Today, husband and I went out on a real date. Dinner, movie, babysitter, adult conversation, no need to flick anyone's hands for throwing food or purposely dropping utensils, etc. It was... refreshing. We saw the movie Definitely, Maybe. It was actually really good - funny, endearing characters. It's about a dad helping his daughter cope with his impending divorce from her mother by telling her all about his escapades with women leading up to his decision to marry her mom. After seeing this movie, I've realized a lot about myself... and how my life is still - 30 years later - impacted so deeply by my own parents' divorce.
As I watched this little girl on the big screen melt into her pillow, weeping about this divorce in front of her father, it reminded me of countless conversations I've had with my dad... the first of which I don't remember, but am told I held my tiny little hand in his while we were walking up stairs and I told him in my four-year-old voice, "I don't want a divorce, Daddy." The last conversation we had like this was a mere month ago while we were out to dinner and talking about my rocky relationship with my step-mother... whom I think not-so-secretly despises me at times. My insides became mush and my face was hot and the sting of my tears welling up was all too familiar. I became infuriated with myself... I was a grown woman with my own family and I was dining in a beautiful restaurant enjoying a grown-up father/daughter dinner and all I could do was cry. Again. I'm enraged that I cannot contain my emotions... or even that I have these emotions... still... all these years later. And it's ridiculous to me how quickly I can find myself swimming in the hurt of life as a child dealing with this very adult scenario. Why am I not just over this?
My mind wanders to when I was 8 and sobbing to my mom about how step-mother never talks to me and I was panicked about the bi-weekly 30-minute drive to their house with her alone in the car and how she made me feel so insignificant... or even that I was bad or like this was my fault. My sweet mom would rehearse conversation-starters with me so at least I could keep the cold silence at bay until we got home and my dad would ease the walls of tension she had so callously erected.
One of the only times I've seen my husband cry is after we saw an old home video of me when I was in 8th grade. It was Thanksgiving and I was visiting dad and the fam in San Francisco. I held the video camera and was enjoying doing a documentary of my trip when the camera turned to s.m. and the look she gave my dad as a result of seeing me with the camera nearly makes me want to throw up now. The disgust on her face. The complete intolerance in her eyes ... a tell tale sign of her true feelings for me... this is what brought tears to my husband's eyes. For me. Seeing that again quickly brought to mind all those awkward moments in my life... those quiet times where I was torn down by her... where I was reminded that I will never be a part of her family with my dad. Those moments I still live today and that I try to hide from my children so they don't have to wonder why s.m. doesn't like their mommy.
Turning back to the movie, there was a scene where the little girl watches an interaction between her parents... feeling the hope mount with every word they spoke... pleading and praying that somehow a spark would be lit again and the life she was dreading would be avoided... and then seeing the reality of her parent's relationship... the fact that no - they weren't going to be together again... the crushing blow she was feeling - it's what every child of divorce has felt at one time. It's like you know there's the fairy-tale ending that was supposed to happen with your parents and that you were supposed to be a part of, but it can never be. And you push those thoughts way down, into the depths where they should stay because that will never change and this is your life, so be a big girl and live with it.
I just want to be able to talk openly with my dad about all the stuff... and not hurt so much. And not feel like I'm so stupid for being grown up and a cry baby. I desperately need to be able to keep in control when I hear my dad tell me the details he's been revealing to me that put his perspective into reality ... about the 'cross he bears in life' being me and my hurt in all this. I want my lip to stop quivering when I think of all these moments in my life that add up to who I am today, and how I deal with my life. Perhaps it will take another 30 years to look back and say "it's OK. I'm OK, and this was all for the best." But, much like the little girl on the big screen, I will always try to imagine how it was when my parents were a family with me as their baby. How it was to see them hold hands or my father kiss my mom on the forehead as they stood looking down at a newborn me cradled in their arms. I still hold a place in my heart for the dreaming about 'what could have been' had my parents decided to hold true to those vows... 'until death do us part'.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Hasty Haircut
So, here's living proof of my lack of patience. Argument with a knot in E's hair... (My scissors and I won.)
Further evidence of my lack of patience. Four inches of her gorgeous hair. Gone.
However, I have to say that I cannot stand any longer one more 30-minute brawl with the matted, gnarled, rat's nest that was the underside of E's hair. For some reason, it just wouldn't stop, everyday - no matter how much detangler I loaded on her hair. No matter how patient I was carefully disassembling each hair strand from another with a fine-toothed comb. I'm done.
And so, I did it. I cut her beautiful curls off... her perfect blond hair that's never been more than trimmed... I cut it WAY off. I'm strangely sad. I feel that same remorse that I felt when I did the same thing right after I got engaged 10 years ago ... I cut 10" off of my long hair. It grows back, I know. But still... should I have just suffered through the knots a little while longer for the sake of such prettiness?
The good news... she's HAPPY!! She's actually ecstatic! She throws her hands through her hair and shakes her head back and forth and giggles with utter delight. And Mommy is SO happy. Easy brushing. No knock-down drag-out fights with the little one in the mornings. Life is good.
Further evidence of my lack of patience. Four inches of her gorgeous hair. Gone.
However, I have to say that I cannot stand any longer one more 30-minute brawl with the matted, gnarled, rat's nest that was the underside of E's hair. For some reason, it just wouldn't stop, everyday - no matter how much detangler I loaded on her hair. No matter how patient I was carefully disassembling each hair strand from another with a fine-toothed comb. I'm done.
And so, I did it. I cut her beautiful curls off... her perfect blond hair that's never been more than trimmed... I cut it WAY off. I'm strangely sad. I feel that same remorse that I felt when I did the same thing right after I got engaged 10 years ago ... I cut 10" off of my long hair. It grows back, I know. But still... should I have just suffered through the knots a little while longer for the sake of such prettiness?
The good news... she's HAPPY!! She's actually ecstatic! She throws her hands through her hair and shakes her head back and forth and giggles with utter delight. And Mommy is SO happy. Easy brushing. No knock-down drag-out fights with the little one in the mornings. Life is good.
You're Being Such a Man!
Well, after I finished telling Husband about finding The Prince subversively rubbing peppermint-scented chapstick through his entire head of hair while he was supposed to be napping in his crib, Husband himself just told me a funny story about what E said to him today as he was "helping" her clean up the playroom. I had to share...
Scene Preface: Daddy was "notably irritated and not being as gentle as he should, as he was basically cleaning for her"...
E was being her bossy little 3-year-old self and telling Daddy to put things away and where to put them, which was the cause of Daddy's irritation...
E: "Daddy, calm down!"
Daddy: "Excuse me?"
E: "You're being such a Man!"
Daddy (level of irritation rapidly rising): "WHAT?"
E: "Ya just calm down - you're being such a Man."
Daddy: "What do you mean by that?"
E: "I don't know." (she doesn't.)
Daddy: "Well do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?"
E: "A bad way."
Daddy doesn't remember the events that took place after that (likely due to the lack of visibility with all the steam coming out of his ears.) He says "it threw me for a loop because I'm pretty sure she was calling me an @#$hole in a way that wouldn't get her in trouble." (Note to self: Hmmm. Perhaps I should tuck this gem away and explore this one for future disagreements too?)
Scene Preface: Daddy was "notably irritated and not being as gentle as he should, as he was basically cleaning for her"...
E was being her bossy little 3-year-old self and telling Daddy to put things away and where to put them, which was the cause of Daddy's irritation...
E: "Daddy, calm down!"
Daddy: "Excuse me?"
E: "You're being such a Man!"
Daddy (level of irritation rapidly rising): "WHAT?"
E: "Ya just calm down - you're being such a Man."
Daddy: "What do you mean by that?"
E: "I don't know." (she doesn't.)
Daddy: "Well do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?"
E: "A bad way."
Daddy doesn't remember the events that took place after that (likely due to the lack of visibility with all the steam coming out of his ears.) He says "it threw me for a loop because I'm pretty sure she was calling me an @#$hole in a way that wouldn't get her in trouble." (Note to self: Hmmm. Perhaps I should tuck this gem away and explore this one for future disagreements too?)
Friday, February 8, 2008
The Egle Has Landed
A huge thanks to my sweet blogger friend, Mountain Momma for awarding me the Egel Nest Blog Award! It's for newish bloggers and says you've arrived in the blogging world!
Mountain Momma is awesome, and I enjoy her writing - particularly about honest, real-life 'issues' - she's great, so give her some love, if you haven't already.
Hooray for another award! Who knew blogging could be so... rewarding?
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
So THAT'S what that smell was...
Admittedly, this is probably the grossest post I've written. But nevertheless, I'm going to post it anyhow, because I'm not above a little grossness every now and then. And because I have a digital camera and want you to share in the grossness WITH me, my beloved readers.
OK, well looking back, I guess it's probably been around 10 months or so that I've occasionally smelled something foul, yet unidentifiable, when passing through my hallway on the way to The Prince's room. I'm fairly fanatic about my house smelling good. I always have lovely candles lit throughout various rooms and often deodorize after Husband hikes/goes to the gym, etc. - all in the effort to keep things SMELLING clean, since I can't actually keep my house clean.
So, when this scent hit my nose, I always wondered... was it something from the closet? I'd get a faint whiff of something in that locale, but never found the source, and believe me I looked. Up and down ... in and out - through every piece of luggage and every shelf holding precisely 738 reusable gift bags, never coming up with anything. I thought to myself, well perhaps it was the remnant rank-ness from the Prince's #2 diaper. It wasn't there all the time. Just sometimes and when I smelled it I stopped everything and searched like my life depended on it. Alas. Nothing.
Or so I thought.
Today, I found The Prince sitting too quietly in front of the hall closet, happily rummaging through some plastic bag that he certainly wasn't allowed to rummage through...
and it was full of last year's plastic Easter eggs that I decided to save from last year's Easter baskets, to add to this year's stash of hidden surprises on Easter morn. As I swept him away and started putting the plastic eggs back into the bag for storage, suddenly... I smelled it. The smell ... much more pungent. Putrid, in fact. The funk was something unnatural and stenchy and rotteny and much like the fetor from the city dump, if you've ever had the pleasure of having your father take you there against your will on a "fun" family outing going there.
Let's end the suspense and cut to the chase. The smell... well, it was from an Easter egg in the bag... the REAL kind of Easter Egg.
The edible, capable-of-rotting kind that did inDEED rot and become ... well, I'll let you see for yourself...
Come again? Those little brown things all over the brown shriveled-up egg yolk, you ask? Oh silly - those are maggots. Dead maggots. Rotting maggots in a maggot graveyard of a decaying Easter egg. That's all. No big deal that they were in there for the last year, crawling around almost silently, but a little gooeyish-soundingly in my closet amongst the cute, colorful plastic eggs and brand new PEZ Easter Bunny candy dispenser that was saved for my sweet kids to pounce on this Easter. Ya. No problem! **hair-raising shiver**
All I can say is 1. THANK you sweet little nosey Prince who shouldn't have been in the closet at all... I owe you a little somethin-somethin -- perhaps a free "Get-Out-Of-Timeout" card for tomorrow, eh? And 2. At least NOW I know...
*****UPDATE TO BLOG POST*** Ok, so based on a few comments, I feel I must add something. WHY did I crack open the egg and take a picture? I'm a BLOGGER, people! You know that! My life is a 3/4 open book to you. Had I just tossed it, you (I) would never have known WHAT made that smell for such an extended period of time (maggots and lots of them). So, yes, I may be hardcore, but you appreciate, no?
OK, well looking back, I guess it's probably been around 10 months or so that I've occasionally smelled something foul, yet unidentifiable, when passing through my hallway on the way to The Prince's room. I'm fairly fanatic about my house smelling good. I always have lovely candles lit throughout various rooms and often deodorize after Husband hikes/goes to the gym, etc. - all in the effort to keep things SMELLING clean, since I can't actually keep my house clean.
So, when this scent hit my nose, I always wondered... was it something from the closet? I'd get a faint whiff of something in that locale, but never found the source, and believe me I looked. Up and down ... in and out - through every piece of luggage and every shelf holding precisely 738 reusable gift bags, never coming up with anything. I thought to myself, well perhaps it was the remnant rank-ness from the Prince's #2 diaper. It wasn't there all the time. Just sometimes and when I smelled it I stopped everything and searched like my life depended on it. Alas. Nothing.
Or so I thought.
Today, I found The Prince sitting
and it was full of last year's plastic Easter eggs that I decided to save from last year's Easter baskets, to add to this year's stash of hidden surprises on Easter morn. As I swept him away and started putting the plastic eggs back into the bag for storage, suddenly... I smelled it. The smell ... much more pungent. Putrid, in fact. The funk was something unnatural and stenchy and rotteny and much like the fetor from the city dump, if you've ever had the pleasure of
Let's end the suspense and cut to the chase. The smell... well, it was from an Easter egg in the bag... the REAL kind of Easter Egg.
The edible, capable-of-rotting kind that did inDEED rot and become ... well, I'll let you see for yourself...
Come again? Those little brown things all over the brown shriveled-up egg yolk, you ask? Oh silly - those are maggots. Dead maggots. Rotting maggots in a maggot graveyard of a decaying Easter egg. That's all. No big deal that they were in there for the last year, crawling around almost silently, but a little gooeyish-soundingly in my closet amongst the cute, colorful plastic eggs and brand new PEZ Easter Bunny candy dispenser that was saved for my sweet kids to pounce on this Easter. Ya. No problem! **hair-raising shiver**All I can say is 1. THANK you sweet little
*****UPDATE TO BLOG POST*** Ok, so based on a few comments, I feel I must add something. WHY did I crack open the egg and take a picture? I'm a BLOGGER, people! You know that! My life is a 3/4 open book to you. Had I just tossed it, you (I) would never have known WHAT made that smell for such an extended period of time (maggots and lots of them). So, yes, I may be hardcore, but you appreciate, no?
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A Litte Unexpectedness.
Things I did NOT expect to see in my son's hands/mouth today (featured in chronological order, and completely non-fictional)
1. Chalk (in the mouth, chewed up and ready for digesting.)
2. VERY sharp scissors
3. Toilet bowl brush (twice)
4. My brand new blushes (all 5 of them - DE-stroyed.)
5. Tweezers (weapon of choice to destroy said blushes)
6. A kitchen knife
7. His father's cell phone (that's now broken, thanks to him)
8. An entire round loaf of sourdough bread (in the mouth)
9. My coffee (for like the 37,000th time - he ONLY wants mine (it's all sweet and creamy), and I swear he's got a heat-seeking missle on his head aimed straight at my cup no matter how high I can get it)
10. Halls lozenges
11. a LIVE cockroach (oh wait - that was yesterday - my bad.)
12. a toy I keep throwing away
13. and... um... hmm... I must be missing something.
14. Oh ya. Some miscellaneous spice jars.
Suddenly today, I believe he developed teensy tiny little octopusses on his hands that are unable to be seen by the human eye, but which allow him to grab an obscene amount of hazardous items from every thinkable surface of his little world. Hip hip hooray!! I LOVE this stage! I'm sorry... WHO said boys were easier than girls??
1. Chalk (in the mouth, chewed up and ready for digesting.)
2. VERY sharp scissors
3. Toilet bowl brush (twice)
4. My brand new blushes (all 5 of them - DE-stroyed.)
5. Tweezers (weapon of choice to destroy said blushes)
6. A kitchen knife
7. His father's cell phone (that's now broken, thanks to him)
8. An entire round loaf of sourdough bread (in the mouth)
9. My coffee (for like the 37,000th time - he ONLY wants mine (it's all sweet and creamy), and I swear he's got a heat-seeking missle on his head aimed straight at my cup no matter how high I can get it)
10. Halls lozenges
11. a LIVE cockroach (oh wait - that was yesterday - my bad.)
12. a toy I keep throwing away
13. and... um... hmm... I must be missing something.
14. Oh ya. Some miscellaneous spice jars.
Suddenly today, I believe he developed teensy tiny little octopusses on his hands that are unable to be seen by the human eye, but which allow him to grab an obscene amount of hazardous items from every thinkable surface of his little world. Hip hip hooray!! I LOVE this stage! I'm sorry... WHO said boys were easier than girls??
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