Posts Tagged With: laughter

identity crisis (or F**K YOU Pottermore)

When I need a break from studying I simply open another tab on my laptop and see what the world has to offer.
Today the world offered me two things that piqued my interest.
1. Loads of information about visiting New Orleans (this will be another post)
2. Pottermore

I ended up at Pottermore because when I realized today is the last day of July, I remembered it’s Harry Potter’s birthday. (the thought process was a bit more complex than that but not quite interesting enough to share)

When I realized it was Harry’s birthday, I thought I’d see about getting sorted into a Hogwarts house.
I did this a billion years ago when Pottermore first became a thing. Of course, I can’t remember my information from this sorting. (I was assigned a random word and some numbers as my username.)
I do know I was sorted into Ravenclaw.
Now, I’ve always sort of felt like I was more of a Raven-puff (Huffle-claw?), a delicate balance of both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses. But the fact that the most legit sorting device placed me in Ravenclaw was more than good enough for me.
Though I often wonder if I’m truly clever enough to be a true Ravenclaw.

Anyhoo…
Today the sorting hat placed me in Gryffindor.
Um…what now?

So I immediately do the only possible thing I can.
Because Nora will feel me on this.

(side note: While I am bossy and bushy haired like Hermione. I’m not an insufferable know-it-all. I do remain calm in crisis, and plan, and think things through like Hermione. I am bright and brave like Hermione. Hmmm…I may actually be talking myself into this foolishness…)

Glutton for punishment that I am, in the intervening twenty-five minutes between texts, I get right back on Pottermore to be sorted again. Back to back.
It only gets worse.

(side note: For the record, I am NOT a hater! My own Thing 1 is a Slytherin, as is her Husband N. And good on them! But they possess certain qualities that fit Slytherin house that I don’t.)

I’m over here like, from Ravenclaw to Slytherin?

Right there with you, Buffy.
Full on identity crisis! (Yeah, yeah, based on a made up website about a made up world about a made up school…etc. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m feeling it, therefore it’s real!)

What’s curious about this entire situation is that my wand and patronus remain the same throughout.
My patronus is a cat. (A ‘duh’ absolutely comes at the end of that sentence.)
My wand is rowan wood with a dragon heartstring core. 11 1/2 inches with unbending flexibility.
(Y’all! that wand is mine x infinity and here’s why: rowan is the “sevice-tree” with a long mythological history. Heartstring is directly linked to living my intention, and dragons are just about as BAMF as you can get. 11 1/2 inches is the size of a Barbie doll, my favorite childhood toy. And unbending flexibility? Well, I’m as unbending AF yet also fairly flexible.)

My Ilvermorny house remained the same as well. (Thunderbird) “Thunderbird house is sometimes considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard.” That struck a chord in me too.

Anyway, I don’t cotton to this whole sorted into Slytherin house. (No offense, Bear.)
But…Nora may have saved the day!!

Has anyone ever said with unmitigated joy, “Mercury is in retrograde.”!?!
I suspect not.
But today I did!
And when Mercury once again gets itself together, I shall return to Pottermore and set this house situation straight.

This is seriously how I spend my time when I’m not studying. I’ve spent the last three hours on this sorting snafu!
I’m going to need to get it together and get back to studying!

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let us treat self expression with respect

There will be those with differing opinions. And that’s fine with me.
Isn’t that what makes it interesting to be a human? To think and feel things that may be a bit different than the things thought and felt by the people you know?
I’ve learned so much about myself and the world by engaging in conversations of differing opinions.
Here’s the most important thing I learned.
It’s all about respect.
I respect your right to your differing opinions. I expect that same respect in return.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy right?
(Yeah, I know.)

I received a snapchat from my daughter two days ago. It amused me so. I was amused because I too have been where she was. I was also struck by the truth in it. Her truth. Where she was in that moment.
It was real. It was honest. And it was a true representation of her sense of humor.

I know the differing opinion folks might have something to say about her attitude or language. I know I would never have sent something like that to my own mother.
But my girl, she is different.
And I’m a different sort of mom.

Here’s the what.
Honest self expression is not always the simplest action. So if one can manage to speak their truth I say, Bravo! Sometimes that truth comes via opening credits of a television show and quippy language.
I was amused enough to take a screenshot.
At the time, I had no idea I’d be using it for a post, I just knew it was a perfect encapsulation of who my daughter is and why I love her.
It really does come down to respect. I respect her enough to encourage her self expression. She respects me enough to know that she can be herself with me.
And the respect from those of differing opinion to acknowledge that my daughter has an interesting way about her without judging it.

This is what I know.
Be respectful. (of yourself and others)
Speak your truth.
If you do the first, the second will be much simpler, no matter how you choose to express yourself.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

my girls

After being here with me for nine days, Thing 1 left Thursday to return home to her sweet husband, N.
I woke Friday to an empty house.
Normally I’d love that, but after Thing 1 being here, I didn’t. I was sad. No, not really sad, more disappointed. Kind of empty feeling.
But it was fleeting.
I got to work. Only I was missing someone to talk with. Even missing her crazy habit of following me everywhere.
I’m feeling that nagging sense of missing out. I know they’re meant to grow up and leave home and all that jazz. But I’m selfish! I want to spend more time together.

The way I’m feeling reminds me of that Abba song Slipping Through My Fingers.

That’s what it feels like to have grown girls.
I miss them in ways that cause me physical pain.

I get my hackles all up and think, I shouldn’t have to miss them. Only that would be impinging their natural development. But it’s funny, it seems to me that in my natural development, they should still be mine and not yet their own.
Children grow at their own pace. Parents are left in the dust.
Logically, I get that. I understand that I did my job. That I gave them the best foundation I could and now it’s up to them to build upon it.
Emotionally, I want to still be active in their lives, I want to listen to troubles and joys and giggles and have great snuggle-fests in my bed.
Parents should evolve at the same rate their children do. That they don’t doesn’t seem quite equitable.
Alas, it was always thus. (or was it?)

Thing 1 is an amazing woman. I don’t say this because she’s my daughter. I am truly awestruck by her. She is smart and funny. She is more strong and capable than she actually realizes. She speaks of not feeling “adulty” enough and looking around for someone more “adulty” than her. But she’s got this. She’s absolutely “adulty” enough to successfully live her own life. And really, what more could a mom want for her child?
We had such wonderful conversations, some seriously examining our relationship and life, some just plain silly. We talked about raising children and healthy relationships. We talked about baseball. (She’s a convert! She decided to love baseball after her first trip to Nats Park!) Oh happy day!
Spending that time with my firstborn was precious to me. No, more than precious. Our time together was sacred.
At one point in our lives I wondered if we’d ever truly be a part of each other again. Yet, here we are.

At the ballpark, the couple behind us told us that we were a “precious family”. That we were “so blessed” and it was obvious that Thing 1 was “adored”.
That moved me so. I’m not sure Thing 1 believes she is adored. I hope she learns to remember that more each and every day.

Before Thing 1 came here, Thing 2 and her boyfriend J spent two weeks with Thing 1 and Husband N.
One thing that makes me happy is that the girls being together seems to have been especially good for Thing 2. Though, it was really good for Thing 1 too. And I enjoyed listening to her talk of their time together while she was here.
Thing 2 is dating a guy that Thing 1 absolutely adores! That’s a big deal for Thing 1. Those external relationships must function successfully within their internal sisterhood.
She’s said that if Thing 2 hadn’t liked Husband N, she never would have married him. She expressed that she’s closest to Thing 2 over anyone else in the world, and that is her most valued relationship. I know not with certainty if Thing 2 feels the same, but I sure hope she does.
It seems the time they spent together was healthy and positive for both of them.

Thing 2 is becoming so much more aware of herself. I love that for her!
She is a tricky sort of girl…filled with acute self-awareness, yet seemingly unable to put it into action. This causes her much trouble. To know, yet be unable to do much about it is a tricky place to be.
But, I think she’s making some positive changes for herself. I also believe the time with her sister was beneficial to reinforce that.

We had an interesting text conversation late last week.

Thing 2’s friend Anna was critically injured in a car accident last summer, in all honesty, we’re lucky that she’s still with us. She just had a follow-up surgery to assist in the healing of one of her legs that’s a bit shorter than the other from the accident.
Anna lives with Thing 2 at her father’s house. Thing 2 has been her primary care giver since the accident. It took a toll on their friendship, but it seems as though they’ve been able to come out the other side stronger.

This one came immediately after the first one, before I even had a chance to respond.

“I was full of shit.” Yes, my darling, you were. But, owning it is the first step to changing it.
I told her that communication is difficult, but becomes simpler with practice.
She wondered if it was “shitty to say I’m proud of me?”
I assured her it was not, that she should be proud of her accomplishments.
Then I told her ‘life = perpetually learning more about yourself’.

Y’all, I’m forty six years old and I do that every single day! My twenty year old daughter is wondering if she should be proud of learning more about her self.
Um, YES PLEASE!

Being a mom is the most gut-wrenchingly painful experience of my life.
Being a mom is the most joy-filled, awe-inspiring, rewarding experience of my life.
It’s no wonder I feel like I didn’t evolve at the same rate as my girls. How could I possibly?

I find it hard not to focus on “missing out” when they continue to become such unbelievably cool human women! But, I have their lifetime of love and joy and being together deep within me. It sustains my sadness at being apart from them. It keeps me from missing them more than I can bear.
But we’re lucky enough to have a love that is unshakable. We’re lucky enough to be able to call each other out on her shit. We’re lucky enough to carry on real conversations about important issues with love and compassion, and even a bit of understanding.
Communication. Who knew?

This is what Husband N had to say in response to me thanking him for helping celebrate Thing 2’s birthday. But more importantly, expressing to him how much it means to me that he loves both my girls.

Amen to that!

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

(not) punching people at Costco

Ran to Costco yesterday.
Big mistake.

Everyone and their third cousin was up in that joint.
Nobody knew how to drive a buggy. Nobody knew how to load their items on the belt.
Bunch of freaking lollygaggers!

And I’m on the phone with Thing 1 having an absolute fit about it!
She is howling with laughter about how she learned to drive from me (fuming and cussing without really being mad) because that’s how I was rolling through the big ol’ warehouse store.
In the checkout line, the woman in front of me parked her buggy at a 45 degree angle instead of moving it straight up. That was the last straw for me.
I whispered into the phone, “The chick in line in front of me. I’m going to punch her right in the back of her head. Hard.”
Thing 1 laughed and said, “One day someone will hear you and you’ll get in a real fight. I’ll have to come to come see you at the hospital where you’ll be handcuffed.”
We laughed and laughed.
Though that would be just my luck…

I said goodbye to her before I checked out. (I may be a bitch, but I’m not rude. I think it’s so disrespectful to cashiers to be on the phone while they’re helping you.)
I did call Thing 1 back to report the ridiculous way the cashier backed my box. Eggs underneath peanut butter? Really, bitch?
Thing 1 had quite a laugh at me!

Of course I wasn’t quite finished with my spitting rant, so I called Sundance. If there’s anyone to join you in a crazy, spun-up rant, it’s Sundance. And that was just what I needed!
I’m all screeching and shouting and cussing and she’s feeding me with a spoon. At one point only dogs could hear us.
And then it stopped.
And I said, “This is my anxiety manifesting itself.”
And just like that (finger snap) I was calm.

This is something for me to pay serious attention to.
And I mean Serious Attention.

My anxiety is heightened right now. My stress levels are elevated.
I know this. I’m working to manage this. But sometimes it manifests in shopping rage. And in reality, nobody was harmed. I didn’t punch that woman. I avoided handcuffed hospital visits and possible jail time.
Managing my anxiety is an active process.
I’ve got good help.
I’m learning to let go. I can’t control everything, however much I long to. I’m working at not taking things so seriously. I’m working at making sure my expectations are realistic.
So…sometimes I want to punch strangers in the back of their heads. And sometimes I want to stab people with my ice pick. (It’s metaphorical, I swear! I never carry one in my bag or anything…I’m not remotely shifty…)
But wanting to punch or stab is not actually doing either.
So it’s cool.
Maybe.
Just gotta keep paying attention. Knowing I feel stressed or anxious is good, knowing why is better. Knowing how to manage those feelings is best.
Right now I’m at better…gives me something to strive for.
For the moment, that’s good enough for me.

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I love that he makes me laugh

YBW and I went over to Barnes and Noble this morning because I had a 20% off coupon that expired today. Sundance’s birthday is in two weeks and I was hoping to find a cookbook for her. She loves to cuddle up and read them as though they were novels. I kinda love that about her.
I didn’t find anything that I thought she needed. But I did find the third volume of Mark Twain’s autobiography.
Happy Christmas to me! (please read that in a jazzy little sing-song way)

We were walking by the info desk and I said: Do you need that new Twilight book from Edward’s point of view?
Without missing a beat he said: Who’s Edward?
The lady at the info desk looked up incredulously like, WTF dude? Where have you been for the last ten years.
I just cackled.

I suspect some people would consider it one of those “I can’t take you anywhere” moments. Not me! I thought it was the funniest damn thing and I’ll keep taking him places because he makes me laugh.

I love that he makes me laugh.
I love that he doesn’t care that I sometimes pick out my own gifts.

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the gift of memories

Saturday marks the fourth anniversary of my mom’s death and it’s got me thinking about a lifetime of memories. I’ve written about my complicated relationship with my mother in missing Mommie, but today I’m not thinking about the unanswered questions.
Today I am simply remembering her. Remembering specific moments with her. Sometimes I feel like I’ve done her a disservice by talking about my conflicts with her, with my feelings about her, and not talking about the memories. Because even though the conflicts were many, the memories are too.

Fox in Socks is my all time favorite Dr Seuss book because of her. I was either in kindergarten or first grade, my brother was three or four. She sat with us to read this book, got tongue twisted beyond our imaginations and we laughed until we were collapsed in a heap in the floor.
She never read it again, but laughed about that moment for the rest of her life.

I learned to love Elvis because of her. She would play records and we would dance and sing until we were worn slap out. These moments were rare, seeing her be joyful simply for the fun of it. She never let herself go, always kept a tight reign on her emotions. Even then these little moments were sacred to me, I understood without really knowing how precious they were.

She never read us bedtime stories, she didn’t like to read aloud. Instead she would often use dolls or action figures to tell us stories at bedtime. My brother would scoot into my bed ready for the story. Sometimes she used my brother’s Weebles, or our Fischer Price people to tell the stories. But my favorite stories always starred I our bendy Evel Knievel and Derry Daring figures.
evel knievelderry daring
(Is it just me or were toys cooler in the 1970s than they are today?)

I would become distraught (I am in no way exaggerating.) when Grandaddy would get on an airplane to go on a trip. I would stand at the gate waving at him through the window until the plane took off and then I would completely loose my mind. I was all tears and hyperventilation and the way she had decided to console me was to take me to Toys R Us for a color book and new box of crayons. And even as an adult, I would receive a new box of crayons and a color book any time there was something serious going on. When I went to have my hysterectomy I got the big box of 64 and five brand new color books. She wanted to make sure I enough to keep me occupied.

After I was already married but before Thing 1 came along, she and I went on a road trip and documented it with video. I laughed more with her in the car those four days than I can even believe! We were positively punchy but it all made sense. I don’t know what ever happened to that old vhs tape, I wish I had it though. It would be fun to laugh with her again.

My memories of my mom are a gift. All the memories, the good ones and the complicated ones. I’m lucky to have them. I was lucky to have her. I’m not sure if I told her that. I know she knew because moms just know those things, but it might have been nice to say it out loud.

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

so sciencey, so amazing

I went on a very special tour of Biosphere 2 at University of Arizona today.

image

I’m here visiting beloved friends and for the first time in seven years I’m with the entire family of six. I’ve seen a member or two a few times in the in between but this is such a blessing!
I arrived late last night and after having been up for twenty three hours and forty five minutes, I finally collapsed into a heap. Slept for four hours and saw two kids off to school then went on the tour with the remaining family members. The eldest is a junior here and the dad works for the university.  The second born, who is my Goddaughter,  is home from Clemson for spring break.
The mom and I have taught each others kids in preschool and been friends for over fifteen years.

My heart is joyous being with this family. It’s as though not a moment has passed since we were last together, the only thing missing is my two Things.

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