Bliss
January 13, 2015
I’m driving to the library and “What I Like about You” comes on the radio.
There’s no one else in the car and I have time to listen to the whole thing and pick up the first season of Breaking Bad before I arrive, on time, to fetch my basketball boy and his friends.
I return home. The dishwasher hums, nothing is left in the sink but a half eaten sponge,
Sophie the Sweet just informed me she’d rather nap than walk in the rain, my daughter smells like lip gloss and soap.
My friends love me, my family still calls. I’m not close to being done with anything and I’ve still got plenty of time, (or the ignorant bliss of assumption)
I am just so damn happy to be alive.
I’d Like You to Know- An Open Letter Possibly Directed Towards Certain Younger Members of My Immediate Family
September 12, 2014
I love you.
(Just want to make this clear, I am, by nature a very loving person. It’s safe to say I love almost everyone. Well, like almost everyone. If I’m having a good day. You get the point- as I write these words, love is in my heart.)
Even though I love you, it is not a good time when I go to the store at 8:30 at night to buy you earbuds so that you can get pumped on the way to the game tomorrow.
It is not a barrel of laughs standing in the middle of your bedroom trying to figure out how, in 36 hours, every piece of clothing you have ever warn, in your entire life, seems to be scattered on your floor, draped on over sized pillows, dangling from your music stand, or stuffed under your bed.
I understand that you regard it as a kind gesture on your part to accept my help cleaning it up, but this process, well, also not a day at the beach. Or a day at the dog park. Or even an hour in the dentists office reading People.
I’ve established I’m a pretty nice person to the people in my life. And I don’t regret the late night shopping, or the early morning to mid Saturday afternoon attempts to return order. I didn’t even mind the late nights spent with glue and poster board, a map of Ecuador and your friend with the allergies, whose mom made me move every single piece of food that might have been exposed to peanuts or peanut dust out to our shed. Which meant transporting everything in our cupboards, except the spice rack, outside.
Why did we do the project at our house? Because you wanted my help. I think. (Looking back, it was probably because your friends mom wouldn’t let you listen to the radio, but I’m going to choose, for my purposes here, to go with you wanted my help.
And both of you, or all of you, you all out there- Still want my help on a daily frigging basis.
So why you gotta be so rude? (I can hear the eyeballs rolling as I type.)
How can you act like sitting down to dinner of barbecued chicken, corn on the cob, and rice, is a favor? And that I should be thankful to you to eat the barbecued chicken and rice, the corn is too labor intensive, while sitting next to me. And that I shouldn’t complain when after four minutes you get up to leave. After all, you sat next to me. You didn’t point out that you prefer legs, and mashed potatoes. You didn’t even try to bring it down to the tv room. I got to spend four minutes with you, and you even put your dish somewhere near the sink.
Let me point out, I didn’t even serve a real vegetable in honor of your presence. And that I attempted to look wide awake and interested while you explained, for the 89th times, what “special teams” are in terms of football.
And that just sitting next to me for four minutes isn’t enough.
This is what I want from the people in my life- I would like you to be nice to me.
I would like you to ask about my day before you start walking upstairs to bed.
I would like you to laugh at my jokes. Ok, maybe about a quarter of my jokes. We can work out a signal so that you know that a joke is coming, so that you can laugh. Or chuckle softly. Or even not roll your eyes.
I would like you to say thank you and please when I hand you your laundry instead of pointing out that when Michael’s mom washed your socks, they came back “white, actually, white!!! Can you call her and find out how she did it?”
I would like you to know that sometimes you hurt my feelings.
I know that my feelings are the last things on your mind, and I accept that orchestra, and algebra, and going for a bike ride with Amanda, and procuring money for another trip to Milton House of Pizza, that all of these things are probably a little more on the forefront of your mind than my feelings.
I would like you to know that your friends won’t think you are a complete loser if you say hi to me after the game. And that I will rent Spiderman two if you’ll hold my hand when it gets scary.
And I’d like you to know that even when you hurt my feelings, I get over it pretty quick.
And I start thinking about what it would be like if I stopped driving you to practice, or making sure you have enough money for snacks, or reminding you about the project due on Monday.
Sometimes I have a lot of free time. To think.
I’m just sayin”
Thanks, I think, (It’s not over yet, but I’m sure it will all be ok) AKA I’m not ready to be the mother of teenagers!
August 18, 2014
| This summer, I sat down with my 14 year old son and discussed, in depth, porn and pot. | ||
| I took my 11 year old daughter shopping for a swimsuit. She came out of the dressing room a young woman. A young woman that had discovered what horrible lighting, unforgiving mirrors, and a swim suit one size too small can make can make a person feel like spending the summer on the couch. | ||
| This is not a time that lends itself to facebook posts. | ||
| I look at my son and I swoon when he smiles and I cringe when he opens his mouth. | ||
| I reach for my daughter and she’s left the building or she leans on my shoulder and giggles or she takes a deep breath and explains the world. | ||
| I don’t know what’s happening next. Just that summer is almost just about done and fall means we are all moving on and I wish I could have this summer one more time | ||
| Next year. Cause it’s only going to get more complicated. | ||
| Or just worse. | ||
| It’s going to get worse. And ‘m going to wish I’d appreciated now- these past few months, even with the awkward conversations and sad revelations, more than I did.
After all, there was long games of catch in the back yard, watching Colin’s face beam as he showed me a snake he caught at Ponkapoag Lake, the way Katy still puts her hand in mine when we cross the street, lots and lots of ice cream, and more time than I’d like to admit, curled up in bed, all three of us watching Brooklyn 99 reruns. |
||
| I’m going to wish for a lot of things. | ||
| . | ||
| Growing pains suck. For me. For them. | ||
| But I couldn’t wish for two smarter, cooler, funnier, kinder kids. | ||
| While they sleep upstairs, I count my blessings, pray for help, and thank God for all the memories. | ||
Here I am.
March 2, 2014
I have finally came to the conclusion that my body is a pretty nice place to live. This after a troubling bout with a never ending chest cold, the onset of my fifties, and a life long wish that I was just a little taller.
All my life I’ve been plagued, not only by height envy, (and look at all of the woman lurching around in high heels, I’m not the only one,) but by the vague idea that I would look so much better if my lips were just a little plumper, my belly a little less so, my hair straighter, my feet daintier… The list goes on and on and on.
And then, while I was on the phone with my mom, listening to her tell me about the latest cruise she’s booked, a thousand pounds of envy crashed down on me. Not only did I want to be taller, with a voluptuous smile, a taut tummy, a sleek mane, held up by a delicate instep, I wanted to be all of that and lounging on a deck chair in the sun. On a boat. With a cocktail, a cabana boy, a slew of really good books and a crowd of fascinating people waiting to hear my latest bon mots.
I pulled in my driveway and looked out the window at the dirty snow, the basketball hoop, slightly crooked, perched at the end of the driveway, and the dog poop in the front yard.
My short legs carried me out of the car and into the house. My face was greeted by the most wonderful of dogs, the smiling Sophie. My daughter gave me a hug. My son smiled and asked if I’d remembered to pick up milk.
I didn’t know what we were going to do about dinner. Pizza three nights a week is a little much. And if I was ever going to do anything about this waistline, it probably wasn’t the best option.
It turns out Katy had made macaroni and cheese, and she explained to me she didn’t even use butter, just low fat milk. And Colin offered that we could round the meal off with the grapes in the fridge I’d bought them to bring to school for snacks, (since they never, ever brought them to school for snacks- “see mom, sometimes it works out we don’t listen to you).
And I decided right then, right there, that this body of mine wasn’t such a bad place to live. With a little help from my husband, it had delivered me these two amazing, surly, sweet, funny people. It has carried me thru a life of heartbreak and bliss.
I have not always been kind to this body of mine. Mostly I’ve actually been pretty cruel. Too much sleep, or sulking on sofas. A long love affair with cigarettes, and some serious time indulging in too much wine or dangerous trips to the ladies room. Bacon. Macaroons. Not enough fiber. Not enough water, too much water.
These days, I’m all about Greek yogurt, time at the YMCA and long walks in the woods with the dogs. I love spinach, I don’t eat red meat much. But that’s only been for a little while.
So all things considered, this body of mine has been pretty generous and forgiving. So I think the nicest thing I can do is stop fretting about the lounge chair that doesn’t have my name on it, and the fact that there isn’t a lip stick that is going to make me look like Ms Jolie.
I can still wear high heels, and dream a little. But at the end of the day, this day any way, this body of mine is right where I want to be.
School Vacation Week for Them And A Question for You
February 25, 2013
My kids had mid winter break last week.
My brother had chest pains and had two stents put in his chest; my mom says having two stents put in his chest at 48 is no big deal, the surgery was non invasive.
I got a C on my BioMechanics quiz on Tuesday, my attempt at diagramming the muscles in the upper thigh was pathetic.
My mother in law, currently suffering from the early stages of dementia, was found to have breast cancer at her last checkup. Five minutes after she left the doctor’s office, she told her daughter they needed to go out and celebrate “another perfect checkup.”
When my husband told me this, I started to cry, but then I remembered I was late picking up my best friend’s kids from the school bus. They didn’t have a break this week. So if I was late I couldn’t use my own kids as an excuse. And I didn’t want them to see me crying because then I’d have to explain the whole thing to them and I’d cry more. Or they wouldn’t notice me crying
And I’d cry even more after I dropped them off.
My daughter went to camp. My son, he’s 12, in seventh grade, didn’t want to go to camp. He said he needed time at home to relax. I let him stay home, but made him put clean sheets on my bed, and walk the dog, and fold clothes, even Katy’s clothes, which always end up on the floor. Every morning before I left, I told him to feed the animals. I’m not sure what he fed them. Each night, when I got home, Sophie, Michael and Bijoux all seemed more anxious than usual. So, I’m wondering, did he feed them, or did he just listen to obnoxious music all day and they aren’t used to having him around. Maybe they have an afternoon napping club and he messed them up. So I fed them really large dinners each night.
Other than the C, school was good. Katy had fun at camp. Colin seems more relaxed, but he also announced this morning he is suffering from a severe cold. So I don’t know if he’s relaxed or weak from fever.
Thank God we went away for a weekend. Thank God, I saw my friend, and had a conversation outside of what’s for dinner, or what’s for lunch or whether the special socks are dry. Thank God, there were movies, and time to talk without any agenda, bigger than small talk, but smaller than meaningful… just conversation. And then home, and a drop off of luggage, and we deposited ourselves at another friend’s house for the Oscars. Chicken wings, and skits about boobs, and Captain Kirk as the voice of all wisdom…
And home by 9:30. I’m packed for the gym in the morning. Colin and Katy are ready for school There is milk for their cereal. There is cream for my coffee. There is coffee.
I am at the age where normal, daily life is going to be interrupted by horrible, horrible news. And I need to move forward thru my normal daily life because I am lucky enough to be in the middle of one. My prayers go out to the world, and soon enough, I know, I will be asking that the world pray for me.
Happy February Vacation Week. We are a little closer to springtime tonight and a little closer to death.
Are you an optimist, a pessimist or just plain disgusted with poorly executed transitions?
I’m a little of both, but figure this will pass once the sidewalks are clear and I get a good grade on my midterms.
Mamma leaves the nest… (A good day should always be remembered.)
January 29, 2013
While I was making dinner tonight, I realized I was basking in the glow of a very good day. You know the feeling that lingers- after the moment of accomplishment, a really good compliment or just after you’ve figured out an inspired solution to a difficult problem,(“Im thinking about the time I had to have a discussion with Aunt Joan about her, um, peculiar smell, but she’s still alive so I’ll save that story, and the inspired solution for a few years in the future.) When Katy figured out how to ride her two wheel bicycle, I experienced major glow that lasted for days. When Colin got accepted to an AAU team, my heart fluttered every time I thought about it, every time I looked at him. When I make a meal both of them will eat, happily, no negotiations required, I glide thru the post dinner dance of dishes and counters and searching for tupperware tops.
In the middle of the nightly gotta make dinner two step- chopping peppers and peering into the oven at a chicken, still a pale yellow, except for herbs on his back and the bacon wrapped around his legs, washing the spinach, and searching for more garlic, in the middle of a hectic, rushed, half an hour intended to result in a delicious meal for four, I realized my feet were not touching the ground. That the missing garlic wasn’t making me anxious, or sending me rushing to the market for more. I was happy, and singing along to the radio, and smiling at the cat, who wasn’t smiling back because he isn’t happy with the order of operations. (People eat before pets.)
I had started a class last night, Exercise Facility Management, with an amazing teacher that is in charge of the Quincy Y in Quincy, MA. Unlike a lot of professionals, who take up teaching part-time, she was fascinating, engaging, and able to make a discussion about human resources paperwork interesting. This morning, I signed up to start working with disabled individuals during their workouts in a partnership program with the local YMCA. And I got to spend time with the king of exercise science at Quincy College, Dr. Wayne Westcott. He is enthusiasm personified, and may I just note the man doesn’t drink coffee, doesn’t even know what a munchkin is. During my class time with him, he chose me to help a young lady who had signed up for the wrong glass and had never even been on a piece of cardiorespiratory equipment. It felt terrific to be one introducing this lovely girl to something that just might change her life. And to top it all off, Kathi Schaeffer, my supervisor at the college, made arrangements that will allow me to take on the role of eyes for a blind student during her Nutrtition Lab.
All that good stuff has nothing to do with kids, or dogs, or even music on the radio. It is about having an opportunity to surround myself with amazing, smart people, and the joy I feel when they recognize me in their midst. For the first time in a long time, I have found satisfaction outside my home, away from my family, unaccompanied by a gentle nudge of a cold, wet nose.
I think I’m growing up a little bit. I think I have ventured out of the nest and discovered some parts of the world are pretty wonderful. And the best part of all of this is, tonight, at dinner, if the chicken doesn’t burn, and the spinach isn’t too soggy and we have ketchup for the potatoes, I will be able to talk about all of the wonderful things that happened to me lately. I know Colin and Katy will be happy to listen. Since Colin got a Smart Phone, most of our dinner time conversations have focused on the dangers of the internet, the necessity of me having his passcode, (non-negotiable) and why, even though I’ve taken the test three times, I still fail miserably at his game Are You Prepared for A Zombie Invasion. We could all use a little break, at least until Katy hijacks the conversation with the question I’ve been waiting for… “Mommy, when can I get a smart phone?”
When one of the lovely people I just told you about gives me a job, my dear.
It’s All Been Done
January 21, 2013
It’s Martin Luther King day, February 21, 2013.
In other words, we have survived Christmas, and Christmas vacation, and New Years Eve, and back to school. I started a new semester at Quincy College last week. Work there has been busy, I’ve been lucky enough to have the honor of being part of the team that welcomes first time students. This involved giving speeches, standing in the hallway asking anyone and everyone that looked even a little confused if they needed help finding where they were going, and making phone calls. I’ve spent my whole professional life making phone calls for various reasons and have never tired of talking to strangers, even when they obviously have no interest in talking to me.
And thru all of these days of rest and then return to “real life”, in the back of my mind I’ve been listening to my own thoughts, and observing our own lives… is there anything here that merits sharing whatever it is I’m thinking and we’re doing?
Here’s the thing… Katy and I are still dancing around in the kitchen. Sophie the Wonder Pup is just as delightful as she ever was. She still has dreams of being a bunny, or at least frolicking with a herd of bunnies in a field. That still hasn’t happened.
School is school and work is work. It’s cold outside, I love late nights with the pellet stone breathing and the radio on. Colin is insanely good at basketball and from time to time I see glimpses of the man he is becoming.
I love my friends. I am so lonely sometimes I talk to the person that makes me coffee. I miss the nightlife. Nothing makes me happier than curling up on the sofa with a good book and a glass of wine. Nothing makes me happier than curling up in bed with the remote control, a list of shows on the DVR, and a large glass of water.
I am joyful. I am in despair. I am sleepy. I am caffeinated. The rhythm of my days drags, or it races by so quick I am breathless and struggling to catch up.
I love my children, and I wish they’d stop calling for my help.
I really don’t want them to grow up.
It is January and I’m suffering a case of betwixt and between. I suppose I got off easy, it’s not the flu, and it’s not cancer.
Christmas night Thoughts or Some time without kids so I might as well write something
December 26, 2012
What can I say about Christmas that hasn’t already been said? Silent Night is a lovely song, batteries are a big part of a successful Christmas morning and chocolate kisses are probably not the healthiest way to start the day.
We had dinner at my sister and brother in laws home. Nancy and Jeff don’t see the Colin and Katy that often. This past year my children entered the phase of their lives when their calendars require a full time assistant/chauffeur to keep track of their commitments and get them there. There is not much time is left for the simple joy of watching scary movies with relatives. So tonight after dinner, I left them there. Nancy and Jeff let them have snacks on the bed. Nancy and Jeff let them watch movies where Freddy Krueger is the hero. Nancy will paint Katy’s toenails and Jeff will spend a half an hour talking about the Celtics with Colin. Make that an hour.
So here I am, home alone on Christmas night. I remember when I used to drop them at the sitters when they were little; car seat, diaper, dry cheerios were a delicacy little. I’d pull away from them like I was leaving a particularly horrible job. I’d turn up the radio, call all of my friends to announce I had a window of freedom and meet whoever picked up first for many cocktails and long lubricated conversations about how I loved my babies so much but I really, really needed this time to be me. They would chime in with answers like “you deserve this” and order me another drink another shot, while patting me on that hand and looking at me with pity. Maybe it was the spit up on my blouse, or the dark circles under my eyes. We’d spend a couple hours in the bar, or at someone’s condo or in an intimate little restaurant. Drinking. Bemoaning a life that required me to wipe someone’s bottom at least five times a day. Talking about the need for adult conversation. We talked a lot about how I needed adult conversation, but I don’t recall any of the adult conversation after it’s need was established. Repeatedly. Maybe that’s because of all of the cocktails consumed during these conversations. I know that one of my favorite obsessions then, and I’m sure I shared it with anyone and everyone who would listen, was- how was I going to wean Katy from the breast. (That was how I put it, I swear, the breast, like it wasn’t attached to my body, which if it wasn’t attached to my body, it wouldn’t have been such a big concern.) I don’t really think this qualifies as adult conversation, I’m sure it bored my friends to tears, but for about a year and a half that was pretty much all that was on my sleep deprived little mind.
That was years ago. Tonight when I drove away from them I didn’t even think of calling a friend to meet for a cocktail. It’s Christmas night, the bars are closed. And not having the kids isn’t thrilling me the way it used to. I didn’t get that glorious rush of “I’m free” when I pulled out of the driveway. I just thought about how much I hate the months when it’s dark at five o’clock.
I’m home now. There is a lot of post Christmas cleanup to do. I will turn on the radio and sweep and break down boxes for recycling. I’ll try to figure out why the dishwasher won’t drain. I’ll peel up the goo from the kitchen floor from one of Katy’s science experiments. I’ll throw out the box of fancy chocolates; the kids sampled all of them and ate two. I will feed Colin’s fish and try to find the receipt to $18 Nike Elite socks I went to the mall on Christmas Eve to get; they don’t fit. $18 dollar socks that require two trips to the mall, I’m going to reminding him of that for the next six months every time I want him to clean his room.
I miss them. Not because they would help, and they would. I miss them because they have grown into the people I most want to hang out with. I want to commiserate with Colin and Katy about the measly snow we got, and talk about what the best part of the Christmas pageant was. I want to dance around the kitchen with Katy while the radio plays one of our songs, (most of the songs on the radio are one of our songs.) I want Colin to show my something on youtube I just have to see, which I invariable find totally disgusting or pee in my pants hysterical*.
And now my thoughts turn to all of the mothers tonight without their kids. I’m picking mine up at nine.
All I can say to them is I promise to try to remember each day and each night, I am the luckiest woman in the world.
*I am aware that if Colin reads this he will never, ever show me a youtube video again, and decided I can live with that.
December 14th, 10:54, Silent, Sweet, Sad, Sad Night
December 15, 2012
Tonight, the world doesn’t make much sense to me.
Our corner of the world has a Christmas tree with a crooked angel that opens and closes her arms, not enough lights and tinsel that seems to end up on the floor. Two kids are upstairs sleeping. Sophie the Wondrous and the Magical Dog is staring out the window, waiting for the return of Michael, the Delightful, Disappearing Cat. The dishwasher hums, the radiators rattle, the keyboard clicks.
My world makes sense tonight if I fill my mind with the noises here, right around me. For this, I know I am supremely blessed.
I want to offer prayers, that doesn’t seem to be enough. Hugs, oh my God, hugs? I want to fold the whole wide world inside my arms and have it all make sense and wake up tomorrow to a place where it all does. Make sense.
So tonight, I will pray. Tonight, many, many of us will pray, though some may call it something else.
Tomorrow we will wake up and watch the news, have difficult conversations with our children, shop, wrap, grieve.
And tomorrow night, we will pray again.
Until the night we forget because we are tired, or tipsy, or lost.
Or until the night, the prayers are heard.
We’ll see.
Tonight, the world doesn’t make much sense to me.
Whine and Prayer
November 11, 2012
It started the week before Halloween and I think it’s only going to get worse with the holidays coming.
I went to IParty with my nine year old daughter for the annual search for just the right Halloween costume. I knew when we went I had a limited amount to spend but I’d heard somewhere they were having a Huge Sale, (that intel might have actually come from Katy, my daughter, not a good go to source for the latest in discounts.)
The costumes ranged in price from $20 to $50 dollars, with the lower priced ones were not much more than a polyester sheath accompanied by various cardboard/plastic props.
We don’t have $20 bucks to spend for one night, we don’t have $20 to spend on a pair of jeans right now.
So I checked out Goodwill. I came home with a devil costume, it probably came straight from IParty, plastic trident, plastic horns, a shiny red gown. Katy wasn’t interested; whether it was because she recognized the bag it came in and decided casts offs weren’t going to cut it, or she just wasn’t feeling particularly demonic, I don’t know. Our next door neighbor loaned her her costume from last year. My daughter went out this year as pirate. I had to spring for a $3.00 eye patch from CVS, Thankfully, that was in our budget.
I went to Walmart for candy and spent more on 5 bags of KitKats than I do dinners to last us a weekend. I’m not ready to be the person that shuts off the lights. I parked about a mile away from school that week, saved about $30 on what it costs to park at the garage.
That was Halloween. Now, we are heading, we are crashing towards Christmas. I have no idea how I’m going to pay for a Christmas tree, much less put many presents underneath the damn thing. I have a twelve year old as well, and twelve year olds have expensive tastes.
We live in a pretty well off New England town. We chose this spot because it’s close to the city, because it’s right in the middle of the woods, the schools are good, the people are smart, there are lots of dogs, and parks, and there is a really, really big swimming pool in the center of town where we swim all summer under the pine trees.
Most of the time I’m thrilled with our corner of the world. Sometimes it’s tough when Colin watches his friends go off to practice for a basketball league we can’t afford. Or when I had to explain to Katy that a birthday party was out of the question, the best I could do was take her and her best friend for mani pedi’s.
You know what? Colin points out that he likes having the time to stay on top of his homework and that he can keep his skills sharp at the park down the street. And Katy swears her afternoon with Tue was the best birthday ever.
Maybe all these tough times have something to do with the two incredibly kind children I get to share my life with. They tell me they know things will get better. They tell me they know I do my best. And when they have given me my faith back, and I’m smiling again, I tell them just how lucky we are to have each other.
Sometimes, all of us telling each of us how lucky we are is not enough. When I feel it’s time, I sign up for a shift at Father Bill’s, a local shelter about a mile away. Sometimes we need to stand behind that counter and see the faces of the people in long lines, standing or shuffling in a line on the other side of the counter. Some of the people seem permanently broken, they don’t look up from their plastic tray or the floor or their shoes, they mutter under their breath, or say nothing at all. A lot of them are really, really happy to see us, many of them remember Colin and Katy’s names. They welcome us back and ask how we’re doing in school. Some people just smile as they hold their plates out, meet my eyes, and smile so big and warm, I never feel like my smile is enough.
We need to make sure we spend a lot of times doing whatever we can do this holiday season. We need to make a point of going to Father Bills’s and where ever we can help all year long. My family and I live in a town with a lot of haves, and once in a while I start to feel the stigma of being a member of the have nots. This is a choice that I make, and it is not a choice I am proud of.
I need to be mindful that while I am a part of the this small town in New England where so many have so much, I am grateful that we are welcomed into their midst. Our neighbors and friends are generous in one more ways than one.
But even more important, I need to remember that I am part of a much larger community. I share this earth with many, many people without homes, or hope of living another month, or carrying the grief of loss. I am part of a family of people that share the world, and we all have and we all have not, and we have all been young, and we are all, (or most of us) going to get old. And I will try to celebrate that for right now, I’m alive and I’m sharing my life with some of the most amazing people I have ever known. And I’ve been around awhile.
Amen.
julierichmond 