Tonight as we talked on the phone, I was sitting outside on the balcony. It was hot. You asked me if I missed you. I said, somewhat flippantly, I admit it, "Well...yeah. Of course, I do."
I was lying.
I don't just miss you, Bing. I miss you. I miss you in my stomach and my arms and my eyes. My lips.
I started thinking of our song. That one. The first one we danced to. It was on the balcony that I was sitting on. The weather was hot then too. We had the radio on. We were having a night cap after a dinner out. Not a date, really. I wouldn't allow dates. You knew that.
But, I remember that song coming on and you smiling and getting all soft in your eyes.
I love this song...you said.
I said that I did too. You held your arms out to me and I went into them, okay..I sort of kind of reluctantly went into them.
Because it wasn't a date. I had told you that from the get go.
And we danced. And swayed together and kissed. And every time that soft sweet guitar lick flailed through that song, I went all shivery.
Who would have guessed that all my best love scenes, the ones that, in the end, mattered the most, would be played out with you?
Certainly not me.
Because, hey...it was not a date. I had specified that.
Years later, we would be sitting at a friend's house and you and some others would be fooling around on your guitars and you would look directly at me and play that beginning guitar slide of that song and my stomach would flip over like I was fifteen.
Our eyes would lock through the whole song and you would get very, very lucky when we got home from that party. A couple by that time.
I could only drag my feet for so long. And you knew all along.
So, my cajun love, my Beb, I must admit that I am de'pouille without you. I am remembering that un p'tit bec that started the whole love story in motion.
I am missing you more than I can say.
And I am sending you this song to let you know that I might sound all calm and aloof, but inside, I am feeling your arms around me and your mouth on mine on this balcony on that hot summer night when it all began.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Growing Up Irish
First, a big thank you to Tinton, Liv's father for bearing gifts as he visited us. He knows I love silly tee shirts with sayings on them and he brought me four of them:
1) Cover me in Guinness and throw me to the Irish lesbians.
2) See you in another life, brother
3) 'Tis herself
and 4) O'Bama.
My parents were both born in Ireland. In County Kerry. My da was from Killarney, my mother from Cork.
They both moved to the States as children. They grew up in the same neighborhood and married before they were twenty.
They saved up to buy a small farm and had four daughters. I was their third, and my mother said that I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck and that meant that I was always going to have trouble expressing my emotions verbally so I would have to express them another way, either through writing or music.
I'm no musician.
I grew up listening to my parents both sing the Irish songs. My da would move up and down the rows of plants singing in his fine tenor voice,
In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first laid my eyes on sweet Molly Malone....
Sometimes he would change the words to my name and I would flush with pleasure...
My mother's voice was basically an alto, but she could hit a high note now and then and as she folded up sheets, she would sing this.
You grow up with all those sad, sweet melodies, they sort of seep into your soul. My sisters and I can never hear Danny Boy without sobbing and it was sung at both of my parent's funerals and will be sung at ours as well.
My da was a poet and he adored the works of William Butler Yeats. To this day, I can still recite the poem When You Are Old by heart.
When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true.
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur a little sadly, how Love fled,
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
And it still gets me every time. Such beauty. And my father's lyrical voice, shaping out the words and carrying them over to me with such tenderness. His smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He smiled so often that the wrinkles made little star marks at the edges of his eyes. He would lay the flat of his hand against my cheek and say very, very softly, "My little sprite come in from the woods..."
We ate Irish food. No, this is not corned beef and cabbage. That is basically an American dish. Ask anyone you know in Ireland. It is not a common dish there. Irish stew yes, but it is, in general, not made with beef like you usually see in America, but with lamb or goat.
My mother made it with lamb and the scent of it would linger in the house for days. She also made ulster fry, champ, colcannon, boxty, dublin coddle, white pudding sausage, crubeens, clapshot, and skirlie.
And American fare too....but most meals were pretty starchy. This was hard on my da and I, both type one diabetics. I do remember getting very small portions.
On Christmas morning, my da would greet us at the foot of our beds shouting, 'Nollaig shona duit! On New Years Day, he would say, "Athbhliain faoi mhaise duit!
My sisters and I all learned to dance from my parents. All of my sisters were graceful and beautiful to watch. I was not. I was an Elaine Benes dancer from birth, but I did eventually learn the jig and reel, a light reel (the fastest and the hardest to pull off), heavy jig, slip jig, hop jig, triple jig, step dance, ceili dance and of course, the Irish Sean-no. I have not forgotten how to dance, but I seldom get asked to do it and my fifty year old self with my arthritis cannot pull it off anymore. My sisters can still do it, though, and occasionally they will pull me into their dances and Liv will look at me with awe.
You were DANCING, Mama...and you were actually good....! She doesn't mean this as an insult. She is just surprised. Bing always looks shocked too. I can't waltz to save my life and have to be severely coaxed to dance with her privately in our living room, but there I am dancing with my elderly sisters in a living room full of family.
When you grow up Irish, it stays in your blood. Kind of like being Catholic. I no longer consider myself part of the church, but once at a lecture, I happened upon a Catholic bishop and I bowed my head and said, "Bless me, father" before I even knew what I was doing.
I'm Irish, yes...but I am also a prairie girl from a farming state. Therefore, I say things like, "Well, for the love of Mike" and "boy howdy." It is a curious mix of prairie slang and Irish slip.
I believe in leprechauns, I believe in faeries and I believe in four leaf clovers. I was also raised to be a practical farm girl, so I am a curious mix of prairie dust and faerie dust. Practical and pragmatic, but blarnified and prone to shenanigans.
Eventually, as I grew up, I also became a liberal democrat. So, now, I have an even odder coat. I clean my plate, but I also care about the environment that put that food on my plate and I feel guilty if I don't bless it before I eat it.
So, tell me...what's in your wallet? What is your calling card in ethnicity, in rural bent, in family value passed down?
I bet you all have some interesting stories.....
1) Cover me in Guinness and throw me to the Irish lesbians.
2) See you in another life, brother
3) 'Tis herself
and 4) O'Bama.
My parents were both born in Ireland. In County Kerry. My da was from Killarney, my mother from Cork.
They both moved to the States as children. They grew up in the same neighborhood and married before they were twenty.
They saved up to buy a small farm and had four daughters. I was their third, and my mother said that I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck and that meant that I was always going to have trouble expressing my emotions verbally so I would have to express them another way, either through writing or music.
I'm no musician.
I grew up listening to my parents both sing the Irish songs. My da would move up and down the rows of plants singing in his fine tenor voice,
In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first laid my eyes on sweet Molly Malone....
Sometimes he would change the words to my name and I would flush with pleasure...
My mother's voice was basically an alto, but she could hit a high note now and then and as she folded up sheets, she would sing this.
You grow up with all those sad, sweet melodies, they sort of seep into your soul. My sisters and I can never hear Danny Boy without sobbing and it was sung at both of my parent's funerals and will be sung at ours as well.
My da was a poet and he adored the works of William Butler Yeats. To this day, I can still recite the poem When You Are Old by heart.
When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true.
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur a little sadly, how Love fled,
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
And it still gets me every time. Such beauty. And my father's lyrical voice, shaping out the words and carrying them over to me with such tenderness. His smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He smiled so often that the wrinkles made little star marks at the edges of his eyes. He would lay the flat of his hand against my cheek and say very, very softly, "My little sprite come in from the woods..."
We ate Irish food. No, this is not corned beef and cabbage. That is basically an American dish. Ask anyone you know in Ireland. It is not a common dish there. Irish stew yes, but it is, in general, not made with beef like you usually see in America, but with lamb or goat.
My mother made it with lamb and the scent of it would linger in the house for days. She also made ulster fry, champ, colcannon, boxty, dublin coddle, white pudding sausage, crubeens, clapshot, and skirlie.
And American fare too....but most meals were pretty starchy. This was hard on my da and I, both type one diabetics. I do remember getting very small portions.
On Christmas morning, my da would greet us at the foot of our beds shouting, 'Nollaig shona duit! On New Years Day, he would say, "Athbhliain faoi mhaise duit!
My sisters and I all learned to dance from my parents. All of my sisters were graceful and beautiful to watch. I was not. I was an Elaine Benes dancer from birth, but I did eventually learn the jig and reel, a light reel (the fastest and the hardest to pull off), heavy jig, slip jig, hop jig, triple jig, step dance, ceili dance and of course, the Irish Sean-no. I have not forgotten how to dance, but I seldom get asked to do it and my fifty year old self with my arthritis cannot pull it off anymore. My sisters can still do it, though, and occasionally they will pull me into their dances and Liv will look at me with awe.
You were DANCING, Mama...and you were actually good....! She doesn't mean this as an insult. She is just surprised. Bing always looks shocked too. I can't waltz to save my life and have to be severely coaxed to dance with her privately in our living room, but there I am dancing with my elderly sisters in a living room full of family.
When you grow up Irish, it stays in your blood. Kind of like being Catholic. I no longer consider myself part of the church, but once at a lecture, I happened upon a Catholic bishop and I bowed my head and said, "Bless me, father" before I even knew what I was doing.
I'm Irish, yes...but I am also a prairie girl from a farming state. Therefore, I say things like, "Well, for the love of Mike" and "boy howdy." It is a curious mix of prairie slang and Irish slip.
I believe in leprechauns, I believe in faeries and I believe in four leaf clovers. I was also raised to be a practical farm girl, so I am a curious mix of prairie dust and faerie dust. Practical and pragmatic, but blarnified and prone to shenanigans.
Eventually, as I grew up, I also became a liberal democrat. So, now, I have an even odder coat. I clean my plate, but I also care about the environment that put that food on my plate and I feel guilty if I don't bless it before I eat it.
So, tell me...what's in your wallet? What is your calling card in ethnicity, in rural bent, in family value passed down?
I bet you all have some interesting stories.....
Sunday, June 29, 2008
thanks for all your good wishes
Yes...our power went off again...since Friday afternoon.
No tornado, just winds exceeding 100 mph. It was TERRIFYING. Thank god, Tinton (Liv's father) had arrived early in the afternoon. He was staying with Liv while I went to see a client. I had just left my client's office around 4:30 and was driving home when my cell phone rang. It was Tinton. Nothing ruffles this guy but he sounded ruffled.
"WHERE ARE YOU?" he asked me urgently.
I told him I was about a half hour away. He then told me that he was standing in front of my house with Liv and that it looked like "the biggest black cloud I have ever fucking seen" was rolling towards them from the west. He never swears. I am the foul mouthed one. So..I knew this was serious. He advised me to take cover as I would be driving right into it and he and Liv were headed for the basement.
I told him okay but didn't pull over. It was SUNNY where I was and I reasoned that I was a sturdy prairie girl...there wasn't even a tornado warning.
As I drove, the tornado sirens went off and I kid you not....within seconds that sky went from sunny to black. I have never in my fifty years seen the sky do that.
I was in the middle lane, surrounded by cars and could not get over. And then this torrent of sideways rain and hail came bursting out of the sky. The wind was deafening. My little volks bug literally rocked like a rocking chair pushed by a naughty child. The wind was howling, I was being bombarded by ice balls and the rain was literally falling sideways. I have never been so scared of weather. I could not see the cars next to me, behind me or in front of me. I only saw a wall of water and ice.
And then, after about three minutes (it felt like 30) the pounding stopped and within seconds the sun came out. The street was flooded, but drivable. What shocked me was that all around me were trees on the ground, bushes, I drove by an overturned semi.
My stomach was roiling. All I wanted was to get home and make sure that Liv was safe. I pulled in the driveway and Liv came bursting out of the house, sobbing into my arms.
"You're safe! You're safe!" she kept wailing. Tinton followed her out, almost green.
"I have never seen anything like that and I have seen some odd ass weather..." he said.
Our power was out but our trees were okay. My neighbor's HUGE oak tree had toppled into our back yard, though, yanking down the fence between us and missing my house by about six feet. Half of the city lost power from that freak storm.
The power just came back on. I am SO glad that Tinton was here. He is so good with Liv, kept her busy, played endless games of Chutes and Ladders, crazy eights, and Monopoly.
Now that the power is back on, he and Liv are taking Socks for a walk.
I am feeling grateful for air conditioning and a working washer and dryer right now. Television. Stupid TV. I never thought I would be grateful for Deal or No Deal.
And my computer. I am thankful for that...
Tomorrow, I will go grocery shopping and restock once again.
And I will catch up on blogs this week.
This has been one crazy ass spring and summer. I honestly feel as if Mother Nature is good and pissed off big large......
No tornado, just winds exceeding 100 mph. It was TERRIFYING. Thank god, Tinton (Liv's father) had arrived early in the afternoon. He was staying with Liv while I went to see a client. I had just left my client's office around 4:30 and was driving home when my cell phone rang. It was Tinton. Nothing ruffles this guy but he sounded ruffled.
"WHERE ARE YOU?" he asked me urgently.
I told him I was about a half hour away. He then told me that he was standing in front of my house with Liv and that it looked like "the biggest black cloud I have ever fucking seen" was rolling towards them from the west. He never swears. I am the foul mouthed one. So..I knew this was serious. He advised me to take cover as I would be driving right into it and he and Liv were headed for the basement.
I told him okay but didn't pull over. It was SUNNY where I was and I reasoned that I was a sturdy prairie girl...there wasn't even a tornado warning.
As I drove, the tornado sirens went off and I kid you not....within seconds that sky went from sunny to black. I have never in my fifty years seen the sky do that.
I was in the middle lane, surrounded by cars and could not get over. And then this torrent of sideways rain and hail came bursting out of the sky. The wind was deafening. My little volks bug literally rocked like a rocking chair pushed by a naughty child. The wind was howling, I was being bombarded by ice balls and the rain was literally falling sideways. I have never been so scared of weather. I could not see the cars next to me, behind me or in front of me. I only saw a wall of water and ice.
And then, after about three minutes (it felt like 30) the pounding stopped and within seconds the sun came out. The street was flooded, but drivable. What shocked me was that all around me were trees on the ground, bushes, I drove by an overturned semi.
My stomach was roiling. All I wanted was to get home and make sure that Liv was safe. I pulled in the driveway and Liv came bursting out of the house, sobbing into my arms.
"You're safe! You're safe!" she kept wailing. Tinton followed her out, almost green.
"I have never seen anything like that and I have seen some odd ass weather..." he said.
Our power was out but our trees were okay. My neighbor's HUGE oak tree had toppled into our back yard, though, yanking down the fence between us and missing my house by about six feet. Half of the city lost power from that freak storm.
The power just came back on. I am SO glad that Tinton was here. He is so good with Liv, kept her busy, played endless games of Chutes and Ladders, crazy eights, and Monopoly.
Now that the power is back on, he and Liv are taking Socks for a walk.
I am feeling grateful for air conditioning and a working washer and dryer right now. Television. Stupid TV. I never thought I would be grateful for Deal or No Deal.
And my computer. I am thankful for that...
Tomorrow, I will go grocery shopping and restock once again.
And I will catch up on blogs this week.
This has been one crazy ass spring and summer. I honestly feel as if Mother Nature is good and pissed off big large......
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Bing
She stands all of 5'3. She weighs 133 or did so the day she left for her business trip. I know this because she has a calendar in our bedroom that she writes her weight each and every day. She also writes down her body fat number. I can't remember what that is, but I am certain it is low.
She is not beautiful. She isn't a head turner. She has mostly grey hair that she recently has begun dyeing brown because she thinks it might help her get a better job. She has very deep dark brown eyes. She has a bosom. A nice one. Let's just stay she is nicely stacked. She hates her big boobs. I am sort of fond of them.
She owns one dress. She has worn it once that I have seen. It didn't look good on her. She has several really classy looking pants suits that she wears to job interviews and concerts and anything dress up and she looks very, very hot in them. I especially like the pale gray one.
She is mostly a vegetarian, but she will eat meat now and then, especially around the time her period is due and then she craves not only meat, but ice cream too. Other than that, she rarely eats sweets unless it is a fruit, which I do NOT count as a sweet. Because she does most of the cooking, Liv and I pretty much eat mostly vegetarian too. Liv doesn't mind. I do, but not enough to take over the cooking.
Bing was born in New Orleans. Most of her family still lives there. Her uncle was the first to move to Nebraska to work in the packing plants and several of her family followed, including Bing's mother when Bing was just a kid. Her father died when she was only two.
Bing has two sisters and one brother. A twin brother. They look nothing alike, but they have the exact same mannerisms and vocal inflections. One of her sisters lives in Nebraska and the other lives in Chicago. Her brother lives in New Orleans. They are a strange family. Her mother has lived in Nebraska for over 30 years and still speaks with a french cajun accent that is as thick as a brick. Her family is very loud. They are also very honest. If you are eating too much, they will point out that you are eating like a pig. If you are fat, they will let you know that too.
At every family gathering, there is always some huge blow up. Someone will offend someone else with some stupid remark and glasses get knocked over and threats ensue. Sometimes there are fist fights. Well, not with the women, they just say things like, "Mary Sue, you know you're a slut. So shut up." Actually their grammar is pretty awful, so they would more likely say, "Mary Sue, you be a slut, so shett yo trap."
What is astounding is that when it is time to say goodbye, they all hug and kiss and act like nothing happened. Even if Roger has a bloody nose and Ben a fat lip, they still hug and pound each other on the back. Mary Sue and her accuser will swap recipes on their way to their cars. No harm done.
I come from a family where my mother once refused to speak to her sister for ten years because she hinted that she was dating a boy for his family's wealth. Ten years.
So, excuse me if I was stunned the first few times I shared a meal with Bing's family.
Bing and one of her sisters are the only ones who have a college education. One of her sisters is a CSI and she has some great stories to tell. Bing has her masters in music and is working on her doctorate. Both Bing and her sister display very nice grammar, but when they get with their other family members, they relax and soon start dropping their g's. They are runnin', singin' and slidin'.
Bing's family likes to eat hot spicy food, cajun food. And things like crawfish and hushpuppies and sweet tea.
Bing's family has never had one iota of a problem with her sexuality. Liv and I are part of her family. Her sister calls me her sister in law, her brother does too. Her mother calls me her daughter in law and treats me just like one of her own. If I am eating too much, she will tell me that I need to push myself away from the table, missy. And then when I am leaving, she will sling her arm around my shoulder and plant a kiss on my cheek and tell me that I am "purtier than a dish of tapioca puddin'"
Bing loves me. She tells me daily. She loves Liv. She tells her daily. She likes Socks. She doesn't tell him so because she does not speak to dogs in a human way. She takes him for a run with her every morning and they do not exchange a word. They just run.
Bing fell in love with me in our freshman year of college when we were dorm mates. She has told me that. I was not inclined to fall back in love and she knew that and waited for me for over twenty five years. That just slays me. How she could wait like that. She shrugs about it. Well, you took your damn time, didn't you? But, I knew that you would come around. I just hoped it was before I had to tote you around in a wheelchair..."
Bing is not a romantic. She forgets our anniversary (the day of our first um..coupling), both of our birthdays and all of our family's birthdays. So I am the resident card and gift buyer. Except for my birthday. I tell her a week ahead of time and tell her what to buy me. Just a couple of crazy romantics, aren't we?
Bing is not a romantic, but she is kind. And loving. She sometimes pretends to swoon when we kiss. This makes me laugh. She will pratfall straight to the floor and look up at me and say, "My god, you are a good kisser, woman."
She is good in bed. She would be embarrassed if I elaborated, so I will not. I will just say that she knows how to take her time. Most women will understand exactly what I am saying.
Bing is musical. She plays in a rock and roll band, a reggae band, a jazz band and sometimes the local symphony will call her if they need an extra timpini player. She plays lots of instruments. She plays drums, guitar, piano, violin, oboe, sax, bongos, steel pan, and most all percussion. And she is fucking good. She loves music so much that she can sit and listen with her eyes closed just listening for hours. The few times I have seen her weep, it has usually been over music.
Bing is not a heavy duty reader. She dislikes fiction, likes books about the economy and computers. She will sometimes surprise me and get all caught up in a Chuck Palahniuk novel, though.
She is not a bad cook or a good cook. She is a medium cook. It is edible, but nothing fancy. And she is far superior to me in that department, so I just keep my mouth shut except to say thanks.
Bing is my partner. She likes action movies, working in the yard and her life with Liv and me.
She is mine. I am hers. And we are staying that way. We shook on it.
I think I got the better deal, but shhhhh...
She is not beautiful. She isn't a head turner. She has mostly grey hair that she recently has begun dyeing brown because she thinks it might help her get a better job. She has very deep dark brown eyes. She has a bosom. A nice one. Let's just stay she is nicely stacked. She hates her big boobs. I am sort of fond of them.
She owns one dress. She has worn it once that I have seen. It didn't look good on her. She has several really classy looking pants suits that she wears to job interviews and concerts and anything dress up and she looks very, very hot in them. I especially like the pale gray one.
She is mostly a vegetarian, but she will eat meat now and then, especially around the time her period is due and then she craves not only meat, but ice cream too. Other than that, she rarely eats sweets unless it is a fruit, which I do NOT count as a sweet. Because she does most of the cooking, Liv and I pretty much eat mostly vegetarian too. Liv doesn't mind. I do, but not enough to take over the cooking.
Bing was born in New Orleans. Most of her family still lives there. Her uncle was the first to move to Nebraska to work in the packing plants and several of her family followed, including Bing's mother when Bing was just a kid. Her father died when she was only two.
Bing has two sisters and one brother. A twin brother. They look nothing alike, but they have the exact same mannerisms and vocal inflections. One of her sisters lives in Nebraska and the other lives in Chicago. Her brother lives in New Orleans. They are a strange family. Her mother has lived in Nebraska for over 30 years and still speaks with a french cajun accent that is as thick as a brick. Her family is very loud. They are also very honest. If you are eating too much, they will point out that you are eating like a pig. If you are fat, they will let you know that too.
At every family gathering, there is always some huge blow up. Someone will offend someone else with some stupid remark and glasses get knocked over and threats ensue. Sometimes there are fist fights. Well, not with the women, they just say things like, "Mary Sue, you know you're a slut. So shut up." Actually their grammar is pretty awful, so they would more likely say, "Mary Sue, you be a slut, so shett yo trap."
What is astounding is that when it is time to say goodbye, they all hug and kiss and act like nothing happened. Even if Roger has a bloody nose and Ben a fat lip, they still hug and pound each other on the back. Mary Sue and her accuser will swap recipes on their way to their cars. No harm done.
I come from a family where my mother once refused to speak to her sister for ten years because she hinted that she was dating a boy for his family's wealth. Ten years.
So, excuse me if I was stunned the first few times I shared a meal with Bing's family.
Bing and one of her sisters are the only ones who have a college education. One of her sisters is a CSI and she has some great stories to tell. Bing has her masters in music and is working on her doctorate. Both Bing and her sister display very nice grammar, but when they get with their other family members, they relax and soon start dropping their g's. They are runnin', singin' and slidin'.
Bing's family likes to eat hot spicy food, cajun food. And things like crawfish and hushpuppies and sweet tea.
Bing's family has never had one iota of a problem with her sexuality. Liv and I are part of her family. Her sister calls me her sister in law, her brother does too. Her mother calls me her daughter in law and treats me just like one of her own. If I am eating too much, she will tell me that I need to push myself away from the table, missy. And then when I am leaving, she will sling her arm around my shoulder and plant a kiss on my cheek and tell me that I am "purtier than a dish of tapioca puddin'"
Bing loves me. She tells me daily. She loves Liv. She tells her daily. She likes Socks. She doesn't tell him so because she does not speak to dogs in a human way. She takes him for a run with her every morning and they do not exchange a word. They just run.
Bing fell in love with me in our freshman year of college when we were dorm mates. She has told me that. I was not inclined to fall back in love and she knew that and waited for me for over twenty five years. That just slays me. How she could wait like that. She shrugs about it. Well, you took your damn time, didn't you? But, I knew that you would come around. I just hoped it was before I had to tote you around in a wheelchair..."
Bing is not a romantic. She forgets our anniversary (the day of our first um..coupling), both of our birthdays and all of our family's birthdays. So I am the resident card and gift buyer. Except for my birthday. I tell her a week ahead of time and tell her what to buy me. Just a couple of crazy romantics, aren't we?
Bing is not a romantic, but she is kind. And loving. She sometimes pretends to swoon when we kiss. This makes me laugh. She will pratfall straight to the floor and look up at me and say, "My god, you are a good kisser, woman."
She is good in bed. She would be embarrassed if I elaborated, so I will not. I will just say that she knows how to take her time. Most women will understand exactly what I am saying.
Bing is musical. She plays in a rock and roll band, a reggae band, a jazz band and sometimes the local symphony will call her if they need an extra timpini player. She plays lots of instruments. She plays drums, guitar, piano, violin, oboe, sax, bongos, steel pan, and most all percussion. And she is fucking good. She loves music so much that she can sit and listen with her eyes closed just listening for hours. The few times I have seen her weep, it has usually been over music.
Bing is not a heavy duty reader. She dislikes fiction, likes books about the economy and computers. She will sometimes surprise me and get all caught up in a Chuck Palahniuk novel, though.
She is not a bad cook or a good cook. She is a medium cook. It is edible, but nothing fancy. And she is far superior to me in that department, so I just keep my mouth shut except to say thanks.
Bing is my partner. She likes action movies, working in the yard and her life with Liv and me.
She is mine. I am hers. And we are staying that way. We shook on it.
I think I got the better deal, but shhhhh...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The best sleeping pill
First, you need a good sized backyard with a garden that is just beginning to pop up it's bounty. Then a white adirondack chair. A breeze on a summer's night that is not warm and not cool, just in between.
Get yourself something to drink. You pick. If you need to stay away from caffeine don't pick iced coffee or tea. Or a diet soda. I like iced green tea. Just a cup, though. Not one of those gigantic sippy cups you get at convenience marts. You don't want to be up all night peeing.
Ease yourself down into that adirondack chair. Smell the faint after leavings of lillies and peonies that are in their downsizing phase. Lily of the Valley. Roses. And something else. What is that? Oh. It rained this afternoon and you can still smell the residue of that on the grass and trees.
Now, look up into the big maple tree that shades where you sit. In the hot afternoons, you can always sit out here with a good book and the tree happily shades you, peeks to see what you are reading. But, at night, leave the porch light off, it will draw bugs.
Just sit in your chair and gaze up into the tree. Watch the leaves swaying just a little bit in the breeze. Take a sip of tea. Miss your wife. Or don't. And that is okay too. Sometimes it is nice to be alone. Stretch your legs out. Note a few aches and pains and then try to let them go as well. Concentrate on the cool wood against your legs.
Listen. You can hear the faint noises of birds. Of insects. Squirrels putting their children to sleep. ("It's okay, little one. The human won't hurt you. She is being quiet. Don't pay her any mind. Time for sleep. You have a big day tomorrow. Maybe we can go to that park you like and and you and your brothers can chase each other all over the place. Now, sleep, little one. Sleeeep.")
Take another sip of tea. Look up into the branches. Note how they silhouette so nicely against the sky. The shapes of the leaves so pretty and precise.
Tell the tree that. Tell her that you think she is gorgeous. Well, whisper it. The neighbors might be out and you don't want them thinking you have gone mad. Feel the tree blush. Listen. The tree asks you if you have any secrets.
Trees and rabbits are the secret keepers. They won't tell anyone anything you have to say.
Feel your eyes fill with tears. Because you have lots of secrets. You are afraid of dying young, leaving your child. You worry about this body of yours that seems to be falling apart.
You miss your father. Or your mother. A sister. A friend. A brother. A child. You wish that you knew how to be a better mother, father, sister, daughter, friend, spouse.
You wish that instead of snapping at your daughter to pleassseee get her pajamas on and get into bed, you had said, "Okay. Run around naked and let the air dry your skin. And then when you are ready, put on your pjs and snuggle into bed and instead of one chapter of your book tonight, let's read two. Maybe three."
Tell the tree that you will do better tomorrow. That your intentions are so, so good. But sometimes other things get in the way. Bills. Phone calls. Fatigue.
Think about how old the tree is. How much it has seen. All the storms it has weathered. The seasons, one following the next, each one with it's good times and bad. The warmth of summer, the cool compress of Autumn after all that heat, the silence of winter, and then the slow waking up and stretcccchhhhiinnng of spring.
Take another sip of tea. Notice some rabbits playing in the yard. Look over at your vegetable garden, your herb garden, all your flowers. Think of how they are so bountiful, so plentiful, so rich.
Feel a cooler breeze start to pick up. Shiver a little in your thin nightshirt. Reach down and rub that bunion on your left toe. Run your fingers over it back and forth, back and forth, massaging a little. It hurts when you do that, but it feels good too.
Look over at your neighbor's house. It is dark. Sven has left the building. Think about his mother inside that house, laying in her bed, maybe mentally making her small grocery list. With Sven back at school, there is no need to buy whole carts of groceries anymore. Think about how just yesterday when you saw her in the yard and asked how she was doing, she said, "fine, fine" except her eyes said, "it hurts to be without my boy."
Send her a warm thought, a hug.
Sigh. Finish your tea.
Get up slowly, feeling your knee buckle a little, complain. Feel your wrist ache around the cup of tea.
Climb the steps to the back door. Tell the tree, the rabbits, the mother squirrel, the gardens goodnight. Turn the porch light back on.
Go inside and lock the door. Check it.
Put the cup in the dishwasher and slowly walk through the house, turning out lights.
Stop to check on your daughter laying limp as a rag doll in her bed. Pull the sheet up a little bit. Kiss her cheek. Feel your throat close a little with love.
Tiptoe away, back into your bedroom.
Take one long look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Smile. Stop smiling. Think that you wish your teeth were whiter. Run your hand over your cheek and think about how nice it feels when she does that. Touch your lips with your fingers, imagine for just a second that it is her hand.
Sigh. Shut off the bathroom light and pull back the covers of your bed.
Crawl in and look at the book on the nightstand. Decide that you are too tired to read. Shut off the light.
Feel the softness of the sheets against your aching joints. Turn your head back and forth on the silky pillow.
Look out your window, it's bottom raised up halfway. Think that tomorrow you will have to give in and turn on the air conditioner. But, for tonight, no.
Not yet.
Feel your eyes get heavy and then slowly close.
The tree tells you goodnight but you don't hear it. You are already asleep.
You will dream about squirrels and parks and your daughter dancing in a rainstorm tonight.
Get yourself something to drink. You pick. If you need to stay away from caffeine don't pick iced coffee or tea. Or a diet soda. I like iced green tea. Just a cup, though. Not one of those gigantic sippy cups you get at convenience marts. You don't want to be up all night peeing.
Ease yourself down into that adirondack chair. Smell the faint after leavings of lillies and peonies that are in their downsizing phase. Lily of the Valley. Roses. And something else. What is that? Oh. It rained this afternoon and you can still smell the residue of that on the grass and trees.
Now, look up into the big maple tree that shades where you sit. In the hot afternoons, you can always sit out here with a good book and the tree happily shades you, peeks to see what you are reading. But, at night, leave the porch light off, it will draw bugs.
Just sit in your chair and gaze up into the tree. Watch the leaves swaying just a little bit in the breeze. Take a sip of tea. Miss your wife. Or don't. And that is okay too. Sometimes it is nice to be alone. Stretch your legs out. Note a few aches and pains and then try to let them go as well. Concentrate on the cool wood against your legs.
Listen. You can hear the faint noises of birds. Of insects. Squirrels putting their children to sleep. ("It's okay, little one. The human won't hurt you. She is being quiet. Don't pay her any mind. Time for sleep. You have a big day tomorrow. Maybe we can go to that park you like and and you and your brothers can chase each other all over the place. Now, sleep, little one. Sleeeep.")
Take another sip of tea. Look up into the branches. Note how they silhouette so nicely against the sky. The shapes of the leaves so pretty and precise.
Tell the tree that. Tell her that you think she is gorgeous. Well, whisper it. The neighbors might be out and you don't want them thinking you have gone mad. Feel the tree blush. Listen. The tree asks you if you have any secrets.
Trees and rabbits are the secret keepers. They won't tell anyone anything you have to say.
Feel your eyes fill with tears. Because you have lots of secrets. You are afraid of dying young, leaving your child. You worry about this body of yours that seems to be falling apart.
You miss your father. Or your mother. A sister. A friend. A brother. A child. You wish that you knew how to be a better mother, father, sister, daughter, friend, spouse.
You wish that instead of snapping at your daughter to pleassseee get her pajamas on and get into bed, you had said, "Okay. Run around naked and let the air dry your skin. And then when you are ready, put on your pjs and snuggle into bed and instead of one chapter of your book tonight, let's read two. Maybe three."
Tell the tree that you will do better tomorrow. That your intentions are so, so good. But sometimes other things get in the way. Bills. Phone calls. Fatigue.
Think about how old the tree is. How much it has seen. All the storms it has weathered. The seasons, one following the next, each one with it's good times and bad. The warmth of summer, the cool compress of Autumn after all that heat, the silence of winter, and then the slow waking up and stretcccchhhhiinnng of spring.
Take another sip of tea. Notice some rabbits playing in the yard. Look over at your vegetable garden, your herb garden, all your flowers. Think of how they are so bountiful, so plentiful, so rich.
Feel a cooler breeze start to pick up. Shiver a little in your thin nightshirt. Reach down and rub that bunion on your left toe. Run your fingers over it back and forth, back and forth, massaging a little. It hurts when you do that, but it feels good too.
Look over at your neighbor's house. It is dark. Sven has left the building. Think about his mother inside that house, laying in her bed, maybe mentally making her small grocery list. With Sven back at school, there is no need to buy whole carts of groceries anymore. Think about how just yesterday when you saw her in the yard and asked how she was doing, she said, "fine, fine" except her eyes said, "it hurts to be without my boy."
Send her a warm thought, a hug.
Sigh. Finish your tea.
Get up slowly, feeling your knee buckle a little, complain. Feel your wrist ache around the cup of tea.
Climb the steps to the back door. Tell the tree, the rabbits, the mother squirrel, the gardens goodnight. Turn the porch light back on.
Go inside and lock the door. Check it.
Put the cup in the dishwasher and slowly walk through the house, turning out lights.
Stop to check on your daughter laying limp as a rag doll in her bed. Pull the sheet up a little bit. Kiss her cheek. Feel your throat close a little with love.
Tiptoe away, back into your bedroom.
Take one long look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Smile. Stop smiling. Think that you wish your teeth were whiter. Run your hand over your cheek and think about how nice it feels when she does that. Touch your lips with your fingers, imagine for just a second that it is her hand.
Sigh. Shut off the bathroom light and pull back the covers of your bed.
Crawl in and look at the book on the nightstand. Decide that you are too tired to read. Shut off the light.
Feel the softness of the sheets against your aching joints. Turn your head back and forth on the silky pillow.
Look out your window, it's bottom raised up halfway. Think that tomorrow you will have to give in and turn on the air conditioner. But, for tonight, no.
Not yet.
Feel your eyes get heavy and then slowly close.
The tree tells you goodnight but you don't hear it. You are already asleep.
You will dream about squirrels and parks and your daughter dancing in a rainstorm tonight.
Monday, June 23, 2008
For the love of Liv
There is a song from the movie, The Sound of Music called "Something Good." It is a love song about how the main character (aptly named Maria) feels that even though she wasn't very deserving, she must have done something good somewhere along the way to deserve the love of her husband.
I think of Liv when I hear this song.
I was never much of a saint. I wasn't a bad person, but I wasn't particularly good either before I had my Liv. But, there are times when I look at my little Liv and I simply can't believe my good fortune to have her. How did someone as cynical and smart mouthed as me end up with this child who not only has changed my world in the past eight years, but changed it so remarkably much that I barely recognize the woman that I was before she existed? Who was that self involved twit? Was that really ME?
I remember her infancy. It was...hard. Liv had colic. Some nights she literally cried all night long. The days were better, but I was so worn out from the previous nights that I was barely coherent. I loved her, yes. That was never in question. But, I really didn't like her all that much. I was sleep deprived and her crying set my nerves on jangled edge. I remember looking down at her screaming, blotchy red face once and saying, "You do realize that I can barely stand you right now, don't you, you little fucker?"
I was educated medically. I knew without being told that she had colic, yet I took her to her pediatrician anyway. Was he sure this was colic? Could it be that she just hated me? I mean, I knew that I wasn't Mary Poppins. I was more like Lucy Ricardo at that point, wacked out and wanting to cry with my mouth wide open, huge tears. I sorely needed Ricky to come in and swoop down and say, "What's all this hullabaloo? You have some "splainin to do, Lucy! Never mind. I'll take little Ricky to the park, you go take a nice long nap and maybe a shower..."
Instead I called Bing, who was living in New Orleans at the time. She came. She helped. She quietly hoped that maybe, just maybe, I was ready to invite her into my life to be my partner.
I tried. I really did. I failed.
Liv gave up the colic ghost when she was four months old and for that, I was so grateful that I felt like weeping. I think I did weep. A lot. From sheer release. From the sudden peace in my noisy, screaming brain.
After that, Liv became the little baby that could. She was a sweetly intelligent little morsel. She drank down her soy milk bottles with no complaining and none of that projectile vomiting that she'd been famous for. She smiled her beguiling toothless grin at me, her mouth full of peas or apricots or peaches.
She became the best thing that ever happened to me.
I was besotted, had to mentally restrain myself from going up to complete strangers to show them my beautiful blonde baby with the dark brown eyes. Wasn't she just incredible? Had they ever seen such a sweet, good baby?
Bing went back to New Orleans, sick with misery at my inability to be in a relationship.
Liv and I became the winsome twosome. I quit my job, downsized my life, gave up the expensive swanky condo and moved into an ancient fixer-upper in an older part of the city with huge maple trees and lots of houses with roomy front porches and boiler heat. I began freelancing, making my own hours, leaving Liv with caretakers only occasionally.
I had enough money saved to live for about seven years without having to work full time, if nothing went terribly wrong.
Liv began to walk. She punched out teeth. She learned to use the potty. She talked a mile a minute. She and I were so close that I didn't know where she ended and I began. We were like one person.
I tried to date now and then but found myself sitting in restaurants, looking at various women and men and thinking, "You are just not interesting enough to warrant being away from my child. Let's snarf down this steak and you can take me home. No dessert for me, nope. Let's just split that check and be on our ways...
It was an idyllic time in many ways. Liv and I spent our days seeking out cardinals in a nearby park, looking for fairies and borrowers in tree knots. We learned the names of every tree on our block. We collected leaves in the Autumn and set them in bowls around the house, a spattering of red and gold in our shabby chic surroundings.
I let her sleep with me almost every night. Okay. Stop judging me. She's eight now and perfectly well adjusted. The sleeping together didn't mess her up too much. She sleeps in her own bed now, has been doing so for several years. But, it is me who misses the soft, downy heap of her, her leg slung over mine, possessively.
I went to tons of children's movies until I realized that Liv didn't like them all that much either. She liked The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. Action movies with a fairytale bent.
At my sister's urgings, I enrolled Liv in pre-school when she was three. The head of the school assured me that MANY children cry and carry on and that I should just leave without a fuss. She called me two hours later to tell me that Liv had broken the school record for wailing and gnashing of teeth and that I should come and get her. I raced to the school and found my baby waiting there, her face tear streaked, chin wobbling, arms held out to me. Her teacher, a gentle woman with a perfectly bobbed haircut, advised me to wait another year.
We waited. Happily. I didn't mind having her home. My life was her. Liv found an imaginary friend, a lion named Chancey. Chancey stayed with us for a long, long time. We baked birthday cakes every few months for him. He ate dinner with us and took a stand with Liv by refusing to eat his broccoli. He and Liv raced around the house, playing for hours.
I didn't listen when friends and family told me that perhaps Chancey was a substitute for friends. I raised my eyebrow and spouted the recent psychological findings: that imaginary friends came to children of many diverse personalities. There was no reason to label Liv as lonely or strange. Just who did they think they were talking to? I mean, I of all people, would know if my daughter was psychologically stressed. And, as if to prove my point, Liv is a very well adjusted almost-fourth grader now with many, many friends. Real ones.
Liv went back to pre-school at the age of four with Chancey right beside her. Her teacher assured us that she had no qualms about Chancey as long as he obeyed school rules and played nicely. Liv solemnly told her that Chancey was very well behaved and would mind his manners.
He did.
Liv loved her school, a very broad minded Montessori school that served children from pre-school to sixth grade. The tuition made me blanch a bit, but I could see that this school was exactly what my Liv needed.
Chancey went to school with Liv until she began first grade and then he began going on forays of his own out into the world. By the time she hit second grade, he had moved on to help another child who needed a good friend.
By the time Liv began second grade, I acknowledged that well....I was lonely. I had taken myself out of the dating market for years, had cleverly sidestepped each and every attempt by friends and family to set me up. But, now...okay...I was lonely. I missed sex, damn it.
Bing had moved back to my city by then and we saw a lot of each other socially. She had always been my best friend. Eventually, she became as Alanis Morissette wrote, my best friend with benefits.
Liv had loved Bing from day one, so it was no big deal for Bing to be back in our house. She had lived on and off with us for years. But, eventually, she began sharing my bed and I sat down and explained to Liv that the winsome twosome would now be the fearsome threesome. She was fine with that, happy to have Bing nearby all of the time. They remain very close. If she can't be with me, Liv wants to be with Bing.
I have days where I just sit back and stare at my family and I cannot believe my good fortune. How in the world did I manage to get this wonderful little family? I had tried my best to be a good mother to Liv, but I knew that I had failed in many areas. I have always been an aloof person and while Liv is the only one besides Bing who has managed to break through each and every wall I had in place, I am not stupid enough to believe that I didn't make plenty of mistakes along the way. I was probably too protective of her when she was a toddler. I worked hard to not push my likes on Liv, I came from a mother who was not a reader and used to constantly order me to "put that book down now and get outside and breathe some fresh air."
I would go outside, but sit under a tree with a book.
I didn't want Liv to look back on her childhood and think that I had pushed things on her, so I let her take the lead. This has led her to all sorts of athletic pursuits (soccer, swim team, soft ball, basketball and karate) that I avoided like the plague when I was her age.
Liv is Liv. She is more like me than not, but she is her father too and most importantly, herself. She is cool and aloof with people until she get to know them (me), she loves to read, but she doesn't like the kinds of books that I did as a child. She likes adventure. She loves math and music (her father) and can play piano, violin, harmonica and a little guitar. I do think that Bing has rubbed off on her a little in that department. The two of them can sit and listen to reggae music for hours. Reggae makes me sort of feel like rubber bands are snapping all over the place. She is very athletic, loves all kinds of sports.
She gets good grades and hates to be one upped by classmates. Unfortunately, that is me all over.
She loves to cook and bake. I have no idea where that odd trait comes from since I have never believed that the oven is my friend...:)
Mostly, though, Liv is my heart. She is my day. She is my centerpiece, my raison d'etre. My sky, my moon, my sun. I have never loved anyone else in my life with such deepness, such intensity, such sheer joy.
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So, somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good...
Oscar Hammerstein
And I always think of you when I hear this song, my dearest, smartest, sweetest love bean. Today was your first day of bible school and you said that you learned how important it is to share. So, I am sharing this with you to read when you are all grown up and maybe not think that I hung the moon anymore.
You are so loved. So, so loved, Liv.
I think of Liv when I hear this song.
I was never much of a saint. I wasn't a bad person, but I wasn't particularly good either before I had my Liv. But, there are times when I look at my little Liv and I simply can't believe my good fortune to have her. How did someone as cynical and smart mouthed as me end up with this child who not only has changed my world in the past eight years, but changed it so remarkably much that I barely recognize the woman that I was before she existed? Who was that self involved twit? Was that really ME?
I remember her infancy. It was...hard. Liv had colic. Some nights she literally cried all night long. The days were better, but I was so worn out from the previous nights that I was barely coherent. I loved her, yes. That was never in question. But, I really didn't like her all that much. I was sleep deprived and her crying set my nerves on jangled edge. I remember looking down at her screaming, blotchy red face once and saying, "You do realize that I can barely stand you right now, don't you, you little fucker?"
I was educated medically. I knew without being told that she had colic, yet I took her to her pediatrician anyway. Was he sure this was colic? Could it be that she just hated me? I mean, I knew that I wasn't Mary Poppins. I was more like Lucy Ricardo at that point, wacked out and wanting to cry with my mouth wide open, huge tears. I sorely needed Ricky to come in and swoop down and say, "What's all this hullabaloo? You have some "splainin to do, Lucy! Never mind. I'll take little Ricky to the park, you go take a nice long nap and maybe a shower..."
Instead I called Bing, who was living in New Orleans at the time. She came. She helped. She quietly hoped that maybe, just maybe, I was ready to invite her into my life to be my partner.
I tried. I really did. I failed.
Liv gave up the colic ghost when she was four months old and for that, I was so grateful that I felt like weeping. I think I did weep. A lot. From sheer release. From the sudden peace in my noisy, screaming brain.
After that, Liv became the little baby that could. She was a sweetly intelligent little morsel. She drank down her soy milk bottles with no complaining and none of that projectile vomiting that she'd been famous for. She smiled her beguiling toothless grin at me, her mouth full of peas or apricots or peaches.
She became the best thing that ever happened to me.
I was besotted, had to mentally restrain myself from going up to complete strangers to show them my beautiful blonde baby with the dark brown eyes. Wasn't she just incredible? Had they ever seen such a sweet, good baby?
Bing went back to New Orleans, sick with misery at my inability to be in a relationship.
Liv and I became the winsome twosome. I quit my job, downsized my life, gave up the expensive swanky condo and moved into an ancient fixer-upper in an older part of the city with huge maple trees and lots of houses with roomy front porches and boiler heat. I began freelancing, making my own hours, leaving Liv with caretakers only occasionally.
I had enough money saved to live for about seven years without having to work full time, if nothing went terribly wrong.
Liv began to walk. She punched out teeth. She learned to use the potty. She talked a mile a minute. She and I were so close that I didn't know where she ended and I began. We were like one person.
I tried to date now and then but found myself sitting in restaurants, looking at various women and men and thinking, "You are just not interesting enough to warrant being away from my child. Let's snarf down this steak and you can take me home. No dessert for me, nope. Let's just split that check and be on our ways...
It was an idyllic time in many ways. Liv and I spent our days seeking out cardinals in a nearby park, looking for fairies and borrowers in tree knots. We learned the names of every tree on our block. We collected leaves in the Autumn and set them in bowls around the house, a spattering of red and gold in our shabby chic surroundings.
I let her sleep with me almost every night. Okay. Stop judging me. She's eight now and perfectly well adjusted. The sleeping together didn't mess her up too much. She sleeps in her own bed now, has been doing so for several years. But, it is me who misses the soft, downy heap of her, her leg slung over mine, possessively.
I went to tons of children's movies until I realized that Liv didn't like them all that much either. She liked The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. Action movies with a fairytale bent.
At my sister's urgings, I enrolled Liv in pre-school when she was three. The head of the school assured me that MANY children cry and carry on and that I should just leave without a fuss. She called me two hours later to tell me that Liv had broken the school record for wailing and gnashing of teeth and that I should come and get her. I raced to the school and found my baby waiting there, her face tear streaked, chin wobbling, arms held out to me. Her teacher, a gentle woman with a perfectly bobbed haircut, advised me to wait another year.
We waited. Happily. I didn't mind having her home. My life was her. Liv found an imaginary friend, a lion named Chancey. Chancey stayed with us for a long, long time. We baked birthday cakes every few months for him. He ate dinner with us and took a stand with Liv by refusing to eat his broccoli. He and Liv raced around the house, playing for hours.
I didn't listen when friends and family told me that perhaps Chancey was a substitute for friends. I raised my eyebrow and spouted the recent psychological findings: that imaginary friends came to children of many diverse personalities. There was no reason to label Liv as lonely or strange. Just who did they think they were talking to? I mean, I of all people, would know if my daughter was psychologically stressed. And, as if to prove my point, Liv is a very well adjusted almost-fourth grader now with many, many friends. Real ones.
Liv went back to pre-school at the age of four with Chancey right beside her. Her teacher assured us that she had no qualms about Chancey as long as he obeyed school rules and played nicely. Liv solemnly told her that Chancey was very well behaved and would mind his manners.
He did.
Liv loved her school, a very broad minded Montessori school that served children from pre-school to sixth grade. The tuition made me blanch a bit, but I could see that this school was exactly what my Liv needed.
Chancey went to school with Liv until she began first grade and then he began going on forays of his own out into the world. By the time she hit second grade, he had moved on to help another child who needed a good friend.
By the time Liv began second grade, I acknowledged that well....I was lonely. I had taken myself out of the dating market for years, had cleverly sidestepped each and every attempt by friends and family to set me up. But, now...okay...I was lonely. I missed sex, damn it.
Bing had moved back to my city by then and we saw a lot of each other socially. She had always been my best friend. Eventually, she became as Alanis Morissette wrote, my best friend with benefits.
Liv had loved Bing from day one, so it was no big deal for Bing to be back in our house. She had lived on and off with us for years. But, eventually, she began sharing my bed and I sat down and explained to Liv that the winsome twosome would now be the fearsome threesome. She was fine with that, happy to have Bing nearby all of the time. They remain very close. If she can't be with me, Liv wants to be with Bing.
I have days where I just sit back and stare at my family and I cannot believe my good fortune. How in the world did I manage to get this wonderful little family? I had tried my best to be a good mother to Liv, but I knew that I had failed in many areas. I have always been an aloof person and while Liv is the only one besides Bing who has managed to break through each and every wall I had in place, I am not stupid enough to believe that I didn't make plenty of mistakes along the way. I was probably too protective of her when she was a toddler. I worked hard to not push my likes on Liv, I came from a mother who was not a reader and used to constantly order me to "put that book down now and get outside and breathe some fresh air."
I would go outside, but sit under a tree with a book.
I didn't want Liv to look back on her childhood and think that I had pushed things on her, so I let her take the lead. This has led her to all sorts of athletic pursuits (soccer, swim team, soft ball, basketball and karate) that I avoided like the plague when I was her age.
Liv is Liv. She is more like me than not, but she is her father too and most importantly, herself. She is cool and aloof with people until she get to know them (me), she loves to read, but she doesn't like the kinds of books that I did as a child. She likes adventure. She loves math and music (her father) and can play piano, violin, harmonica and a little guitar. I do think that Bing has rubbed off on her a little in that department. The two of them can sit and listen to reggae music for hours. Reggae makes me sort of feel like rubber bands are snapping all over the place. She is very athletic, loves all kinds of sports.
She gets good grades and hates to be one upped by classmates. Unfortunately, that is me all over.
She loves to cook and bake. I have no idea where that odd trait comes from since I have never believed that the oven is my friend...:)
Mostly, though, Liv is my heart. She is my day. She is my centerpiece, my raison d'etre. My sky, my moon, my sun. I have never loved anyone else in my life with such deepness, such intensity, such sheer joy.
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So, somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good...
Oscar Hammerstein
And I always think of you when I hear this song, my dearest, smartest, sweetest love bean. Today was your first day of bible school and you said that you learned how important it is to share. So, I am sharing this with you to read when you are all grown up and maybe not think that I hung the moon anymore.
You are so loved. So, so loved, Liv.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Hello and goodbye
Bing left for San Jose today. She will be at an Apple conference for a week and then is staying on for another week with our friend, Ally, who is a jazz singer and has a week long gig in San Jose. Ally is being put up in the fancy hotel which houses the lounge that she will be singing in. so Bing can bunk with her. Bing is excited about it all. I think, like most of us, she simply needs a break. From summer school teaching, from me, from Liv, from mowing the lawn, from general house wear and tear and just basically from her everyday life.
She won't be home until July 7th. Liv's father, Tinton will be here on June 29th and is staying until July 7th, so will just miss her. This is fine. They don't get along all that well. And it makes Bing feel less guilty to be missing the 4th of July with us.
My neighbor, Sven, left today to go back to school. He has summer football practice and is taking a summer class. It was hard to see him go; I feel as if he just came home. I imagine it is even harder for his mother....
I feel like everyone is leaving on a jet plane except me. And Liv, of course. But, that is fine. I'm swollen with arthritis again and Liv has bible school next week, so I will have plenty of time to just relax. I seldom work in the summer. My clients know that my downtime is from the end of May until the end of August, so I get few offers anyway. It is just too hard to work and take care of Liv as well.
I found out this morning that Bing went around to ALL of our neighbors (some of them are elderly) and asked them to look out for me, that she was worried about me getting around and that she thought that I may need some assistance. This pissed me off to no end. I thought it was funny when I was out weeding the garden this morning and my neighbor, Hattie, came over with a bottle of water.
"You look a bit sweaty, are you feeling okay?" she asked me, a concerned smile on her face.
I told her I was fine, that it was gorgeous out...and it is. We haven't even had to turn the air conditioning on yet. She pushed the water at me anyway, so I took it even though I wasn't thirsty.
And then, later when I was out hanging clothes on the line, there came Hal. He is in his seventies, for Christ sakes, and he attempted to help me hang up my clothes. Since some of them were my frackin' underwear, I shooed him away. He shrugged.
"It's just that I don't want you to overdo..." he said.
I asked him why he was worried and he spilled the beans. I immediately got it. So THAT is why it took Bing so long to take the dog for a walk last night and why she insisted on going alone...
I am going to kill her when she calls tonight...JAYSUS. How embarrassing to have my elderly neighbors worried about me....
We took Sven out for a goodbye dinner on friday. To a steakhouse. That boy can EAT. He is on a high protein diet for football and man, he packs that meat in...He ordered a t bone and then ate half of my filet mignon and half of Liv's sirloin. If Bing had ordered beef, he would have probably been eying her plate too, but since she had the salmon, he stayed away. After dinner, Liv sat on his lap, curling his arm around her like a sweater. She said she was chilly. She just wanted him to hold her. He happily complied. He said that he was ready to go back to school, back to the apartment that he shares with five other football players.
"Once you live on your own, it feels weird to come home, like you are just a visitor..." he said.
I sighed. I knew that would happen and it should happen, but I had hoped that it would take a little longer. Was it just last year that he and I had sat on my back porch and he confessed to being scared to death?
Yesterday, Bing, Liv and I decided to have what we call family date night. We went to matinee and then out for dinner.
Movies are always tricky. I wanted to see this. Liv wanted to see this. And Bing wanted to see this.
Liv and I looked at each other. I told her that I would take her to see Nim's Island next week, just the two of us, a mother/daughter date. We let Bing pick the movie.
It was okay. Liv is very mature and I called a friend who had seen it to see if she thought it would be too scary for her. She said no. And it wasn't. But none of us thought it was all that great. The dialog seemed stilted, badly written. The acting was a bit over the top...
I think The Visitor would have been MUCH better...but oh well. Actually, I am waiting on pins and needles for this to come out...
And hey...I would love to see this too. Not because it looks so good, but because I will see anything with James McAvoy in it. Anything. He is on my short list of men that I would sleep with in a split second. Along with Johnny Depp, John Malkovich and John Cusack.
After the movie, we went out for mexican food. The cafe where we like to go was packed, a wedding party was being held in their basement and after dinner, on a whim, we decided to crash. We had so much fun. Liv got to dance, Bing got to play bongos and I just sat and smiled, watching them. No one minded that we were there, an elderly woman pushed wedding cake on us and it was so silky and smooth, like a creamy mint on my tongue.
We took Bing to the airport this morning. She does what she always does, fusses and fusses over numbers. Do I have the number for the guy who is a great handyman in case there is another storm? Do I have her itinerary? Don't forget to take the DVDs back to the rental store...
I told her that she wasn't headed to Iraq, that I thought we would be okay....she smiled. Kissed me. Kissed Liv. Told Liv that she had forgotten to kiss Socks and could she take care of that when we got home? She could.
Bing hugged me goodbye. "Don't get too used to not having a lid, Pot..." she admonished, an old joke between us. I told her that I wouldn't.
"Don't let Tinton oogle you too much..." she also added. She has this baseless, crazy idea that Tinton is secretly madly in love with me.
He isn't. Trust me. Still, she worries.
Liv and I left her waving and headed to the grocery store where we loaded up on food to get us through the week. Oatmeal. Lunch meat. Campbells Cream of chicken, chicken noodle, tomato and beef with barley. Liv knows that when Bing is gone, we do take out a LOT. She doesn't mind much. In a few years, Liv can take over the cooking and I am betting that she will be good at it. She is already hooked on cooking shows, especially one about a cake store that makes specialty cakes to order: cakes to propose marriage, cakes to take to a kegger, cakes shaped like someone's favorite dog...
We will be fine. I was feeling almost foot loose and fancy free when I suddenly got a wave of missing Bing so much that my throat closed as I hung up her jeans on the clothesline this morning. A whole two weeks without her. Who will kiss me and tell me that I look great when I know I do not? Who will grill hamburgers and when she sees me looking at her out the kitchen window, naughtily lift up her top to show me her braless breasts? Who will wash my back in the bathtub and cop a feel?
Okay. Okay. I will miss her. There. I said it.
I miss her already.
She won't be home until July 7th. Liv's father, Tinton will be here on June 29th and is staying until July 7th, so will just miss her. This is fine. They don't get along all that well. And it makes Bing feel less guilty to be missing the 4th of July with us.
My neighbor, Sven, left today to go back to school. He has summer football practice and is taking a summer class. It was hard to see him go; I feel as if he just came home. I imagine it is even harder for his mother....
I feel like everyone is leaving on a jet plane except me. And Liv, of course. But, that is fine. I'm swollen with arthritis again and Liv has bible school next week, so I will have plenty of time to just relax. I seldom work in the summer. My clients know that my downtime is from the end of May until the end of August, so I get few offers anyway. It is just too hard to work and take care of Liv as well.
I found out this morning that Bing went around to ALL of our neighbors (some of them are elderly) and asked them to look out for me, that she was worried about me getting around and that she thought that I may need some assistance. This pissed me off to no end. I thought it was funny when I was out weeding the garden this morning and my neighbor, Hattie, came over with a bottle of water.
"You look a bit sweaty, are you feeling okay?" she asked me, a concerned smile on her face.
I told her I was fine, that it was gorgeous out...and it is. We haven't even had to turn the air conditioning on yet. She pushed the water at me anyway, so I took it even though I wasn't thirsty.
And then, later when I was out hanging clothes on the line, there came Hal. He is in his seventies, for Christ sakes, and he attempted to help me hang up my clothes. Since some of them were my frackin' underwear, I shooed him away. He shrugged.
"It's just that I don't want you to overdo..." he said.
I asked him why he was worried and he spilled the beans. I immediately got it. So THAT is why it took Bing so long to take the dog for a walk last night and why she insisted on going alone...
I am going to kill her when she calls tonight...JAYSUS. How embarrassing to have my elderly neighbors worried about me....
We took Sven out for a goodbye dinner on friday. To a steakhouse. That boy can EAT. He is on a high protein diet for football and man, he packs that meat in...He ordered a t bone and then ate half of my filet mignon and half of Liv's sirloin. If Bing had ordered beef, he would have probably been eying her plate too, but since she had the salmon, he stayed away. After dinner, Liv sat on his lap, curling his arm around her like a sweater. She said she was chilly. She just wanted him to hold her. He happily complied. He said that he was ready to go back to school, back to the apartment that he shares with five other football players.
"Once you live on your own, it feels weird to come home, like you are just a visitor..." he said.
I sighed. I knew that would happen and it should happen, but I had hoped that it would take a little longer. Was it just last year that he and I had sat on my back porch and he confessed to being scared to death?
Yesterday, Bing, Liv and I decided to have what we call family date night. We went to matinee and then out for dinner.
Movies are always tricky. I wanted to see this. Liv wanted to see this. And Bing wanted to see this.
Liv and I looked at each other. I told her that I would take her to see Nim's Island next week, just the two of us, a mother/daughter date. We let Bing pick the movie.
It was okay. Liv is very mature and I called a friend who had seen it to see if she thought it would be too scary for her. She said no. And it wasn't. But none of us thought it was all that great. The dialog seemed stilted, badly written. The acting was a bit over the top...
I think The Visitor would have been MUCH better...but oh well. Actually, I am waiting on pins and needles for this to come out...
And hey...I would love to see this too. Not because it looks so good, but because I will see anything with James McAvoy in it. Anything. He is on my short list of men that I would sleep with in a split second. Along with Johnny Depp, John Malkovich and John Cusack.
After the movie, we went out for mexican food. The cafe where we like to go was packed, a wedding party was being held in their basement and after dinner, on a whim, we decided to crash. We had so much fun. Liv got to dance, Bing got to play bongos and I just sat and smiled, watching them. No one minded that we were there, an elderly woman pushed wedding cake on us and it was so silky and smooth, like a creamy mint on my tongue.
We took Bing to the airport this morning. She does what she always does, fusses and fusses over numbers. Do I have the number for the guy who is a great handyman in case there is another storm? Do I have her itinerary? Don't forget to take the DVDs back to the rental store...
I told her that she wasn't headed to Iraq, that I thought we would be okay....she smiled. Kissed me. Kissed Liv. Told Liv that she had forgotten to kiss Socks and could she take care of that when we got home? She could.
Bing hugged me goodbye. "Don't get too used to not having a lid, Pot..." she admonished, an old joke between us. I told her that I wouldn't.
"Don't let Tinton oogle you too much..." she also added. She has this baseless, crazy idea that Tinton is secretly madly in love with me.
He isn't. Trust me. Still, she worries.
Liv and I left her waving and headed to the grocery store where we loaded up on food to get us through the week. Oatmeal. Lunch meat. Campbells Cream of chicken, chicken noodle, tomato and beef with barley. Liv knows that when Bing is gone, we do take out a LOT. She doesn't mind much. In a few years, Liv can take over the cooking and I am betting that she will be good at it. She is already hooked on cooking shows, especially one about a cake store that makes specialty cakes to order: cakes to propose marriage, cakes to take to a kegger, cakes shaped like someone's favorite dog...
We will be fine. I was feeling almost foot loose and fancy free when I suddenly got a wave of missing Bing so much that my throat closed as I hung up her jeans on the clothesline this morning. A whole two weeks without her. Who will kiss me and tell me that I look great when I know I do not? Who will grill hamburgers and when she sees me looking at her out the kitchen window, naughtily lift up her top to show me her braless breasts? Who will wash my back in the bathtub and cop a feel?
Okay. Okay. I will miss her. There. I said it.
I miss her already.
Friday, June 20, 2008
It's a small blogville...
A few months ago, I was moderating my posts. (Thank you, blog stalker, for making this necessary!)
And I came upon this one:
Dear Maria, I stumbled across your blog, and the more I read, the more I wonder if you are the same Maria Lastname who I went to grade school with. My name is Millie Blank and if you are the same Maria, we used to be great pals from first to fifth grade. Then, my sister died and my parents ended up divorced and my brothers and I moved to Minnesota with my mother right before sixth grade and I never saw you again. I don't suppose you went to St. Agnes Elementary in Smalltown, Iowa? If so, here is my e-mail address ( .) I would LOVE to hear from you. If not, well...you have a great blog anyway. Sincerely, Millie Lastname.
I sat there gaping. OF COURSE, I remembered her. Millie. She and I bonded over C.S Lewis. We were huge Narnia fans when every other kid in our class was reading The Little House series. We liked them too, but not like we liked Narnia. I remembered a pudgy girl with dark brown hair and eyes. She was smart and funny. We would meet each day on the playground to discuss Narnia. We went on to The Hobbit when we were finished. I remembered that she had a sister who was one year older who died of leukemia about the same time that my Da died of a heart attack. By the time I went on to sixth grade, Millie was gone. Her parents had divorced, it was said, her sister's death being too hard on the marriage. She and her brothers had moved with their mother to Minnesota and her father had moved to Wisconsin.
And now, well...she had found me. I e-mailed her back quickly to say that YES, I was Maria Lastname and to please write me as soon as possible. I wanted to know everything that had happened to her in the past um...40 years.
She did. We fired e-mails back and forth for several weeks. I found out that she had married young, had a daughter in med school in MY city and had been married to the same man, an international banker now, for thirty years. She worked at a book store and didn't have a blog, but loved mine.
We exchanged phone numbers and began calling with regularity. At first, we were both shy and reserved upon talking but little by little, we loosened up. I found out that she and her husband did not own a television. She found out that I sort of liked Survivor and The Amazing Race, that no, I didn't just watch PBS.
And then she shocked me. She sent me an e-mail asking me if I had heard of a certain book. "I wrote it," she wrote to me. "And I am nearly done with my next book. It is due at the publisher's in mid July."
I had not only read the book she named, I had LOVED the book. I had read it as a library book, though, did not own it. So, I went to the bookstore and immediately picked it up. She had used her married name, so I hadn't caught that she wrote it. I looked at the author's description and there was a photo of a slender woman with dark brown hair and eyes, sitting on a bench. It was my Millie. My god, not only an author, but a GOOD one. The blurb simply said that she lived with her husband and daughter in Minnesota.
I sent a gushy e-mail telling her that, yes, I had read this book and I wasn't just sucking up, I had loved it.
I then told her that while I hadn't written a book, I had been lucky enough to get a few articles published in medical and science journals and I sent her the names of the journals and the titles. She responded in a hilarious e-mail saying that she liked me so much, but that it was really, really hard for her to get into an article about oxidative stress in autism spectrum disorders or fluoxetine and it's reliability in cellular and molecular defects in the autistic brain...
I asked her if she made a lot of money on her book. I mean, it was wonderful. She told me that she still worked at the bookstore, that unless you were Stephenie Meyer or Stephen King, it was really hard to make a living as a writer. She asked me how much I was paid for my articles and I burst out laughing as I told her that I made more money doing tarot cards at all those parties in college.
And then she said that she was planning on visiting her daughter in med school and what did I think about meeting for coffee? I was game, but since my rheumatoid arthritis was acting up, I would be the woman limping in the door with a cane. But...hey, I'd tie a pink ribbon around it so she would know WHICH old lame woman I was...
We met at a coffee house the following weekend. She says that I started crying first; I say that she did. We both did. Cry.
All I know is that when I came limping in, leaning heavily on my cane, I saw this woman sitting alone at a table, a lovely, very slender woman with black hair in a shiny bob dressed in jeans and a man's blue cotton shirt, tail out. She looked about ten years younger than I did.
She stood up and peered at me through horn rimmed glasses. "Maria?" she asked. I nodded and then we were hugging and crying.
"Only you could make limping with a cane look like high fashion," she said. "God, you didn't tell me you had perfect milkmaid skin. I feel like your freakin' mother..."
No, I told her. I look like yours....
We went on for awhile, making exaggerated comments on how beautiful the other one was, but eventually we settled in the booth and ordered some very overpriced coffee and agreed to split a danish.
We talked. And talked. And talked. For three hours.
All during our conversation, we kept saying things like, "I can't believe I am telling another person this" or "I've never told anyone THAT."
We talked about our lives so far:
Millie: I was hugely fat all through high school. When I got into college, I spent my freshman year losing over 60 pounds. By my sophomore year, I was skinny. I met Mitch and fell in love. When I took him home for Christmas to meet my mother, wouldn't you know she drug out ALL of my baby books and photo albums of my fat self. There I was looking like a stuffed sausage in my prom dress. I didn't even have a date for prom, I went stag. I was terrified that Mitch would break up with me. I knew he wanted a big family and I was worried that he'd look at me and see the fat gene just waiting to bite into his future children...but no, he DID say something about me dropping a ton or some insensitive thing, but he wasn't scared off. When he asked me to marry him my junior year, I jumped at it. He was not only the only boy I had slept with, he was the only boy I had ever dated, Maria! I wanted to grab him before he changed his mind...and then we had Lea when I was barely 25...so wow...I didn't get much of chance to even know what it was I wanted in a man...
Maria: While you were getting married, I was exploring the whole rainbow of sex. When I wasn't partying, I was studying. I managed to get on the dean's list every year AND learn how to handle a bong like a pro...When you were having Lea and being a mom, I was on a career track heavy duty. I had just been disinherited by my mother when I was 25. If I had been a mom, I would have been a very bad one at 25. To say I was not ready would be an understatement..."
Millie: Our best years were when Lea was a baby, when we were dirt poor. Mitch was a bank manager then, not jetting all over the world as an international banker like he does now and I was working for peanuts at the same bookstore I work in now. I used to bring Lea with me to work and set up her playpen in the back of the store. Customers loved her. Now, Lea is in med school and Mitch is never home. I miss those days when we had campbell's soup for dinner and maybe some crackers with peanut butter...Mitch and I both wanted a big family, but after Lea was born, I was never able to conceive again naturally and Mitch freaked out about artificial help....
Me: By the time I was thirty, I was making more money than I knew what to do with, I broke up with my girlfriend and she was almost successful at killing herself. I was working with AIDS patients and would come home and get shit faced drunk nearly every night. All by myself. In my expensive condo.
Millie: Suddenly, I was forty two and Lea was graduating from high school!
Me: Suddenly, I was forty and I realized that I was ready to have a baby. Except now I had really crappy eggs. It was a miracle when Liv was born, it honestly was. And I knew that I had to clean up my act. It is funny, but I never really was myself until I had Liv. It is like she brought out the real me. I look at myself now and can hardly believe that was me before. It was like I went from being Courtney Love to this upstanding...mother. A person who didn't smoke joints anymore or drink too much. I threw out the fishnet stockings too. I have become...so.....settled and predictable. And now, I even have this incredibly stable marriage. I go to PTA meetings and pick up kids for play dates. And what is weird is that I LIKE it. I like this person better than the one I was...
Millie: So, what is sex like with a woman? Do you mind me asking?
Me: It is good. But then, I am bi-sexual. I don't think you would find it nearly as exciting...What is it like to be married to the same man for thirty years?
Millie: It is...boring sometimes. But, also comforting. Not that I see him that much. He travels a LOT....
And here we were. Two women all grown up and settled into careers and marriages. We each have a daughter, although hers is 25 and mine is 8...
I was wearing a wrist brace when we sat down and after awhile, it began annoying me, so I slipped it off. We talked some more and then I realized that Millie was massaging my wrist gently.
"It looks like it hurts...," she told me sweetly.
I admitted that it did. And her gesture was so...so...Millie. Even as a child, she was sweet and sympathetic, always the kid on the playground who helped other kids get to the nurse's office when they fell down.
I allowed her to massage my wrist. This says a lot since in general, I do not allow much of that sort of caretaking. It felt...good. A friend reaching out to a friend.
We talked a bit more and then of course, one of us looked at our watch and exclaimed at the time. Millie needed to go have dinner with her daughter and I needed to pick up Liv at her friend's house.
We agreed that the next time Millie was in town, she would stay with me. She admitted that she had booked a hotel instead of asking to stay with me just in case we hadn't hit it off. I confessed that I hadn't invited her to stay with me for the same reason.
And now we wondered how we had gone for forty years without each other's company.
Finding a friend that was lost is a gift. And what are the odds really? I mean, Millie claims that she really was just sort of blog hopping when she discovered mine. And then she noticed my references to my family and my hometown and she found herself wondering if...maybe...just maybe...it could really be the Maria she remembered.
What the hell are the odds?
It's a small world, isn't it? A small blogville....
I'm glad we found our way back to each other, Mills...I never knew how much I missed you until I found you again.
And I came upon this one:
Dear Maria, I stumbled across your blog, and the more I read, the more I wonder if you are the same Maria Lastname who I went to grade school with. My name is Millie Blank and if you are the same Maria, we used to be great pals from first to fifth grade. Then, my sister died and my parents ended up divorced and my brothers and I moved to Minnesota with my mother right before sixth grade and I never saw you again. I don't suppose you went to St. Agnes Elementary in Smalltown, Iowa? If so, here is my e-mail address ( .) I would LOVE to hear from you. If not, well...you have a great blog anyway. Sincerely, Millie Lastname.
I sat there gaping. OF COURSE, I remembered her. Millie. She and I bonded over C.S Lewis. We were huge Narnia fans when every other kid in our class was reading The Little House series. We liked them too, but not like we liked Narnia. I remembered a pudgy girl with dark brown hair and eyes. She was smart and funny. We would meet each day on the playground to discuss Narnia. We went on to The Hobbit when we were finished. I remembered that she had a sister who was one year older who died of leukemia about the same time that my Da died of a heart attack. By the time I went on to sixth grade, Millie was gone. Her parents had divorced, it was said, her sister's death being too hard on the marriage. She and her brothers had moved with their mother to Minnesota and her father had moved to Wisconsin.
And now, well...she had found me. I e-mailed her back quickly to say that YES, I was Maria Lastname and to please write me as soon as possible. I wanted to know everything that had happened to her in the past um...40 years.
She did. We fired e-mails back and forth for several weeks. I found out that she had married young, had a daughter in med school in MY city and had been married to the same man, an international banker now, for thirty years. She worked at a book store and didn't have a blog, but loved mine.
We exchanged phone numbers and began calling with regularity. At first, we were both shy and reserved upon talking but little by little, we loosened up. I found out that she and her husband did not own a television. She found out that I sort of liked Survivor and The Amazing Race, that no, I didn't just watch PBS.
And then she shocked me. She sent me an e-mail asking me if I had heard of a certain book. "I wrote it," she wrote to me. "And I am nearly done with my next book. It is due at the publisher's in mid July."
I had not only read the book she named, I had LOVED the book. I had read it as a library book, though, did not own it. So, I went to the bookstore and immediately picked it up. She had used her married name, so I hadn't caught that she wrote it. I looked at the author's description and there was a photo of a slender woman with dark brown hair and eyes, sitting on a bench. It was my Millie. My god, not only an author, but a GOOD one. The blurb simply said that she lived with her husband and daughter in Minnesota.
I sent a gushy e-mail telling her that, yes, I had read this book and I wasn't just sucking up, I had loved it.
I then told her that while I hadn't written a book, I had been lucky enough to get a few articles published in medical and science journals and I sent her the names of the journals and the titles. She responded in a hilarious e-mail saying that she liked me so much, but that it was really, really hard for her to get into an article about oxidative stress in autism spectrum disorders or fluoxetine and it's reliability in cellular and molecular defects in the autistic brain...
I asked her if she made a lot of money on her book. I mean, it was wonderful. She told me that she still worked at the bookstore, that unless you were Stephenie Meyer or Stephen King, it was really hard to make a living as a writer. She asked me how much I was paid for my articles and I burst out laughing as I told her that I made more money doing tarot cards at all those parties in college.
And then she said that she was planning on visiting her daughter in med school and what did I think about meeting for coffee? I was game, but since my rheumatoid arthritis was acting up, I would be the woman limping in the door with a cane. But...hey, I'd tie a pink ribbon around it so she would know WHICH old lame woman I was...
We met at a coffee house the following weekend. She says that I started crying first; I say that she did. We both did. Cry.
All I know is that when I came limping in, leaning heavily on my cane, I saw this woman sitting alone at a table, a lovely, very slender woman with black hair in a shiny bob dressed in jeans and a man's blue cotton shirt, tail out. She looked about ten years younger than I did.
She stood up and peered at me through horn rimmed glasses. "Maria?" she asked. I nodded and then we were hugging and crying.
"Only you could make limping with a cane look like high fashion," she said. "God, you didn't tell me you had perfect milkmaid skin. I feel like your freakin' mother..."
No, I told her. I look like yours....
We went on for awhile, making exaggerated comments on how beautiful the other one was, but eventually we settled in the booth and ordered some very overpriced coffee and agreed to split a danish.
We talked. And talked. And talked. For three hours.
All during our conversation, we kept saying things like, "I can't believe I am telling another person this" or "I've never told anyone THAT."
We talked about our lives so far:
Millie: I was hugely fat all through high school. When I got into college, I spent my freshman year losing over 60 pounds. By my sophomore year, I was skinny. I met Mitch and fell in love. When I took him home for Christmas to meet my mother, wouldn't you know she drug out ALL of my baby books and photo albums of my fat self. There I was looking like a stuffed sausage in my prom dress. I didn't even have a date for prom, I went stag. I was terrified that Mitch would break up with me. I knew he wanted a big family and I was worried that he'd look at me and see the fat gene just waiting to bite into his future children...but no, he DID say something about me dropping a ton or some insensitive thing, but he wasn't scared off. When he asked me to marry him my junior year, I jumped at it. He was not only the only boy I had slept with, he was the only boy I had ever dated, Maria! I wanted to grab him before he changed his mind...and then we had Lea when I was barely 25...so wow...I didn't get much of chance to even know what it was I wanted in a man...
Maria: While you were getting married, I was exploring the whole rainbow of sex. When I wasn't partying, I was studying. I managed to get on the dean's list every year AND learn how to handle a bong like a pro...When you were having Lea and being a mom, I was on a career track heavy duty. I had just been disinherited by my mother when I was 25. If I had been a mom, I would have been a very bad one at 25. To say I was not ready would be an understatement..."
Millie: Our best years were when Lea was a baby, when we were dirt poor. Mitch was a bank manager then, not jetting all over the world as an international banker like he does now and I was working for peanuts at the same bookstore I work in now. I used to bring Lea with me to work and set up her playpen in the back of the store. Customers loved her. Now, Lea is in med school and Mitch is never home. I miss those days when we had campbell's soup for dinner and maybe some crackers with peanut butter...Mitch and I both wanted a big family, but after Lea was born, I was never able to conceive again naturally and Mitch freaked out about artificial help....
Me: By the time I was thirty, I was making more money than I knew what to do with, I broke up with my girlfriend and she was almost successful at killing herself. I was working with AIDS patients and would come home and get shit faced drunk nearly every night. All by myself. In my expensive condo.
Millie: Suddenly, I was forty two and Lea was graduating from high school!
Me: Suddenly, I was forty and I realized that I was ready to have a baby. Except now I had really crappy eggs. It was a miracle when Liv was born, it honestly was. And I knew that I had to clean up my act. It is funny, but I never really was myself until I had Liv. It is like she brought out the real me. I look at myself now and can hardly believe that was me before. It was like I went from being Courtney Love to this upstanding...mother. A person who didn't smoke joints anymore or drink too much. I threw out the fishnet stockings too. I have become...so.....settled and predictable. And now, I even have this incredibly stable marriage. I go to PTA meetings and pick up kids for play dates. And what is weird is that I LIKE it. I like this person better than the one I was...
Millie: So, what is sex like with a woman? Do you mind me asking?
Me: It is good. But then, I am bi-sexual. I don't think you would find it nearly as exciting...What is it like to be married to the same man for thirty years?
Millie: It is...boring sometimes. But, also comforting. Not that I see him that much. He travels a LOT....
And here we were. Two women all grown up and settled into careers and marriages. We each have a daughter, although hers is 25 and mine is 8...
I was wearing a wrist brace when we sat down and after awhile, it began annoying me, so I slipped it off. We talked some more and then I realized that Millie was massaging my wrist gently.
"It looks like it hurts...," she told me sweetly.
I admitted that it did. And her gesture was so...so...Millie. Even as a child, she was sweet and sympathetic, always the kid on the playground who helped other kids get to the nurse's office when they fell down.
I allowed her to massage my wrist. This says a lot since in general, I do not allow much of that sort of caretaking. It felt...good. A friend reaching out to a friend.
We talked a bit more and then of course, one of us looked at our watch and exclaimed at the time. Millie needed to go have dinner with her daughter and I needed to pick up Liv at her friend's house.
We agreed that the next time Millie was in town, she would stay with me. She admitted that she had booked a hotel instead of asking to stay with me just in case we hadn't hit it off. I confessed that I hadn't invited her to stay with me for the same reason.
And now we wondered how we had gone for forty years without each other's company.
Finding a friend that was lost is a gift. And what are the odds really? I mean, Millie claims that she really was just sort of blog hopping when she discovered mine. And then she noticed my references to my family and my hometown and she found herself wondering if...maybe...just maybe...it could really be the Maria she remembered.
What the hell are the odds?
It's a small world, isn't it? A small blogville....
I'm glad we found our way back to each other, Mills...I never knew how much I missed you until I found you again.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
How to embarrass your child at swim practice...
I am so glad that I discovered Ann Leary. I read her first book because my bff, Harriet, told me that I had a twin. I read it (An Innocent, A Broad) and loved it, but no...I don't resemble her. She is much hotter than I could ever be. But, I am now reading her second book, Out-takes From A Marriage and am loving every second of it.
She has this dry wit that is just juicy and side splitting funny. So, I was sitting in my car this morning, waiting for Liv to finish swim practice, and reading it. (If you get around to diving into it, she has a riff on Montessori Moms that is so spot on hilarious that I cried from laughing when I read it.) I got to this part, I won't ruin it for you, I will just say that it was about two parents and their child deciding to go on a dog sled ride in Canada and it struck me as almost unbearably hilarious. I laughed so hard that I was gasping. I checked my watch and realized that I needed to go inside and wait with the other swim moms, dads and caregivers.
I left the book in the car and walked in. I looked fairly presentable for me. I mean, I was like...dressed in something other than my pajamas. I had on a summer skirt and a sleeveless pink tee shirt. I did this mainly for Liv, who requested that I please not pick her up wearing flannel pj bottoms and a sweatshirt again...
I am not really a friendly person. I don't care much to chat up the other parents. Liv's swim team is at a local community center that we had to pay to join. We go because I like their pool and Bing loves their workout room. So, yeah...okay...it is pretty upper crust. I do know that membership is pricey, but we consider it worth it.
The parents there remind me A LOT of the parents in Liv's Montessori school. Sort of sloppy rich, I-am-not-a-bigot-I-think-lesbians-are-cool-will-you-be-my-friend? types. Yet, they all drive snazzy cars and carry around Chanel bags slung on their shoulders. The majority have housekeepers or nannies named Consuelo who probably make less than minimum wage. So...I avoid them. I smile, but I rarely let myself get pulled into conversations.
Today was no different. I went in and leaned against a pillar. I always deliberately wait until just a minute or two before I know the children will be let out in order to keep these four women who I refer to privately to Harriet and Bing as "the aging Barbies" from trying to lure me into their group. I honestly don't remember their names, only that they always look extremely put together for 9 a.m. and they talk a lot about this fund raiser or that bad manicure. They also huddle together once in awhile and whisper and then they all will throw back their coiffed hairdos and laugh silkily behind their hands, looking furtively around as if they are 7th graders at the popular table talking about some other girl's unfortunate hair style.
Probably mine. Well, actually...probably not. I am the token lesbian and they all have made it a point at one time or another to come up to me and tell me how wonderful they think my sexual preference is. I have no idea how they know what it is since I never announced myself one way or another. Maybe they have gaydar and are not telling me....
At any rate, I was carefully staying on my own, far away from their little knot.
And then I started thinking about the book I was reading. About that funny passage on the dog sled experience. I smiled and felt a chuckle coming on. I stifled it, looked around and ran the toe of my sneaker on the floor carefully, back and forth.
I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mean...you HAVE to read this book, it was just that funny. I bit my lip. And couldn't help it. A small giggle came out of me.
This was followed by another one and then another. Nothing major, just small little harmless giggles at this point.
And then I snorted. A very unladylike snort. A piggish one.
And I recalled a certain line in the book. It was "Joe and I screamed in unison at the sled's first surge forward and I cried, "Whoa Lobo! Whoa Lobo!" to the lead dog." Now, this doesn't sound funny out of context, I realize this. But...I tell you, when and if you ever read this book, it will kill you how funny it is.
A dam sort of burst inside of me and suddenly I was just helplessly laughing. Not a sweet little girlish laugh, but one of those wheezy hee, hee, wooooo, hee hee woooo sort of grunty, yet shrillish laughs that sound pained rather than happy.
And I could NOT stop.
I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. I kept trying to stop, would sort of get there, but then look around at all the people trying hard not to stare at me and then I would think, "whoa Lobo! whoa Lobo!" and I would get carried off to hysteria again.
Tears began rolling down my cheeks. I crossed my legs in order not to pee my pants.
One of the women closest to me tried nicely to get in on things. She said, "Wow. What is so funny?"
I intended to explain that I was remembering a portion of the book, but I just had no air.
I somehow was able to say something like, "I was thinking about dog sleds" but then I caught the confused look on this woman's face and completely lost it AGAIN. By this time, my stomach was aching and I really, truly wanted to stop laughing, but it was like a volcano erupting or something.
The people around me looked indulgent at first and one by one, their expressions turned into just a little disgusted at my lack of social control and nicety. I had become not that aloof lesbo mom, but a pariah. I could see the wheels turning in their heads.
Well, I am SO relieved that we never invited that lesbian's daughter over for that play date. Clearly her mother is drunk. And at nine in the morning! How disgraceful!
And....
What do you think, Marlene? Do you think she is a meth head or something? Look at her. Her nose is red like she has been snorting coke or something. Or maybe she just was heavily into her bong water before she came. Poor little Liv...
Where the hell was Harriet when I needed her? She would have been laughing right along with me, even if she didn't know the joke. She would get what was happening and be snorting with laughter next to me, maybe even choking a little or have some diet pepsi explode out of her nose in solidarity with me....My true blue best friend. She would have laughed or if not, she would have slung her arm over my shoulder and begged me to tell her what the fuck was so hilarious when I finally managed to get some semblance of seriousness.
I finally hiccuped and managed to stop laughing, weakly holding my stomach and just barely staying in control. I was really, really worried that I would start up again any moment and began carefully thinking about anything except dog sleds.
I looked up and thankfully, there came all the swim team kids. They brought the sharp smell of chlorine with them, all wrapped up in their towels, dripping hair and flapping flip flops. I saw Liv walking towards me and when she got to me, she gave me a careful look.
"Are you okay, mama? Have you been crying?" She sounded alarmed.
I told her no, that I had just been...uh...laughing.
She looked dubious. I put my arm around her. "I'll explain it on the way home," I told her. She and I walked to the car. I could feel one of the aging Barbies passing me by with her daughter. She seemed to be attempting to shield her child from my moistly coated face, probably worried that I would try to slip her a joint or something when she wasn't looking....
Liv and I got to the car and I found the passage in the book, told her to read it while I drove. She did and let's just say she didn't find it funny.
"I feel sorry for those dogs!" she commented. "And that poor little girl, she must have been so scared when her parents lost control of the dog sled..."
I bit my cheeks. I did not start laughing again.
"So, how was practice?" I asked her and of course, she was off....
The book is sitting in the living room waiting for me to pick it up again as soon as Liv is in bed tonight.
I only hope that my stomach muscles can take the work out....
She has this dry wit that is just juicy and side splitting funny. So, I was sitting in my car this morning, waiting for Liv to finish swim practice, and reading it. (If you get around to diving into it, she has a riff on Montessori Moms that is so spot on hilarious that I cried from laughing when I read it.) I got to this part, I won't ruin it for you, I will just say that it was about two parents and their child deciding to go on a dog sled ride in Canada and it struck me as almost unbearably hilarious. I laughed so hard that I was gasping. I checked my watch and realized that I needed to go inside and wait with the other swim moms, dads and caregivers.
I left the book in the car and walked in. I looked fairly presentable for me. I mean, I was like...dressed in something other than my pajamas. I had on a summer skirt and a sleeveless pink tee shirt. I did this mainly for Liv, who requested that I please not pick her up wearing flannel pj bottoms and a sweatshirt again...
I am not really a friendly person. I don't care much to chat up the other parents. Liv's swim team is at a local community center that we had to pay to join. We go because I like their pool and Bing loves their workout room. So, yeah...okay...it is pretty upper crust. I do know that membership is pricey, but we consider it worth it.
The parents there remind me A LOT of the parents in Liv's Montessori school. Sort of sloppy rich, I-am-not-a-bigot-I-think-lesbians-are-cool-will-you-be-my-friend? types. Yet, they all drive snazzy cars and carry around Chanel bags slung on their shoulders. The majority have housekeepers or nannies named Consuelo who probably make less than minimum wage. So...I avoid them. I smile, but I rarely let myself get pulled into conversations.
Today was no different. I went in and leaned against a pillar. I always deliberately wait until just a minute or two before I know the children will be let out in order to keep these four women who I refer to privately to Harriet and Bing as "the aging Barbies" from trying to lure me into their group. I honestly don't remember their names, only that they always look extremely put together for 9 a.m. and they talk a lot about this fund raiser or that bad manicure. They also huddle together once in awhile and whisper and then they all will throw back their coiffed hairdos and laugh silkily behind their hands, looking furtively around as if they are 7th graders at the popular table talking about some other girl's unfortunate hair style.
Probably mine. Well, actually...probably not. I am the token lesbian and they all have made it a point at one time or another to come up to me and tell me how wonderful they think my sexual preference is. I have no idea how they know what it is since I never announced myself one way or another. Maybe they have gaydar and are not telling me....
At any rate, I was carefully staying on my own, far away from their little knot.
And then I started thinking about the book I was reading. About that funny passage on the dog sled experience. I smiled and felt a chuckle coming on. I stifled it, looked around and ran the toe of my sneaker on the floor carefully, back and forth.
I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mean...you HAVE to read this book, it was just that funny. I bit my lip. And couldn't help it. A small giggle came out of me.
This was followed by another one and then another. Nothing major, just small little harmless giggles at this point.
And then I snorted. A very unladylike snort. A piggish one.
And I recalled a certain line in the book. It was "Joe and I screamed in unison at the sled's first surge forward and I cried, "Whoa Lobo! Whoa Lobo!" to the lead dog." Now, this doesn't sound funny out of context, I realize this. But...I tell you, when and if you ever read this book, it will kill you how funny it is.
A dam sort of burst inside of me and suddenly I was just helplessly laughing. Not a sweet little girlish laugh, but one of those wheezy hee, hee, wooooo, hee hee woooo sort of grunty, yet shrillish laughs that sound pained rather than happy.
And I could NOT stop.
I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. I kept trying to stop, would sort of get there, but then look around at all the people trying hard not to stare at me and then I would think, "whoa Lobo! whoa Lobo!" and I would get carried off to hysteria again.
Tears began rolling down my cheeks. I crossed my legs in order not to pee my pants.
One of the women closest to me tried nicely to get in on things. She said, "Wow. What is so funny?"
I intended to explain that I was remembering a portion of the book, but I just had no air.
I somehow was able to say something like, "I was thinking about dog sleds" but then I caught the confused look on this woman's face and completely lost it AGAIN. By this time, my stomach was aching and I really, truly wanted to stop laughing, but it was like a volcano erupting or something.
The people around me looked indulgent at first and one by one, their expressions turned into just a little disgusted at my lack of social control and nicety. I had become not that aloof lesbo mom, but a pariah. I could see the wheels turning in their heads.
Well, I am SO relieved that we never invited that lesbian's daughter over for that play date. Clearly her mother is drunk. And at nine in the morning! How disgraceful!
And....
What do you think, Marlene? Do you think she is a meth head or something? Look at her. Her nose is red like she has been snorting coke or something. Or maybe she just was heavily into her bong water before she came. Poor little Liv...
Where the hell was Harriet when I needed her? She would have been laughing right along with me, even if she didn't know the joke. She would get what was happening and be snorting with laughter next to me, maybe even choking a little or have some diet pepsi explode out of her nose in solidarity with me....My true blue best friend. She would have laughed or if not, she would have slung her arm over my shoulder and begged me to tell her what the fuck was so hilarious when I finally managed to get some semblance of seriousness.
I finally hiccuped and managed to stop laughing, weakly holding my stomach and just barely staying in control. I was really, really worried that I would start up again any moment and began carefully thinking about anything except dog sleds.
I looked up and thankfully, there came all the swim team kids. They brought the sharp smell of chlorine with them, all wrapped up in their towels, dripping hair and flapping flip flops. I saw Liv walking towards me and when she got to me, she gave me a careful look.
"Are you okay, mama? Have you been crying?" She sounded alarmed.
I told her no, that I had just been...uh...laughing.
She looked dubious. I put my arm around her. "I'll explain it on the way home," I told her. She and I walked to the car. I could feel one of the aging Barbies passing me by with her daughter. She seemed to be attempting to shield her child from my moistly coated face, probably worried that I would try to slip her a joint or something when she wasn't looking....
Liv and I got to the car and I found the passage in the book, told her to read it while I drove. She did and let's just say she didn't find it funny.
"I feel sorry for those dogs!" she commented. "And that poor little girl, she must have been so scared when her parents lost control of the dog sled..."
I bit my cheeks. I did not start laughing again.
"So, how was practice?" I asked her and of course, she was off....
The book is sitting in the living room waiting for me to pick it up again as soon as Liv is in bed tonight.
I only hope that my stomach muscles can take the work out....
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A weekend without Liv.
It's been fine. She's called three times. She is having fun. She is ecstatic about something called a wave runner. When I asked Bing to explain what that was, she carefully glanced at me and said that I would probably not want to know...I would just jump in the car and go flying up to get Liv.
"Well, she DID say that Burt (her friend's father) rides it with them," I answered.
Good was all Bing would say about that.
I spent yesterday doing household chores to keep busy while Bing went to a friend's house to jam. I know from experience that when musicians do this, it might be hours before she came home. So..I windexed all the windows and mirrors and rubbed lemon oil into the furniture. Played June Cleaver...except I didn't bake. I'm not that stupid. No sense in poisoning everyone.
Bing came home in time for dinner and we decided to go out for a sandwich. We had some issues to hash through and I think her reasoning was that if I was in a restaurant, I would not get shrill.....
Bing is pretty fucking smart....
Our problem revolves around jealousy and I find that a bit embarrassing because I like to brag that I am not a jealous person.
That is a lie.
Bing has an ex. She lives in our city. At one time, she and Bing were very close, so close that Bing became very attached to this woman's children, who are both in college now.
This woman's name is Annie. I call her ferret face. Ihate dislike her. She teaches at a high school and since Bing also teaches high school, they sometimes see each other. She also lives very close to us so we sometimes see her in grocery stores, etc.
When we do run into her, Annie always looks like she would still like to french kiss Bing. She barely looks at me and when she does, she behaves as if I have massive body odor and she is trying to get past that fact.
Plus, for some odd reason, each and every time we see Annie, I always seem to either be limping and using a cane or else I have no makeup on and I am having a bad hair day. My clothes almost always are sporting a ketchup stain or grass stains from gardening, etc. In short, I look like Granny Clampett when I wish I looked like Elly May.
Annie calls Bing frequently with questions about "school stuff." Bing is always very polite and friendly and always turns down her requests to "meet for coffee and talk about that fundraiser" etc. She also sends Bing cards in the mail from time to time. Just funny little thinking of you cards. On the inside, it always says something like, "I am so glad that we are friends!" Bing reads them, shrugs and discards them. Sometimes, she throws them away without reading them and I like that best.
Again. Ihate dislike her. Intensely.
But, I make it a point to never let her see that. And I will be damned if I will turn into some sort of needy clinger when we see her. I never stoop to putting my hand on Bing's arm or getting a sign out of my purse that says, she's taken, you bitch and putting it on Bing's chest.
Well, Annie's son just graduated from college. She sent Bing (my name was nowhere on the card) an announcement. Bing sent him money. She didn't tell me that she did that until the thank you card came in the mail.
And I freaked. I am embarrassed about this. Because Annie's children don't deserve to be in on myhatred dislike of their mother. And Bing was a big part of their lives for several years, even went on a girl scout camping trip with Annie's daughter when she was Liv's age.
At any rate, it was high time that Bing and I discussed Annie. We both acknowledged it. But, with Liv around it was hard to find time to talk about it. Plus, Bing knows that I tend to get very um....okay...it's the truth...sarcastic and venomous about Annie. Bing truly believes that Annie is "Totally harmless...she just wants to be friends. I wish I knew why you react so strongly to her. You have exes. I don't get all snotty when Cory is in town and calls you. Annie is a good person, maybe a little lonely, but she is basically kind of shy, you know?"
No, I don't know this. She puts on a great act, though.
So, we talked it through in the restaurant and we agreed that it was okay that Bing had sent her son money for his graduation. We also agreed that she needs to talk to Annie about boundaries. We both know that Annie will just sputter that "but we are still friends...why can't I send cards?" Bing said that from now on, she will simply toss all Annie's correspondence in the trash and that when she calls on the phone, if it isn't some urgent school business, she will get off the phone.
As arguments go, this one was fairly painless. And I don't care what anyone says about lesbians always being part of a big happy family, exes and all....I don't want Annie to be any part of mine.
We came home and Bing suggested that since Liv was gone, we should get some movie at the rental store that we couldn't see with her here. I sent her to the store to pick up something.
Big mistake.
She came home with Superbad. I stared at the DVD.
"Please tell me you are kidding?" I whispered.
She held up another DVD in her other hand. Sweeney Todd. She smiled. "One for me and one for you, babycakes," she said. "C'mon...it is Johnny Depp. Your hetero wet dream man."
I had to laugh. Agreed.
So we watched Superbad last night. And you know, it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I didn't howl and stamp my feet like Bing did, but...okay. I chuckled a few times. Okay. Several times.
This afternoon, we are watching Johnny......
It stormed early this morning. I woke up, worried about Liv. Nudged Bing. Before I could even say anything, she cuddled me close, said, "Listen to the rain. It isn't one of those storms. It is just your run of the mill, regular Spring storms. No sirens. No sideways rain. No thunder so loud that your ears ring. No lightning that feels like a whip cracking. Just rain. Go back to sleep, honey....Liv is fine. They are staying in a cabin tonight, remember? She is fine..."
So, I drifted back.
We watched Meet The Press this morning. I cried. I know it is stupid to miss a man who I never knew, but I fucking LIKED Tim Russert. He was just...so everyman. He made politics fascinating. He always seemed to just relish his job. It was a tribute show to him with two of my favorites: Mary Matalin and James Carville. We always watched Meet The Press on Sunday mornings. Sometimes, I didn't sit down and watch it closely, often I was in and out of the living room, but I liked hearing about the politics of the day, what was going on. I loved Tim's questions. It was important to me that Liv grow up listening to politics on Sunday mornings. I wanted to raise a child who was aware of the mechanics of her country, the movers and shakers, how things worked in our government. She never watched closely, often sat on the floor coloring or reading a book. But, it was her background music. That was important to me. I hope they get someone half as interesting to replace Tim.
Sven came over to mow the lawn for Bing as a father/bing's day gift to her. He and I talked for a while. He is only staying in the city for another week and then he goes back to his school to take a summer class and work out with the football team. He will be on first string this year and Bing and I are planning a trip to see one of his games in early October.
Sven is currently without a girlfriend. His girlfriend from Hawaii dumped him. He sat and mused about this as he drank his Dr. Pepper while he took a break from mowing.
"I feel weird not being with someone," he said. "I like having a girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of girls that would be with me. When you are on the football team, good lord, they come up to you at parties in droves. I had one girl come up and offer to give me a blow job. She didn't even know my name, Maria! She just knew I was first string football team..."
I asked him if he took her up on it.
He looked down. "This is going to sound so wussy. But, I said no. I mean...I just don't want some slutty girl. I want a...a...nice one. This is going to sound so textbook psych, but I want a girl like my mom, like you. I want someone like mom who is warm and loving and patient and kind and someone like you who is smart and funny."
"You think I'm smart and funny?" I asked him, coyly.
He laughed. "Quit fishin'. Yeah. I think you are smart and funny. You know what is really, really funny? I don't even care that much about looks anymore. When I was in high school, I wanted a big boobed girl who was hot looking. Now, I want something else. I mean, I don't want her to be a dog or anything....."
I told him that I knew what he meant. He wanted substance.
"YES!" he shouted. "I want substance. I want someone who likes ME, not the football player. And if she is hot looking, all the better...but it isn't a prerequisite, you know?"
I looked at him with so much love. THAT'S the Sven I know and love. I told him that with his good looks (and he really is quite nice looking, I think), he would find another girl in no time. But...hey..he was only NINETEEN. Right now, he needed to concentrate on school and football...
He sighed. "You sound exactly like my mother," he groaned. "Hell, you actually ARE sort of like my second mom, you know..."
I jumped up and hugged him even though, frankly, he smelled pretty bad. He hugged me back and then got up to finish the yard. Bing came out to sit with me and watch him. She was shy with happiness at his father/Bing's day gift to her.
We both agreed that he was one of the good ones. He needs to find someone really special. He will. In time.
Bing put her hand on my knee. Waggled her eyebrows at me.
"Hey, when does Liv come home tonight?"
I told her around 8, I thought.
"Still a whole day alone together.." she said, smiling.
Yup.
I got up to go weed the garden. She got up to go clean out the gutters.
I do have a question, though. Do any of you have jealousies regarding your partner's exes?
Annie, eat your heart out, bitch.....
"Well, she DID say that Burt (her friend's father) rides it with them," I answered.
Good was all Bing would say about that.
I spent yesterday doing household chores to keep busy while Bing went to a friend's house to jam. I know from experience that when musicians do this, it might be hours before she came home. So..I windexed all the windows and mirrors and rubbed lemon oil into the furniture. Played June Cleaver...except I didn't bake. I'm not that stupid. No sense in poisoning everyone.
Bing came home in time for dinner and we decided to go out for a sandwich. We had some issues to hash through and I think her reasoning was that if I was in a restaurant, I would not get shrill.....
Bing is pretty fucking smart....
Our problem revolves around jealousy and I find that a bit embarrassing because I like to brag that I am not a jealous person.
That is a lie.
Bing has an ex. She lives in our city. At one time, she and Bing were very close, so close that Bing became very attached to this woman's children, who are both in college now.
This woman's name is Annie. I call her ferret face. I
When we do run into her, Annie always looks like she would still like to french kiss Bing. She barely looks at me and when she does, she behaves as if I have massive body odor and she is trying to get past that fact.
Plus, for some odd reason, each and every time we see Annie, I always seem to either be limping and using a cane or else I have no makeup on and I am having a bad hair day. My clothes almost always are sporting a ketchup stain or grass stains from gardening, etc. In short, I look like Granny Clampett when I wish I looked like Elly May.
Annie calls Bing frequently with questions about "school stuff." Bing is always very polite and friendly and always turns down her requests to "meet for coffee and talk about that fundraiser" etc. She also sends Bing cards in the mail from time to time. Just funny little thinking of you cards. On the inside, it always says something like, "I am so glad that we are friends!" Bing reads them, shrugs and discards them. Sometimes, she throws them away without reading them and I like that best.
Again. I
But, I make it a point to never let her see that. And I will be damned if I will turn into some sort of needy clinger when we see her. I never stoop to putting my hand on Bing's arm or getting a sign out of my purse that says, she's taken, you bitch and putting it on Bing's chest.
Well, Annie's son just graduated from college. She sent Bing (my name was nowhere on the card) an announcement. Bing sent him money. She didn't tell me that she did that until the thank you card came in the mail.
And I freaked. I am embarrassed about this. Because Annie's children don't deserve to be in on my
At any rate, it was high time that Bing and I discussed Annie. We both acknowledged it. But, with Liv around it was hard to find time to talk about it. Plus, Bing knows that I tend to get very um....okay...it's the truth...sarcastic and venomous about Annie. Bing truly believes that Annie is "Totally harmless...she just wants to be friends. I wish I knew why you react so strongly to her. You have exes. I don't get all snotty when Cory is in town and calls you. Annie is a good person, maybe a little lonely, but she is basically kind of shy, you know?"
No, I don't know this. She puts on a great act, though.
So, we talked it through in the restaurant and we agreed that it was okay that Bing had sent her son money for his graduation. We also agreed that she needs to talk to Annie about boundaries. We both know that Annie will just sputter that "but we are still friends...why can't I send cards?" Bing said that from now on, she will simply toss all Annie's correspondence in the trash and that when she calls on the phone, if it isn't some urgent school business, she will get off the phone.
As arguments go, this one was fairly painless. And I don't care what anyone says about lesbians always being part of a big happy family, exes and all....I don't want Annie to be any part of mine.
We came home and Bing suggested that since Liv was gone, we should get some movie at the rental store that we couldn't see with her here. I sent her to the store to pick up something.
Big mistake.
She came home with Superbad. I stared at the DVD.
"Please tell me you are kidding?" I whispered.
She held up another DVD in her other hand. Sweeney Todd. She smiled. "One for me and one for you, babycakes," she said. "C'mon...it is Johnny Depp. Your hetero wet dream man."
I had to laugh. Agreed.
So we watched Superbad last night. And you know, it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I didn't howl and stamp my feet like Bing did, but...okay. I chuckled a few times. Okay. Several times.
This afternoon, we are watching Johnny......
It stormed early this morning. I woke up, worried about Liv. Nudged Bing. Before I could even say anything, she cuddled me close, said, "Listen to the rain. It isn't one of those storms. It is just your run of the mill, regular Spring storms. No sirens. No sideways rain. No thunder so loud that your ears ring. No lightning that feels like a whip cracking. Just rain. Go back to sleep, honey....Liv is fine. They are staying in a cabin tonight, remember? She is fine..."
So, I drifted back.
We watched Meet The Press this morning. I cried. I know it is stupid to miss a man who I never knew, but I fucking LIKED Tim Russert. He was just...so everyman. He made politics fascinating. He always seemed to just relish his job. It was a tribute show to him with two of my favorites: Mary Matalin and James Carville. We always watched Meet The Press on Sunday mornings. Sometimes, I didn't sit down and watch it closely, often I was in and out of the living room, but I liked hearing about the politics of the day, what was going on. I loved Tim's questions. It was important to me that Liv grow up listening to politics on Sunday mornings. I wanted to raise a child who was aware of the mechanics of her country, the movers and shakers, how things worked in our government. She never watched closely, often sat on the floor coloring or reading a book. But, it was her background music. That was important to me. I hope they get someone half as interesting to replace Tim.
Sven came over to mow the lawn for Bing as a father/bing's day gift to her. He and I talked for a while. He is only staying in the city for another week and then he goes back to his school to take a summer class and work out with the football team. He will be on first string this year and Bing and I are planning a trip to see one of his games in early October.
Sven is currently without a girlfriend. His girlfriend from Hawaii dumped him. He sat and mused about this as he drank his Dr. Pepper while he took a break from mowing.
"I feel weird not being with someone," he said. "I like having a girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of girls that would be with me. When you are on the football team, good lord, they come up to you at parties in droves. I had one girl come up and offer to give me a blow job. She didn't even know my name, Maria! She just knew I was first string football team..."
I asked him if he took her up on it.
He looked down. "This is going to sound so wussy. But, I said no. I mean...I just don't want some slutty girl. I want a...a...nice one. This is going to sound so textbook psych, but I want a girl like my mom, like you. I want someone like mom who is warm and loving and patient and kind and someone like you who is smart and funny."
"You think I'm smart and funny?" I asked him, coyly.
He laughed. "Quit fishin'. Yeah. I think you are smart and funny. You know what is really, really funny? I don't even care that much about looks anymore. When I was in high school, I wanted a big boobed girl who was hot looking. Now, I want something else. I mean, I don't want her to be a dog or anything....."
I told him that I knew what he meant. He wanted substance.
"YES!" he shouted. "I want substance. I want someone who likes ME, not the football player. And if she is hot looking, all the better...but it isn't a prerequisite, you know?"
I looked at him with so much love. THAT'S the Sven I know and love. I told him that with his good looks (and he really is quite nice looking, I think), he would find another girl in no time. But...hey..he was only NINETEEN. Right now, he needed to concentrate on school and football...
He sighed. "You sound exactly like my mother," he groaned. "Hell, you actually ARE sort of like my second mom, you know..."
I jumped up and hugged him even though, frankly, he smelled pretty bad. He hugged me back and then got up to finish the yard. Bing came out to sit with me and watch him. She was shy with happiness at his father/Bing's day gift to her.
We both agreed that he was one of the good ones. He needs to find someone really special. He will. In time.
Bing put her hand on my knee. Waggled her eyebrows at me.
"Hey, when does Liv come home tonight?"
I told her around 8, I thought.
"Still a whole day alone together.." she said, smiling.
Yup.
I got up to go weed the garden. She got up to go clean out the gutters.
I do have a question, though. Do any of you have jealousies regarding your partner's exes?
Annie, eat your heart out, bitch.....
Friday, June 13, 2008
Letting her go
Well, before I begin this post, I must note the death of one of my favorite news people. Tim Russert. We watch Meet the Press faithfully every Sunday morning. I am just flabbergasted. He is only 8 years older than I am! And he was so, so good. I loved his questions, loved the way he just jumped right in with questions, didn't hold back or get gossipy either. A nice middle ground. I will miss him.
And now...back to our regularly scheduled post.
Liv and I were sitting outside keeping Socks company while he ran around the back yard this morning. I had just picked her up from swim team practice and she still had her chlorine hair and oversized tee shirt on. We were talking about her swim meet that had been canceled on Wednesday due to bad weather. Liv was mourning the fact that she could have been a contender, dude...she had been so stoked about her breast stroke relay, just knew that a first place ribbon had been in her grasp.
Next time, I told her. There is always next week and the week after that and after that.
The phone rang. Liv ran in to answer it and bounded out a few moments later. It was her friend, Constance, on the phone, inviting her to go on a weekend trip camping and hiking with her family at a state park about three hours away. Could she go?
I studied Liv's face. Was surprised. Liv does not like to do overnights at other people's houses, let alone go on weekend trips.
"Do you want to go?" I whispered, careful to not let my voice be overheard by Constance.
YES!!! She did. I asked to speak to a parent and soon learned from Clara, Constance's mother, that yes, they were going camping and hiking. That it would be Constance's grandparents, her parents and her toddler brother. They would love it if Liv joined them. They would leave today at noon and not be back until Sunday evening. They had plenty of camping gear, Liv would only need to bring clothes, a swim suit, a sleeping bag and pillow and some good hiking shoes.
Liv was watching me, hope all over her face.
I said okay, sure.
Liv took Socks paws and danced with him.
I checked the clock. Two hours to get ready. We went in and took out Bing's father's day cake, all baked in the oven. Yes, we celebrate Bing on that day. I get mother's day. Bing get's father's day, although in our family we call it Bing's day. Liv had already sent her father, Tinton, a card and a drawing.
Liv and I packed her things and then I ran a bath for her, soaped up her hair and we talked. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to go? She had been away from home with her father last summer, but she never was too enthused about going anywhere overnight with any of her friends. Until now.
Liv paused. "Well," she said. "I think I'm ready. And since you and Bing don't like camping, I won't get many chances to do this kind of stuff unless Tinton is around. I think I'll have fun. I'll bring Cocoa (her bear) and I will call you a lot, okay?"
I said okay.
It would be kind of nice to have the weekend to myself. Bing and I haven't been getting along so well and there are a few issues that we should discuss but have been waiting for some privacy. Plus, now that I am off the prednisone, my right ankle is beginning to swell up, a concern. It would be good to elevate it and ice it without worrying Liv, who tends to do just that. An old friend of mine is in town from her home in Minnesota and it would be great to spend some time with her without trying to work around Liv. I couldn't remember the last time I had time on my hands, time without Liv around.
I helped Liv get ready, brushed out her hair until it shone golden in the sun. I bent down and kissed her cheek. She threw her arms around my neck.
"I love the way you smell," she told me. "You always smell like a soft pillow."
A soft pillow? I wasn't sure if that was good or not...
I pulled her long legged colt self into my lap. For once, she didn't squirm, but stayed put, leaning back against me.
"You'll miss me, won't you?" she asked, hopefully.
I assured her that I would miss her terribly. But, that I would just picture how much fun she was having hiking and swimming in a lake and getting bit to smithereens by mosquitoes and that would help....
"Will Bing be sad that I won't be here to celebrate Bing's Day?" she asked.
I told her that Bing would not be sad. And that we would save the cake for when she was home. We would all have a piece on Sunday night and I would make Bing wait to open the vase that Liv had made her in pottery class until she got home.
This reminded us that we still had to decorate Bing's cake, so we went downstairs to do that.
Liv wrote Happy BING day!! in bright purple icing on Bing's white cake with it's white frosting.
Suddenly, Liv's face clouded. "What's the weather forecast?" she asked, nervously. All of our tornado weather and storms this spring have turned my brave little girl into a shivery mess every time it rains. I told her that I was sure it was supposed to be fair and we went to check the weather on the computer, just to be sure. Liv wailed.
"It says a chance of rain on Sunday afternoon! What if a tornado comes and we are at the campground like those boy scouts on the news...."
I told her that there was only a 30% chance of rain and no tornado watches or even thunderstorm warnings. Just a small chance of rain. It would be okay....
Liv let herself be calmed down, but of course, the whole time I was soothing her, I was thinking to myself, OH MY FUCKING GOD...WHAT IF MY BABY GETS STUCK IN A TORNADO!!
I kept my face impassive and very cool.
Told myself to stop this shit now, dude.
Liv and I finished Bing's cake and then went to go sit outside and wait for Constance and her family to pick her up. I ticked off all her packed stuff in my head:
4 pair of undies. Check.
4 changes of clothes, including jeans and a sweater in case it got chilly. Check.
Pajamas and a swimsuit. Check.
Sleeping bag and pillow. Check.
Sunblock, tooth brush and paste, brush, hair detangler, soap, shampoo, neosporin. Check.
Constance's family pulled up in their mini van. Liv hugged me hard. Kissed me right on the lips seven times.
Yes, I counted. I stood up and waved, a big smile plastered on my face. Blew kisses.
The van turned the corner and was gone.
I looked down at Socks.
"Well," he said. "That was a mistake. She is only eight years old, alpha woman. She doesn't even like sleepovers, hates being away from home and now you have sent her off to the wilderness to get caught up in a tornado. Let's just hope she doesn't end up in Oz. Or the least you could have done was tell her that if she finds a pair of ruby slippers, that they will take her home to us, no need to go see any wizards or battle wicked witches..."
I sat down and hugged him.
"She'll be okay," I told him, sternly. "It is just for a weekend. She WANTS to go."
And then I put my head down and cried. Because it is hard for me to be apart from her. Because I forgot to tell Constance's mother that Liv is really afraid of storms now, that she is a good eater, but she sometimes has to be reminded to drink enough water to stay hydrated. That she has that bad scrape on her shoulder from when she was climbing that tree in the back yard and that it might need neosporin. I wanted to say that she has a hard time falling asleep sometimes, and it helps if you rub her back and hum a little. She hates the smell of sunblock, so sometimes you have to be stern about putting it on her...
Socks licked my face. "Don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything," he said. "God, alpha woman, what are you going to do when she goes to college?"
I didn't answer. Because college is a long, long time away. Because time goes by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday when Liv was refusing to stay in her stroller, she wanted to walk so badly. That one day I was letting her lick the bowl when we baked a cake and the next I was letting her do all the mixing, just supervising her. That it seemed like just yesterday when she was learning to read, to tie her shoes, to drink from a sippy cup instead of a bottle.
And now she is eight. And going on a camping trip. Without me.
I went inside and looked at the newly decorated cake.
HAPPY BING DAY!! it said, the purple letters crooked, but legible.
I grabbed an ice bag for my ankle and limped up to bed. Socks followed me.
Halfway up the stair to my bedroom, I went back down to grab my cell phone in case Liv called that instead of the home phone.
I got into bed, plopped the bag on my ankle and patted the bed. Socks hopped up and settled next to me.
The cell phone rang. I pounced on it.
It was Liv.
"Hi, Mama," she said. "I just wanted to say that we stopped at a gas station and instead of a candy bar and soda, I picked a granola bar and a juice."
I told her I was glad to hear it.
"Oh, and hey...I love you," Liv said. "Tell Socks that I love him too. I'll see you all soon, okay?"
"Okay," I answered, stunned at how calm and breezy I sounded. "I love you too, pumpkin. Bye now. HAVE FUN!"
I hung up the phone. "Liv loves you," I told Socks.
He sighed. "Tell me something I don't know, alpha woman," he said, and cuddled up close.
And now...back to our regularly scheduled post.
Liv and I were sitting outside keeping Socks company while he ran around the back yard this morning. I had just picked her up from swim team practice and she still had her chlorine hair and oversized tee shirt on. We were talking about her swim meet that had been canceled on Wednesday due to bad weather. Liv was mourning the fact that she could have been a contender, dude...she had been so stoked about her breast stroke relay, just knew that a first place ribbon had been in her grasp.
Next time, I told her. There is always next week and the week after that and after that.
The phone rang. Liv ran in to answer it and bounded out a few moments later. It was her friend, Constance, on the phone, inviting her to go on a weekend trip camping and hiking with her family at a state park about three hours away. Could she go?
I studied Liv's face. Was surprised. Liv does not like to do overnights at other people's houses, let alone go on weekend trips.
"Do you want to go?" I whispered, careful to not let my voice be overheard by Constance.
YES!!! She did. I asked to speak to a parent and soon learned from Clara, Constance's mother, that yes, they were going camping and hiking. That it would be Constance's grandparents, her parents and her toddler brother. They would love it if Liv joined them. They would leave today at noon and not be back until Sunday evening. They had plenty of camping gear, Liv would only need to bring clothes, a swim suit, a sleeping bag and pillow and some good hiking shoes.
Liv was watching me, hope all over her face.
I said okay, sure.
Liv took Socks paws and danced with him.
I checked the clock. Two hours to get ready. We went in and took out Bing's father's day cake, all baked in the oven. Yes, we celebrate Bing on that day. I get mother's day. Bing get's father's day, although in our family we call it Bing's day. Liv had already sent her father, Tinton, a card and a drawing.
Liv and I packed her things and then I ran a bath for her, soaped up her hair and we talked. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to go? She had been away from home with her father last summer, but she never was too enthused about going anywhere overnight with any of her friends. Until now.
Liv paused. "Well," she said. "I think I'm ready. And since you and Bing don't like camping, I won't get many chances to do this kind of stuff unless Tinton is around. I think I'll have fun. I'll bring Cocoa (her bear) and I will call you a lot, okay?"
I said okay.
It would be kind of nice to have the weekend to myself. Bing and I haven't been getting along so well and there are a few issues that we should discuss but have been waiting for some privacy. Plus, now that I am off the prednisone, my right ankle is beginning to swell up, a concern. It would be good to elevate it and ice it without worrying Liv, who tends to do just that. An old friend of mine is in town from her home in Minnesota and it would be great to spend some time with her without trying to work around Liv. I couldn't remember the last time I had time on my hands, time without Liv around.
I helped Liv get ready, brushed out her hair until it shone golden in the sun. I bent down and kissed her cheek. She threw her arms around my neck.
"I love the way you smell," she told me. "You always smell like a soft pillow."
A soft pillow? I wasn't sure if that was good or not...
I pulled her long legged colt self into my lap. For once, she didn't squirm, but stayed put, leaning back against me.
"You'll miss me, won't you?" she asked, hopefully.
I assured her that I would miss her terribly. But, that I would just picture how much fun she was having hiking and swimming in a lake and getting bit to smithereens by mosquitoes and that would help....
"Will Bing be sad that I won't be here to celebrate Bing's Day?" she asked.
I told her that Bing would not be sad. And that we would save the cake for when she was home. We would all have a piece on Sunday night and I would make Bing wait to open the vase that Liv had made her in pottery class until she got home.
This reminded us that we still had to decorate Bing's cake, so we went downstairs to do that.
Liv wrote Happy BING day!! in bright purple icing on Bing's white cake with it's white frosting.
Suddenly, Liv's face clouded. "What's the weather forecast?" she asked, nervously. All of our tornado weather and storms this spring have turned my brave little girl into a shivery mess every time it rains. I told her that I was sure it was supposed to be fair and we went to check the weather on the computer, just to be sure. Liv wailed.
"It says a chance of rain on Sunday afternoon! What if a tornado comes and we are at the campground like those boy scouts on the news...."
I told her that there was only a 30% chance of rain and no tornado watches or even thunderstorm warnings. Just a small chance of rain. It would be okay....
Liv let herself be calmed down, but of course, the whole time I was soothing her, I was thinking to myself, OH MY FUCKING GOD...WHAT IF MY BABY GETS STUCK IN A TORNADO!!
I kept my face impassive and very cool.
Told myself to stop this shit now, dude.
Liv and I finished Bing's cake and then went to go sit outside and wait for Constance and her family to pick her up. I ticked off all her packed stuff in my head:
4 pair of undies. Check.
4 changes of clothes, including jeans and a sweater in case it got chilly. Check.
Pajamas and a swimsuit. Check.
Sleeping bag and pillow. Check.
Sunblock, tooth brush and paste, brush, hair detangler, soap, shampoo, neosporin. Check.
Constance's family pulled up in their mini van. Liv hugged me hard. Kissed me right on the lips seven times.
Yes, I counted. I stood up and waved, a big smile plastered on my face. Blew kisses.
The van turned the corner and was gone.
I looked down at Socks.
"Well," he said. "That was a mistake. She is only eight years old, alpha woman. She doesn't even like sleepovers, hates being away from home and now you have sent her off to the wilderness to get caught up in a tornado. Let's just hope she doesn't end up in Oz. Or the least you could have done was tell her that if she finds a pair of ruby slippers, that they will take her home to us, no need to go see any wizards or battle wicked witches..."
I sat down and hugged him.
"She'll be okay," I told him, sternly. "It is just for a weekend. She WANTS to go."
And then I put my head down and cried. Because it is hard for me to be apart from her. Because I forgot to tell Constance's mother that Liv is really afraid of storms now, that she is a good eater, but she sometimes has to be reminded to drink enough water to stay hydrated. That she has that bad scrape on her shoulder from when she was climbing that tree in the back yard and that it might need neosporin. I wanted to say that she has a hard time falling asleep sometimes, and it helps if you rub her back and hum a little. She hates the smell of sunblock, so sometimes you have to be stern about putting it on her...
Socks licked my face. "Don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything," he said. "God, alpha woman, what are you going to do when she goes to college?"
I didn't answer. Because college is a long, long time away. Because time goes by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday when Liv was refusing to stay in her stroller, she wanted to walk so badly. That one day I was letting her lick the bowl when we baked a cake and the next I was letting her do all the mixing, just supervising her. That it seemed like just yesterday when she was learning to read, to tie her shoes, to drink from a sippy cup instead of a bottle.
And now she is eight. And going on a camping trip. Without me.
I went inside and looked at the newly decorated cake.
HAPPY BING DAY!! it said, the purple letters crooked, but legible.
I grabbed an ice bag for my ankle and limped up to bed. Socks followed me.
Halfway up the stair to my bedroom, I went back down to grab my cell phone in case Liv called that instead of the home phone.
I got into bed, plopped the bag on my ankle and patted the bed. Socks hopped up and settled next to me.
The cell phone rang. I pounced on it.
It was Liv.
"Hi, Mama," she said. "I just wanted to say that we stopped at a gas station and instead of a candy bar and soda, I picked a granola bar and a juice."
I told her I was glad to hear it.
"Oh, and hey...I love you," Liv said. "Tell Socks that I love him too. I'll see you all soon, okay?"
"Okay," I answered, stunned at how calm and breezy I sounded. "I love you too, pumpkin. Bye now. HAVE FUN!"
I hung up the phone. "Liv loves you," I told Socks.
He sighed. "Tell me something I don't know, alpha woman," he said, and cuddled up close.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Another night in the basement...
I am beginning to feel picked on. It is like this strange cycle. The days are humid and it storms all night. My garden is waterlogged. Last night, the tornado sirens went off for four hours straight as we sat in the basement watching our little black and white tv. Just forty miles north of us, in Little Sioux, Iowa, a tornado touched down in a boy scout camp, killing four and wounding several more. I shudder thinking about all those kids huddled in frackin' TENTS (some were actually out hiking in the woods.) All their shelters were demolished. The news kept flashing the faces of terrified parents as they tried to get to their kids. I kept thinking that I wished the media would just stay the fuck away from them, let them retrieve their children for fuck sakes, without a microphone stuck in their face.
The power stayed on. Whew. Rain was splashing out of our fireplace in the upstairs living room, but otherwise, everything was fine, just wet, wet, wet.
This has been the strangest Spring. We haven't had to turn on the a/c yet. Not hot enough. Just muggy with temps in the low 80's and then...the storms. Storms like I have never seen. If I weren't so terrified of them, they would be beautiful in all their flash and crazy green, blue and white lights. The crash of thunder sounds like cymbals under a very mad drummer. The lightning has a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't disco feel to it.
I hope to get to all your blogs soon and maybe write/think about something else soon.
Right now, the sky is clear and rain is slicking off all the tree branches. My bird bath is overflowing. The birds are hopping around the ground, gorging themselves on earth worms...
Mother Nature is NOT to be messed with.....
The power stayed on. Whew. Rain was splashing out of our fireplace in the upstairs living room, but otherwise, everything was fine, just wet, wet, wet.
This has been the strangest Spring. We haven't had to turn on the a/c yet. Not hot enough. Just muggy with temps in the low 80's and then...the storms. Storms like I have never seen. If I weren't so terrified of them, they would be beautiful in all their flash and crazy green, blue and white lights. The crash of thunder sounds like cymbals under a very mad drummer. The lightning has a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't disco feel to it.
I hope to get to all your blogs soon and maybe write/think about something else soon.
Right now, the sky is clear and rain is slicking off all the tree branches. My bird bath is overflowing. The birds are hopping around the ground, gorging themselves on earth worms...
Mother Nature is NOT to be messed with.....
Monday, June 09, 2008
Back after the storm
Welllll....you probably didn't even notice that I was gone, but I sure felt it....
A tornado came through my part of the prairie on Sunday morning about 2 a.m. It was hit and miss all over the city but hit my neck of the woods, known as Happy Hollow area in the city.
We had extensive roof damage, lost power until about an hour ago...and I had the pleasure of peeking out of my picture window right before we ran to the basement and witnessed the transformer on the telephone pole at the edge of our back yard get HIT BY LIGHTNING and split halfway down the middle and then fall into my neighbor's yard. That was fucking scary and I admit to screaming once loudly before I shut my mouth in order not to frighten Liv.
Our silver maple lost a lot of limbs, but that was it.
Whew. Some families lost their houses, so we were lucky.
And I will blog about how stupid three people get when they lose their electricity for 48 hours.....(I was laying on my bed spread eagled naked trying to get cool and Bing came in and asked me if I wanted her to turn the fan on and then we both laughed because um....NO electricity. I must have thought to myself ten times that at least I would get a good blog out of all this.)
But, right now....I just want to take a bath and lay in my bed reading WITH THE LIGHT on. This actually feels like a treat...
Catch you tomorrow or after.....
And good lord...a twister really does sound like a freight train.....
Shuddering.
A tornado came through my part of the prairie on Sunday morning about 2 a.m. It was hit and miss all over the city but hit my neck of the woods, known as Happy Hollow area in the city.
We had extensive roof damage, lost power until about an hour ago...and I had the pleasure of peeking out of my picture window right before we ran to the basement and witnessed the transformer on the telephone pole at the edge of our back yard get HIT BY LIGHTNING and split halfway down the middle and then fall into my neighbor's yard. That was fucking scary and I admit to screaming once loudly before I shut my mouth in order not to frighten Liv.
Our silver maple lost a lot of limbs, but that was it.
Whew. Some families lost their houses, so we were lucky.
And I will blog about how stupid three people get when they lose their electricity for 48 hours.....(I was laying on my bed spread eagled naked trying to get cool and Bing came in and asked me if I wanted her to turn the fan on and then we both laughed because um....NO electricity. I must have thought to myself ten times that at least I would get a good blog out of all this.)
But, right now....I just want to take a bath and lay in my bed reading WITH THE LIGHT on. This actually feels like a treat...
Catch you tomorrow or after.....
And good lord...a twister really does sound like a freight train.....
Shuddering.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Shut up...
Another meme, because I found this one in my desk drawer and remembered that I set it aside for a day when I drew a blank:
This one is from Trop.
Technology
Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Um. Wallpaper? Is that the picture thingy that comes up when you turn the computer on? If so, mine is the Aurora Borealis.
Q: How many televisions do you have in your house?
This is going to sound so...American. But, yes...let's see...We have um...four. We have one in our guest room. One in the living room. One in our office. And one in our bedroom. Bing would LOVE to have one in our kitchen, but I draw the line that there is no television watching during meals.
BIOLOGY
Q: Are you right handed or left handed?
Left handed.
Q:Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Tonsils, fluid, a wart.
Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
I remember this oh-so-well. It was a big bag of potting soil from the bed of the truck. I remember this because as soon as I lifted up, I felt that sickeningly familiar shot of pain go through my back and I knew this had been a very bad idea and that I would pay for it.
Q: Have you ever been knocked out?
Yes. Both times I was a child. Once, when I was four, I fell down the cellar steps and have a lovely scar in my widow's peak to show for it. Another time, I was ten and it was my birthday. My mother took several friends and me bowling. I was carrying a ball and tripped over someone's bowling bag and fell down a series of steps, managing to knock myself out cold for several minutes. My mother was furious at me for my clumsiness and told me that I would NEVER get a big party for my birthday again.
Bullshitology
Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
Every single person that I read who did this meme said no. I say yes. I would love to know, get my ducks in order, say my goodbyes.
Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
I have always loved the name Chloe. I came very close to naming Liv that.
Q: What color do you think looks best on you?
I stink at things like that. I get the most compliments when I wear baby blue, though.
Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
Thinking. Probably. I didn't do it on purpose, but I am certain that in my 50 years on this planet, it has happened. And this is a rather sly way of asking if I swallow, yes? Well, it has been a while, but, yeah...I did.
Dareology
Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for 100 dollars?
No. Icky poo. (Smiling) Certainly.
Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for 200,000$?
No. Just..no.
Q: Would you never blog again for 50,000$?
No. It's a small pleasure. I need it. And I think Liv will like to read it when I am old and decrepit and she can see that I was once young(ish) and sassy and loved her so much. That alone is worth lots more than 50,000 smackers.
Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for 1,000$?
No. I can't even stand a teaspoon of it. The ER visit afterwards would surely be more than 1,000$
Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for a million dollars?
Oh, good hell. No. What kind of asshat would?
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
Nothing. I rarely carry anything in my pockets. I am a purse sort of woman.
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
No. I only saw it because it was Bing's turn to pick. Now, she would beg to differ....
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Mostly hardwood. But, for some strange reason, the bathroom off our bedroom has this ugly brown carpeting. The other bathrooms are tile. The rest of the house is oak.
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Stand. Our shower is pretty small and not a combo tub/shower. Plus, it is very, very old. I don't think I would want to sit in there....
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
Two. One black and one green. I don't like wearing them much, though. The space between my big toe and the next one always hurts when I wear them. Liv, however, lives in them. I grew up calling them "thongs." Once I embarrassed the hell out of a male store clerk by asking him where the "children's thongs" were located in the store. His face turned beet red and it took me a sec to figure out what his problem was...
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person who texted you?
Bing. She <3's me.
Q: Last person who called you?
My sister. She wanted to bring me some flowers that she had left over from planting in her garden. Now, I have some lovely pansies around my birdbath, thanks to Patrice.
Q: Last person you hugged?
Bing. She found out this morning that she has been selected by Apple to do some technical writing for them this summer. It pays BIG LARGE and she gets to spend two weeks in San Francisco, so she is very excited. I hugged her. Hard.
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
One.
Q: Season?
Spring. I love Autumn too, but you know that Winter is coming right behind it. And usually after a Winter on the prairie, we are all so ready for Spring....
Q: Color?
Green. But, it has to be a deep, dark forest green. None of that pale, pastel shit for me. I like a green that feels cool and clean.
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
Not really. I have pretty much everyone I love around me. Lucky me, huh?
Q: Mood?
Content. As soon as Bing finishes mowing the lawn, we will all go out to dinner and then stop off at the bookstore to each buy a book. We will all spend tonight tucked up in our various corners reading. I love quiet summer nights like that...
Q: Listening to?
Karrin Allyson's Imagina. Bing brought it home from the cd store this morning and popped it in and we have played it over and over about ten times now. Liv and I even did a very snappy impromptu brazilian dance to it...oh, yeah...we can swish, we can strut...we can shimmy....
Q: Worrying about?
Our cars. The price of gas. Stupid things that I cannot really control....as usual.
Q: Wearing?
Black peasant skirt and a black and white striped tee shirt. Sandals. Just my usual glamor girl attire. But, it has come in handy dancing to all that brazilian music. Lots of swirling going on here...
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
Um...nowhere yet. Just hanging around the house waiting for Sven to come over so that we can hug on him. He and his mom just got home a few hours ago and I am practically tying Liv down to keep her from running over next door to leap on him. I told her to give him some time with his mama first....
Q: What can you not wait to do?
I am really, really looking forward to reading Stephenie Meyer's new book, due out in August. I never thought I would say that about young adult fiction, but I was pulled in with her "Twilight" series. I am looking forward to reading more of my new David Sedaris book, "When You Are Engulfed In Flames." I am looking forward to the new Harry Potter movie this fall. I am looking forward to our vacation to Montana (Bing has a seminar) in October since we have decided to NOT go on a pricey vacation this summer, just visiting my other sisters in Iowa. There is always something to look forward to....let's see...the Lost premiere. The season finale of Battlestar Galactica. Movies, books, and television, that's me.
Q: Do you smile often?
I think that I smile a lot now that I have a child and a dog. They sort of pull them out of you willy nilly, whether you want to or not....
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Most people would tell you that, no, I am not. I tend to be very reserved and aloof at first meetings. I take a long time to warm up to people.
This one is from Trop.
Technology
Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Um. Wallpaper? Is that the picture thingy that comes up when you turn the computer on? If so, mine is the Aurora Borealis.
Q: How many televisions do you have in your house?
This is going to sound so...American. But, yes...let's see...We have um...four. We have one in our guest room. One in the living room. One in our office. And one in our bedroom. Bing would LOVE to have one in our kitchen, but I draw the line that there is no television watching during meals.
BIOLOGY
Q: Are you right handed or left handed?
Left handed.
Q:Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Tonsils, fluid, a wart.
Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
I remember this oh-so-well. It was a big bag of potting soil from the bed of the truck. I remember this because as soon as I lifted up, I felt that sickeningly familiar shot of pain go through my back and I knew this had been a very bad idea and that I would pay for it.
Q: Have you ever been knocked out?
Yes. Both times I was a child. Once, when I was four, I fell down the cellar steps and have a lovely scar in my widow's peak to show for it. Another time, I was ten and it was my birthday. My mother took several friends and me bowling. I was carrying a ball and tripped over someone's bowling bag and fell down a series of steps, managing to knock myself out cold for several minutes. My mother was furious at me for my clumsiness and told me that I would NEVER get a big party for my birthday again.
Bullshitology
Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
Every single person that I read who did this meme said no. I say yes. I would love to know, get my ducks in order, say my goodbyes.
Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
I have always loved the name Chloe. I came very close to naming Liv that.
Q: What color do you think looks best on you?
I stink at things like that. I get the most compliments when I wear baby blue, though.
Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
Thinking. Probably. I didn't do it on purpose, but I am certain that in my 50 years on this planet, it has happened. And this is a rather sly way of asking if I swallow, yes? Well, it has been a while, but, yeah...I did.
Dareology
Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for 100 dollars?
No. Icky poo. (Smiling) Certainly.
Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for 200,000$?
No. Just..no.
Q: Would you never blog again for 50,000$?
No. It's a small pleasure. I need it. And I think Liv will like to read it when I am old and decrepit and she can see that I was once young(ish) and sassy and loved her so much. That alone is worth lots more than 50,000 smackers.
Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for 1,000$?
No. I can't even stand a teaspoon of it. The ER visit afterwards would surely be more than 1,000$
Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for a million dollars?
Oh, good hell. No. What kind of asshat would?
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
Nothing. I rarely carry anything in my pockets. I am a purse sort of woman.
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
No. I only saw it because it was Bing's turn to pick. Now, she would beg to differ....
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Mostly hardwood. But, for some strange reason, the bathroom off our bedroom has this ugly brown carpeting. The other bathrooms are tile. The rest of the house is oak.
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Stand. Our shower is pretty small and not a combo tub/shower. Plus, it is very, very old. I don't think I would want to sit in there....
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
Two. One black and one green. I don't like wearing them much, though. The space between my big toe and the next one always hurts when I wear them. Liv, however, lives in them. I grew up calling them "thongs." Once I embarrassed the hell out of a male store clerk by asking him where the "children's thongs" were located in the store. His face turned beet red and it took me a sec to figure out what his problem was...
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person who texted you?
Bing. She <3's me.
Q: Last person who called you?
My sister. She wanted to bring me some flowers that she had left over from planting in her garden. Now, I have some lovely pansies around my birdbath, thanks to Patrice.
Q: Last person you hugged?
Bing. She found out this morning that she has been selected by Apple to do some technical writing for them this summer. It pays BIG LARGE and she gets to spend two weeks in San Francisco, so she is very excited. I hugged her. Hard.
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
One.
Q: Season?
Spring. I love Autumn too, but you know that Winter is coming right behind it. And usually after a Winter on the prairie, we are all so ready for Spring....
Q: Color?
Green. But, it has to be a deep, dark forest green. None of that pale, pastel shit for me. I like a green that feels cool and clean.
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
Not really. I have pretty much everyone I love around me. Lucky me, huh?
Q: Mood?
Content. As soon as Bing finishes mowing the lawn, we will all go out to dinner and then stop off at the bookstore to each buy a book. We will all spend tonight tucked up in our various corners reading. I love quiet summer nights like that...
Q: Listening to?
Karrin Allyson's Imagina. Bing brought it home from the cd store this morning and popped it in and we have played it over and over about ten times now. Liv and I even did a very snappy impromptu brazilian dance to it...oh, yeah...we can swish, we can strut...we can shimmy....
Q: Worrying about?
Our cars. The price of gas. Stupid things that I cannot really control....as usual.
Q: Wearing?
Black peasant skirt and a black and white striped tee shirt. Sandals. Just my usual glamor girl attire. But, it has come in handy dancing to all that brazilian music. Lots of swirling going on here...
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
Um...nowhere yet. Just hanging around the house waiting for Sven to come over so that we can hug on him. He and his mom just got home a few hours ago and I am practically tying Liv down to keep her from running over next door to leap on him. I told her to give him some time with his mama first....
Q: What can you not wait to do?
I am really, really looking forward to reading Stephenie Meyer's new book, due out in August. I never thought I would say that about young adult fiction, but I was pulled in with her "Twilight" series. I am looking forward to reading more of my new David Sedaris book, "When You Are Engulfed In Flames." I am looking forward to the new Harry Potter movie this fall. I am looking forward to our vacation to Montana (Bing has a seminar) in October since we have decided to NOT go on a pricey vacation this summer, just visiting my other sisters in Iowa. There is always something to look forward to....let's see...the Lost premiere. The season finale of Battlestar Galactica. Movies, books, and television, that's me.
Q: Do you smile often?
I think that I smile a lot now that I have a child and a dog. They sort of pull them out of you willy nilly, whether you want to or not....
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Most people would tell you that, no, I am not. I tend to be very reserved and aloof at first meetings. I take a long time to warm up to people.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Picky Picky and Miss Manners
It may be a long summer. Actually, the weather here on the prairie has been gorgeous, the first time in years that we haven't had to turn on the air conditioner yet. But, I seem to be missing my daughter lately and my partner nearly got us smacked at the grocery store tonight.
Let me start with Liv. She is eight, nearly nine. She has always been a very easy-to-get-along-with child. I seldom have to scold her and she makes me laugh daily.
I noticed around Christmas, though, that she was starting to get...well....picky. We have read all the Beverly Cleary books starring Ramona, so I nicknamed her after their cat: Picky Picky.
Liv has become a germ phobic. I have no idea what it stems from, I do know that around the age of nine or ten, that it is normal for children to develop their own idiosyncrasies. But, she seemed a little extreme for my taste.
She suddenly would glare accusingly at me when I set an apple in front of her for a treat.
Did you remember to wash this?
I would assure her that, yes, I did. She would look doubtfully at me as if I were trying to slip a dirty apple into her digestive system.
The little girl who could care less about what she wore suddenly turned into some sort of clothes guru. She refused to wear dresses or anything with lace of any kind. She began checking labels to make sure that everything was 100% cotton and asked me if we could start buying only organic clothing. I told her that if she wanted to buy her own clothes, that was fine and dandy with me. But, boy howdy, if not, she was just going to have to trust that I would not dress her in pesticide laced material.
I once caught her soaking her pig bank coins in the bathroom sink.
Think about how many people have touched this money! Someone with the flu might have touched it!
This is her birthday wish list verbatim:
1) A new skate board (something cool that I pick out, but you can drive me to the store.)
2) A Wii (and games to play on it.)
3) Hemp sheets for my bed.
4) A bracelet made from recycled bicycle chains (Miss Perry has one if you need to see what they look like.) No kidding? I bet Miss Perry has hemp sheets and clothes too. I wasn't born yesterday, missy.
I told her that if she got a wii, she would get nothing else because they were costly. She agreed.
But, how many kids ask for hemp sheets?
I'm not panicking. She isn't washing her hands obsessively or insisting on four baths a day. But...her picky picky attitude is annoying.
This is the same child who used to run barefoot out into the dirt of the back yard garden and pick tomatoes straight off the vine and eat them for breakfast without washing them first. Now,as she washed an apricot the other day, she looked up at me and said, "Do you think we should buy some of that vegetable and fruit wash that you see in the grocery store, just to be safe?"
I told her no. That kitchen sink water was FINE. Again with the look. As if she is not altogether sure that I won't sneak some bug poop on her apricots when she isn't looking.
Today, Liv and I were baking Apple Brown Betty (stop snickering...I can bake a FEW things without burning down the house) for our neighbor, Sven, who comes home for the summer tomorrow. I was slicing apples and handed Liv a measuring cup to measure out brown sugar and flour. She peered into the cup and proclaimed it "dirty." I looked at it. It is a silver cup and it had a few dishwasher spots on it. I told Liv that it was perfectly fine. She went to the sink anyway and carefully ran it under hot water and then dried and polished it with a tea towel. She looked over at me.
Did you wash your hands before you cut those apples?
"No," I told her. "I did pick my nose, but just a little bit. Boogers never killed anyone, Livvie."
She looked at me in horror for a few seconds until she realized that I was joking.
I suspect that she will keep me in line this summer.....
And then tonight, my nearly perfect partner, Bing, almost got us in a knock-down-drag-out in the grocery store. Bing, Liv and I were all doing our Friday night grocery shopping. We were in the produce aisle where Bing was selecting avocados while Liv and I picked out some apples (pink ladies are the best...)
There was a sloppy, tired looking very young mother in the same aisle. Her two toddler boys had gotten a hold of some tongs and were chasing each other around with them. One, in true brat fashion, actually pinched an elderly woman in the rear with them. His mother, chomping gum and talking to someone on a cell phone, was ignoring them.
Bing sprang to action. She whipped the tongs away from the child and scolded him, telling him that he could hurt someone and that it was not nice to pinch people with them.
His mother was off the phone in two seconds flat and came over and snatched the tongs right back from Bing and returned them to her son.
"You keep your fuckin' hands off my kid, you hear me?" she said to Bing.
Bing glared at her. Told her that her child had pinched an elderly woman (who had long scurried away) with them and that she needed to get off the phone and start parenting her child.
The child referred to was now laughing and squeezing bananas until they popped open. People were staring, but it was clear that no one wanted to take this woman on. I looked around for store personnel but couldn't see anyone.
The woman, who was not one bit afraid to get up into Bing's face, came up to her and thrust a her jaw right at her.
"Like I am going to let an ugly faggot tell me what to do?" she countered.
Bing didn't answer her. I saw a lost cause, told Bing to let it go and went to go find a manager, taking Liv with me. I saw one hurrying over up the aisle. Someone else had found him. He stepped up to the woman and asked her to please either give him the tongs or put them in her cart if she wanted to purchase them. He also told her that her child had ruined several bunches of bananas and that she would need to purchase those too.
She snatched the tongs away from her child and threw them in a bin of potatoes.
"There you go," she said. She was sneering and I realized as I watched her that I had never actually seen someone sneer quite so convincingly.
"And I WILL NOT buy those bananas," she went on. "We don't eat bananas and my child did not do anything to them."
Liv stood staring, her mouth open. There was a grown up, lying her head off.
I steered us away from her and left her to the manager. We paid for our groceries and went out to the car. Halfway there, the woman from the store literally jumped out at us from behind a car and said in a loud voice, "Faggots! Dirty fags!"
I saw Bing tense. I knew she wanted to go shove the woman's cell phone up her ass. I reminded her that Liv was with us, to let it go.
We got into our car while the woman stood looking triumphant, as if she had won some sort of victory over us.
On the way home, I thought about how to talk about this with Liv. Figured that we would discuss it when I was putting her to bed. I didn't have to wait, though. About halfway home, Liv said, "Why did that woman call us faggots? Isn't that a naughty word for a boy who is gay?"
I told her that she was just ignorant. And angry. And that those two things together were a very bad combination. Liv nodded, didn't push it.
I don't know, maybe we should have fought back, at least stood up for ourselves. I know that Bing wanted to do just that. But, I dunno....the look on her face....
She didn't look like someone who could be reasoned with. She looked like an ignorant woman who had been having a very long day with her bratty children and was looking for someone to take it out on. I don't think holding our ground would have been worth it.
Sometimes you have to teach your children to walk away.
Later, Bing and I talked. We agreed that we had handled it in the best way possible. I told her that instead of taking the tongs away from the child, she probably should have just found the store manager. She disagreed. She felt that it was important to show Liv that adults need to step in when matters go too far.
I guess I agree, sort of. It is a tough situation. Correcting other people's children is always very risky, I think, in this day and age.
What do you think? And if you have kids, were they germ phobics at eight years old? What were their quirks?
Just curious......
Let me start with Liv. She is eight, nearly nine. She has always been a very easy-to-get-along-with child. I seldom have to scold her and she makes me laugh daily.
I noticed around Christmas, though, that she was starting to get...well....picky. We have read all the Beverly Cleary books starring Ramona, so I nicknamed her after their cat: Picky Picky.
Liv has become a germ phobic. I have no idea what it stems from, I do know that around the age of nine or ten, that it is normal for children to develop their own idiosyncrasies. But, she seemed a little extreme for my taste.
She suddenly would glare accusingly at me when I set an apple in front of her for a treat.
Did you remember to wash this?
I would assure her that, yes, I did. She would look doubtfully at me as if I were trying to slip a dirty apple into her digestive system.
The little girl who could care less about what she wore suddenly turned into some sort of clothes guru. She refused to wear dresses or anything with lace of any kind. She began checking labels to make sure that everything was 100% cotton and asked me if we could start buying only organic clothing. I told her that if she wanted to buy her own clothes, that was fine and dandy with me. But, boy howdy, if not, she was just going to have to trust that I would not dress her in pesticide laced material.
I once caught her soaking her pig bank coins in the bathroom sink.
Think about how many people have touched this money! Someone with the flu might have touched it!
This is her birthday wish list verbatim:
1) A new skate board (something cool that I pick out, but you can drive me to the store.)
2) A Wii (and games to play on it.)
3) Hemp sheets for my bed.
4) A bracelet made from recycled bicycle chains (Miss Perry has one if you need to see what they look like.) No kidding? I bet Miss Perry has hemp sheets and clothes too. I wasn't born yesterday, missy.
I told her that if she got a wii, she would get nothing else because they were costly. She agreed.
But, how many kids ask for hemp sheets?
I'm not panicking. She isn't washing her hands obsessively or insisting on four baths a day. But...her picky picky attitude is annoying.
This is the same child who used to run barefoot out into the dirt of the back yard garden and pick tomatoes straight off the vine and eat them for breakfast without washing them first. Now,as she washed an apricot the other day, she looked up at me and said, "Do you think we should buy some of that vegetable and fruit wash that you see in the grocery store, just to be safe?"
I told her no. That kitchen sink water was FINE. Again with the look. As if she is not altogether sure that I won't sneak some bug poop on her apricots when she isn't looking.
Today, Liv and I were baking Apple Brown Betty (stop snickering...I can bake a FEW things without burning down the house) for our neighbor, Sven, who comes home for the summer tomorrow. I was slicing apples and handed Liv a measuring cup to measure out brown sugar and flour. She peered into the cup and proclaimed it "dirty." I looked at it. It is a silver cup and it had a few dishwasher spots on it. I told Liv that it was perfectly fine. She went to the sink anyway and carefully ran it under hot water and then dried and polished it with a tea towel. She looked over at me.
Did you wash your hands before you cut those apples?
"No," I told her. "I did pick my nose, but just a little bit. Boogers never killed anyone, Livvie."
She looked at me in horror for a few seconds until she realized that I was joking.
I suspect that she will keep me in line this summer.....
And then tonight, my nearly perfect partner, Bing, almost got us in a knock-down-drag-out in the grocery store. Bing, Liv and I were all doing our Friday night grocery shopping. We were in the produce aisle where Bing was selecting avocados while Liv and I picked out some apples (pink ladies are the best...)
There was a sloppy, tired looking very young mother in the same aisle. Her two toddler boys had gotten a hold of some tongs and were chasing each other around with them. One, in true brat fashion, actually pinched an elderly woman in the rear with them. His mother, chomping gum and talking to someone on a cell phone, was ignoring them.
Bing sprang to action. She whipped the tongs away from the child and scolded him, telling him that he could hurt someone and that it was not nice to pinch people with them.
His mother was off the phone in two seconds flat and came over and snatched the tongs right back from Bing and returned them to her son.
"You keep your fuckin' hands off my kid, you hear me?" she said to Bing.
Bing glared at her. Told her that her child had pinched an elderly woman (who had long scurried away) with them and that she needed to get off the phone and start parenting her child.
The child referred to was now laughing and squeezing bananas until they popped open. People were staring, but it was clear that no one wanted to take this woman on. I looked around for store personnel but couldn't see anyone.
The woman, who was not one bit afraid to get up into Bing's face, came up to her and thrust a her jaw right at her.
"Like I am going to let an ugly faggot tell me what to do?" she countered.
Bing didn't answer her. I saw a lost cause, told Bing to let it go and went to go find a manager, taking Liv with me. I saw one hurrying over up the aisle. Someone else had found him. He stepped up to the woman and asked her to please either give him the tongs or put them in her cart if she wanted to purchase them. He also told her that her child had ruined several bunches of bananas and that she would need to purchase those too.
She snatched the tongs away from her child and threw them in a bin of potatoes.
"There you go," she said. She was sneering and I realized as I watched her that I had never actually seen someone sneer quite so convincingly.
"And I WILL NOT buy those bananas," she went on. "We don't eat bananas and my child did not do anything to them."
Liv stood staring, her mouth open. There was a grown up, lying her head off.
I steered us away from her and left her to the manager. We paid for our groceries and went out to the car. Halfway there, the woman from the store literally jumped out at us from behind a car and said in a loud voice, "Faggots! Dirty fags!"
I saw Bing tense. I knew she wanted to go shove the woman's cell phone up her ass. I reminded her that Liv was with us, to let it go.
We got into our car while the woman stood looking triumphant, as if she had won some sort of victory over us.
On the way home, I thought about how to talk about this with Liv. Figured that we would discuss it when I was putting her to bed. I didn't have to wait, though. About halfway home, Liv said, "Why did that woman call us faggots? Isn't that a naughty word for a boy who is gay?"
I told her that she was just ignorant. And angry. And that those two things together were a very bad combination. Liv nodded, didn't push it.
I don't know, maybe we should have fought back, at least stood up for ourselves. I know that Bing wanted to do just that. But, I dunno....the look on her face....
She didn't look like someone who could be reasoned with. She looked like an ignorant woman who had been having a very long day with her bratty children and was looking for someone to take it out on. I don't think holding our ground would have been worth it.
Sometimes you have to teach your children to walk away.
Later, Bing and I talked. We agreed that we had handled it in the best way possible. I told her that instead of taking the tongs away from the child, she probably should have just found the store manager. She disagreed. She felt that it was important to show Liv that adults need to step in when matters go too far.
I guess I agree, sort of. It is a tough situation. Correcting other people's children is always very risky, I think, in this day and age.
What do you think? And if you have kids, were they germ phobics at eight years old? What were their quirks?
Just curious......
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