me

cherry pie, high heeled shoes, and unconditional love

Once upon a time there was a little red haired girl.
She loved books and babydolls, green army men and Barbies.
She wanted to be a mommy and a teacher when she grew up.
She loved scrambled eggs and cherry pie.
She loved to play dress up…especially with high heeled shoes.
She had a great big laugh, way bigger than her little body could even hold.
She had her tonsils taken out and also had scarlet fever.
She wrecked her bike…a lot.
She was an excellent tree climber.
She loved to swing.
She loved the smell of lilacs.

She is me.
I am she.

Now I am a grown up red haired girl.
I still love books and babydolls and Barbies.
I am a mommy and a teacher.
I still love scrambled eggs and cherry pie.
I absolutely love high heeled shoes.
I still have a great big laugh.
I had LASIK and a hysterectomy.
I’ve never wrecked my car.
I miss climbing trees.
I don’t love to swing anymore…it makes me queasy now.
I still love the smell of lilacs.

That little girl had some seriously great adventures…some not so great, but she learned from them, the good, the bad, the indifferent. She learned how to become me. And she worked hard to learn how to love being me. I’m grateful for every little thing she experienced.

I remember being her.
I am being me because I was her.

Occasionally, I realize I should treat the me I am now the way I want that little girl to be treated…with kindness and respect and an unending supply of unconditional love.
I realize we should all experience that kind of love.

And get to wear high heeled shoes.

Categories: love, me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

wondering how you are

My friend and mentor texted me this morning: Wondering how you are.
Four simple words made the tears come.
And I’d been holding it together pretty well. (Or I’m getting really good at fooling myself.)

The funny thing is…earlier this morning I was thinking how much I missed Thing 2’s little face, and then it hit me, what I miss most is hearing her voice. Especially her giggle.
That kid has the most infectious giggle you’ve ever heard! Thing 1 once said that if she had to lose one of her senses, she wouldn’t want it to be her hearing because she didn’t know if she could live without hearing Thing 2’s giggle.
(In fact, Thing 2’s giggle is one of my four favorite sounds; the others are Thing 1 saying, “mommy”, the crack of a baseball bat making perfect contact with the ball, and a sound YBW makes when he sleeps.)

But I digress…
My friend and mentor asked if I had video of Thing 2. It’s curious, I have all the photos, but her dad has all the videos, so no, I don’t.
But then I realized I had a 55 second video on my phone of Thing 2 and my niece, Girlie Thing being goofy one afternoon in August. So I rubbed salt in my wound and watched it and here’s what I discovered:
1. Thing 2 sounds quite a bit like me. No longer does she have that squeaky little girl voice, but a strong, rich alto. I was surprised by how much she sounds like me.
2. The giggles you hear more than anyone’s are mine.
3. Girlie Thing and Thing 2 were destined to be in each other’s lives.

Thing 2 and Girlie Thing were being silly and I was so amused, I began to film them.
Thing 2 caught me and said, “Stop filming us!”
She flashed me the ‘double finger’ and said, “Ha! Now you can’t post this!” Then the fingers again.
I laughed and said, “I’m just keeping it for fun.”
“To watch when you’re sad?” She asked.
I giggled and said, “Yes.”
Girlie Thing said, “Yeah, save it for when you miss me.”

Um…are these girls psychic? Am I? Did we know the world as we knew it was about to implode?
No. We were just having a fun afternoon hanging out…each of us thinking it was one afternoon out of the hundreds to come…
It isn’t. There aren’t any more coming…at least not yet.

YBW was ironing new dining room curtains (I know! Isn’t he the BEST!?!) while I was on the phone with Thing 1 the other day. When I hung up, he said something to the effect of, I noticed you didn’t say anything to Thing 1 about what’s going on with Thing 2.
My reply was, “It’s not my story to tell.”
He seemed to feel very strongly it was and was all, next time you talk to Thing 1 she’s going to be like, Mommy why didn’t you tell me about Thing 2?
I don’t know.
Thing 2 might not have the balls to tell her sister.
Or my real fear: Thing 1 will applaud Thing 2. (Does that make me paranoid?)

My darling sister-in-law texted me expressing her love and support after she read my last post, and asking why I didn’t call her with this news.
I don’t know.
I’m still figuring out how to function with it.
I love her so for reaching out to me when I know how hard it is for her.

I packed up all Thing 2’s belongings from her home here and sent them in a box to her home there. Good God, that was painful, packing her meds and clothes and special stuffed animals. I almost kept her favorite special sleeping lovey, Lamby. Not out of spite, but because I felt I wanted to keep a precious part of her. I even wrote her a note explaining why I kept Lamby and sealed up the box. It rode around in the backseat of my car for a week before I actually sent it…and in the meantime, I wrote a new note and put Lamby in the box. Lamby belongs to her, not me.

I am overwhelmed and I feel quiet.
I should be finishing up a paper for school as my term ends next week…I don’t want to write about American History, I don’t want to think about Economics. I want to hug my sweet baby and hear her voice.

As Grandaddy would have said, “You’re old enough for your wants not to hurt you.”

So I’m going back to work…then I’m going to snuggle on the sofa with YBW.

Categories: loss, love, me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

preschool might be fun after all

I finally got my classroom set up in a way I feel will be successful for the friends and for me.

art center in the foreground

art center in the foreground

manipulatives, books and the cozy corner

housekeeping, cozy corner, books, and manipulatives

raspberry scented playdough on the table, block center, and housekeeping

raspberry scented playdough on the table, block center, and housekeeping

I’m slowly adjusting to the new way of being…no more tears, but I meet with the director a LOT! You know how Gandhi said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”?
Yeah, that’s me. I wasn’t ready to be the lightning rod of change, but the mantle has been draped upon me so I’ll do my best to rock it.

YBW says, “You are a F*&#ING ROCKSTAR!”
My internal jury is still out on that, but it sure is good to hear!

Categories: education, me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

preschool is not as fun as I remember

First week at my new preschool and instead of feeling overjoyed, I just want to cry.

This process of adjusting is never easy for me but I am especially struggling with adjusting to this new school. Part of the problem is the school isn’t exactly what it claims to be…Reggio inspired emergent curriculum, conscious discipline…it means well, but it surely isn’t meeting my expectations based on what I was sold.
I’m being assured by the director and compliance manager I’m exactly what they want and need…I’ll bring to the table everything that is lacking as well as my passion and energy for young children. Only I don’t want to reinvent the wheel…I want to teach two year olds, not train staff!
If only my friend and mentor could come spend time here…these people could seriously use her expertise.

I’m struggling with how to process these conflicting feelings…how to find balance between my desire to teach young children and my serious concerns about this new school.
Am I overreacting? (I’m not above admitting it’s quite possible.)
I know I’m having trouble getting my groove on.

I’m not sure how to talk to YBW about this, not that he wouldn’t be a good listener because he would, but I’m afraid I’d feel the need to over-explain everything so he could sort of…I don’t know…catch up?
Maybe I don’t want him to know how unhappy I am. I’m not exactly sure he would understand that it isn’t a reflection of him.

Perhaps I don’t want to consider how unhappy I actually am.

It isn’t the move or being away from Thing 2…though both of these impact me every single day.
Being here has made me feel as though I belong for the first time since I had to leave my first SC home. I am safe and I am loved.
Thing 2 and I are good too. We talk often and text and she’ll be back in two weeks!

I really am so very unhappy about this job.
Whoa! That was VERY important! The fact I used the word ‘job’ and not ‘school’ is seriously telling. I’ve never thought of teaching two year olds as work…I went to school every day…this is me thinking of it as a job. Must pay attention.

I know I need to allow myself more time to adjust.
I’m not ready to throw up my arms and “rage quit”. (Thing 2ism)
My desire to see what can be is very big…my stubbornness is ready to fight for what I hope this can end up being.
But honestly, I just want to lie in my cocoon and cry, because something inside of me knows this isn’t right. And quite possibly won’t ever be.

Gotta breathe.
And just keep breathing.

Categories: education, me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

settling in

Well, I’ve been at home with YBW for nine days…in the first two days I landed a cold, he so kindly shared his germs with not only me, but his own two Things. My Thing 2 was miraculously untouched by these icky germs. (If you knew her and her immune system this would be ubershocking.) 

The fact we were all sick kind of put a damper on the fun we had planned before his two Things went back to their mom’s, and also cut into our special YBW, Robynbird, and Thing 2 time.
So the last nine days have been less productive (oh how this frustrates me) than hoped, also less “normal”. But we’re all finally beginning to feel human again…except Thing 2 finally succumbed to the icky germs yesterday. (DAMMIT!)

I finally began to open boxes of books and began to breathe. What is it that makes me feel so strongly about those books? I have no idea, but I can tell you how happy I was to unpack, stack and shelve them! Thing 2, with her uncanny timing, wandered in just in time to read about her boyfriend’s birthday in the Birthday book and their compatibility in the Relationship book.

a few stacks waiting to be shelved

a few stacks waiting to be shelved

a few yet to be unpacked

a few boxes yet to be unpacked

Thing 2 is "helping"

Thing 2 is “helping”

The bookshelf is no longer naked and my books can breathe again…
Recovering diningroom chairs and unpacking kitchen items are up next. The kitchen will be a curious event…

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But where are the feels?

Everyone keeps asking if I’m “so excited”. Of course, I say I am but I’m sitting here this morning and I’m feeling pretty much anything but excited.
This morning I’m pouting because (I am not really a grown up) I can’t swing a visit with my friend and mentor before I leave next week.
I’m pouting, but I don’t feel petulant, I’m sad, I’m disappointed. My heart is heavy. But I had to make a responsible choice…a responsible financial choice. (Huh! Maybe I really am a grown up after all.)

I don’t feel excited. I don’t feel anything. (Well, obviously I feel pouty, I just said that.) But I want to feel excited! I want to be jumping up and down “pants peeing” excited!!
Am I so displaced at the moment I just can’t feel anything?
OR (this just occurred to me as I’m writing) is it that I’m suppressing my feelings, good and bad, so as not become overwhelmed by them? This actually seems more like me…so I’m not excited because I’m not feeling grief for the life I’m leaving, sadness at not being with Thing 2, anxiety about having to assimilate into YBW’s life, my new job, and how that might be.
(This is one of those moments I want to “Gibbs-slap” myself.) Instead, I’ll treat myself with kindness and love, and take the time to allow myself to feel all these things so I can begin to feel excited.
OH! WAIT! It’s because I don’t feel safe! I’m not settled! I’m struggling to write, I’m struggling to feel because I’m displaced…to quote Elvis Costello, “a man out of time”. (Except, of course I’m a girl and I’m not really out of time, I’m out of “home”…that song seemed applicable in my head so I went with it.)

And why am I judging how I “should” be feeling? Why don’t I just accept how it is?
I’m going to have to let myself feel or not feel as is natural!
I’m processing. I’m on the journey. I’m going to let go of the wheel for a split second and let it take me…
(Did I mention I’m a destination girl? The journey makes my ass twitch.)
I’m processing…I’ll feel what I feel when I feel it.
I think I’m excited somewhere in there…I know I’m ready for the next week to hurry up and go so I can get in my car with my precious Thing 2 and go home.
Yall get to come with me.

Categories: loss, love, me, peace and wellbeing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Goodbye. ~ Hello!

hello goodbye

Less than two weeks and I’ll live with YBW!

Thing 2 and I are making plans for the two weeks she’ll spend with us…what to pack for her room there, what we want to do, who we want to see…she wants to see her Aunt Sundance and cousins the mostest. (Me too!!) She wants to go to IKEA with YBW so they can eat in the restaurant and piddle around the store then have ice cream as they leave. (They both love IKEA like crazy.) She wants to have lots of snuggles. (My favorite!!)
I want to kiss YBW, see Sundance, and unpack my books. After that, it’s gravy.

I’m sad to leave my friends here, I’m sad to leave my doctor and our patients…I’m sad I won’t be close to Thing 1 and Thing 2’s daddy anymore.
Moving is hard…moving on is hard too.

Excitement is big though! Not only will I be with my darling YBW, I’ll be “going back to my roots” teaching at a wonderful, emergent curriculum-based preschool only 4 miles from home! Oh how I’m ready to be in a room full of toddlers!

Life will sort itself as I move through the process of saying goodbye to one life and hello to another…I’m going into this adventure with eyes, heart, and arms wide open.
Wish me luck!

Categories: love, me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

ennui

I cannot write.
Am I sick?
Am I tired?
Am I bored?
Am I depressed?
Or is it any combination?
I have no idea…but I’ve got 9 papers to write this term and I can’t seem to make anything happen. That’s not good.
I’ve had fleeting ideas for this blog but had trouble developing any of them. Not good either.

All my things are at YBW’s but I’m living out of a bag waiting for July to be over so I can be there where my things are, where he is.
Perhaps this limbo is what’s creating my crippling ennui?

I’ve wondered, in the time since I moved my belongings but not myself, what I was thinking…agreeing to work the entire month for my doctor…interviewing and hiring my replacement, listening to the protests of patients who don’t want me to leave…on one level it’s flattering, on another I feel resentful that my priorities aren’t as important as theirs.

Thing 2 turned 16 on Thursday. It was the perfect Thing 2 kind of day because it was spent as through the world revolved around her…we had facials and lunch, and a trip to see our darling friend who owns our fave comic book store, then pedis (my toes are painted red with tiny white polka dots) and smoothies, finally we went to dinner and for ice cream with her boyfriend and her dad.
That is why I chose to stay here for the month of July, it isn’t about not letting down my doctor, it’s about my selfish desire to spend Birthday Birthday with my baby.

Thing 1 is off adventuring with her boyfriend this summer…like Shrek and Donkey…she’s having a blast and seeing our beautiful country through unique eyes. I’m happy she’s enjoying herself, learning and seeing new places…I can’t help but think, get your ass home and go back to school.
She called me the other night in tears, she was anxious and sad, and said that she “just needed my Mommie”. We talked for a bit until I helped her feel more calm, and then we talked about just regular stuff and she told me she loved me and thanked me for making her feel better. Poor old bear, I just wanted to hold her…turns out my words did.

Ennui is the perfect word to describe the way I’m feeling.
Ennui can kiss my freckly white ass.
Or maybe…just maybe, ennui is simply my temporary home and I’ll come out the other side eventually…will it be soon enough to finish 9 papers before the end of term?
I don’t know.

Hmm…seems I can write a teeny bit…even if it makes no sense.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Butch and Sundance

butch and sundance

I suspect there are millions of people on this planet who can say the following sentence with absolute conviction.
I have a best friend.
So what makes it any different when I say it?  Well, of course it’s because I have an exceptional best friend.
Yes, I am fully aware that we who claim to have a best friend believe we have an exceptional best friend. . .isn’t that kind of the point?  I mean look at the adjective before the word friend. . .best.
But what happens when you put the word friend next to this word best?
The meaning may be changing a little, no?  Tweaking just a bit here or there. . .because I imagine for each one of us that word best takes on a whole new meaning when we apply it to our own friend.  And these friends could be any shape or size, male or female…some people might even tell you their pet is their best friend, but for me, that is not the case.A best friend, no matter who or what they are and where or when they enter your life, is nothing less than a gift from the gods. That one person in your life you are absolutely capable of living without, but would never choose to. That one person who knows your foibles and graces, all your deep dark secrets, what you look like when you’re heartbroken or so very manically happy. That one person who if had been born your sibling, you would despise each other into oblivion, but through the beauty of chance has become your true sister. The one person in all the world you’re not afraid of what they think of you because you can show this person your most horrid self and there is no judgment, only love and support, and more than likely a goodly bit of teasing.
This friend could be a sibling, aunt or uncle, parent or child even. . .or it could be a girl you met one day sitting at a lunch table in a high school cafeteria.
Which brings us finally to my best friend. I did meet her when I was a senior in high school where we did sit at the same lunch table with a crazy rag-tag eclectic group of people, some of whom I can’t even remember now. We didn’t start out as best friends then, we just knew each other and enjoyed making fun of each other and those around us.
It wasn’t until after first semester of college that we became best friends. The strange thing about it was it was instantaneous!  I found her one night quite by accident, sitting on the sofa in the living room at my future husband’s. Without a word or any kind of plan we became best friends that very night and the rest is. . .well, I guess you could call it history. A long sordid history to be sure.

My best friend and true soul sister, has the most beautiful blue eyes, which she has in turn, given to her little daughter. Her wicked sharp sense of humor which can slay at the drop of a hat, is a double edged sword. For those who cannot grasp the artful quality of it, there is a serpent’s sting about it that undermines the brilliance. This ability to amuse and wound equally just might be my favorite thing about her, even when the barbs might be directed at me. If we cannot laugh at ourselves, how can we learn to laugh at all?
The other side of this strong worded and willed woman is a less than sure soul. My initial desire is to take her soul in my hands and hold it like a baby bird, to croon sweetly to it and keep it safe. Which is strange, because her actions create the illusion of one who is a protector, though as fiercely protective as she is I have found she has always been in need of being protected herself. That is one way we fit so perfectly together. . .we have been able to nurture the other and be nurtured in return without compromising either one’s dignity.
She is the only person I know who has the same strange ability to store and recall countless bits of useless trivia as me. Actually I know many people who can recall bits of trivia…but everyone seems to have their niche, their own special topic. We just store random facts. One of our favorites is the following and it goes a little something like this: Chinatown in Washington DC has the largest single span Chinese arch in the world. We know this because we spent a fair amount of time in Chinatown shopping for supplies to throw a “Chinese Take-Out” party.
No one cares about that arch. No one really listens to us when we relay that very cool fact…but it’s our fact and we like it.

We like to think of ourselves as outlaws. . .I’m Butch Cassidy and she’s the Sundance Kid. We’re not really outlaws. . .that’s our fantasy us. We’re just us. We’re just regular girls, however “outlawish” we want to pretend to be.
We like to say and do outrageous things for the sheer pleasure of it and sometimes simply for the shock value. Just to see how much we can rock the boat without actually falling out. And we have done seriously stupid things when it comes to boat rocking. . .sometimes I’m amazed to find there is still a boat for us to be in.
There are people who will tell you that she is a bad influence on me. I suspect there are people who say the same thing to her too.
I don’t really believe that. I don’t really like it either, what gives anyone the right to judge our friendship?
What about the times she is the only sane person I know? What about the time she drove panic stricken for two hours after not hearing from me for thirty-six hours to find me in my bed so miserable I couldn’t get up? That time I know she thought something really bad because when I woke to find her sitting on my bed with tears in her eyes, and as I lie there curled on my side looking silently up at her our tears spilled and mixed together so that when they landed on the soft cotton pillow we couldn’t have known which were hers and which were mine, but they all smelled exactly the same way, a combination of relief and joy.
What about the time the whole world closed in on her and I was the only person who loved her in exactly the way she needed? Without judgment, without irony, with just my heart opened to her when she needed to be loved more than any other time in her life.
So I believe the naysayers should simply. . .fade away.

We have always said we each have one half of the same brain. And for a long time it was like that, finishing each others sentences, thinking identical thoughts, knowing intrinsically what the other needed at any given time. But then I did the unthinkable! I packed up my whole life, my half of our precious brain and moved it all five hundred miles away. The disappointment and pain were palpable. She never said a word, she was supportive and tried to look at it as the same adventure I did. She was good, but the sense I had betrayed our friendship was overwhelming me even though I was so excited to begin the new life.
It was hard at first, the not being twenty minutes away from each other when we wanted a glass of wine after work, or to go shopping, or even just to sit on the couch together and watch a movie we’d both seen nine thousand times. But here’s the thing about being so far apart, it made us stronger and in so many ways, healthier. We could no longer take the other for granted. There is not as much time together in the same physical space, but we’ve embraced technology and spend great amounts of time emailing, texting and talking on the phone. We approached our friendship with more effort and commitment since I moved. We tried harder and make it more special. We have to make each time we see the other count for more. Sometimes when see each other, its like the recharging of a battery, sitting on the sofa in our jammies sharing music from one computer to the other all day long. Other times its just going as hard and fast as we can, like the weekend we spent shopping and drinking martinis from the moment we woke until we fell exhausted into sleep after a midnight movie, only to get up and do it all over again.
I worry about the time and distance…that it did create a bit more distance emotional distance, not just physical distance…especially recently, since I began seeing YBW. It was hard for her, to feel like someone had become more important to me than she. Of course that isn’t the case…there will never be another human being who is truly a part of my soul the way this Sundance girl is.

She has seen me through every trial, every bit of fear and sadness. Through all my joys, and there have been many. I have hurt her so deeply, as she has me, but we heal and become stronger. We become better people and in turn, better friends. She has taught me the value of having that one person who, no matter what, will stick with you when all the others run screaming for the hills.
And really, what more could I ask for?

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sixteen books in five minutes

With my books packed in boxes I realized the only book I have to read at the moment is the narcolepsy-inducing economics textbook…while I’m required to read that this school term, it isn’t the sort of thing I want to read before bed or take into the tubby. I was longing for something to change my point of view for even just a moment, something I could become a part of for a while…leave this reality and tag along in some other one just long enough to give my brain a rest.
So I tried to do that from memory, I’ve been participating in certain book realities for many years. It wasn’t the same though. Books are a tactile experience for me…I enjoy experiencing books with every one of my senses…yep, even taste, gotta lick my finger to turn a page every once in a while.

A curious thing happened, the failed book from memory experiment caused me to think of books I especially love, and why I love them.
So, I decided to list the first books that came to me, the ones that have had the most impact or influence on my life, the ones I loved as a child and continue to love as a grown up.
I gave myself five minutes to list what came to me and this is what I wrote:

Outside Over There
The Secret of the Strawbridge Place
The Secret Garden
The Bell Jar
The Great Gatsby
Sense and Sensibility
Dancing on My Grave
The Outsiders
Plantation Doll
The Mists of Avalon
Sam, Bangs and Moonshine
The End of the Affair
Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human
Peter Pan
Long Walk to Freedom
The Tangled Wing

I listed each one as it appeared in my brain. I did not over-think nor did I edit the list in any way.
Now there are certainly other books I love, books that mean so much to me but just aren’t listed here.
Why?
I don’t know. And for once, I don’t really have the desire to figure it out.

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