Posts Tagged With: mothers and daughters

I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes…

Posted on December 17, 2015 by robynbird

So it turns out there are a metric ton of haters out there regarding Love Actually. I find this most amusing.
Personally, I like this movie. But I like it for the quotable one liners and the Christmas-y-ness of it, not for it’s eternal epic film quality.
No shame in my Love Actually enjoyment game.
Thing 2 and I watch it at random throughout the year, but always together at Christmastime.

This is her favorite part:

I probably shouldn’t find it so amusing that my child loves the rampant cursing…but I do.

This is my favorite part:

Now, I’m not saying there are some things about this movie that are absolute crap.
For instance:
Karl and Laura Linney’s inability to sort out having a mentally ill sibling and getting it on. If they truly cared about each other, the could have sorted it.
Perhaps it’s because he’s prettier than anyone else in the movie?
This storyline feels superfluous to me.

That whore that works for Alan Rickman. She needs to go die in a hole. He’s married to a frumped-up version of Emma Thompson, who BTW, rocks out loud with a fiery vengeance, frumpy or not. Get it together, dude! P.S. What the flying hell kind of dolls do they have in England? “…the one that looks like a transvestite, or the one that looks like a dominatrix?” I’ll just keep my 1970s ‘Malibu Barbie’, thanks.

Talk about superfluous…the entire Colin character’s story line. “And he’s got a big knob” (you know you heard it in his voice) might be the stupidest thing in the history of film…that or I need to visit Wisconsin as a different me.

Keira Knightley does that jacked up thing with her mouth and needs to eat a thousand cheeseburgers.
AND Chiwetel Ejiofor, I just gotta say: Nobody is that oblivious. Your best effing friend has it on for your wife. Pay attention!

Hugh Grant, I think it might be sexist and pretty darn illegal to “fire” an employee because you’ve got the hots for her…but maybe that’s just in America?

I adore Colin Firth. I don’t have many bad things to say about him…and I actually adore the scene after the swim to save his book when they’re saying the same things and not understanding each other. But is he REALLY going to learn Portuguese to marry that girl? I do love when the children say, “I hate Uncle Jaime!” I say it often at random intervals…I have no uncles and don’t know anyone called Jaime…I just love the way it sounds.

The relationship between Liam Neeson and that kid who does the voice of Ferb might be my favorite. Doesn’t that kid have a biological dad? Doesn’t matter. They’re solving problems with love and fun. What parent says to a child: We need Kate and we need Leo and we need them now.? Then his encouragement of chasing down the little girl.

“Lets go get the shit kicked out of us by love.” just might be my favorite line of the entire film. (But Hugh Grant looking at the portrait of Margaret Thatcher and calling her ‘saucy minx’ is a close second.)

The most normal relationship is that of Martin Freeman and ‘Judy’. They might be naked, but they manage to develop a pretty successful friendship that becomes something more.

Sure, the movie is flawed.
But so are we and so is love.
Haters gonna hate.
But I’m going to watch it whenever it pleases me. And I’ll be watching it when Thing 2 get here.
If you haven’t seen it, I think you should. If you have and like it, I’m “air high-fiving” you. If you hate it…well, that’s your prerogative.

And finally, I must admit I love Bill Nighy’s “festering turd” of a record.

Categories: me | Tags: Alan Rickman, Bill Nighy, Christmas, Christmas is all around, Christmas movies, Colin Firth, daughters, Emma Thompson, fun, giggles, haters gonna hate, Hugh Grant, I feel it in my fingers, Laura Linney, Liam Neeson, love, Love Actually, Martin Freeman, mothers and daughters, silly, Thing 2 | 2 Comments

the gift of memories

Posted on November 17, 2015 by robynbird

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.

(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: bedtime stories, books, coloring book, complicated relationship, crayola crayons, Derry Daring, Evel Knievel, Fox in Socks, fun, laughter, love, memories, mothers and daughters, road trip, tongue twister | 1 Comment

snuggles

Posted on October 22, 2015 by robynbird

I had the best wake up this morning!
Thing 2 came to wake me up for a snuggle. As soon as we got settled and began to talk quietly the door opened and in came Thing 1! It was the first time I’ve had both my girls in my bed in years! We snuggled for a little bit before the conversation turned to how we would handle the zombie apocalypse.
Yep. This is my life. Isn’t it the BEST!?!

Categories: love | Tags: daughters, love, mothers and daughters, silly, snuggles, snuggly, zombie apocalypse | Leave a comment

on being a mom

Posted on October 9, 2015 by robynbird

I write a goodly bit about being a mom. It’s all I ever wanted to do with my life, be a mom.
That might not sound like I had great aspirations when I was a little girl, but it’s the truth. All I wanted to do was grow up and be a mommy.
I made sure I found someone who would make that happen as soon as I possibly could. I was twenty two when Thing 1 was born and twenty six when Thing 2 was born.
I’ve been a mom half my life…well technically not till March when Thing 1 has her birthday…but speaking strictly mathematically, half of forty four is twenty two.

My goal was to raise strong and independent girls. They would be ready to take on the world when the time came.
Of course it all got derailed along the way.
We lost everything in 2008. Our business. Our home. It was the final straw that killed my already broken marriage.
When that happened, there was subterfuge and betrayal. My first daughter was used maliciously as a pawn against me. I wasn’t able to protect her from that. She walked headlong into it. She has since told me: I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how bad it was for you. Daddy brainwashed me and I believed him.
I was able to protect my baby daughter a little better. But only for so long.

We were trapped in a waking nightmare. I was the one who was brave enough to change it by moving out. The plan was to bring Thing 2 with me and leave Thing 1 with her father. She wouldn’t have come with me even under duress. Thing 2 used to worship her big sister and wanted to be just like her and in this case, she temporarily joined the “I hate Momma” team. She chose to stay with her sister instead of coming with me.
This was not my first mistake.

To keep myself sane, I turned my back on Thing 1. She was horrid and my pain and anger made it so simple.
We tried to come back together several times…each time driving ourselves further apart.
Until she tried to take her life. I’m the one she came to with the desperate plea: Please help me.
None of that was in my childhood mommy-ing plan. But I did what was necessary to keep her safe. To keep her alive. Even though I believe she still resents me for it.
It wasn’t better after she came back from the hospital. She didn’t seem changed. She just seemed more angry.

A few months later, we got into a physical brawl, she held me down by my hair and I bit her so hard there was a perfect ring of teeth marks on her arm but she didn’t let go. Thing 2 was screaming and crying and I think that’s what finally made her let go.
Her therapist saw the bite mark and reported me to child protective services. The investigation showed no real abuse and it all went away. That doesn’t change the fact that my baby daughter had to tell a stranger: No, my Momma doesn’t hurt us.

Thing 1 damaged her relationship with Thing 2. They have good moments, but nothing like the way they used to love each other.
I don’t think Thing 1 understands this and Thing 2 won’t ever feel brave enough tell her.

Their father stood back and let it all happen. He watched with twisted joy. I was being punished for my sins and he didn’t have to lift a finger. He just planted the ideas and watched as my first born and I not only ruined our relationship, but she ruined any chance of a real and positive future.

I am not without fault. I didn’t just let her go, I pushed her away. I only loved her because she came out of my body. I didn’t love her for herself. It was easier to not love her than be in that much pain every day.
Shame on me. I should have fought harder. For her.
I was manipulated by the situation just as she was. Only I’m the grown up. I should have worked harder to keep her safe.

Thing 2 and I went through the hell of her not wanting me to be her mom anymore. She was “tired of always being responsible for my happiness”. She’s not entirely wrong. But neither is she right.
She wasn’t responsible for my happiness. She simply brought me joy.
I’ve learned that telling someone: You’re my favorite person in the world. can be too much pressure. However much the truth it is.
When I came here we chose for her to stay there. I wanted her to understand that I respected the life she’d built for herself. School, friends, theater. I knew in my gut she needed to come with me. But I didn’t feel like I could force her.
She accused me of setting her up to fail. That if I hadn’t “protected” her all her childhood she would never have been in that situation.
I never wanted her to see her father for what he really is. I wanted her to simply love her dad.
I also never thought she’d ever be alone with him.

I failed her too. Not because I was the buffer but because I didn’t trust my parenting gut. I didn’t want to make her unhappy so I ignored what I felt was best for her.
She’s lost. She has no support from her father. And I can only do so much from five hundred miles away.
I can’t fix that.

The masochist in me thinks they like it this way. They can always blame everything on somebody else. They can blame me for the way it turned out.
They don’t remember when it was good. When we were safe and sane and actually happy. They only remember how awful it was.
I think Thing 1 blames me for not protecting her from her father and his manipulations.
I blame her for disregarding the first fourteen years of her life.
I know Thing 2 blames me for protecting her from her father and his manipulations.
I did what I thought was best for them. Most of it I would do all over again.

If I had been braver I would have left their father sooner. Maybe I could have protected them better that way. I know I could have protected myself better.

I am trying. Trying to reconnect with these girls of mine. They’re so jaded. They’re so hard. It pains me so to see them this way.
Thing 1 is trying too. I believe we both want more than we have. We want to love each other freely and without fear. It is so hard.

She sent me a message last week about a wedding gift for YBW and me. I told her she didn’t have to give us a gift, that her participating and loving and supporting us was enough.
Then she wrote: I feel like I don’t show you how special you are to me enough and I haven’t for a long time and I want you to know that you are and that I’m happy you’re starting a new life and that’s a special thing and I want to give you something to commemorate that.

I don’t show her how special she is to me enough either.
I don’t remember how to do that. I shut her out for so long to feel safe that I worry I’ve lost my love for her.

All I ever wanted to do was be a mom. I was so damn good at it for so long. And then I failed epically.
I can’t make that go away. For any of us.
All I can do is sort my own shit and then I’ll be ready to move forward with them.
I’ve worked hard to sort mine. I think it’s finally time to help sort theirs.

The love of a mother for her child is easily understood conceptually. The reality of it is indescribable. There are truly no words to express the ferocity of it.
I know they don’t understand. I know they listen and hear. But how can they possibly understand? Perhaps one day when they become mothers they’ll get it.
What they do understand is that nothing they can do will truly make me not love them. Therefore they continue to test that theory.
They don’t do that with their father. They both know intrinsically that to test his love would be to lose it. Perhaps that’s the curse of being their Momma. They’re going to try me to see if I break because they know I won’t.

This is my love letter to them.
Being their mother has been perfect and horrible and the happiest and most painful experience of my life.
My love for Thing 1 is remembering how to be unconditional. My love for Thing 2 is trying not be be too much pressure for her to handle.
Thing 1 was the most perfect human equivalent of all my hopes and dreams. I loved her because she was my wish come true.
Thing 2 was the gift I didn’t even know I wanted. I fell in love with her because she was there.
There’s a difference between loving and being in love. But one does not diminish the other.

Categories: love, me, on being a mom | Tags: blessings, daughters, fear, feelings, ferocious love, happy, home, joy, loss, love, motherhood, mothers and daughters, pain, parenting, regret, sorrow, teenagers, unconditional love | Leave a comment

food for the soul

Posted on October 1, 2015 by robynbird

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis once said: There are many little ways to enlarge your child’s world. Love of books is the best of all.

I believe this with an unparalleled fierceness.
I tell all parents of young children this is my philosophy of child rearing: First you feed a child with food, then with books, then you worry about whether or not their shoes fit.
If you could see the looks on their faces. They have that initial moment of WTF? but then I see their eyes widen as they begin to understand how this makes some kind of sense.

I believe this principle applies to grownups too.
You ever been to someone’s home and find no books and feel like there is something so completely wrong with that? I don’t trust a person who doesn’t read.
I love to explore what other people have on their shelves.
We all know that someone who has books on the shelf for show, you know damn well that person doesn’t read them, they’re there lined up like little soldiers just to impress.
If you looked at my bookshelves, the majority of the books are either children’s books or biographies. Of course there are other things mixed in, adult fiction and textbooks, even some pretty amazing nonfiction too.

We must eat food to sustain our physical lives.
But books are food too. Soul food.
They feed our imagination. They feed us inspiration. They feed us information. They feed us laughter and love and tears. They feed us fear and loathing. They feed us when food isn’t what we need to ingest.

When Thing 2 was a small girl, we were waiting at the doctors office. I was reading and she was reading. She had just begun to read “proper” books, and was reading her first chapter book. It was the first time I didn’t read to her as we waited somewhere. It was the first time I read my book and she read hers. When the realization washed over me I began to cry.
After a big breath, I said to her: You’ve given yourself the best gift you’ll ever receive.
She looked at me from behind her coke-bottle glasses with confusion. I indicated the book.
She said: You gave me this book.
I said: Yes I did, but you learned to read it. And from now on you’ll be able to read anything you want. What a wonderful gift you gave to yourself!
She thought about this for a moment and then gave that jack-o-lantern smile (She was missing three teeth at the time.) and said: You’re right!

Both Thing 1 and Thing 2 love books. And shoes. They’ve been influenced by my parenting philosophy quite literally. (There’s a trees and two apples and never are they terribly far apart.)
I know that they will pass on their love of books to their children, and their nieces and nephews, and one day, their children’s children.

This quote has been attributed to Stephen King: Books are uniquely portable magic.
And they feed the soul.

Categories: me | Tags: biographies, blessings, book, books, books are uniquely portable magic, books feed the soul, bookshelf, bookshelves, bookworm, children's books, daughters, early childhood education, jack-o-lantern smile, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, learning to read, love, love of books, mothers and daughters, parenting, raising children, read, reading, sharing, soul food, Stephen King, wonderful gift | 3 Comments

observe. accept. love.

Posted on September 14, 2015 by robynbird

Some you may know of the app facebook has that shares memories. It’s called “On This Day” and it shows things you’ve posted on that day in previous years.
I don’t check this all the days, I just happened to do it this morning because of something someone else posted that involved me.

Here’s a post from this day two years ago:

While we were at Great Falls today, I saw this little girl jumping from rock to rock singing, “I am awesome!” (The tune was precious.) Her mom just watched…she didn’t say anything and the little girl didn’t do anything but jump and sing about how awesome she is.
This is why we shouldn’t be saying, “Good job!” Or sometimes not even, “You did it!”
She didn’t need anything from anybody. She knows intrinsically that she is enough…I want to be this little girl please.

Seeing this post stimulated the memory of how moved I was in the moment watching this little girl. She didn’t need anything from anyone. Her mother stood nearby watching, but said nothing. Not “that’s not safe”. Not “way to go”. She said nothing. She observed. She accepted.

My years of early childhood training have given me a different way of looking at the world. At children in the world. The need to have freedom to take risks. They learn through play. They learn through risk taking. They don’t need to be praised every forty-seven seconds. They don’t need a trophy for participating.
They need to feel safe. Safe to explore. Safe to try. Safe to play. Safe to learn. Safe to experience that all-important “I did it!” moment of accomplishment.
It’s obvious to me that this little girl felt safe.
It’s obvious to me that her mother felt safe.
She let that child (who was not yet school-age) take risks by jumping on those rocks. Her mother knew she could fall and get hurt. And that wouldn’t have been fun for anybody, but the little girl would have learned from that. She would have known how to have sturdier feet the next time. She would have jumped more solidly.
That little girl’s mother said nothing while she sang and jumped from rock to rock and back again. But even more interesting to me is that the child never said, “Watch me!” She was completely focused on her task, jumping from rock to rock and singing: I am awesome! It didn’t matter to her if her mom was watching. It didn’t matter to her that she was or was not praised. She was working hard and she was having a blast doing it!

“Watch me, Miss Robynbird!” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that from a child in the last two years.
I cringe every single time one of them says it.
I have said: You can do it. You don’t need me to watch you.
At first they didn’t understand, I could see the deflation happen in their little bodies. But over time, they began to understand that I trusted them and I made the environment safe enough that they could try anything. They began to ask their peers to watch, this created opportunities to build their cooperation skills. Created opportunities for them to mentor each other.
I feel good about that.
I’ve said: You did it! more times than I should have. But never will you hear me say: Good job! I might say: Well done you! Give me five.

YBW and I had a conversation about praise. He believes everyone wants to hear it. I couldn’t agree more. But my point to him was praise causes people to look outside themselves for validation. They’re not motivated my curiosity or desire to try/play/learn. They’re motivated by and for someone else.
Of course we all want an “attagirl” once in a while. Working hard and not getting recognized sometimes feels icky. But praise is a double edged sword. The other side of praise is criticism. I grew up with enough criticism for three kids and precious little praise. In all honesty, I’d trade praise and it’s ugly twin to feel safe enough to try without anyone’s opinion.
When I work hard and finish a job well done I feel that sense of accomplishment. I experience my own “I did it!” moment.
Would it be nice to hear praise?
Absolutely!
Do I need that praise?
Not really.

We’ve created a new generation of kids that thrive on praise. That are motivated by praise, by participation trophies. That graduate from high school only so the principal has numbers that grow.
What if we took a giant step back and took a page from the mom’s book?
What if we observe?
What if we accept?
What if we love?

I want to be that little girl. I want to be enough for myself like she is.
I want that for all of us.

Categories: education, love, me, on being a mom | Tags: accept, adventure, attagirl, blessings, early childhood education, excitement, experience, family, feeling safe, freedom to take risks, good job, hard work, joy, learning through play, love, mothers and daughters, motivated by praise, motivation, observe, parenting, participation trophy, personal motivation, recognition, risk taking, safe, sense of accomplishment, trust, watch me, well done, YBW, you did it | 2 Comments

mothers and daughters: tricky, curious beasts

Posted on September 4, 2015 by robynbird

Being the mom of daughters is tricky.
I’m sure being the mom of sons is not without tricks. But I honestly think daughters might be a bit trickier. At least once they hit a certain age.

Thing 2 is having some issues with her hair after we went and had it done on Wednesday.
It was tri-colored, pink, purple and blue and mostly dead from the over processing. She wanted to save length to grow it into her “hair goal”

but there was a great deal of damage. While some length was saved, she has what she bitterly referred to as “mom hair”. She’s not wrong.

Knowing how dissatisfied Thing 2 is with her hair, Sundance suggested she figure out a cute short cut that will satisfy her as well as get rid of all the damage and give her a starting point for growing into her longer “hair goal”.
Thing 2 knows her Auntie is right, but doesn’t know what she wants to do with her hair.
Frustrated tears.

Pinterest to the rescue! After literally hours of searching, she’s found something she really likes!

Instead of doing her normal thing of over-analyzing the living hell out of it, she made a gut decision. This is HUGE for her!
Like her mother, (So sorry about that, Mousk.) she has the ability to get so trapped in her head when making a decision…and not just the ability to do so, but the crippling reality of it. Unlike her mother, (Who has twenty-six more years life experience.) she has not yet learned to listen to and trust her gut. The fact that she trusted her gut and then said: Give me a minute to think about my gut decision. made us both laugh.

For those of you who don’t know, hair really is a big deal. Part of Thing 2’s issues with hair is that from the time she could form an opinion, she wanted to have red hair like me. The fact that her hair is brown (A beautiful, warm and rich brown.) is something she just has trouble accepting.
I wanted to be blonde when I was teenager.

So I am acutely aware that the hair struggle is real.

All of this brings me back to my opening sentence.
Being the mom of daughters is tricky.
It’s tricky because you have to have just the right bit of understanding mixed with a splash enough of indifference to keep you sane. I care deeply that my daughter is content but I don’t care quite as much what her hair looks like. Does her hair make her happy? If so, then I am happy for her. Do I want to like her new do? Sure! But it’s not going to cause me frustrated tears if I don’t.
My tears of frustration are caused by other choices for her life…school, employment, life-long well being. You know, the stuff that moms really care most about.
I care about her hair. I want it to be adorable. To match her personality. To look beautiful in my upcoming wedding photos.
What I care most about is her emotional well being. And I know deep in my soul that bad hair can make you feel miserable and dissatisfied. Thing 2 has had enough of that. So if new, good, and ‘gut decided’ hair will make it better for the time being, I’m on it.

I’m both a mother and a daughter. I know how it feels to be each one individually. I want my daughters to know that nothing and no one is more important in my heart than they are. That every single decision I’ve made has had their best interests at heart.
I want to remember that though my own mother was fraught with her own special…idiosyncrasies may be the best word here, I know she loved me and did her best.

There are hard feelings. There are times you’re not sure you did the right thing. You’re trying to take the other one’s feelings, thoughts, ideas into consideration and possibly failing.
But there is love, limitless founts of unconditional love. There are times when you just know that you did it right. That you are the product of, or looking at the product of the most on point mothering humanly possible.
Am I the best mom in the world?
Most likely not.
Have I tried to be the best mom I possibly can?
With every fiber of my being.

Daughters are curious beasts. Every single daughter ever. Some of us grow up to be mothers and become an entirely new kind of curious beast.
As much trouble and hard times as we’ve had, I wouldn’t trade my curious beasts for anything! Because we’ve also had great times and so much love that I sometimes can’t even contain it!

Mothers and daughters are tricky. There’s never going to be any getting around that. But sometimes tricky is the best thing ever!

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: bad hair, beloved, curious beasts, daughters, good hair, hair, idiosyncrasies, love, motherhood, mothers, mothers and daughters, Sundance, teenagers, Thing 2, tricky, unconditional love | 1 Comment

oh happy day

Posted on September 1, 2015 by robynbird

Finally! After a twenty day countdown today is the day!
Thing 2 arrives at Dulles at 11:45 this morning!
I am quite possibly the happiest human being on the entire planet!
I can hardly wait to get my arms around my baby!

My joy knows no bounds! I wish this level of happiness for absolutely everyone!

Categories: love, on being a mom | Tags: blessings, daughters, excited, excitement, family, feelings, fun, giggles, happiness, happy, hugs, joy, kisses, love, mother's love, motherhood, mothers and daughters, relationships, Tangled, teenagers, Thing 2, unconditional love | 4 Comments

for this is the recipe of love

Posted on August 18, 2015 by robynbird

I found this when I was going through my mother’s things.

It’s my Grandaddy’s handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.
I suspect it’s the toast he made at my parents wedding.
Now, my parents were an ill suited match, but they made me so I’m not going to complain. They were terribly unhappy together, and after my father left us, Mommie remained unhappy deep in her soul. Perhaps that unhappiness came to her when her mother died. I don’t know. I just know that it seemed to me that even though she would express real joy, she was always miserable down in her soul.

Grandaddy didn’t especially like my dad…but that could have been for any number of reasons.
My dad was only likable when he chose to be. Most times he was a right bastard. Of course, a childhood of abuse and a lifetime of hiding his sexual orientation contributed to that.

Grandaddy was a grumpy old thing. But he was helping to raise kids in his sixties and seventies. Oh! How I adored him. He was the first man I ever fell in love with. And quite possibly he was in love with me more than he had ever been with my mom. I think she knew it. I think she was jealous of that love. But, I don’t really care. That love was sacred and nothing will ever change that.

I’m being tangential as all get out…this post started out differently in my head…I’m going to try and make my way back to the reason I’m sharing this photo.

YBW and I have asked my niece, Girlie Thing, to read this at our wedding. Sundance was with me when I found the tiny envelope with Grandaddy’s writing. I knew then I wanted it to be a part of our wedding day.

As I go through the invitation and response lists, I realize my only blood family is Thing 1 and Thing 2. The family I made: Sundance and her babies, my darling friend in Arizona and her family, my friend and mentor, and my former husband’s little sister and her family, will be with me the day I wed the man I waited forty-four years to marry.
I have great sadness that Mommie never even met YBW. That my dad didn’t live long enough to be a part of this day, he adored YBW and our relationship.
My sadness about Grandaddy isn’t so much that he won’t know YBW or be at our wedding, it’s more that everyday missing him that resides deep in my heart.

All this said, I have wonderful people that I love who will celebrate with us on October 24. But with this tiny envelope, a bit of my parents and Grandaddy will be with me too. And that makes my heart happy.

Perhaps that’s the recipe of love…
The family from which you come mixed with the friends who become your family and a dollop of your own babies on top. I’ll mix these with YBW’s family. The one from which he came and his fraternity brothers who became his family and a dollop of his babies.

Whatever the recipe, I am chock-full of love. I’m grateful for those who taught me to love when I was a little girl. For those whom I befriended and taught me how to expand my love. For the man who showed me that love was something I never even imagined. And for the gifts of daughters who taught me new and awe-inspiring ways to love.

Categories: love, wedding | Tags: beloved, best friends, blessings, daughters, family, family of origin, fathers and daughters, fraternity brothers, friends as family, friendship, Grandaddy, grandfathers and granddaughters, happy, joy, love, mothers and daughters, my Grandaddy, recipe of love, relationships, sharing, wedding, YBW | 4 Comments

14 days!

Posted on August 17, 2015 by robynbird

I never underestimate the importance of a countdown.
I talked about countdowns at they apply to my birthday in counting down.
During the four years that YBW and I dated long distance, we always made a countdown when we knew we would see each other again.
I love counting down to pretty much anything! Right now I’m actually counting down two things simultaneously.
The first is easy: last two weeks at this preschool. The second one is my new favorite: 14 days until Thing 2 arrives!

She and I have been trading texts and emails the last few days:
Me: I’m so excited to see you! I’m going to kiss your face off!!
Thing 2: You know, I have really been needing a good Momma hug this week so all of that love will be hella reciprocated when I get there! I also wanna hug those boys!
Me: It’s gonna be SO great!! Snuggles. Baseball. Tom’s Diner. Snuggles. Lin’s. Hanging out. Snuggles. New do. Girlie stuff. Snuggles. (Y’all notice a pattern? Cause I sure do!)
Thing 2: All those made me really really really excited and smiley!

Me too, girl. Me too!
I’m near bursting with excitement to see my baby girl! We have yet to celebrate her birthday. I can hardly wait for her to open her pressies!
YBW and I scheduled a meeting with the event coordinator at the winery for when Thing 2 is here because we want to share it with her and have her input.

YBW came home today and I said: Want to know something SO exciting?
He said: Sure!
Me: (with a giggle) 14 days!
He giggled and hugged me.
Me: Do you know till what?
YBW: Thing 2 comes!
More giggling.
Me: I’m so excited.
YBW: Me too!
Then I said: I have a little Momma jealousy, I think she’s just as excited to see you as she is to see me.
YBW: REALLY!?!
Me: Yep.
YBW had a GREAT BIG GRIN!

I love a good countdown. It’s a playful way to mark the passing of time between me and something I feel happy about.
I thought, today, of the countdown clock on the wall in Matt Albie’s office on the show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.
It’s an old show that only lasted one season. It was a tad left-leaning for me but I loved the characters and the way they related to each other. I adore Matthew Perry, and the natural on screen chemistry between him and Bradley Whitford was a joy to watch! Aaron Sorkin’s rat-a-tat-tat dialogue suited these actors.
One of my favorite scenes happens during the second episode: The Cold Open.
Danny Tripp, played by Bradley Whitford turns on the clock.

Matthew Perry’s character, Matt Albie reacts:
Matt: How did it know?
Danny: How did it know what?
Matt: Exactly how much time was left in the week?
Danny: Yeah, it’s a miracle of technology that we’ve invented, an electronic device that can count backwards from seven.
Matt: But it was off.
Danny: It has a battery.
Matt: [in horror] So it always knows?
Danny: Don’t endow the thing with special powers, Matt – it’s a clock.

I disagree, Danny. I’m all about endowing the clock with special powers! But only if you’re counting down to something good.
Matt is counting down until the next show…and he has to write it.
Isn’t that every writer’s nightmare? The deadline.
My deadline is picking up my child at the airport on time. I’ll countdown to that ANY day, thanks!