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Saturday, May 20, 2017

Do You Have Rules?

I was interviewed a few months back for an article on teens/tweens who color their hair for the Wall Street Journal.  I find it interesting that people find this a thing.  I've been coloring my hair pretty regularly (except during pregnancy) since I was 14.

The interviewer was super nice.  I enjoyed doing it.  She asked me a question that made me think:

Do you have rules in your house?

Huh?

Well, do you make your kids go to bed at 10?  Do you have rules about electronics?

Oh, yeah.  My kids think I'm strict.

Really?

My kids go to be bed at 9.  There are no electronics at the dinner table.  We eat together.  We hug often. My kids refer to adults as Mr. or Ms.  I have lots of rules.  Hair isn't one of them.

It got me to thinking about things and what other people might think looking into our family.  My house is unorganized.  I don't always cook the healthiest of dinners.  I'm a fairly unorthodox mom who is struggling to raise two girls who have self esteem, are proud of their smarts and think of the world around them.  But yes, I have rules.

My kids tell me I'm stricter than most of their friends' parents.  But their friends like me (I'm lit, which is apparently good) and tell my girls that.  I'll take that.  We all have or have had interesting colored hair.  I find it odd that there's a perceived correlation between that and rules.  Whatever.  I'll take the label of strict mom with oddly colored hair.

Saturday, May 6, 2017

Sign or Coincidence, I Don't Care

I have, by and large, stopped looking for and believing in signs.  My life is such shit right now that I can only think of signs as punishment.  Plus my very pragmatic boyfriend can always explain them, often in ways I don't like.

This past week has been a tough week.  It's been especially rough as a daughter.  Yesterday, I left my mom's nursing home upset and angry.  As I was making my way home, winding through back roads, I found myself behind a pick up truck.  It swerved to run through all the big puddles.  I was immediately brought back to maybe age 5 or 6.  My mom would do the same thing.  I can remember opening the window and sticking my arm out to see if it would get wet.  I loved that my mom did that.

I did that when my kids were young (and confession time: I still do it if I'm sure there's no pothole under the puddle).  They loved it.  It always made me smile and think of my mom.

It's amazing how splashing through a few puddles can bring me to tears and make the anger subside.  At least a little.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Mr. Flannigan Would Be Proud

When I was little, around age 9 or 10, my mom bought me a bare bones, toy-like metal detector from Radio Shack.  It could find bottle caps, things near the surface of the sand and not much more.  We lived in Ocean City, NJ at that time and I had an ENTIRE BEACH to search for buried treasures.  I loved it.

Around that time, I met a little old man, Mr. Flannigan.  He really was little - I don't think he was much over 5 feet tall.  He had no teeth, unless he was taking his wife to dinner (then he put them in).  He wore the same exact thing every time I saw him.  He was dressed in a brown work suit - the kind mechanics wear.  He had the fanciest metal detector I ever saw.  This thing could find anything - and it did.  He wore a gold lion ring that had emeralds or rubies for eyes and a big diamond in the mouth.  He had all sorts of stuff like that.

He took a liking to me.  He'd bring things up to the surface so I, trailing behind him, could find things.  Often it was coins but once in a while it was jewelry.  I suppose this is where my love of treasure hunting started.  I would see him every summer into my early twenties.  I clearly remember the conversation where I said he'd known me more than half my life.  He was a fascinating old man.

He saw me through braces, my first job (at the Habitat), my first forray into my love of purple hair.  We talked about and met each other's families.  He was important to me.

Now, flash forward thirty years.  A couple of years ago, Andrew got me a metal detector for my birthday.  Not the radio shack version this time - a real one!!  I have gone metal detecting a few times but not often.  I don't get a chance to use it on a regular basis.  But when I do get to go, I love it!

Last weekend, we went to Ocean City, MD.  I needed a beach day.  I needed to search for buried treasure.  It didn't really occur to me that no people on the beach (it is winter, after all) would mean no buried treasure.  I was out there for about an hour before the first beeps started.  There were several beeps over the weekend.  We left with a small haul of....stuff.


We found a few bottle caps (found by Mikaela and me), a hook (that one took me by surprise), a rusty nail (that was pretty far down so I'm excited to know it can react to more than the first inch), a piece of wire and a disfigured penny (found by Andrew).

While I was waving the metal detector from side to side, I thought of Mr. Flannigan and how much fun I had with him.  I hope he knew that.

Monday, February 6, 2017

Half a life done

I have been 50 for a week now.  Fifty.  5-0.  I never really thought about being 50, until I turned 49.  Then I thought about it a lot.

My kids say I don't look 50.  But really, what does 50 look like?  Or, what's it supposed to look like?  I'm okay with how I look but I think I'd be okay if I didn't dye my hair, wear make-up or do whatever else I do.  Really, I've been thinking about what I've done with my life so far.  I told my partner that I felt like my life was passing me by and this was the year to stop allowing that to happen.  But then I thought about what I've done so far.  It's not a bad list.

Ages 1-10:  I was a pain in the ass kid.  I was difficult.  I felt different, which I didn't like.  I had a not-normal family which made me feel like I was different.  I was also clumsy, which didn't help.

Things that stand out in my memory:

1.  I learned to love the beach (or, more accurately, the shore).
2.  I learned that I didn't love school.
3.  I learned girls are mean, except the ones who aren't.  I'm still friends with the nice ones.

Ages 10-20: I was still a pain in the ass kid, but I also learned how to change things I didn't like about myself.

1.  I realized that I really was different from a lot of people.
2.  I behaved badly.
3.  I moved out on my own - and that was great.

Ages 20-30:  I finally got a life.

1.  I moved to an entirely other state (that wasn't NJ).  I never thought I'd do that.  But I did and I never looked back.
2.  I fell in love.  Several times.
3.  I found a profession.

Ages 30-40:  I became a grown up.

1.  I got married.
2.  I had kids - and have become a good mother, much to everyone's surprise (that will be a different blog post).
3.  I learned that no matter what, I end up on my feet.  I can take care of my family and myself.
4.  Oh, probably most important, I didn't die even though I was told I very well might.  Fuck that.

Ages 40-50:  I handle responsibility.

1.  Well, that whole marriage thing didn't really work out so well but I lived through it.
2.  I surrounded myself with people who love me.  I hope they know I love them, too.
3.  I have two teenagers and haven't run away from home yet - major accomplishment.
4.  I learned the role of "daughter" changes.  My girls fill it one way; my role is different with my mom.  It's all okay but they are drastically different.

So, what do the next few decades hold for me?  Obviously, I can't predict anything but there are a few things I can assume with some certainty will happen.  I will have two kids in college.  That will be a shock.  I will get married again.  That will be less of a shock but still a change.  I will hopefully end up somewhere where I can see the ocean on a regular basis.  And hopefully, I will end up happy.  Though, I have to say when I look at my life and all that has happened, I'm surprisingly happy.  I bitch a lot but that's just me.  More happiness is good.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

A Strong Voice

Saturday January 21 was a good day.  It was a good day to be a woman.  It was a good day to be politically active.  It was a great day to be a mother.

I remember the day I realized my mom was a bad ass.  She had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and was losing her ability to walk - but she wasn't giving up.  She came to DC by train and joined me at the Million Mom March.  She was tired of the random shootings (that was just the beginning of a terrible trend) and wanted to do something. Anything.  So she came to participate.  She couldn't actually march so we volunteered and worked at a booth.  She was a rock star. (Once I became a mom and then a single mom, I realized just how much of a rock star she is.  This was one of the first moments of recognition of that fact.)

For those of you too young to remember the march, here's some info:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Million_Mom_March

I've participated in protests when I feel strongly enough about a topic to do so.  But my kids hadn't really had that opportunity yet.  And it's a sticky situation when I teach them one set of values and their dad doesn't agree. While I don't agree with his politics, I do take his feelings into consideration and bringing my kids to a large gathering that had the potential to have violence was tough.  I sat with my partner the night before trying to gauge the potential for problems.  Luckily, those concerns were unwarranted.

My girls were excited but didn't really know what to expect.  None of us did.  I clearly underestimated the number of people who would be on metro.  But folks were fun and friendly and passionate about their (our) rights.  I cannot accurately put into words the feelings of pride I felt while listening to my girls respond "this is what democracy looks like!" to the call of "show me what democracy looks like!"

In the week since the march, the world has changed greatly.  In Russia, domestic violence is no longer a crime.  In the US, the road for women's healthcare has become bumpier. Refugees are suspected terrorists - including children.  The list of marches we'll participate in and the number of times I have to call a member of congress to beg they use their brains increases.  It's like a full time job keeping track of all the changes happening and who to call to stop some of them.

My brain and heart hurt over it all.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Having a part time life

In some of the posts I've written but not published, I wrote about being an oreo.  I'm not fond of the term "sandwich generation".  I don't eat bread and it makes me think of bologna.  I prefer thinking of myself as the fluffy white stuff in the oreo.  One cookie is my mom and the other is my kids.  That works better for me.  It just doesn't feel better.

I have spent much of the last 7 years or so choosing between my mom and my kids.  No, we can't do (whatever activity) because I need to check on my mom.  Or no, I can't go to cvs to get your endless list of stuff because the girls need (fill in the blank).  It's an awful feeling and one that doesn't improve with time.

This week, all four days of it so far, have been different.  I deliberately scheduled a light week for myself.  It because lighter with a day of cancellations.  I like this.  A lot.  I'm a part-time everything this week.  And I'm happy.  So far, I've been able to:

1.  Spend two not rushed, not stressful hours with my mom doing the things she wanted to do.  That included trying on clothes (takes a lot of time with her and isn't easy to do in a wheelchair), cleaning and inventorying her jewelry and just listening to her talk.  I have visited her twice this week and if there's no snow, there will be a third time.  This is highly unusual and yet something I really need to do.

2.  I've cooked every night this week.  We have been adventurous in our cooking, too.  The garlic snow pea shoots were great.  The teriyaki beef was good.  The lo mein wasn't but I made up for it the next day with fried rice with left over stuff and too much soy sauce.  My girls are excited  (!!) about their lunches at school.  In fact, M came home to tell me her friends think I'm "LIT!" because of what we cooked.  I had to clarify that yes, it was a good thing to be lit.  Sigh.

3.  I've had time with Andrew just to be his partner, not running around accomplishing things.  We've enjoyed dinner and made coffee in the morning - things most folks get to do but doesn't happen often in my world.

I am loving every part of this.  I just need to figure out how to make it last.  And now I'm so happy I've made myself tired.  So maybe I'll take a nap.  Because I can!!

Monday, January 2, 2017

It's a new year....again.

I've taken nearly a year off from writing.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I continued to write occasionally.  I just didn't publish anything.  It all seemed angry.  I write this for several reasons but among them is the idea that if I were to suddenly die (not hoping for that), my kids would have something to look back on that tells them something about me.  I don't have much of that from my dad so I want them to have that for me.  Hopefully I'll live a long life and they won't need to read this to know who I am but in the event that isn't in the cards, there's this and I didn't want it to be angry.

Lots happened last year.  I am raising two 15 year old girls.  They have presented challenges that I never imagined.  I think this is the hardest year so far.  There are lots of positive things but the moods, the language, the drama is overwhelming sometimes.

My mother is still alive.  I think that's a good thing, but I'm not sure she does.  I took a temporary job scheduling for an interpreting agency for the last three months which was overwhelming so I feel like I neglected her.  That's not a good feeling.

My house is still a shit hole.  But now I'll have some time to get the things done I wanted to get done.

I hate New Years resolutions.  But I make them.  Among the ones I've made in the past and never accomplished:

1.  To stop swearing. (Fuck that.  I give up.)
2.  To get more organized (A girl can hope.)
3.  To get financially set (I'm better than I was.)

Things I did accomplish:

1.  I eat better.  I eat vegetables a lot.  And for me, I mean A LOT.
2.  I take time for me.  I go to weight watchers every week, no excuses.  I take a jewelry class (but I still feel guilty about it).  I don't alter that schedule.  I have 4 hours every week (3 for class and 1 for ww) that are all about me.  I like this.
3.  I love a lot.  I think my children, my mother, my partner and my friends know how much I love them.  I try to make sure of that.
4.  I laugh a lot.  I have a lot of fun.
5.  I can't think of a 5th thing but I'm sure I accomplished something else....

This year's goals:

1.  To enjoy the time I have with my girls.  I'm well aware it will be over quickly.  College is already on their minds.
2.  To spend better time with my mom.  Instead of worrying about how much time I spend with her (which is still a concern), I want to make sure we do something she enjoys with that time.  I don't want to look back with regret.
3.  I will never be organized like Martha Stewart organized.  But I can reduce the amount of paper that stays in the house.
4.  I'm already eating healthier.  I'm down nearly 40 pounds from this time last year.  But I need to really stop the flour/sugar cycle.  I feel better when I do that.  I just like bread and pasta.....
5.  I want to go somewhere every three months.  It could be a weekend away in a car or a bit longer by plane. I feel like my life is passing me by and I'm still stuck here.

So those are the goals for the year.  No resolutions.  Oh, and maybe I'll write more.