on the way, my older daughter and I flew down to meet him. In fact, he'd heard this story before--"Aunt Muffin, YOU came down to see me." Yes we did.
My older daughter, who I took with me (she was just shy of 5 herself!), remembers only that Mama got pulled over on the way to the airport.
"Don't you remember how the beach was covered in shells?" I prod my oldest daughter, as I tell my version of our nephew's birth story. "Papa & Gigi were there, and we met them at the hospital. And stayed in the room next to them in the hotel. And he was such a big, pretty boy." I smile and tell my nephew and his cousins.
"Nahh." My oldest daughter responds matter-of-factly. "Mama, I just remember that police man pulling you over for speeding..... And also, Mama remember you hit that thing in the airport--our car hit that thing...." as she motions over-head.
"Yea." Of course I remember, I think.
I barrelled into one of those "clearance" bars. Obviously, the Birmingham airport was in dire need of renovation at the time--you never actually expect to hit one of those things....
Aside from cherishing the memory of being with my sister to welcome her first-born, and holding my precious nephew when he was just a day-old, want to know my other favorite part of Jonathan's birth story??
When I made the mad-dash to FL Buford T. graciously, and lovingly stayed with our second daughter, who was 2 yrs. 3 mos., at the time.
Upon my return from FL, 3 days and 2 nights later, Buford T. had single-handedly undone months of work and attention.
My second daughter was NO LONGER POTTY-TRAINED and she stuttered.
Yep.
It's true.
Further, Buford T. suffers from selective memory loss. He can remember the down and yardage in a 1988 football game against rival Magnolia Heights, but honey, don't expect him to remember the scenario I'm describing to you now.
In fact, it's likely that he will vehemently deny the aformentioned predicament.
MommyDivas you know the truth. That's why I love chatting with you.
In fact, you may have had a similar experience.
Mother knows best.
Our nephew who lives in Nashville--Sammy's little boy. (side note--we have another nephew who has a birthday coming up soon!)
We had a pre-birthday slumber party at Nana's (always fun!)
And birthday breakfast at Nana's.....with his cousins!
In fact, we got to spend the entire weekend with Aunt Sammy and her family. What a treat!
Nana & Big Woo are worn-ass out...but we all LOVED it....
I told our nephew how five years ago, when I got 'the call' from FL that he was on the way, my older daughter and I flew down to meet him. In fact, he'd heard this story before--"Aunt Muffin, YOU came down to see me." Yes we did.
My older daughter, who I took with me (she was just shy of 5 herself!), remembers only that Mama got pulled over on the way to the airport.
"Don't you remember how the beach was covered in shells?" I prod my oldest daughter, as I tell my version of our nephew's birth story. "Papa & Gigi were there, and we met them at the hospital. And stayed in the room next to them in the hotel. And he was such a big, pretty boy." I smile and tell my nephew and his cousins.
"Nahh." My oldest daughter responds matter-of-factly. "Mama, I just remember that police man pulling you over for speeding..... And also, Mama remember you hit that thing in the airport--our car hit that thing...." as she motions over-head.
"Yea." Of course I remember, I think.
I barrelled into one of those "clearance" bars. Obviously, the Birmingham airport was in dire need of renovation at the time--you never actually expect to hit one of those things....
Aside from cherishing the memory of being with my sister to welcome her first-born, and holding my precious nephew when he was just a day-old, want to know my other favorite part of Jonathan's birth story??
When I made the mad-dash to FL Buford T. graciously, and lovingly stayed with our second daughter, who was 2 yrs. 3 mos., at the time.
Upon my return from FL, 3 days and 2 nights later, Buford T. had single-handedly undone months of work and attention.
My second daughter was NO LONGER POTTY-TRAINED and she stuttered.
Yep.
It's true.
Further, Buford T. suffers from selective memory loss. He can remember the down and yardage in a 1988 football game against rival Magnolia Heights, but honey, don't expect him to remember the scenario I'm describing to you now.
In fact, it's likely that he will vehemently deny the aformentioned predicament.
MommyDivas you know the truth. That's why I love chatting with you.
In fact, you may have had a similar experience.
Mother knows best.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Let Them Eat Cake...
This isn't Ms. Ellis' World History class. And I'm not Marie Antoinette.
I could try her "up-do." Would seriously be better than the frizzy, singed-out do I'm sporting these days. (Bangs cut. Sad wave in them. Threw away cheap Conair straightening-iron. And, I need a hot oil treatment--pronto.)
This post isn't about world history.....rather, it's about my failings as a parent.
Yes. I let them eat birthday cake for breakfast.
Listen hussies, I told you I'm worn-out from making decisions for FOUR people everyday.
Thinking, anticipating, planning for FOUR people....Buford T. is on his own. Except when he has to microwave a hot dog--make that thinking and reasoning for FIVE people on a daily basis.
Yes.....I'm aware that my children are young.
Yes.....I'm aware that it takes stamina to raise children.
No. I'm NOT giving up or throwing in the towel......
I simply let them eat cake for breakfast.
We're all out-of-sorts this morning.
Fall break is today. No school. We made plans to go to the zoo and its raining--AGAIN!!!
You people in Seattle (one of my James step-brothers & his wife).....you get the prize for mental toughness. I didn't mind the first TEN days.....we were very dry. No kidding. Since we have a yard to maintain I now appreciate the benefit of a good soaking rain. HOWEVER. That's been many rainy days and nights ago.
Not to mention our wood steps are slick-as-snot. Sorry. It's true.
I fell last week. With heels on. My son witnessed it. I laid there trying to get attention from my daughters, who were waiting for me in the car. No luck. Typical. Little hussies. "Mama, you ok?" The steps are steep enough to warrant a sympathetic initial reaction. "Yes." I respond meekly. Secretly, I'm hoping they tell their Daddy....that's who I really want the sympathy from.
You know, just a little extra attention for Mama......
"Well, if you're ok... come on." My oldest says impatiently, "We're gonna be late!"
Hm-hum.
My boy is worried sick about me for the next week. Every time I get near the steps he warns me, "Mama BE careful." "Mama they wet." "Hold my hand Mama...I hep you."
Sorry. I digressed.
In lieu of the zoo we're going skating. I hope. If it's open.......if not, we'll be at Wal-Mart buying all kinds of worthless shi!......
My new trump card is threatening to embarrass them.
I tell my daughters that I might even roller-skate. (Think Y.M.C.A.--honey, this Mama logged many hours skating in the basement under the glow of a disco ball).
"If either of you throw a fit when it's time to leave, I'll embarrass you like you've never seen."I say curtly.
I can't handle a hissy-fit episode by them today. I think. Not with my shitty bangs, dry hair and our foiled plan to the zoo. "Maaaa-ma." They giggle. "What will you do?" I've stumbled upon an effective game. Now that my oldest is old enough to voice, "Don't embarrass me Mama." I reciprocate. "I'll skate backward," I declare. "Caroline can skate backward," my oldest announces. Huh. Not enough, I think. I won't have a scene.
"Well. I'll drop-down and" [**visual--hands in the air, squat, one-leg out, knee bent, and wobble**] "Nooooo. NO." They wave me off, mid-squat. "Maa-ma. No way."
Success. I'm slightly concerned with their over-reaction--did I look THat bad? Probably.
This is why MommyDivas leave the 'skating' to their children......at all costs you must avoid a wipe-out. Permissible to have on skates to help young children but skating backwards, or otherwise, 'performing' is a complete and total embarrassment to yourself and motherhood. Honey, surely you've 'been-there-done-that!"
Mama, you only have permission to engage in such conduct IF you are retaliating.
And then, you better be certain your body will now move in the same way it did when YOU were in the fourth grade. Doubtful.
I could try her "up-do." Would seriously be better than the frizzy, singed-out do I'm sporting these days. (Bangs cut. Sad wave in them. Threw away cheap Conair straightening-iron. And, I need a hot oil treatment--pronto.)
This post isn't about world history.....rather, it's about my failings as a parent.
Yes. I let them eat birthday cake for breakfast.
Listen hussies, I told you I'm worn-out from making decisions for FOUR people everyday.
Thinking, anticipating, planning for FOUR people....Buford T. is on his own. Except when he has to microwave a hot dog--make that thinking and reasoning for FIVE people on a daily basis.
Yes.....I'm aware that my children are young.
Yes.....I'm aware that it takes stamina to raise children.
No. I'm NOT giving up or throwing in the towel......
I simply let them eat cake for breakfast.
We're all out-of-sorts this morning.
Fall break is today. No school. We made plans to go to the zoo and its raining--AGAIN!!!
You people in Seattle (one of my James step-brothers & his wife).....you get the prize for mental toughness. I didn't mind the first TEN days.....we were very dry. No kidding. Since we have a yard to maintain I now appreciate the benefit of a good soaking rain. HOWEVER. That's been many rainy days and nights ago.
Not to mention our wood steps are slick-as-snot. Sorry. It's true.
I fell last week. With heels on. My son witnessed it. I laid there trying to get attention from my daughters, who were waiting for me in the car. No luck. Typical. Little hussies. "Mama, you ok?" The steps are steep enough to warrant a sympathetic initial reaction. "Yes." I respond meekly. Secretly, I'm hoping they tell their Daddy....that's who I really want the sympathy from.
You know, just a little extra attention for Mama......
"Well, if you're ok... come on." My oldest says impatiently, "We're gonna be late!"
Hm-hum.
My boy is worried sick about me for the next week. Every time I get near the steps he warns me, "Mama BE careful." "Mama they wet." "Hold my hand Mama...I hep you."
Sorry. I digressed.
In lieu of the zoo we're going skating. I hope. If it's open.......if not, we'll be at Wal-Mart buying all kinds of worthless shi!......
My new trump card is threatening to embarrass them.
I tell my daughters that I might even roller-skate. (Think Y.M.C.A.--honey, this Mama logged many hours skating in the basement under the glow of a disco ball).
"If either of you throw a fit when it's time to leave, I'll embarrass you like you've never seen."I say curtly.
I can't handle a hissy-fit episode by them today. I think. Not with my shitty bangs, dry hair and our foiled plan to the zoo. "Maaaa-ma." They giggle. "What will you do?" I've stumbled upon an effective game. Now that my oldest is old enough to voice, "Don't embarrass me Mama." I reciprocate. "I'll skate backward," I declare. "Caroline can skate backward," my oldest announces. Huh. Not enough, I think. I won't have a scene.
"Well. I'll drop-down and" [**visual--hands in the air, squat, one-leg out, knee bent, and wobble**] "Nooooo. NO." They wave me off, mid-squat. "Maa-ma. No way."
Success. I'm slightly concerned with their over-reaction--did I look THat bad? Probably.
This is why MommyDivas leave the 'skating' to their children......at all costs you must avoid a wipe-out. Permissible to have on skates to help young children but skating backwards, or otherwise, 'performing' is a complete and total embarrassment to yourself and motherhood. Honey, surely you've 'been-there-done-that!"
Mama, you only have permission to engage in such conduct IF you are retaliating.
And then, you better be certain your body will now move in the same way it did when YOU were in the fourth grade. Doubtful.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
MommyDiva is Born...or Buh-Bye Soccer Mom, Hello MommyDiva!
No. No. No.
It's not 1971.....
And no, I'm not doing a post on birth stories (later).....
Yet, I'm quite sure a MommyDiva was 'born' today-- a stellar woman having given birth to a precious child!
So. Having given birth to 3 precious children and having exited the legal profession--for a variety of reasons (later)--I was impatient about staying home exclusively and not doing any 'paid work.' Our youngest was 7 months. I had a housekeeper 2 days a week, I think. My oldest in school full-time and the middle at pre-school half-day. I give you this information because it is pertinent to my situation at the time. Until all 3 of my children were in school full-time (8-3) I would not pursue my legal career again.
I decided to pursue something completely different than what I was trained to do.
Hosting trunk shows and selling women's clothing would be exciting and fun. A challenge. I would also get a discount on the clothing. Perfect. I could be at home full-time but be involved in a business venture.
I had to name the new agency. Hmmmmm.
I envisioned my girlfriends (those who live here and those out-of-town), and other women in town who I thought might be interested in the clothes.
Some of these women work. Some stay-home. Some of them have part-time work.
Most of them have children.
They are professionals. They are artists. They are innovators.
"Girls playing dress-up" kept coming to mind. Every woman I know is a 'girl' at heart.
Don't the boys know this? Just like every man is a 'boy' at heart. We are no different.
It's just a matter of peeling back the layers of responsibility and anxiety we face, daily, as mothers.
Somehow 'girls' didn't do my friends and acquaintances justice.
We like to be 'girly.' But we have also faced and survived....lived to tell about and share meaningful life experiences. These women deserve more, I thought. "Girls" isn't enough.
And, it's not about whether you work or stay-home, I concluded.
(MommyWars are OUT!)
It's about mothering our children.
It's about being the very best mother we can be.
It's about maintaining our individuality as women, while mothering. We must.
Soooooooo. MommyDiva.
MommyDiva??? Is that gay sounding?? Who the fu$! cares-I like it.
Mamadiva? No--too southern.
mommydiva? That shi! reminds me of ee cummings.....
MommyDiva.
Huh. I love it, I thought. Yea. MommyDiva. That's it. That's the name I'll give my new agency.
My friends...childhood, college, law-school, and adult--these women in my life are MommyDivas.
My mother...who continues to mother even though her 2 daughters have children of their own!
My sister...who has children AND is bringing home the bacon AND frying it up in the pan....
There are MommyDivas everywhere.
Single MommyDivas. Married MommyDivas.
MommyDivas of all racial and ethnic backgrounds.
We don't cease to be women with wants, desires and needs when we become mothers.
On the contrary, we should view our individuality as a responsibility to our family and children.
Honey, if Mama ain't happy, nobody is happy.
It's ok to say that mothering is one aspect of my life. Not my entire life.
Do you hear me hussy? It's ok. Do something for yourself. Do something aside from kids.
Claim your individuality MommyDiva!
I remember both parents telling me, you can never know how much a parent loves a child until you have your own. And I understand now. There is no greater reward than motherhood.
And no bigger challenge.....except being a wife.
I don't remember anyone telling me--ever-- how essential maintaing my individuality as a woman is to being an emotionally healthy, effective mother.
WE are the women who now carry the torch of motherhood.....
Buh-by 'soocer Mom.'
Hellooooooooo Mommy Diva!!!
It's not 1971.....
And no, I'm not doing a post on birth stories (later).....
Yet, I'm quite sure a MommyDiva was 'born' today-- a stellar woman having given birth to a precious child!
So. Having given birth to 3 precious children and having exited the legal profession--for a variety of reasons (later)--I was impatient about staying home exclusively and not doing any 'paid work.' Our youngest was 7 months. I had a housekeeper 2 days a week, I think. My oldest in school full-time and the middle at pre-school half-day. I give you this information because it is pertinent to my situation at the time. Until all 3 of my children were in school full-time (8-3) I would not pursue my legal career again.
I decided to pursue something completely different than what I was trained to do.
Hosting trunk shows and selling women's clothing would be exciting and fun. A challenge. I would also get a discount on the clothing. Perfect. I could be at home full-time but be involved in a business venture.
I had to name the new agency. Hmmmmm.
I envisioned my girlfriends (those who live here and those out-of-town), and other women in town who I thought might be interested in the clothes.
Some of these women work. Some stay-home. Some of them have part-time work.
Most of them have children.
They are professionals. They are artists. They are innovators.
"Girls playing dress-up" kept coming to mind. Every woman I know is a 'girl' at heart.
Don't the boys know this? Just like every man is a 'boy' at heart. We are no different.
It's just a matter of peeling back the layers of responsibility and anxiety we face, daily, as mothers.
Somehow 'girls' didn't do my friends and acquaintances justice.
We like to be 'girly.' But we have also faced and survived....lived to tell about and share meaningful life experiences. These women deserve more, I thought. "Girls" isn't enough.
And, it's not about whether you work or stay-home, I concluded.
(MommyWars are OUT!)
It's about mothering our children.
It's about being the very best mother we can be.
It's about maintaining our individuality as women, while mothering. We must.
Soooooooo. MommyDiva.
MommyDiva??? Is that gay sounding?? Who the fu$! cares-I like it.
Mamadiva? No--too southern.
mommydiva? That shi! reminds me of ee cummings.....
MommyDiva.
Huh. I love it, I thought. Yea. MommyDiva. That's it. That's the name I'll give my new agency.
My friends...childhood, college, law-school, and adult--these women in my life are MommyDivas.
My mother...who continues to mother even though her 2 daughters have children of their own!
My sister...who has children AND is bringing home the bacon AND frying it up in the pan....
There are MommyDivas everywhere.
Single MommyDivas. Married MommyDivas.
MommyDivas of all racial and ethnic backgrounds.
We don't cease to be women with wants, desires and needs when we become mothers.
On the contrary, we should view our individuality as a responsibility to our family and children.
Honey, if Mama ain't happy, nobody is happy.
It's ok to say that mothering is one aspect of my life. Not my entire life.
Do you hear me hussy? It's ok. Do something for yourself. Do something aside from kids.
Claim your individuality MommyDiva!
I remember both parents telling me, you can never know how much a parent loves a child until you have your own. And I understand now. There is no greater reward than motherhood.
And no bigger challenge.....except being a wife.
I don't remember anyone telling me--ever-- how essential maintaing my individuality as a woman is to being an emotionally healthy, effective mother.
WE are the women who now carry the torch of motherhood.....
Buh-by 'soocer Mom.'
Hellooooooooo Mommy Diva!!!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
MommyDiva Goes NUTS.....
This MommyDiva went NUTS yesterday......And I just had to tell you about it!
My little boyfriend was home sick from pre-school.
So. I'm home-again-for the day with my 3 year old son.
Like any good romance my son and I had an extraordinary honeymoon. In fact, the honeymoon with my litle boyfriend, who IS a "mini-me" of my darling hubby, lasted.....gosh, a good 2 1/2 years! Quite a romance. I fell HARD for this little man. You know, the last child (**crossing myself, thank you God for our Blessings but my heart is full**) and after 2 girls--a baby boy. Ahhhhhhh.
I would not have believed, nor would I have wanted to hear, or listen, when girlfriends said "a boy is just different." Alas, they are. But just like any good romance, our 'honeymoon' came to an end. It's bound to happen. The euphoria--the incredible, sensational overwhelming joy, and thrill, that flows from a new romance. So, when he received his first spank-down I declared the honeymoon over and I mourned, a little.
As relationships do, we have entered a bit of a 'dysfunctional stage.'
You know.....I frequently ask my little boyfriend, "Why are you yelling at me?"
Or, I find myself telling my little boyfriend, "You're just rude to me. Ask nicely."
Finally, my daughters will say to me, "Do something Mama. Aren't you going to spank him?"
Normally, yes. But MommyDivas.....I'm tired. And well he's only 39 months old. I mean he's been on this Earth....not very long. So, I give him some breaks.
Yesterday he and I had a fight. Over Lincoln Logs. I was helping him build a house.
"Play wif me Mama," he asks sweetly. Ok. Ok. So we're on the floor and I'm building a stellar cabin. When the devil appears. "NO!" "Not like that Mama." As 3 yr. olds do, he is trying to put the shorter log on the side.....and it doesn't fit......and I try and correct him.....and it just goes down him from there. I get pissed at me--and him--because I'm on the floor 'playing' after all.
Neither of us wants to be home.
He's better. And I want to be in a nice office practicing law somewhere, checking email and drinking coffee.
So. We venture OUTSIDE and go NUTS!!!
Truly. Walking around my yard always calms me down.
My son hops in his miniature Gator.....and collects sticks (doing man's work) "I workin' Mama."
And as we're collecting sticks, he spots an acorn. He laughs a big laugh at the little nut, holding it in his pudgy hand.
"His hat come off, Mama." Yes, it did I think. And I start collecting acorns with him. This collecting becomes a game. "Let's get a bag," I tell him. "Yea." He says excitedly.
And, as we gather acorns I am struck at the beauty and variety of their colors. Ranging from deep chocolate.....to a limey green. My favorites are the 'double acorns' and the ones that have a little stem.
I begin to have grandiose ideas......I can make wreaths for all of my windows.
I am Martha--I can do it.
The nuts are still in a pile. I doubt I'll take the time to hot-glue them to anything.
Of course, I'll have to buy a hot-glue gun first.
But getting outside. Collecting acorns.
Just being present in this wide-open world God made.
Prevented this MommyDiva from going NUTS......
My little boyfriend was home sick from pre-school.
So. I'm home-again-for the day with my 3 year old son.
Like any good romance my son and I had an extraordinary honeymoon. In fact, the honeymoon with my litle boyfriend, who IS a "mini-me" of my darling hubby, lasted.....gosh, a good 2 1/2 years! Quite a romance. I fell HARD for this little man. You know, the last child (**crossing myself, thank you God for our Blessings but my heart is full**) and after 2 girls--a baby boy. Ahhhhhhh.
I would not have believed, nor would I have wanted to hear, or listen, when girlfriends said "a boy is just different." Alas, they are. But just like any good romance, our 'honeymoon' came to an end. It's bound to happen. The euphoria--the incredible, sensational overwhelming joy, and thrill, that flows from a new romance. So, when he received his first spank-down I declared the honeymoon over and I mourned, a little.
As relationships do, we have entered a bit of a 'dysfunctional stage.'
You know.....I frequently ask my little boyfriend, "Why are you yelling at me?"
Or, I find myself telling my little boyfriend, "You're just rude to me. Ask nicely."
Finally, my daughters will say to me, "Do something Mama. Aren't you going to spank him?"
Normally, yes. But MommyDivas.....I'm tired. And well he's only 39 months old. I mean he's been on this Earth....not very long. So, I give him some breaks.
Yesterday he and I had a fight. Over Lincoln Logs. I was helping him build a house.
"Play wif me Mama," he asks sweetly. Ok. Ok. So we're on the floor and I'm building a stellar cabin. When the devil appears. "NO!" "Not like that Mama." As 3 yr. olds do, he is trying to put the shorter log on the side.....and it doesn't fit......and I try and correct him.....and it just goes down him from there. I get pissed at me--and him--because I'm on the floor 'playing' after all.
Neither of us wants to be home.
He's better. And I want to be in a nice office practicing law somewhere, checking email and drinking coffee.
So. We venture OUTSIDE and go NUTS!!!
Truly. Walking around my yard always calms me down.
My son hops in his miniature Gator.....and collects sticks (doing man's work) "I workin' Mama."
And as we're collecting sticks, he spots an acorn. He laughs a big laugh at the little nut, holding it in his pudgy hand.
"His hat come off, Mama." Yes, it did I think. And I start collecting acorns with him. This collecting becomes a game. "Let's get a bag," I tell him. "Yea." He says excitedly.
And, as we gather acorns I am struck at the beauty and variety of their colors. Ranging from deep chocolate.....to a limey green. My favorites are the 'double acorns' and the ones that have a little stem.
I begin to have grandiose ideas......I can make wreaths for all of my windows.
I am Martha--I can do it.
The nuts are still in a pile. I doubt I'll take the time to hot-glue them to anything.
Of course, I'll have to buy a hot-glue gun first.
But getting outside. Collecting acorns.
Just being present in this wide-open world God made.
Prevented this MommyDiva from going NUTS......
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