Archive for the 'Relationships' Category
Baa Baa Black Sheep
Thursday we migrated to my inlaws’ turf in Pensacola. We had a beautiful family Christmas on Friday and then a huge party on Saturday for my mother-in-laws 60th birthday… They are a very “historic” and involved family in P’cola - we celebrated at the Yacht club which was, suprisingly, not the least bit fluffy or snooty (which were my own misguided stereotypes). That’s the neat thing with “old” southerners with prestige or community clout - they have no care to act like people with prestige or community clout.. They are people who have worked hard to get what they have and are loving every minute of life and loving every minute of the people around them. Such a massive difference from the people in Nashville with money or prestige, but damn my new year’s resolution of not saying anything negative unless absolutely necessary (which, never you fear, I will take great liberty with)…. I had a blast and fell more in love with my husband’s family than I was before.
But.
But. But. But. There is the instance of the sisters-in-law (John’s sister and brother’s wife). I’ll just say, we’ve come a long way. What started out as a friendly and fond courtship between the women in the family, turned ugly for a few years and we are just now pulling out. I hope, anyway. I’ve wracked my brain and I honestly can’t figure out where the hate came from. But trust me, it was bordering on hate.. John swears that it has nothing to do with me (excepts it’s aim) but that, unfortunately, they have both had bad experiences in the family and haven’t gotten over them. I can’t say. All I can say is that it would be nice to not be the outsider, as far as the women in the family go. The fact is, they are all older either in years or in lifestyle and, even though we are in different places in our lives and I am completely comfortable with that, it seems, they are not.
They have been a collective of married people raising kids for the last ten years - taking vacations together, living in the same town, sharing all levels of life experiences - and it seems, they are not ready to let anyone else into that fold - especially if that person if younger and of an entirely different ilk than them. So, I find myself pulling back a lot from them and giving all my energy to John’s parents whom I am blessed to be wholly embraced by - which, I’m afraid, probably only makes matters worse. I will just take a deep breath, try to reflect on mistakes I may have made and try very hard to be myself around them, even though they make it hard.. I never get nervous around people damn it, and 9 times out of 10, if someone doesn’t like me I wouldn’t think twice about it (honestly, it just doesn’t happen.. I know that sounds so egocentric, but I really do get along with people so well…). But this is my husband’s family and it does matter. A lot. Because I respect them. And, I’ll admit, I never once thought that it would be like this. I thought that I would finally have women to be a family with - to be tight with and strong for and vulnerable in front of.. But I can’t force myself into a picture that they want to keep all to themselves… All I can do is be mindful of what I say without indulging in the great desire to keep entirely to myself and leave it alone all together. Happily though, and on a positive note, the rest of the family and I adore each other. The aunts and uncles and cousins always have and always will have huge open arms for me.. So, why should the fact that these two women aren’t interested bother me so much? Can’t tell you. All I can tell you is that I guess, maybe, it seemed like (in my weird, overly literary mind) getting married was like joining a tribe - and in that tribe you have a group that you belong. And, it seems, my group doesn’t want me. And, I can get all tough and say “well, who wants to be in their stupid ‘Creative Memory’ selling, church fundraiser crap life anyway?” - but that’s not the truth in it. The truth is that, even though we don’t have a lot in common as far as lifestyle goes, we are really working toward the same goal. And, when did lifestyles matter so much in a family? I thought the whole point was to be a part of something much greater than miniscule day to day matters - I thought the idea was to be in a family with people who could bring you up and make each other wiser for the wear… Maybe I am just a kid with far fetched ideas about how the world is supposed to be and how it can be better.. Maybe their right… and maybe that’s why they can’t let me in… But I just don’t want to believe it.
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Sissies
I was sitting here trying to think of what to write today.. Nothing came to mind.. But then, as my husband was walking out of the door he provided me with a whole armament of issues to hash out on my blog today. He had a headache last night. And, apparently, I was supposed to cuddle it away.
The reason this is even an issue is two fold. The first reason is, usually, he wants nothing more than to be left alone when he gets a headache (which, can I note, happens quite a lot). The second reason is that, thanks to my mother being uber melodramatic about hers and everyone else’s ailments when I was growing up, I have become somewhat desensitized about people who are hungry for attention when they are not feeling well. I know that makes me sound awful, but it’s the truth. When I’m sick, I suck it up and never complain. I can’t understand why men feel like the world has to stop on it’s axis when they get something as mild as a headache. I don’t understand. really really don’t…….
So, we return home from dinner at a great wine bar and a showing of Monty Python’s classic Life of Brian which was showing and the Belcourt Theater.. Nice evening. Then the headache. We come home and I get to work on the computer. I have a lot of catching up to do since the holidays have been so busy. Silly me. I thought that someone with a headache would want to be alone so they could go lay down. I was wrong. And, this morning, I have hell to pay for it.
Realizing, of course, that I have a very low tolerance for sissies who can’t handle being sick, I apologized and even felt bad that I was not more attentive to his needs. But, it leaves me with the burning question: what is wrong with men that they cannot handle being even slightly under the weather without having the emotional equivalent to a wet nurse at their side? Am I being awful? Is this a dreadful thing to think about men?
And the other question is: is this what people without kids do all the time? Titter about silly little emotional heartaches that really are quite insignificant? I am finding this life without kids (even for only three days) quite uninteresting and overly self indulgent. It’s grossing me out a little bit. I have enjoyed resting and going out with friends.. But I can do without the constant self gratification, thank you. And I can do without relating to the people at work who talk about their pets as if they were children.. I actually got into a conversation at work about my cat - don’t get me wrong, I love my cat - but I was talking about him as if he were reason the sun came up in the morning. This is what single, kidless people my age do. What the hell? I never would have guessed that my kids were my source of creativity and energy and, quite honestly, they are what make me interesting. Thank god I get to be back with them on Sunday. Otherwise, John and I might start buying sweaters for the dog and arguing over who takes the trash out. Our world in imbalanced without them and I need this week to go by fast……….
Posted in Daily Living, Lifestyles, Marriage | No Comments »
I’m back!
Well. Well. Well.
So the kids decided, after all, that a Disney Post Christmas extravaganza was in order. We got back from delivering them to my parents last night. I must admit, the drive home felt like I was reversing some kind of law of physics - the fact that I was driving in the opposite direction from my kids was the most unnatural feeling I have ever had.
But they are knee deep, as we speak, in Little Mermaid and Buzz Lightyear heaven. I talked to them this morning and they sound like they are having a blast! Which was exactly what I needed to hear - it is hard to sleep without them in the house. But, the fact that they are having an adventure with their Nana and Papa eases my mind greatly.
So then. What to do? John and I are all alone - we slept in and ate breakfast in bed. So many things that we could do with the rest of our holiday but, really, we both seem content to be home and dig into one another. Since I was a single mom when we met, it is always painfully obvious to us - when we get a chance to be alone - that we never actually dated, in the traditional sense of the word. We never got to indulge in one another the way other couples do. Sure. We had a good time, but always with the pretense that there was a sweet boy at home waiting for me (which meant our evening usually ended at 10pm). We never felt slighted, it’s just that at times like these, we really realize that we never got to really revel in that new relationship splendor. And, now that my mind is at ease with the kids being safe and happy, we are able to. We are able to enjoy what we really love about each other and remember why it is we fell in love. I hope you’ll excuse me this week if I end up being syrupy sweet about everything, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to stop myself.
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Notes to my Girlfriends Without Kids
- One day, when you have kids, you will realize that it is not so disgusting to clean a kids face with your spit. It’s practical.
- Talking about poop is not gross.
- If my kids are sick, all plans are off.
- I can no longer trash talk with you about someone without realizing that they have mothers that would be heartbroken if they overheard us. I still might trash talk - but I will have undying guilt for the rest of the day.
- If I make it out to drink and party it up, it is because I really, really want/need to. Sometimes, I use the kids as an excuse because, the reality is, after you have kids, going out to bars and listening to loud music is really not fun.
- Your problems don’t seem miniscule to me, I just can’t sympathize with the fact that you got three hours of sleep last night because you were at a midnight showing of a movie that I am dying to see but will have to wait to watch on DVD. Sorry.
- I don’t anticipate my outfit changing for the next five years and neither should you. The worn out blue jeans, old puma tennis shoes and hoodie that I always wear is what works for me. I love your new skirt and boots and wish to god I looked that cute. Sorry you have to schlepp around with me and my unfashionable self and thanks for understanding.
- You’ll never understand how much I, as a young mother, appreciate your love toward my kids. You treat them like the best aunt in the world would. It makes me want to cry when I see how much you love them.
- You stick by my when I am behaving like an overworked, exhausted, irrational mother who is at her wits end. You are part of the reason I never, ever, lose myself and my identity and my sense of control over my life. For that, you are a saint and deserve a gold plated seat in whatever heaven there is….
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I Get Dizzy Just Watching…
I have two sets of friends who each have three kids. They are brilliant and capable women. I never thought I would be able to have two kids and somehow I pull it off, sometimes moderately well. I think something takes you over when you have kids and you just act instead of thinking of acting. When I watch these women, with their brood of children and their insanity just a boat ride away, I feel nothing but complete admiration for their strength. Aaaaaaand a huge dose of relief for the fact that I don’t have three kids. As much as going from an only child to two children is a shock - going from two to three seems maniacally deranged. You’re outnumbered and, when you’re outnumbered, it seems you live in a complete state of cyclical dizzyness that is gaining control, losing control, taking deep breaths to maintain control, gaining control, losing control, taking deep breaths……..
So. To keep myself from being faced with something I don’t think I will ever be capable of - I have started to think about serious (not just whimsically basing it on the moon cycle) birth control. Until my husband gets the snippity snip (soon!) we are having to change our ways to insure that our perfectly numbered family and my moderately stable sanity doesn’t get rocked. Check it out in our health section.
Posted in Health, Lifestyles, Sex | 2 Comments »
It’s Just a Song.. I know.
There’s a Ray Charles song that I can remember my grandmother singing when I was a girl. Everytime I hear it, I can picture her singing it - it is so vivid I can remember the sound and pitch of her voice and the way she smelled and the way she would sing half in spanish…..
When my mom came to visit, we were playing the Ray Charles CD and when the song came on - my mom teared up and said that it was her mom’s favorite song. She was crying only because she missed her mom - she died when I was ten and it was a pretty traumatic event for all of us as she was a huge part of our lives.
Today, it made me cry as I listened to it taking my son to school. I didn’t cry because I miss her, which I do. I stopped crying about missing her when I had my kids. I realized that I didn’t have to miss her - she was everpresent and I could feel it. Hard to explain unless you have had someone close to you die.
No, I cried because the song is confirmation of my deepest suspicions that she was unhappy in many aspects in her life. Her marriage was a mess. Her choices in life didn’t work out the way she thought. There was a marriage before my grandfather that resulted in the pregnancy of my aunt. Her first husband wanted nothing to do with the child or the pregnancy and he abandoned her. Which is when she met and married, at a full five months pregnant, my grandfather. He was as good to her as he could be and I love my grandfather, despite all of his mistakes, huge personality flaws and adultery. The song is “I can’t stop loving you” - which is a heartbreaking ballad in itself. The fact that my strongest memory is of my grandmother incessently playing and singing it breaks my heart.
I cried because I want more for her life. I want her to have a chance to relive all of those incidents and accidents and not be resigned to swallow it down with a forced, martyred smile on her face. I want to picture her strong and capable, not degected and a victim of her slim choices, as many women of her time were. She loved us with all of her being - and all that love that she poured out onto everyone, I’m afraid, was never returned to her from the men in her life. And, being in the marriage I am - one that is beautifully composed of respect, admiration, pride and passion, I feel nothing but sadness that she never had that. Because she deserved to feel all of it - she deserved to have more. I want more for her. But it is too late.
And, then, I look at my daughter - and myself - and I think that it can’t be too late. We are how her life becomes rectified. I know she is watching me - the choices I make, the way I will show my daughter how to be better than I could ever be, the way my daughter and I will expect more from any relationship that we forge in our lives, and the way we will remember her for all that she was and all that she couldn’t find the strength or support to be. And I know she is proud. But I am sad. And, I don’t know that her sadness will ever be washed out of my heart.
Posted in Daily Living, Grief and Loss, Relationships | 1 Comment »
High School Reunions…
Happiness is watching five of the snobbiest girls from your high school shaking their very hefty bottoms to “Hey Macarena” at your ten year reunion. It was dizzying. I hate that I got so much gratification from the fact that they were all obesely overwight but then I remembered one of them saying something to me at the grotesquely awkward age of fifteen about how I might one day be pretty enough for someone to marry me. Yeah.
Katie and I were the “weird girls” in high school. We were drama dorks and we listened to a lot of Bob Dylan and Pheobe Snow. We were far from dark or mysterious though. We used to do cartwheels down the hall and shove funyuns up our nose just for a good time. I’m pretty sure people thought we were high all the time - even though we had never seen the stuff yet in our lives. When we showed up at the “Castle” (the very odd stucco building where the reunion took place) I’m pretty sure people were expecting a show. But, we strolled in, the quiet adults we have become - and I am happy to say we were greeted with a horde of people who were anxiously awaiting our arrival. OUR arrival? How bizzarre. But, we were calm and quiet - two things no one from high school would have expected. Katie had a two month old strapped to her belly and I had just been in a car with a six year old and a two year old - I’m sure I wasn’t bounding with the kind of energy that they were all used to. But they missed us. We were two out of three people there that had actually made homes out of state and it was kind of frightening to see how much people had not changed. I am so far from that weird girl that I used to be. Or am I? As much as they were everything I had expected them to be, maybe I was just as predictable. And we embraced that about each other. Even some of the “snobby” girls. They hugged me as if we were inseperable in ten years ago. It’s a weird thing to realize that there is a whole group of people who know you so well because they watched you grow up. And even though you don’t know each other at all, you still own territory in their hearts and minds. Their faces will never leave my landscape. That impact is really bizarre. I thought I was completely seperate from these people but the reality is that we really helped each other become who we are today. For better or for worse.
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Old Friends.. Sat on Their Park Bench Like Bookends
I am going to see my closest friend tomorrow. She has recently had her second child, a beautiful daughter named Maysa - she plans on calling her May. We haven’t seen each other in over two years.. She hasn’t met my daughter yet.. I am giddy with anticipation and I am also feeling very lucky today.
I don’t have any sisters - or at least I didn’t know I did until I met Katie. Something happened the day we met - call it worlds colliding, souls reconnecting.. Whatever you want to call it - that was what happened fifteen years ago when we met at the tender age of fourteen. I had found a part of my family that I had never known - and that I wasn’t born into. As women I think we search for parts of ourselves in the people around us. We define ourselves a little bit by who we love and who loves us back. We are not entirely isolated - our fulfillness partially comes from how we are, or are not, connected with those around us. Our inherent aim is to nurture - and to be nurtured back. It is blessed (and I don’t use that word. ever.) when we find women who see us for our true selves. There is no feeling like the feeling of two women who can look at each other and see the joy and pain and relate and communicate about it. This is what I have with Katie. An almost unexplainable comraderie that began with just being two girls who weren’t sure where they were headed but still felt greatness welling up inside them just the same.
And now, she and I both have daughters. Our sons are cherished, of course. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t get a very deep twinge of happiness to think about her holding my small daughter and passing along all of that wonderous woman to woman love and me holding her daughter doing the same. We are continuing our passion - our love of this feminine mystique and existence.. And, like thousands of years before us, the wheel keeps turning……
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True Love…
They can’t keep their hands off each other and their faces are so close that they must be breathing in only each other’s breath.. kisses in the middle of a crowded breakfast nook where everyone is racing to get to work and they sit, locked solidly into each other’s space, unaware of anything and everything that surrounds them.. he touches the tip of her nose.. she flips the fine hair falling over his eyes.. he hasn’t looked away since he sat down.. when she gets up to refill her coffee, he stares out of the window, short of breath because the air isn’t as breathable without her sitting in front of him.. he loves the way she chews.. sips.. blinks.. everything about her he absorb into his skin, into every fiber of his being, and he wants more.. you can see it in his eyes.. he wants everything about her. and she holds back just enough to keep that yearning in him greater than the satisfaction..
Where will they be in five years? Will they fall into a rhythm of everyday passions, like so many of us do with our true loves - the sweet little nudges of love, instead of overwhelming gusts of desire and need?? Will it end in a fight, her wanting all of her CDs back and him wanting the bike that he bought her back? Will they tell sneering stories about one another to their friends and future lovers? What will come of that unpenatrable desire?
Were we ever like that in our beginnings? It’s hard to remember. It’s hard to recall.
I know it existed but when? And do I necesarrily miss that? I can’t say I do. With those feelings come a very exhausting turmoil. I like our cozy comfort. I like our ease with one another. I like breathing my own air - and every once in awhile, when we are cuddled in close under our sheets on a cold night, breathing in his. I’m sure, at their young phase of love that our marriage looks idle and passionless. They probably can’t imagine the joy that comes with our ease. But one day they will. One day, they might be lucky enough to see the loveliness that comes with waking someone up with a cup of coffee every morning… watching your children sleep.. talking about home loans.. picking out paint colors for your dining room.. I guess it only makes sense to those who have it. And aren’t we lucky.
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Setting Fire To The Apron Strings…
My visit with my mom was, well, nice. But, I find myself, this Monday morning, looking up article after article about mending the strains between mothers and daughters that seem, in the most cliched way ever, inevitable within our culture.
It is hard for some of the elder women of the tribe to see younger women change the course of things, I guess. For every ounce of effort that I put toward balancing my life with the life of my children and husband, she gains fifty more ounces of confusion about it. In general, I think that most women my age struggle with either a mother that holds very true to a more modest and self sacrificing style of living for her family OR a mother who is a stringent feminist and isn’s supportive of anything to do with family or “settling” down. Mine would be the former. Either is dangerous and it leaves us girls who are starting our real lives (the lives that we will be in for the next fifty years - you know, as opposed to those early 20’s when we were making decisions for today rather than for tomorrow..) are left out in the cold because there is no one there to say “damn. You’re doing well. You have a passion that isn’t at all about your family AND a family that you are passionate about. WELL done!!”. Sure, our husbands and our friends are there as support systems but when it comes down to it, we just want our mommy to look at us and be proud and, more than that, UNDERSTAND what our lives are about.
My mother and I are far from estranged. I am happy to say that we have a lovely relationship, for the most part. But I hold back. A lot. and I see the confusion in her eyes when she comes to visit. My need to write. My urge, and subsequent decision to hold back, to show her the art studio that my husband and I share and the paintings that I have started and finished. The girlfriends I have made who are all, themselves, quite talented artists and musicians and scientists - some who have kids and some who don’t. All of these things do nothing but challenge her upbringing and her idea, I guess, of how my life was supposed to be. I feel like she is wondering the entire time “where’s the Tupperware party? There is no Tupperware party. There never will be. I just wonder when my idea of success will match up with hers. I guess that has been the question for thousands of years between mothers and daughters. Funny how it never seems to get answered.
Posted in Building and Maintaining, Communication, Parenting | No Comments »
