In a suburb about an hour West of Boston, there lived a girl named Iz. It was her birthday month, which was celebrated with no less than three parties. And, her birthday month culminated in her being a princess at the Father-Daughter Winter Ball held tonight!
I was elated that Iz loved her birthday so much, because I was a big believer in birthdays. You don’t ignore them and pretend they’re not there. They should truly be a huge celebration of you and your life.
This morning, I was asked, “Mom, is the dance tonight?” I told Iz, “Yes, tonight is the night!” She said, “I asked Daddy what he is wearing. He said a t-shirt and jeans. I know he’s just kidding! He is kidding, right?” I assured her he was.
When I got her off the bus today, I reminded her that we had to go get her hair done, do her nails, and then she was off to the dance. Instead of shouting with glee, she rolled up her National Geographic magazine, ran after Noah and his friend, and then proceeded to whack them with it. I said, “Iz, stop it!” as she giggled and they ran away.
At this point, she wasn’t acting the princess part I thought she would be by now; however, I had to love the fact that she loved racing down the street after the boys when I knew she would be all caught up in lip gloss and sparkles in two hours. She’s every woman, and I definitely love that about her.
Here’s the pre-princess transformation.
Once we got to Donna's (our hairdresser), she was a changed woman. Suddenly, she sat still, glanced in the mirror every five minutes, asked questions about where a barrette would go, and watched her hair transform. She then said to me, “Mommy, this looks so good, doesn’t it!”
Donna said, “I want everyone to want to take a picture with you and your Dad tonight!” Iz then said, “Mom and I have lots of fans.” Donna said, “You do?” Iz said, “We have lots of fans…on our blog!”
No matter who you are and where you are in your life, I still think most women love to be treated like a princess every now and then. Tonight, I saw Iz glow, and it wasn’t just because she looked beautiful; it was because she had a man beside her who loved her unconditionally. And, I think that’s all any girl wants.
And though I’m too old and too late for a dance with my Dad, a prom, or most anything else like that, I felt like a princess, too. One of my friends, Bill, said, “Your work may be as yet somewhat undiscovered but it's outstanding work and I enjoy reading every word!” This week, Iz and I conquered the princess world. She was the Princess of her Dad’s heart; I was the Princess of Words. ♥
Happy Weekend!
You Have a Friend for Life Note: At 2:55pm, I stood at the corner waiting for Iz's bus. I then saw Betsi's car at the bus stop. Her door opened and she got out. This had never happened before. She then walked up to me and said, "I just wanted to say Hi, Jean." I said, "Hi," and then we began to talk about the weather.
When the bus rumbled down the road, she said, "Nice talking to you." As she walked back to her car, I thought, "That was a huge effort for her. I was truly loved just then." And, today, I am lucky to be loved and most importantly as a Princess! ♥
One of birthday presents that Iz received yesterday was an iPod. No, not an iPod Touch or anything that fancy. I bought her a pink shuffle, a starter iPod so to speak.
Her big birthday present was supposed to be the cool canopy bed for her American Girl doll, Julie. It was the kind of canopy bed I always wanted when I was growing up but never got, just like those cool patent leather go-go boots that every girl had at school except for me. Unfortunately, the bed was backordered until June, so I had to think of something else fast.
Iz has always loved music. At one point, I made a lot of “mix” CDs for our long trips to Pennsylvania. Her favorites were “Train in Vain” by the Clash and “American Baby” by the Dave Matthews Band. She’d sit in the back in her car seat and sing along, though back then she didn’t know all the words so she mostly made up her own!
It was reassuring then to know that she liked music, especially most of the things I liked. In contrast, it was about then that Nathan developed his own taste in music. Nathan listened to groups with names I had never heard of like Dinosaur Jr, metal bands like Metallica, and was fond of the Nine Inch Nails’ song “Only” which went “There is no you, there is only me, there is no f*cking you, there is only me!”
Nathan and I still have CD wars in the car. He’ll put his in, I’ll roll my eyes. I’ll put mine in, and then he’ll roll his eyes. Finally, Nathan realized if he couldn’t beat me, he might as well join me halfway and create a few CDs with some songs on it that “even you would like Mom!”
Anyway, I figured Iz just might be ready for her own iPod. She had often asked me if she could have my iPod when I died or no longer needed it anymore. Err, hoping the first wouldn’t be true any time soon and knowing the second would never be true, because my iPod went everywhere with me, I knew I needed to get her one eventually; the timing seemed right.
When Iz opened her iPod yesterday, for which I let Nathan take the giving credit, she screamed, “Oh, an iPod!” She immediately bear hugged Nathan and said, “Nathan, thank you!” Now, Nathan can do no wrong in Iz’s eyes for at least the next two weeks!
Of course, she opened her two American Girl presents, an outfit and a pet rabbit, pushed them aside and then asked me, “Mommy, when can we do my iPod?” It was too late, so I told her we could set it up today. She asked, “Can I get Taylor Swift on it?” Nathan glared at me much like he did when I told him Iz was going to be a cheerleader, and I said, “Um, sure,” and Nathan shook his head in music appreciation disbelief.
When she got home from school today, she asked, “Mommy, can we do the iPod now?” (Funny, but she has yet to ask if or when she’ll receive Julie’s canopy bed.) It would appear that the gift of music was a big hit. That’s my girl!
I hooked her iPod up to my laptop, set it up, and then I started to load songs I knew she liked. I had a $25 gift card that I had just redeemed, so I told her she could buy a few songs. She then asked, “Can I get Taylor Swift?”
Not being a huge Taylor Swift fan, I grimaced internally, but I said to Iz, “Sure, you can!” Her iPod. Her songs. And, I respect that.
I only had time to put on 15 songs, but it was enough for her. She was raring to use it, though we had to have a 5-minute lesson on how to go back and forward through her playlist. I think most of it was lost on her after the first Taylor Swift song started to play, because she quickly said, “Okay, okay, Mommy!” and wandered off to her room.
In about two minutes, she was singing loudly. In another minute, she was dancing. And when she boogied by the doorway, she was singing into her shuffle like it was a microphone.
The phone rang, and I answered it. Amazingly, it was someone who wanted to set up a phone interview with me. I was trying to arrange a time to talk next week, but Iz was now singing “You Belong With Me” at the top of her lungs in the hallway. I said to the person on the phone, “Excuse me for a minute. I have to go downstairs. My daughter just got an iPod and is singing Taylor Swift so loudly, I can’t think.”
Thank goodness there was laughter on the other end of the line. Actually, despite being a little loud, that Iz has a good little singing voice. I have to give credit where credit is due. She gets that from her Dad and not from me!
When I came back upstairs, she was still plugged in and singing along. When she stopped suddenly, I thought either she or the iPod had run out of batteries. She came over to me and asked, “Mom, can you put it on Taylor Swift again?”
I did, and in a minute, she was off down the hallway singing full volume. I laughed and thought, “Wow, I have created a little music monster. How cool!” And, I guess if I can't beat her, I might as join her and learn to like Taylor Swift, too. ♥
I am beginning to think that I have too much time to think. Yes, just a little over a year ago, I had no time to think, which was obvious, because I was putting my underwear on inside out. But now, I am beginning to analyze things way too much like today at the grocery store. Well, it’s got to be a combination of too much time and too many episodes of Law & Order and CSI!
As an aside, did you know that my first job was working as a cashier at a grocery store? It was at the First National supermarket in Sudbury. Doesn’t First National sound more like the name of a bank than a supermarket?
In my town, once you could work, you had a few major choices. You could work at a supermarket (First National or Star Market) or at a restaurant (Friendly’s or Brigham’s). There were other places like the Fashion Barn*, but the supermarkets and the restaurants always seemed to have the most jobs available.
*My Mom affectionately called this The Shit Pit. Tunabreath worked there. And, actually, it was a great discount clothing store.
The Food Service industry never spoke to me, so I opted for the world of Consumer Packaged Goods. Actually, First National was a fine but dingy little market; if you were really lucky, you got to work at the more upscale Star Market. They had the onsite Osco pharmacy, their store was larger, and their smocks were way more more fashionable.
I remember going through my rigorous cashier training at First National. I had a workbook, which required me to review basic math and manners. I took my training in the dingy little “break room” of the dingy store.
To get to the break room, you had to walk all the way to the back of the store, open a set of swinging doors, which revealed the even dingier underbelly of the store, and then climb a flight of stairs. When you opened the door to the break room, the 5’ by 8’ cell with no windows contained a rickety table with four chairs that didn’t match and the walls were plastered with propaganda posters (“Service with a Smile”) and standard government notices. (I had been in Star Market’s break room; it was bright, large, and I’m pretty sure they had matching chairs for their table!)
The most unique thing about that job was that I had to join a union. I think it was the first and last time in my life that I belonged to a union. Unless, of course, we women banded together recently and formed a union demanding equal time with the TV remote, five days of lying on the couch with the TV remote for a scratchy throat, and the right to ignore piles of laundry that need washing. Yeah, I didn’t think that happened yet!
Anyway, I had to join the meat cutter’s union, which is now the UFCW. I laughed then. Doesn’t the meat cutter’s union seem like a funny thing to join when you’re punching buttons on a cash register? I also was a bit peeved, because if I had to join any union then, it would have been the ILGWU, because they had that GREAT jingle! (I love some of my vintage clothes just because of that label.)
Once I passed my training, I was ready to do that whole “Service is a Smile” thing with my cash register. This was back in the day when cash registers still had dollar amounts on them and long before UPC scanners. Well, items had codes on them then, but, for some reason, it took us 20 years to figure out how to use them with scanners.
I remember my Mom coming home from shopping and putting all the bags on the table. My sister and I would start to unpack them and play grocery store, pretending to use a cash register; see, I was destined for cashier greatness but just not at Macy’s!
One day, I pointed to a UPC code and asked my Mom, “What’s this?” She said, “Someday, they won’t need price tags on things anymore; they’ll be able to figure out the price of an item from that barcode.” My sister and I both gasped and said, “Wow. Really?”
I didn’t stay at First National too long. Marcia came along and saved me. She got me a job at Thayer Pharmacy where there was no ugly smock to wear, no dingy break room, and no union to join, though I still liked to hum the ILGWU jingle from time to time.
One of the jobs I liked best in the last 20 years was one I had at IRI Software. I have no idea if they still exist as a company, but I wrote documentation for a space management application. Yes, it would tell you how to position your products on the grocery store shelf; believe it or not, it's an art and a science!
Did you ever wonder why you run into a grocery store for a gallon of milk and leave with 10 other things? The milk isn’t at the back of the store because they want you to get more exercise, hello?!?! Then there are those Nilla Wafers and the seasonal candy items (like Peeps!), on the end caps that look innocent, but they’re not.
They’ve thrown themselves in front of your shopping carriage not because they want to end it all. No, they want you to feel sorry for them, swoop them up into your cart, and buy them. Little did you know that a supermarket is almost as bad as any casino in Las Vegas!
Anyway, I went to the grocery store today to pick up a few things. Did you know that a grocery store is a good place to catch up on current world events? After today’s visit, I know that Elin has a painful choice, Oprah’s having a baby boy at 56, Whitney Houston is dying, Jen and Jessica were stabbed in the heart by John Mayer, and Jake made a mistake. I don’t get out much. Who the heck is Jake?!
As I was standing there in the 14 items or less line wondering who Jake could possibly be, I watched the person in front of me put his items down on the conveyor belt. Do you ever notice what other people buy when you’re at the store? Sometimes, if you think about it, like I did today, it can be an odd assortment of things.
Unless you're doing you’re a huge once-a-week shopping trip, which I never manage to do, it seems that more often than not you go into the grocery store to pick up a few things and come out with 5 other unrelated things. And, today, I began to wonder what this odd assortment of grocery items said about the person purchasing them. Could it be a grocery store horoscope of sorts?
The man in front of me had two packages of chicken breasts, Weight Watchers Chocolate cake, deodorant, a box of prunes, and one lime. All those things don't seem so odd, but one lime? Why does anyone buy just one lime?
I can see buying one apple if you’re going to snack on it on the way home but just one lime? It had me thinking, “What does someone do with just one lime?” Is that for two gin and tonics? Is it the substitute for the “key lime” in a pie? Is it for one of those at-home facials he probably read about in Sports Illustrated?
By then, two more people had gotten in line behind me. The woman right behind me had a bottle of 409 spray cleaner and a pound of sugar; I thought, it’s her week to tend to the kitchen at work. The man behind her had two packages of chocolate chip cookies, a gallon of Vienna Mocha Chunk ice cream, and a two liter bottle of diet Schweppes ginger ale; I thought, he’s only giving up sugar in carbonated drinks for Lent!
I looked down at what I was buying. My items included cat litter, cat box deodorizer, cat food, and one whoopee pie filled with neon pink cream. Okay, we all know what that says about me. I’m destined to be one of those old women with a sweet tooth who dies alone with 20 cats! ♥
What Was Your First Job Note: Leave a comment and tell me what your first job was and any memories you have of it good or bad. Remember, I tell you stories, and I love hearing yours, and I’m sure everyone else would, too. Don't email it. Be daring, be bold, and leave a comment! (And, if you were fortunate enough to have worked at stellar Star Market or Macy's, I so don’t want to hear about it! Just kidding...please, tell me your story!)
I have to preface this by starting with the "Dear Goddess" mailbox.
Dear Goddess, 2 days and counting…we need a blog update!!! Signed, Biker Boy, Austin, TX
Thanks very much for missing me. I took a brief vacation. It was only to my backyard, but I enjoyed it immensely when I wasn’t dodging dog logs and old Xmas trees!
Now back to our regularly scheduled program...
In the last week and especially the last day or two, I’ve been a bit down. I know I said this has been a good year, and it has been. I try to dwell on that most of the time; however, life is not without its difficulties, too.
I called to renew my unemployment last week, and I was told that unless they extend benefits, I only have about 8 weeks left. I also found out that a company I thought might want to interview me didn’t want to. I didn’t have the background they were looking for, which was understandable.
Of course, the individual went an extra step to rip apart my resume. “Hewlett-Packard is missing its hyphen.” (I had to laugh about it eventually, because this individual’s critique contained a glaring typo.) And following that, there were the usual life issues that had gotten a hold of me along the way.
So, here’s our art question for today.* What do you get when you mix one part “unknown future,” one part “frustration,” and two parts of self-doubt? If you said the color blue, you were right. (And, you will receive a Goddess of all Things Lovely t-shirt whenever I get some!)
*Iz asked me on the way home from the dentist, "Can we do art today?" I told her we could do some later in the week. Thank the Great Cat Goddess, I have Nathan who doesn't like alcohol, smoking, and isn't into drugs, and I've got Iz who's craving her next Whistler fix!
Marcia, you are right. Some days, all of this, well, it's just not a lovely picture. And, I couldn’t have painted a lovely picture this morning even if I had a paint by numbers kit created by Monet himself.
I heard my Blackberry announce email as I sat on the couch watching Law & Order. It was going to be one of those days. I quickly glanced at my email and saw “Roof trusses” and “Want to go have a look this morning.” After applying for a job posted on Yahoo, I had gotten a lot of “junk” job opportunities mailed to me, and I thought for a moment, “Was I now being offered a job at some fly by night construction company?”
I had another sip of coffee and took a closer look. It was from my cycling friend, Bill. I had mentioned that when we cycled together last year, we had to stop and check on the construction of a covered bridge in Pepperell at least once a week. (Remember, that is where I had my first outdoor peeing experience since Austin, TX? You don’t. How could you forget such a milestone?)
Anyway, Bill loved going to the bridge. Most of the time when we went there, nothing much was happening. But, we’d travel over the temporary bridge on our bikes, stop halfway, and then Bill would explain to me all the things that had gone on and then all the things that were going to go on. We’d bike over to the end, take another look, and then turn around and bike back down the bridge and be on our way.
The last few times Bill asked me to go to visit the bridge, I always had something to do or I was “stuck” on the couch. Today, I emailed him back and told him I wanted to go. I knew I needed a trip out more than I needed another episode of Law & Order, which I most likely had already seen before.
He emailed me back and asked, “Cream and sugar?” The last time Bill and I went off together was when we went hiking up Mount Monadnock. Bill picked me up, and the minute I climbed in, he handed me a coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. And, when he picked me up today, there was my coffee in the cup holder next to his saying, "Good morning! Just what you ordered, cream and sugar!"
As we drove to Pepperell, I blurted out, “This is weird.” He probably wondered what the heck I was talking about. I then quickly said, “It’s odd taking a car to the bridge, because we’re always on bikes!” We both laughed. Navigating your way seems so different when you’re on a bike instead of in a car; in fact, it almost seemed like we were lost.
When we arrived at the bridge, Bill surveyed the area looking for a good place to park. He glanced to the right and said, “Hey, it looks like those timbers are gone. You’re going to have to find a new spot to pee!” I laughed out loud.
Bill parked his truck, and we climbed out to hear the rumble of the massive red crane parked on the bridge. I’d never seen such a big thing in my life. It reminded me of a book my Mom read us when we were little; I thought, "Wow, I can finally understand why Mike Mulligan loved his steam shovel!"
Though the crane was running, there wasn’t much activity. We assumed we had arrived at “coffee break.” We walked down the temporary bridge; and again, it was odd not having my bike attached to my hands when doing so. They had done a lot of work on the bridge since I had last been there.
Instead of looking out over the naked Nashua River between two roads that suddenly dropped off 30 feet, I was looking at something that actually resembled a bridge for the first time. I have to say, it was pretty incredible and quite beautiful.
I know Bill thought at times that I was never into the bridge. Well, some days, I wasn’t, but those were probably those 40-mile-bike-ride days where I was so tired that I just wanted to get home as fast as possible! But, now I could see it all happening, and, in an instant, it all became quite another thing to me.
About 10 minutes later, the crane operator climbed into his cab and the rest of the crew appeared on the scene. I was still fascinated by the crane. Bill told me that the crane operator drove 100 miles each day to work there. Well, I gathered not everyone had a crane like that in their backyard, so it was probably a long distance occupation.
I told Bill I might like to be a crane operator. I noted that he had a lot of down time in his cab. I told Bill, “I can write while I wait!” He laughed and said, “I bet you that guy can operate that crane, but what do you think the chances are that he can write like you?”
As we marveled at it all, Bill said, “Isn’t it amazing that in the 21st century things like this can still be built?” I agreed, and the longer we stood there, the more I wished this whole thing was on cable TV with a narrator so I could watch it at home and know what was going to happen each time the crane rotated around to go to lift something else up into the air.
It sounds odd, but it was all so beautiful to watch. In some ways, it was like watching an art project under construction. And, all of a sudden, I started to cry.
It was the bridge. It was as if I was watching what once had been my life, a large project with goals, deadlines, moving parts and pieces that had been put together carefully over time. It seemed at that very moment, my life had lost all that to some degree. A bit embarrassed, though this was the man who knew I peed behind a pile of timbers, I told Bill I was having a rotten week. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to me.
I wiped the tears off my cheeks, and I began to babble. He put his arm around me and listened. He told me about a few of his friends and reassured me that I was in good company in my turmoil, which I knew was true. This morning, I just needed to dwell in my turmoil for a few minutes, and Bill let me.
Lately, I felt like I had been chased by a group of angry villagers named “unknown future,” “frustration,” and “self-doubt” to the edge of a cliff. I know I would never jump, but I couldn’t help but be a bit scared every now and then by the angry mob. Today, I looked out over that cliff, which happened to overlook the Nashua River, and I realized how good it was to have a friend show me that there is always a bridge that will take you over troubled waters.
And, a wise man just said to me just today, “Avert your gaze from the fender benders and dance with them that's brung you.” So… Let’s Jitterbug, Jeff. Minuet, Marcia? Care to tango, Tomas? Allemande, Annie! Bolero time, Brenda! Twist again, Tunabreath! Time to Guapacha, Georgie! Charleston, Cathy? Let's Swing, Stevearino? Salsa, Suzebabe? Cha-cha, Chris? Vintage, Nancy? (I know that’s not a dance, but we can do the Varsovienne while we try on clothes, Babe!)♥
The Master’s Bedroom, Andrew Wyeth (1965) The Corgi’s Bedroom (2010)
Trodden Weed, Andrew Wyeth (1951) Trodden Weeds in Boots from Target (2010)
Christina’s World (1948) Iz’s World: “I miss Miss Tessier and the kids in my class.” (2010)
This week, I do believe that Iz and I have more than developed an appreciation for art. In fact, I think she was eager to head off to the after-school program this afternoon with her Nintendo DS. It was apparent that it was now time for Mario Brothers instead of Monet! Anyway, I don’t remember an activity where we both had so much fun.
When thinking back on my childhood today, I always remember this time one Summer when I was on a beach in Maine with my Mom helping her put together this wonderful Egyptian woman out of sand which we then decorated with shells and beach glass. Out of all the things I did with my Mom when I was young, I remember that time most vividly. And, I hope that when Iz is 47 that she too remembers our “art” with such fondness. ♥
"A sincere artist is not one who makes a faithful attempt to put on to canvas what is in front of him, but one who tries to create something which is, in itself, a living thing." ~William Dobell
Untitled No. 14, Jackson Pollock (1948-1949) Untitled No. 14, Jean and Iz (2010): Cake Mate on construction paper
Red Hills with White Shell, Georgia O’Keeffe (1938) Red Hill with White Shell, Jean and Iz (2010): McCormick food coloring on snow in the backyard
Sylvette, Pablo Piccasso (1954) Sylvette, Jean and Iz (2010): Sharpies on construction paper
Woman in Black at the Opera, Mary Cassatt (1878) Woman in Black at the Opera, Jean and Iz (2010): Vintage hat and coat with Nathan’s binoculars and printer paper fan on living room couch
No. We’re not addicted. We can stop any time we want to. We can too! ♥ Nathan got his license today!!!! End blog soundtrack:
(I know most of you don't listen to the songs I post. But, listen to this. It's near and dear to my heart and always will be.)
Today, Iz went on a field trip with kids from her after-school program. She had been excited about it all week. And, I think, despite our brilliant artistic collaborations, we both needed some time apart.
At noon, Number Two child was off for an afternoon at JumpOnIn! So, I had a quiet and leisurely afternoon planned at home. No. That didn’t happen. I had to prepare for Number One child’s field trip; that is, I had to get in the car and pick up Nate and his friend, Harry.
We were off to T&S Collectibles! It’s not Disney World; however, for Nathan and Harry it was. They were in search of Magic cards.
When I arrived at Harry’s house (Nate slept over the night before), Nathan came out by himself. This made me wonder if Harry was still sleeping. It was 1pm, but this seems to be the sleeping schedule for these boys; they’re like vampires.
Nathan got in the car and said, “Harry’s coming.” Then he said, “I cannot be responsible for anything Harry says or does while with us.” I momentarily had the urge to burn rubber out of Harry’s driveway. But, then I thought, “We’re going to buy magic cards not weapons of mass destruction. How psycho could Harry be?!”
Once Harry was in the car, he exchanged a few words with Nathan. He then instructed me in word-for-word Mapquest speak to Route 495. Of course, I laughed if only to myself. I knew exactly how to find Route 495, but I let Harry say, “Go to the end of my street. Turn left. And we will take a left onto Route 495 in approximately 3.98 miles.”
After a 45 minute drive, we arrived at T&S Collectibles. As we walked through the parking lot, I wondered what the store would look like. But, I knew way before I wondered. It would be disorganized, cluttered, and reek of meatball subs like any good collectible place would.
If I had any doubt about my son’s character, well, I never did, but his friend, Harry, renewed my faith in mankind. Immediately upon entering, Harry approached one of the owners and said, “I bought this Magic deck from you last week. I found this Majestic Red Dragon Yugioh card in it. I don’t think you meant to include it.” The stunned storeowner said, “Wow! Yeah, that shouldn’t have been in there. This is a great card.” Harry said, “Yeah, it goes for $12-$30 online.”
Harry honestly returned a card that he could have kept. But, he didn’t. The most disappointing part of it was that the owner didn’t reward his honesty by saying, “Hey, $5 off your next purchase.”
As Nathan and Harry perused the Magic cards in the cases, I milled around the store. I loved looking at the comic books with the titles “A Very Zombie Xmas,” “Red Sonja,” “Irredeemable,” “Snake Woman,” and, go figure, even Stephen King puts his name on comic books (Dark Towers and The Stand) now. I couldn’t believe that comic books, all 10 pages of them, cost $2.99 a read!
Harry and Nathan began to look through binders of Magic cards. These binders sported the names “Onslaughter,” “Invasion,” “Conflux,” “Prophecy,” and “Nemesis.” And, there were still many more binders displayed on the shelves.
I glanced at a flyer on a bulletin board. It advertised the “Pro Tour Qualifier” in East Hartford, Connecticut. I never thought playing Magic cards was like high-stakes poker. The winner of this tournament got to go to San Juan to play. I then realized that like anything you do with a passion, it does become serious stuff.
As Nate and Harry poured through cards in binders, two more kids their age came in. At one point, one of them plunked his 13” Samsung laptop down on the counter and started it up. He said, “I want to buy some cards.” One of the owners asked, “How much?” He said, “About $20, but I have to check.” It would appear that this kid had his whole Magic card inventory catalogued on his laptop.
I still wasn’t understanding the whole magic card thing then, especially when Harry said to Nate, “I want to rebuild my goblin deck.” Whaaaat? Nathan looked at me, and before he could say anything, I said, “Take your time. Just tell me when you need my credit card.” He said, “Thanks, Mom.” (He was spending his birthday money from Aunt Julie and Uncle Jack.)
Just then, I took another look around the store. How many times could I pass by the comic books without reading one? It didn’t last too long.
As I went by Nate and Harry again, another kid about their age looked in the case. He gasped. He then said, “$80? Why did I sell that card in the off-season?” Jeez, who knew there was an off-season for Magic cards?!
After I looked at everything in the store three times, I went over to the comic books and picked up “Wonder Woman.” Hey, Lynda Carter never looked as good as she did in this comic book’s version of her. It would appear that now she works out more and wears way much less clothing than the Wonder Woman of my youth.
As I read through the pages, I thought, “Wow. I could write this stuff.” Though, I would seriously have to downsize my word count to fit it into all into those tiny bubbles. Obviously, “When I went back to the house, things were very different from the last time I had been there. The rooms were filthy, the furniture faded, and the cob web were so thick, they looked as though they were decoration rather than filth” would have to be pared down to “It’s just not the same.”
After completing the whole April issue of Wonder Woman, I knew this wasn’t my genre. Besides, at the end, I didn’t like it when I turned the last page and some green male super hero had shown up to save Wonder Woman’s day. What made it even worse was his parting lines went “…in fact, we’re going to kick this night’s ass. So let’s get on with it.” Um, yeah, that was lame and so not inspiring.
After an hour, Nathan and Harry had purchased what they needed to complete their decks. I know Nathan knew I was bored out of my mind, so he thanked me periodically. I wasn’t really bored out of my mind; it just wasn’t my cup of tea. I love being there, because I was fascinated by a world I had never known before. There was a big difference between boredom and fascination.
On the way home, Nate said to Harry, “I got a vampire card!” Harry said, “That’s $15 online!” Then Nate said, “Oh, I got a comet.” Harry said, “That’s awesome. A comet is like a fireball on heroin.” It was like they were both speaking Swahili; however, I was glad to be there. And while not speaking their language, I understood it anyway; they were happy and so was I. I had learned something new and had an appreciation for Magic cards that I didn’t previously.
As we drove home, I thought about my brother, Jack, at this age. He didn’t want to have anything to do with any of us in the family. I’m sure some kids are still like that today; however, I was lucky because, even if I didn’t “get” magic cards, at 17, Nathan still wanted me in his world. ♥
My Co-Artist Was Gone Today But I Did Not Want to Disappoint Note: Sailing the Catboat, Winslow Homer (1875) Medium (2010): Liam on Iz’s bed with Strawberry Shortcake dolls from McDonald’s Happy Meals with printer paper sail attached to Hello Kitty pencil
Today, I had to take Iz to see the obligatory school vacation movie. I wish it had been “It’s Complicated” or “Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief,” but it had to be “The Tooth Fairy.”
I was hoping to sway her to the artistic side this morning when I asked, “Do you want to do art again? She said, “Okay!” And, we had fun even though our creative differences reared their ugly heads as she asked, “Why does George’s face have to be on Ken? And, why can’t Barbie be in the picture?”
At 1:30pm, we left for the movie. It had started snowing, and I asked, “Maybe we shouldn’t go today?” To which, Iz gave me the “We are going to see the Tooth Fairy Whether You Like it or Not” look.
When we were not even halfway through the movie, Iz leaned over to me. She said, “Mom, want to do art when we get home?” I said, “Sure!”
Haystacks, Monet (1890-1891) Medium (2010): Apple Cinnamon Muffins, John Deere tractor, and Hello Kitty on printer paper
Drawing Hands, M.C. Escher (1948) Medium (2010): Brooks Brothers shirt with Zeno pens on printer paper
The Reader, Fragonard (1770-72) Medium (2010): Vintage mohair sweater with “Computer Networks” on my bed with pillows
St. George and the Dragon, Raphael (1504) Medium (2010): Ken (circa 1960s, belonged to my sister, I think) on horse with paper sword, paper boot, Georgie’s face, and Scorch the Dragon (Beanie Baby, retired)
Today was the first day of February school vacation. Upon waking this morning, I wondered, “How do I fill the next five days with tons of amusement on a budget?” I realized I had no clue, but I better think of something fast as I sensed someone would be in my face, asking me what we were doing today, two minutes after I entered the kitchen to pour my coffee.
As I suspected, I made it into the kitchen, grabbed my coffee, but before I could pour that first cup of eggnog coffee, I heard a little voice from the family room ask, “What are we doing today?” First, I needed a cup of coffee running through my veins to remember who the little voice in the family room belonged to, and, second, I had to now remember why I was even in the kitchen.
Oh, yeah, coffee. I finished pouring my eggnog coffee, dumped a teaspoon of sugar in my mug, and then added a dribble of half and half. I still couldn’t remember who the voice belonged to, so I knew I needed to stall. I said to the voice in the family room, “Um, I don’t know. I’ll have to go upstairs and think about it. See you in a bit!” The little voice said, “K.”
Once up at my desk, I began to drink my coffee. Sip. Sip. Oh, that was Isabelle. Sip. Sip. Sip. What are we going to do today? Sip. Sip. Oh, crud. “Look for Nate’s lost wallet” yelled up at me in pink neon highlighter from the “Note to Self” pad on my desk. Sip. Sip. Sip. Sip. Nathan has his license test this Thursday* and still hasn’t found his wallet, which went missing in his room three days ago. Sip. Sip. Sip. Sip. Hmmm.
*Yes, this is one for… I yelled downstairs to Iz (formerly known as the “little voice”), “Hey, Iz!” She yelled, “What?” I yelled, “Do you want to help me clean Nathan’s room? I’ll pay you $1!” She yelled back, “Sure,” and then I heard stomp-stomp-stomp as she departed the family room and thud-thud-thud as she ran up the stairs.
She met me in Nathan’s room. The place was a disaster area. Root beer cans littered his bureau. Game CDs were all over his bed. Dungeon and Dragons books were piled up on the floor next to his bed. I really don’t get on Nathan’s case about his room too much. I weighed it carefully in my head over the years. Good kid…messy room…good kid…messy room. Good kid always wins.
I said to Iz, “We are looking for Nathan’s wallet, okay?” Iz asked, “If I find it, do I get to keep it?” I said, “No! But, I’m sure your brother will be very grateful if you found it.” She said, as if being told broccoli was for lunch, “Oh.”
Nathan claimed he left his wallet on his bedside table. Over the weekend, he had “looked” for his wallet. I know that this “looking” involved moving the bedside table out and looking behind it and looking under his bed. That was the extent of his search.
And, I knew then that all of his CSI and Law & Order viewing with me had not had any effect on him, because that was a seriously lame search which ended up with him saying, “Well, maybe the kitten found it on the floor and batted it around, so I don’t know where it could be now.” Yeah, always blame the kitten!
I began to pick up and put away things. Iz happened upon Nate’s metallic pens; she gave them to him for his birthday. He hadn’t let her borrow them yet, and she was very peeved about it.
Already knowing she wouldn’t be much help, I said, “Why don’t you go get a pad, and then you can draw some pictures with Nathan’s pens. She said, “Okay!” In a minute, she was back with her pad and happily drawing on Nathan’s bed while I continued to sort through the rubble.
After 20 minutes, I moved a cardboard box and found a pair of Nathan’s pajama bottoms on the floor. They were inside out revealing a pair of boxer shorts that were also inside out. Remember, anything on the floor is dirty until proven clean. I picked up the pants and on a whim, I felt the pockets. I felt something hard in one pocket and pulled it out.
Yes, it was Nathan’s wallet. I immediately photographed it, and I sent it to Nathan, who was traveling to visit a college (UMaine-Orono) with Quinn. Nathan texted me back and asked, “Where did you find it?” I texted back its location. He texted, “Thanks.”
At that point, after surveying the remaining rubble in Nathan’s room and finding his wallet, which was a huge relief, I thought, “This can wait until tomorrow. I thought that there must be something fun that Iz and I can do." I could continue to organize photos on my laptop, which I had been trying to do for the last month; however, a photo that I came across recently gave me another idea.
My favorite thing there is this statue. I love to sit there and just look at it, never mind those stairs and the Corinthian columns. When I sit there, sometimes I feel like I could melt into the floor and that would be a fitting end for me.
Anyway, I took this picture while sitting there at the museum, because it struck me. No, it’s not a modern sculpture. But, at that time, I thought maybe it should be.
It’s just a stack of chairs. But, isn’t it cool? Doesn’t it make you think that art, well, art is everywhere. And, today, I wanted Iz to feel that.
So, after “cleaning” Nathan’s room and thinking about this picture, I said to Iz, “Let’s make some art.” She said, “What do you mean?” I said, “Well, I’ll show you some famous art, and then we’ll try to do it.” She had a think and said, “Fine. I’m in.” (If something should ever happen to me, do you all promise to tell Nathan and Iz how much I loved them, even after I’m gone? Please do.)
Girl with a Red Hat, Vermeer Van Delft (1668)
The Kiss, Gustav Klint (1907-1908)
Boston Terrier Pop Art Collage, Artist Unknown Pembroke Welsh Corgi Pop Art Collage, Iz and Jean (2010)
Pop Art Kiss, Artist Unknown Pop Art Kiss, Iz (2010)
Campbell’s Soup I, Andy Warhol (1968) In abstentia: Nathan’s Room (2010)
American Gothic, Grant Wood (1930)
The Scream, Edvard Munch (1893) The Scream Because Girl Scout Cookies are Here (2010)
There are four more days of vacation to go. Iz and I stayed in our pajamas for most of the day and had a wonderful time. And, today, it was good to feel like I was almost seven years old again. ♥
Whether your soundtrack to Valentine’s Day is “Love Stinks” or “I’m Still in Love with You,” you can’t avoid the day, can you? Well, you can, but the cards, the candy, the TV commercials Jane Seymour's Open Hearts jewelry, and anything that’s red and forms the shape of a heart have been hard to ignore that last month. (Note that if your Valentine’s Day comprises “Muskrat Love” and edible underwear, I don’t want to hear about it!)
Each year, it becomes more apparent to me that there really shouldn’t be so much pressure on one day to contain all the love in the world when there are 364 other days that need just as much love, too. Don't get me wrong; I’m not a Valentine’s Day Grinch at all. This Valentine’s Day just reaffirmed my belief about love on the day and in general. And, that it is best sometimes when it takes the form of an unexpected surprise and unconditional words.
Earlier in the week, I received a box in the mail. (No, it was not the Zappos box that has been missing from my life for over a year now!) It was a small brown box from one of my friends. On it, it said, “Do not open until Valentine’s Day.” God, how I love a mystery, especially when it’s in my own life and does not involve CSI or Law & Order!
I emailed my friend, and I thanked her for my box, but I mentioned that the Impatient Voice and the Impulsive Voice in my head were doing their damndest to outtalk the Patient Voice. She told me that I could open it early if I wanted. But, the Patient Voice said, “Don’t you want a surprise on Valentine’s Day?” For once, Impatient and Impulsive said, “Well, we really think it would be fun to…, um, yes, we’ll wait.”
As it would happen, the Impatient and Impulsive Iz wandered by my desk yesterday afternoon and saw my box. She asked, “What’s this? Is it for me?” I told her that it was for me. Then she asked, “Why don’t you open it?” My Impatient and Impulsive voices said, “Yeah, why don’t you ope…no, tell her we are waiting until Sunday!”
I said to Iz, “I can’t. See, right here, it says not to open it until Valentine’s Day.” She appeared a bit disappointed, picked it up, shook it, and put it back down on my desk. She asked, “Can I help you open it tomorrow?” I told her she could.
She turned to leave but not before grabbing the box once more. She shook it once more and said, “I don’t think there’s anything in here!” She put in back down on my desk again. I said, “I’m sure there is.”
She said, “Maybe someone sent you nothing.” I was unsure if she really thought this or whether it was a clever plan to get me to open the box and say, “Look! There is something in here.” I said, “We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?” She gave me an “Okay, okay, okay, we’re not opening the box now. I get it!” look and walked off.
First thing this morning, before I was half awake and even had any coffee in my bloodstream, Iz came into my bedroom waving the box. “Mom, remember! We have to open this today!” Obviously, Iz’s “today” was RIGHT NOW, and my “today” was when I was vertical and my breath had just begun to reek of Green Mountain's eggnog coffee.
I made my way out of bed and to my desk as I said, “Let me get a pair of scissors.” Before I could get out the bedroom door, Iz said, “I’ve got it open.” And, I swear she has a Swiss Army knife that she whips out of her ear for occasions like this!
She started to unwrap the red tissue inside the box. Then she pulled out a black shirt. I sat down next to her as she unfolded it. She said, “Mommy, what’s that?” I started to laugh. I said, “It’s my heart!!!”
Iz picked up a red envelope. She said, “There’s a card.” She handed it to me, dropped the box and the shirt on the bed, and she ran off to find her next adventure. Obviously, the mystery was so over for her now.
I opened the big beautiful card and inside it read, “Wishing you a happy heart today and always.” In it, my friend had written a beautiful little note. Sometimes, especially lately, I feel like I have forgotten my heart in some ways; thank you, Brenda, for reminding me of the most important part of my heart and for knowing and loving me as you do.♥
On the way back from driving Nathan to his pre-hockey game warm-up, Iz was unexpectedly quiet in the backseat. Just after we drove over a speed bump, Iz exclaimed, “Hey!” I braced myself for a driving complaint or an out-of-the-blue brain-numbing question like “Is it snowing in Saskatchewan now?” Iz then said, “I love you.” I said, “I love you, too.” Iz said, “I love you even when you’re mad at me.” I said, “I love you even when you’re mad at me, too.” Iz said, “Good.” Yeah. It’s all very good today and the other 364 days of the year, too. ♥
Seventeen years ago today, my son, Nathan, was born. His journey here was a struggle from conception (a year of trying and then two courses of fertility drugs) to delivery. He was two weeks overdue, so I went for an ultrasound on February 11th. The ultrasound tech asked, “Did you know that he’s breech and the cord is around his neck?” I answered, “No!” And, a c-section was scheduled for the very next day.
The night before he was born, I was scared out of my wits. My Mom had died two months earlier, and I thought, “I’m totally on my own here.” But, fortunately, from the minute I saw Nathan, I knew exactly what to do. Well, not exactly, because sometimes when it comes to parenthood, you just have to wing it!
This song always reminds me of when Nathan was an infant. It would come on the radio, once an hour it seemed then, and I would pick Nathan up in my arms. We’d then boogie around the kitchen together while I sang, “Finally you come along, the way I feel about you it just can't be wrong, if you only knew the way I feel about you, I just can't describe it oh no no…”
When I was one, I was your only one; I loved my bear and had no hair!
When I was two, my red sneaks I soon outgrew; once a learner’s permit driver no more, they’ll hang from my rearview mirror!
When I was three, I played baseball half-heartedly; while the sport I found lukewarm, I looked really cute in the uniform.
When I was four, what was not to adore? Like my Granddad did, I have those big blue eyes, and I am blessed to be like him as you always theorized.
When I was five, I needed Sponge Bob Square Pants to survive; now I only have a dim outlook when the Internet is down, and I cannot access Facebook.
When I was six, my blonde hair was deemed "lovely" by the critics. Back then my jacket was not so small, unlike now, where we buy clothes every three months at the mall.
When I was seven, my face was mightier than the pen. These days when I roll my eyes, you say, "That's really not so wise!"
When I was eight, I obviously thought green hair was great. Now, on some mornings when you drive me to school and I appear dead, it’s obvious that I don’t mind bedhead.
When I was nine, I thought hockey was very fine. For 13 years in hockey I did dwell, and I thank you for putting up with it and its oh so stinky smell!
When I was ten, I liked to doodle with your pens. Today, I still like to draw oodles, but would you please stop calling me by the nickname, “Doodles!”
When I was eleven, I won first place at the Science Fair again. I think in college I’ll study Marine Biology, but thank you for encouraging me to follow my love of History.
When I was twelve, I thought into Davy Crockett I should delve. When not sporting bedhead due to my evening nap, I now mostly wear my Littleton Hockey baseball cap.
When I was thirteen, I suddenly became very particular about my cuisine. I will eat cucumbers, peppers, and other vegetables of my choosing but, please, hold the dressing!
When I was fourteen, I would still allow you to hold me tight and let it be seen. I will hug and kiss you now, but only every now and then, prompting you to say, “Wow!”
When I was fifteen, I got a tad bit daring and put this hat on even though it was not my scene. I don’t understand your vintage clothes, but it’s something I would never oppose.
When I was sixteen, I grew to 6’2” due to all that protein. I’m now 6’3”, and I am proud to join the tall ranks of my Dad, Uncle Scott, Uncle Jack, and my Grandfather Richard, due to my family tree.
Now you are seventeen, and you are every parent’s dream. And, though I know you need me less, I hope you know you’re always welcome at this home address.
“Finally it has happened to me, right in front of my face, and I just cannot hide it,” you are a wonderful young man tonight, even if birthday cake you won’t bite, and I know you’re always going to do all right.
Happy birthday, Nathan. I love you so very much. ♥
Today, I met my friend, former co-worker, and vintage fashionista, Nancy, at the movie theater. We were going to see “An Education.” I arrived before she did. And, when I walked into the theater, it was like someone threw a party, but they forgot to send the invitations.
I was one of eight people in line to buy tickets. I thought, “Well, who goes to a movie at 4:15 in the afternoon?” I glanced at the seven people in front of me. Since everyone was over 70, I said, “Only old people and unemployed people go to the movies at this time of day!”
When Nancy arrived, she got in the queue with me. I asked, “Did you notice that the only people who see movies at this time of day are old and unemployed?” She laughed, and then she said, “But, that’s us!” I told her to bite her tongue. I was unemployed, but I had so many years to go before I was “old!”
As all good movie-goers do, I turned off the volume on my phone. At one point, I saw it flashing. I pulled it out, and I saw that Nate had called and John, Iz’s Dad, had called me twice. It figured. I had been around all week doing nothing and totally available; however, when there was a two-hour period in which I would be unreachable, everyone needed me!
I texted John and said, “I’m at the movies with Nancy, remember?” I had only mentioned it several times this week. He responded with, “Well, Iz said that you decided not to go.”
I had said to him this morning, ‘I’m going to the movies with Nancy; you need to get Iz.” This was after Iz had gone off to school. Yet, somehow he’d still rather take the word of an almost 7-year-old who still believed in Santa Claus over what I had told him this morning!
After the movie was over, I called John’s cell. Iz answered the phone and through tears said, “Daddy is talking to me in his angry voice.” I asked her to explain what had happened. Even after she explained it, I still didn’t understand what the heck was going on. Apparently, there was some disagreement. She asked, “When are you going to be home?”
Today marks the year anniversary of the loss of my job. (Well, this is the day my boss told me that I was going to lose my job the next day. I don’t think he was supposed to do that, but I loved him for doing that, because it made facing the next day that much easier.) And, do know what? Even though I thought about what happened a year ago today, I think more about what happened the last year.
Today, I celebrate another year of life even if it's not my birthday. It was a pretty good year, despite the circumstances. And, if I got hit by a truck tomorrow, I’d have to say it was the most favorite year of my life, especially since someone still wants to know when I'm going to be home. ♥
An Oldie but a Goodie Note: Since I am still no closer to having a job almost a year after I made this, perhaps I should reconsider these jobs!
Yes. I really do believe that in addition to Mother’s Day, we Moms, especially the stay-at-home variety, deserve another bona fide Hallmark Holiday. Let’s face it. We’re so not appreciated as much as we should be by our kids, our partners, or by ourselves! And, I decree Saint Mommytine's Day to be March 24th, the day after Live Life as a Six Year Old Day!
This has been the week of projects with Iz. At the beginning of the week, we needed to come up with an idea for her 100 Day project. At her school, they celebrate the 100th day of school. I just asked her why it was so special. She said, “I dunno.”
At school, everything revolves around 100 for a week. The big project is putting 100 things on a piece of poster board. Last year, Iz used 100 pieces of ziti.
When I asked her what we should do this year, she said, “I want to use pennies.” 100 pennies? Glued onto a piece of poster board? Were pennies even supported by Elmer’s glue?
I looked the Elmer’s disclaimer. Pennies weren’t porous and were going to be preposterous when producing our project. I had to promptly present plenty of potential preferences to my precocious progeny!
“Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day soon, so why don’t we use candy hearts?” Aw. I wanted to use pennies.” “But, pennies will be hard to glue and the project will be very heavy to carry.” “Oh.” “Candy hearts will be much lighter, and we can eat the leftovers.” “Okay!” (Oh, of course, I had her at “eat the leftovers!”)
I went to CVS yesterday afternoon to purchase Sweethearts. There I was in aisle five of CVS, groping a bag of Sweethearts while channeling Kreskin to try and figure out how many Sweethearts there were to a bag. As usual, I feared I wouldn’t buy enough and would end up in aisle five of CVS two hours later, groping Sweetheart bags again, yet being detained by store security this time for a lewd act on a bag of candy. Always wanting to check the "No" box next to the "Have you ever been convicted of a felony? question, I bought 7 bags.
By the way, the Brach’s Conversation Heart Candy taste better, and they’re not as hard as Necco’s Sweethearts. I only mention the hardness factor for those, perhaps like me, who now sport an expensive gold crown due to regularly crunching Atomic Fireballs. Yeah, I never knew how many licks it took to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop either. I had to google for an approximate number of licks, because I am an ENFJIC (Extraversion, iNtuition, Feeling, Judgment, Impatient Cruncher).
When Iz got off the bus, I asked her how we should arrange the hearts. She said, “I want to write my name with them.” I said, “Isabelle maybe be hard to do with only 100 hearts.” She said, “No. I decided that I want my real name to be Izzy.” (I always loved Izzy, because of the character, Isabelle, in “Crossing Delancey.”)
I told her that I thought writing “Izzy” would be perfect. And when we sat down at the kitchen table, I had Iz count out ten piles of ten hearts. We then threw them all in a bowl, and we began to form "Izzy" on our shocking pink poster board.
I thought this was going to be easy. But, it wasn’t. It was like writing a story. We had a first draft of “Izzy” with 50 hearts left in the bowl. We had a second draft of “Izzy” with 25 hearts left in the bowl. The third draft of Izzy was the charm, though some of our letters were sized differently; however, united we stand, unique but not uniform!
Note: Just in case you ever need to know, there are approximately 50 Sweethearts to a bag. This is why I now have five bags of Sweethearts left when I really wish I had five bags of Necco Conversation Hearts left!
Today, our project was addressing Valentine’s Day cards, all 50-something of them. Half of them went to school, and the other half went to her after-school program. Since it was an early release due to snow, she started hounding me the minute she got off the bus about starting that project.
I said, “Just give me 30 minutes. I’m trying to write something.” I didn’t bother to say “trying to write a cover letter,” because that would have meant more questions on top of being asked every 5 minutes, after I said 30 minutes, “When are we going to do the Valentines?”
When I was finally done, I told her to bring all her cards and candies upstairs. She asked, “Why don’t you come downstairs?” I was waiting on feedback on my cover letter, so I didn’t want to leave my laptop. I told her I needed to remain upstairs.
I again asked her to bring everything upstairs. She rolled her eyes. I then sensed that the Valentine proejct might be a tad bit more complicated than the 100 Day project due to a perceived bit of attitude!
She brought everything up, and we began. I did most of the manufacturing of the cards; that is, I put the lollipop in the holes of the addressed Animal Planet card, folded and tore along a perforated line to create Tinkerbell cards, and inserted cards in envelopes along with a jelly candy heart and then sealed them with a heart sticker. As far as I was concerned, I was doing the brunt of the grunt work.
After she addressed 10 cards, she asked, “Can you do them all?” I said, “No.” At that point, given the attitude I previously perceived, I thought it might be easier, but this was her project. So, I offered to write the names of her friends on the envelopes if she signed her name. She sighed and said, “Oh, I don’t want to do this anymore.” I said, “I’m not going to do them all for you Iz.”
At one point, my laptop said, “You have feedback on your cover letter,” so I got up to check my email. Iz rolled her eyes, sighed, and asked, “Mom, aren’t you going to help me?” I told her I was; however, I had something to attend to for a few minutes. She got up and walked toward her room.
I said, “Hey, where are you going? You can still address the cards while I do this.” She said, “If you’re taking a break, then I’m taking a break.” Grrrrr. Somehow her Valentine’s Day cards were now mine. So, it was now time to reiterate the already laid down law.
She turned around, came back to the pile of Tinkerbell and Animal Planet cards, and sat down. She gave me a look, sighed, and began to write her name on the cards again. It’s funny how they change in mood and cooperation level from one day to the next, isn’t it? At this age, you never know who you are working with. One day she's Nicole Kidman, and the next day she's Joan Crawford!
I thought back to when I worked, writing the release notes for my former company, where I had to take this…
"When the CPC of E2 was present in a call, the Called Digit Type was set to Govt Emergency. Later when the LATA and Toll were determined, if the Call Type was set to InterLata1+ or IntraLata1+,only if the Called Digit Type is National or Subscriber or Test. So for our call, the Call Type is left unchanged (and stays at its existing value of 1+). So, the routes, which are provisioned with InterLata1+ and IntraLata1+ are not found."
(I know you love this one, Tomas!)
...and turn it into something that even Iz would be able to understand.
Today, I thought that having the patience to glue on 100 hearts on a piece of poster board and manufacture and address 50 Valentine’s Day cards was truly a feat. I had worked with cranky engineers and on impossible projects with ridiculous deadlines; however, Motherhood, especially the stay-at-home variety, was truly the toughest job I ever had. But, I knew I loved it most of all, especially when Iz said after all that was Valentine was addressed and sealed, “Mommy, I love you, because you always do projects with me.” ♥
For the last day, Nathan and I have been having a small battle. Okay, I’m being a bit dramatic. It’s more like a discussion that has turned into a disagreement. I now refer to it as “To Cake or Not to Let Them Eat Cake.”
Since Nathan’s birthday was fast approaching, I decided I should text him yesterday to nail down a few details. We had already decided to go to his favorite restaurant on Saturday night to celebrate. And, his Christmas/Birthday present from me was a check to fund part of his trip to Europe this Spring. The only thing left was to decide what do about a cake for the official celebration on Friday night.
I was already a tad disappointed earlier in the week when Nathan told me he would be need a ride to Matt’s house by 8pm on Friday night. He was sleeping over and playing Dungeons and Dragons. I had told myself that it was his birthday, and he should do what he wanted, even though me and myself were saying, “Make him stay home!” Of course, I then said to me and myself, “Snap out of it!”
Anyway, when Nathan was about three, he decided he didn’t like cake and frosting; he only liked ice cream. Me, well, I could live on cake and frosting. Never mind the cake, just give me the frosting!
As kids, my brother, sister, and I always fought over who would get a rose at every birthday. On my 50th birthday, I want a cake that’s wall-to-wall roses. Unfortunately, that birthday is still another 13 years away. Is too!
By the age of four, Nathan’s birthday was celebrated by singing “Happy Birthday,” as he blew out a candle stuck in a large mound of vanilla ice cream. Being a cake and frosting person, this bothered me initially. But, I got used to it.
Once Iz came into being, I got a cake for Nathan, even though he only ever had a bowl of ice cream with a candle in it on his birthday. Iz didn’t understand birthdays without a cake. Being a cake and frosting person from the get go (with me never doubting I had brought home the wrong baby from the hospital due to this fact), no matter whose birthday it was, there had to be a cake, if only for Iz.
I thought for this birthday, we might try to please both Iz and Nate by getting an ice cream cake. Though, I knew no matter what, Nathan would likely only want his bowl of ice cream; however, we still needed a cake. There was no "day" in "birthday" without cake!
And this is how the cake discussion turned into a disagreement of sorts:
Me: Do you like ice cream cake? Dinner at your favorite restaurant on Saturday night! Nate: No cake. Me: What? Well, Iz won’t settle for that. We have to have one! Nate: I said no. Me: We have to sing and have a cake! Nate: I don’t care…no singing…no cake…that’s all I ask. Me: Jeez, it’s like you’re turning 50! (ed. See, I told you he was an old soul.) Nate: I’m sorry…it’s my birthday…my rules. Me (said in desperation): What if we have a cake and sing while you stay upstairs?!?!!?? Nate: NOT AT ALL. Me: Grinch!!!! Nate: Stupid face. Me: Cat butt! (ed. Thanks for that one, Melissa!)
This was the first birthday where he insisted that there be no cake and no singing. Anyway, I gave up in that moment. I thought if I let it simmer for a bit, he’d mellow and cave to maternal pressure!
When I picked him up at school today, I had an Arizona Iced Tea waiting, his favorite, in the front seat for him. Okay, okay, okay! Guilty! It was a mild attempt to soften him up, before asking him about the cake again.
I said, “Are you sure we can’t have a cake?” “No cake.” “But, I…” “No cake. No singing Happy Birthday.”
He was a tough nut to crack. People think we who are of Polish and German descent are stubborn. But, these pre-Revolutionary War Vermonters have it all over us!
I said, “How about a bowl of M&Ms with....” “Fine.” “…a candle in it, and then we can sing Happy Birthday?” “No!”
Damn. He was good. He was good at telling people exactly what he wanted. Just then, I realized how much I admired Nathan for wanting what he wanted, something I had never quite been able to master.
I said, though still knowing in my heart it was going to be very hard to have a stealth birthday for my son, “Okay. No cake and no singing, if that’s what you want.” He said, “Thank you.”
If I didn’t realize it later, I’m glad I realized it sooner. It was his birthday, and it was his 17-year-old life that he was taking control of. I had to respect that. I would always be his Mom, but I had to accept it was now time to gradually relinquish some control over his life.
He was now a young man. This became obvious to me last night when I looked at a picture of him and I a year ago. Then, he still had a bit of boyishness about his face. But, he looked and acted like a young man now.
Even though I knew all this in my head, I knew my heart still hadn't gotten the message. Because this Friday night, my heart would be wishing that there was still going to be a big bowl of ice cream with candles in it on the kitchen table. But, my head knew, I had to let him go, but, for now, just to Matt's house on Friday night without a cake and singing! ♥
Today, I had a hard time getting started. In fact, I honestly admit that I never got started, well, not until about 3pm. I think I was suffering from LackofJobWinterBluesitis.
And, if this was this disease I had, then the symptoms were as follows:
Uninterested in applying for any jobs Failure to shower Inability to change out of Nathan’s warm fuzzy pajama pants and my oversized sweatshirt Unable to fold more than one laundry basket’s worth of clean clothes Incapable of being more than 6 inches away from the TV remote
I had it, and I had it bad. When Iz got her flu shot, I should have inquired if there was a vaccine for this disease. Since my mobility was limited to TV commercials, I went upstairs when I saw the Geico gecko. (I’ve seen him so much lately, I do believe I’m smitten with him. I’m a sucker for green lizards with Cockney accents!)
I went in the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Did I have anything I could take for LackofJobWinterBluesitis? Imodium? Mucinex? A cherry cough drop? Cat treats? (Wait a sec, how did these get in here?) Dental floss?
Perhaps if I ran the floss through one ear and out the other, I could jar the piece of blah stuck in my frontal lobe. I envisioned my hygienist taking it out and showing it to me while saying, “See! This is the build-up that blocked your dopamine; so that’s why you’ve had no drive and have just been acting dopey.” Oh, if only it were that simple!
I went back downstairs. I tried to tell myself, “Well, you were a single parent all last week, so you deserve a day to relax.” Obviously, the last symptom of LackofJobWinterBluesitis is “Powerless to accept the disease and get the proper treatment.”
My only commitment was to get Iz off the bus at 3:05pm. At 2:55pm, I got up, put my coat on, and headed out the front door. My symptoms were still raging, as I still hadn’t showered or gotten out of Nathan’s warm fuzzy pajama pants and my oversized sweatshirt. To add symptom to disease, I didn’t even bother to brush my hair; instead, I just threw on my Hello Kitty baseball cap. I was a wreck, albeit a beautiful one.
At 2:58pm, I heard the familiar squeal of the bus’s brakes as it headed down the street perpendicular to mine. At 3pm, I saw the bus take its right turn onto my street. One stop later, it was pulling up in front of me at 3:05pm. Needless to say, I know the bus’s modus operandi. (Thank you, Law & Order!)
When the bus doors opened, Iz came bounding out. Check, plus! Then Noah got off! Check, minus! The bus began to pull away, and there was no Noah.
I asked Iz, “Where’s Noah?” She replied, “He was on the bus.” I thought then that he must be going to a friend’s house, so I turned to head home with Iz.
Squeal! I turned around and saw that the bus had stopped about 25 feet down the street. The doors opened. Noah and Thomas got off. (Thomas didn’t live in our neighborhood; however, a few days a week, his Mom picked him up at our bus stop.) I instantly thought, “Hmmm. Thomas is getting off, but I don’t see his Mom’s car anywhere.” (Thank you, CSI!)
Thomas looked around; obviously, he just had the same thought I did. Where’s Mom’s car? I asked him if he was supposed to get off the bus today. He said, “No. But, I thought I saw my Mom’s car.”
It was time to start at the beginning and get a full account of the story from Thomas. (Thank you, Law & Order!) I asked him if he was to take the bus to begin with. He said he was, but he where he was supposed to go to his babysitter’s. Ah, so a phantom Mom’s car sighting had led him to believe he was supposed to get off the bus; there was no foul play here only a Temporarily Lost Victim. (Thank you, CSI!)
I told Thomas, Noah, and Iz to stay put in case someone should come looking for Thomas. I ran back to the house and got my phone. When I returned, I had Thomas call his Mom. Her phone was busy.
I then did the next best thing. I called the school. Of course, the main office did not pick up the phone. So, I asked Thomas if he knew how to get to his babysitter’s house. He said he did. I said, “Okay. I’ll drive you there.” We walked back to the house, I fetched my keys, and we were off.
Funny, but I think I was more upset about Thomas being “lost” than Thomas was. After all, he was a 5th grader; they’re known for being fearless and their love of adventure. Wait a sec, was that 5th graders or Cave Divers? Same thing, probably! Either way, I was not going to feel all right until I turned Thomas from lost into found.
After a 10-minute ride, we arrived in front of a little white ranch. I told Iz to wait in the car while I walked Thomas to the door. He was very quiet, and I wondered if he thought, “Who is this crazy woman acting like a detective and why is she still following me?”
He opened the porch door, and I followed him in. He then opened a door, which led into a kitchen. Three dogs ran out greeting the very elderly dog that had just sniffed my leg and then immediately said to Thomas, “She’s thinks she's a cop, doesn't she?”
A woman popped her head out the door. I said, “Thomas got off at the other stop today by accident.” She said, “Oh! I just sent my granddaughter out to look for him.” If that had been me, I would have been half bald due to ripping my hair out wondering where my child had gone!
Well, everyone is different, I guess. She thanked me, and then a little girl popped out from behind her said, “I know you!” (I get that a lot, especially in Nantucket.) Then she said, “Your Isabelle’s Mom!” Everyone knows Isabelle; I swear that girl is going to be on a billboard someday; “Iz for President” I hope and not Isabelle, Personal Injury Attorney.
When Iz and I got home, I got her a snack and then I looked at the neglected TV remote; it appeared the remote had taken out a restraining order on me. Suddenly, I could not get within 6 feet of it. I picked up my basket of clean laundry and headed upstairs to put it away, take a shower, and do many other neglected tasks.
I know I still have LackofJobWinterBluesitis; however, saving Thomas saved me a tad. I thought, “What if I had been at work and not at the bus stop?” What would have Thomas done? I’m sure he would have made his way somewhere somehow; however, it probably would have been more difficult and scary on his own. This afternoon when I was putting away clean clothes, I didn’t ask myself, “Why am I here?” Instead, I said to myself, “That’s why I’m here.” ♥
If I ever disappear on a weekend, know that I’m not dead. I’m just out in the forest trying to find some porridge that’s just right, okay?
In the last day or so, I have wondered a lot about my writing here the last year. I wrote a few stories before starting this blog. I had also tried to write poetry, children’s books, and a screenplay; however, I couldn’t seem to get into some sort of writing groove. This blog is how Jean Got Her Writing Groove Back; well, I didn’t get it back, this is where my groove started.
Along the way, I have had friends who have encouraged me to the nth degree. But, today, I looked a bit deeper. What really kept me going day after day? I had recently explained to a friend that I felt my blog was like the bulletin board of my life. I hadn’t lived a day without putting up at least one postcard up on my bulletin board.
But, there was something else, too. Okay, it was somebody else. It was Isabelle and Nathan.
And more specifically, it was Isabelle. Today, I wished I had been laid off when Nathan was 6. I missed so much time with him; however, it’s been good to be with him the last year, because soon I’ll blink, and he’ll be gone.
Iz just ran upstairs, collected something from her room, and as she was running back downstairs, I said, “Thank you for….” She interrupted me and asked, “For making your bed?” I said, “Yes, and for other things, too.” She said, “You’re welcome,” and she ran back downstairs. She is so very powerful, and she doesn’t even know it. And, I hope she reads this someday.
When I was working, I looked at my life very differently; I saw life differently. Now, I see so much more. The wonderful thing about it is that I see life through the eyes of a 6-year-old.
"It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves. I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels."
~Henry David Thoreau
We went to Iz’s favorite restaurant last night. When we sat down, she flipped over her placemat, and asked for my bag of pens. Then, she immediately began to write stories. (Where does she get that from?)
We ordered our dinner, and then she asked, “Did you go on a honeymoon with Daddy? I said, “Yes. We went to Italy.” She asked, “Did Nathan go?” “Yes. And, you came too, but you were in my tummy.” (We got married in May and went to Italy in September.) Iz said, “I don’t remember it.” I laughed to myself and said, “That’s because you were in my tummy. Someday I will take you, okay?” Iz said, “Did I like the pizza there?” And before I could answer, she said, “Oh! I remember the pizza was good!”
Once our dinner arrived, Iz said, “I need your placemat now. Read mine!” She shoved her placemat across the table, and then I saw that she had written all over it.
“Wen is dad coming back.” “So we are gowing to Sephora.” “Why do we have to go to Nathan hockey game.”
I loved her questions. They made me question my questions always. And, they made me think differently about everything in my life.
Then she asked, “Do you like Nathan better than me?” I said, “No!!!!!” Then she asked, “Is ‘ooooooh’ a bad word?” I said, “No!!!!!”
When we were at Nathan's hockey game today, she asked, “If Nathan gets a penalty, will I be the best kid?” I said, "No!"
On our way into JC Penney, she asked, “Remember that water bottle you liked?” I said, “No!” But then I vaguely remembered a travel mug with the initial “J” on it that caught eye last December. I said, “Oh, yeah. I remember that.” Iz responded, “I remember all this in my noggin!” She paused and then said, “And then you always say, ‘What is she talking about?’” My daughter thought I thought she was crazy. Um, okay, maybe! :-)
When we walked through the mall, I saw the Hello Kitty store. I said, “Hey, look! Let’s go to the Hello Kitty store!” Iz asked, “Have you been there before?” I answered, “Yes.” She asked, “Did you buy stuff?” I answered, “Yes.” She put her arm on mine, patted it, and said, “Good girl!”
And on the way home from the mall, she said, after ripping a plastic bag to shreds, “I’m good at breaking stuff. How come I’m so good at it?”She then pulled the bag over her hand and asked, “Can I suffocate my thumb?”
No matter what your degree, I think the most important education you get is the one you receive when you hang out with a six-year-old. Every now and then, everyone over the age of 18, should live life through the eyes of a six-year-old for at least a day. There should be a day for it. March 23rd should be Live Life as a Six Year Old Day!
Everyone grows up too fast today. And, on a daily basis, we all seem to miss what’s most important. Here’s to not staying on a beaten mental track and seeing the world once and a while just like a six-year-old sees it. ♥
I am a devoted mother of two wonderful children, a writer (technical by day and creative by night), an avid baker and crock pot goddess (♥ Sucra), a runner and a cyclist, a rescuer of pets, a vintage fashionista, and a dispenser of social glue.
