Standing in line to return some slippers and I look down the line of registers. Three patrons were texting or generally "phoning" while also making purchases. My Mom comes to visit and wonders what the hell is so damned interesting on my laptop. She doesn't say that because she is the classiest lady you'll ever meet, but she is thinking it. When you see the person driving with their eyes averted downward, they aren't checking to make sure they within the speed limit. They are checking their ex-boyfriend's Facebook status or reading a text.
Last week I watched the predictable and fascinating documentary produced by HBO, called Teenage Paparazzo. The film was about a then 13 year old "pap". Born and raised in Hollywood, his parents are somewhat cool with him making money chasing celebrities. That's absurd. The paparazzi are absurd. What must it be like for Cameron Diaz to get into her car at night and be stunned and momentarily blinded by flashbulbs because 70+ paparazzi are crowding her car. Yes, they generate publicity, but the cost is more than I would be willing to pay.
What I found interesting is the why of it. We see so much. Via the Internet and TV, we see what wealth looks like, we see a hyper reality so vividly. Some people have what's called parasocial relationships with celebrities. They feel like they know them. We often imagine and create a pseudo reality that hits folks hard when they receive a credit card bill they can't pay. It's more than the bling though. I think it's a desire to be part of a group, a beautiful group, the successful people, the people perceived to have less pain and problems.
It's the same desire that apparently drove Mark Zuckerberg to create Facebook. I just saw "The Social Network" and found the storyline to be so basic while being fascinatingly telling. By the way, he does not feel that the movie is an accurate portrayal. The Social Network
Why is Facebook 512 million users strong? People want to connect with each other. I think this desire is baked into who we are and it's strong. I wonder if the "baked in" part has to do with "needing love and acceptance" or is it even more primal - such that thousands of years ago, if you were not connected to your community, you would die due to lack of food and warmth.
I feel that we are confusingly connected. Facebook offers satisfying connections and portals to people I would not otherwise communicate with. Facebook can launch a movement. (Rally to Restore Sanity) The problem is that there is an element of breadth, not depth. I think Arron Sorkin called it "empty calories." Sometimes you want more, while other times you learn way too much about someone. Sometimes you find yourself jealous with the bragging of others and sometimes you feel like a voyeur. Sometimes ignorance is highlighted and sometimes you are blown away by an article someone has shared.
I don't think there is a satisfying replacement for visual, tactile and verbal contact with people. We need to connect if not to feed our souls and fend off loneliness, then to remember how to communicate and interact. There's nothing better than hanging out with friends and/or family over dinner and drinks when those magical conversations occur. It's richer.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Dos Equis Man in Boy Form - The Most Nicest Boy in the World
Welcome, my friends.
He forced his Dad to buy me flowers.
No, but really...The scene is the supermarket. Jack saw the bouquets and asked his Dad if they could buy one for me. He said no(?!). Jack INSISTED. "But Dad, Mommy LOVES flowers, we HAVE to get them!" Matt relented. As soon as they got home, I hear then see my son barreling down the hall, awkwardly running with his hand behind his back and an enormous smile on his face. He said, "For you!" He was four years old. The sweetness of who he is was once more revealed, making me feel unworthy and so grateful. I felt like little glittery pink and red hearts must have been bursting from my chest.
Then there's this...
At birthday parties, children fight off the urge to let him open all the presents.
His cereal never gets soggy, it sits there, staying crispy, just for him.
When one of his knock knock jokes doesn't follow the proper format, you can't help but laugh hysterically with, not at him.
When I stopped nursing him that final time he smiled and hugged me. Speaking of hugs, his bear hugs are actual hugs he gives to bears.
He actually struck gold picking his nose.
He has never filled up on chips.
Every time he goes for a swim dolphins appear.
Seriously, though...
When you put him to bed, he goes to sleep without 15 books and 5 songs, 3 jokes and me pantomiming what sleep looks like...just right to sleep.
When I put folded laundry on his dresser, he puts it away without being asked.
He tells me his dinner is "delightful and delectable" almost every night.
Generous.
He wants to do the right thing.
Playful.
He told me he loves me taller than space.
Honest.
He lets his sister open some of his presents.
He is a joyful optimist who leaves a trace of happiness wherever he goes.
~
"He's a lover, not a fighter, but he's also a fighter, so you better not get any ideas."
With a kid like this, you have to be careful. He is low maintenance. He is easy going. His sister is much more intense and can take our time and energy. You don't want to abuse who he is by taking it for granted. We make sure we listen to him and give him time when he needs it. We teach him to make sure his needs are being met by standing up for himself when necessary. One time, in soccer class, this rogue boy was going down the line kicking and hitting everyone. For us, it's diplomacy first, then again in a stronger tone, then talk to an adult if you can. If these steps fail, stop any emotional or physical abuse immediately however you need to. Well, he asked this kid to stop in a strong voice, the kid didn't, so he picked him up and threw him a couple feet. I was immediately impressed, yet I started walking over to intervene and ask Jack to apologize (moms are watching me), then I stopped and sat back down. Nope. He had nothing to apologize for. He is learning to be who he is while being self-reliant, self-confident, heard and respected. We respect and adore Jack. He's developing into a great blend of playful good nature and assertive confidence.
He forced his Dad to buy me flowers.
No, but really...The scene is the supermarket. Jack saw the bouquets and asked his Dad if they could buy one for me. He said no(?!). Jack INSISTED. "But Dad, Mommy LOVES flowers, we HAVE to get them!" Matt relented. As soon as they got home, I hear then see my son barreling down the hall, awkwardly running with his hand behind his back and an enormous smile on his face. He said, "For you!" He was four years old. The sweetness of who he is was once more revealed, making me feel unworthy and so grateful. I felt like little glittery pink and red hearts must have been bursting from my chest.
At birthday parties, children fight off the urge to let him open all the presents.
His cereal never gets soggy, it sits there, staying crispy, just for him.
When one of his knock knock jokes doesn't follow the proper format, you can't help but laugh hysterically with, not at him.
When I stopped nursing him that final time he smiled and hugged me. Speaking of hugs, his bear hugs are actual hugs he gives to bears.
He actually struck gold picking his nose.
He has never filled up on chips.
Every time he goes for a swim dolphins appear.
Seriously, though...
When you put him to bed, he goes to sleep without 15 books and 5 songs, 3 jokes and me pantomiming what sleep looks like...just right to sleep.
When I put folded laundry on his dresser, he puts it away without being asked.
He tells me his dinner is "delightful and delectable" almost every night.
Generous.
He wants to do the right thing.
Playful.
He told me he loves me taller than space.
Honest.
He lets his sister open some of his presents.
He is a joyful optimist who leaves a trace of happiness wherever he goes.
~
"He's a lover, not a fighter, but he's also a fighter, so you better not get any ideas."
With a kid like this, you have to be careful. He is low maintenance. He is easy going. His sister is much more intense and can take our time and energy. You don't want to abuse who he is by taking it for granted. We make sure we listen to him and give him time when he needs it. We teach him to make sure his needs are being met by standing up for himself when necessary. One time, in soccer class, this rogue boy was going down the line kicking and hitting everyone. For us, it's diplomacy first, then again in a stronger tone, then talk to an adult if you can. If these steps fail, stop any emotional or physical abuse immediately however you need to. Well, he asked this kid to stop in a strong voice, the kid didn't, so he picked him up and threw him a couple feet. I was immediately impressed, yet I started walking over to intervene and ask Jack to apologize (moms are watching me), then I stopped and sat back down. Nope. He had nothing to apologize for. He is learning to be who he is while being self-reliant, self-confident, heard and respected. We respect and adore Jack. He's developing into a great blend of playful good nature and assertive confidence.
My love for this kid is beyond my realm of understanding. Jack, I raise my can of soda to you... the most nicest boy in the world. Cheers, sweet boy!
kiss hug kiss hug
Saturday, September 4, 2010
An Homage to and an Explanation of our Roux
I am watching her walk away through the chain-link fence at her school. She's got her new back pack on. This is the third day of first grade. I call out, "Do you want me to walk you to where you line up?" She answers, "No, I'm fine" (like pfft... whatever, Mom). I blow her a kiss. She catches it and eats it, "so it goes into her heart and fills it." There she goes. All grow'd up. I'm happy and astonished.
~
At about 6 months along, I read an article somewhere about how there was a recent uptick in the occurence of dwarfism. I was sure that Ella would be afflicted with a life of being eye level with the coffee table. I pondered the cruel irony of this seeings as I measure in at 6 feet tall.
At about 8 months along, I thought I made her deaf by listening to rap music too loud in the car. I called the doctor to inquire.
And, finally, near the end, my concern was that she may be albino. I thought of how she may be affected socially, the overwhelming expense of sunscreen and whether or not the irises of her eyes would be red.
As it turns out, she is ectomorphic, she can hear (I know this because I hear myself talking through her sometimes. She is listening.) and while she is a fair-skinned beauty, she is made of many colors. Brown, peach, red, orange, yellow, black and pink.
Ella is so many things. She is bright and stubborn and incredibly proud and fickle and quick-witted and loyal and persistent and did I say stubborn and sweet and vulnerable and "difficult" and shy and smart and physical and creative and brave when she has to be and here's the big one... She has a heart that literally has no end.
This heart is a marvel. She is so loyally in love with us and any animal that may cross the path of her mind. She cries over beauty and love as well as pain, sorrow and anger. This heart gives her a passion for life that is so raw.
Ella and I may end up having a complex relationship. She is very independent and is 6 going on, not 16, but 26. She wants a laptop, she wants to go to a Justin Bieber concert "with just her friends." She wants an iPhone with ring tones and skinny jeans and knee boots. I thought we would be dealing with all this pretty basic stuff at maybe 9 or 10 years old.
She wants to grow up really fast. She's over it. She's on to the next thing. I want her to stay 6, not forever, just until this December when she turns 7. I have a feeling we may always have a push and pull between us. Me metaphorically saying.. "Ella, wait a minute" and her saying... "I'm fine, I want it this way, let's go." It may get dicey but I know that if I am able to always keep a place in her heart, that she, we and I will be okay. More than that, that she will have a shot at fulfilling her potential and finding her way. I will then be able to sit back, elbow Matt and say... "Would you look at her? She's awesome." Actually, we already say that. Nonetheless, I am securely buckled up because it's gonna be wild.
I love her so much.
~
At about 6 months along, I read an article somewhere about how there was a recent uptick in the occurence of dwarfism. I was sure that Ella would be afflicted with a life of being eye level with the coffee table. I pondered the cruel irony of this seeings as I measure in at 6 feet tall.
At about 8 months along, I thought I made her deaf by listening to rap music too loud in the car. I called the doctor to inquire.
And, finally, near the end, my concern was that she may be albino. I thought of how she may be affected socially, the overwhelming expense of sunscreen and whether or not the irises of her eyes would be red.
As it turns out, she is ectomorphic, she can hear (I know this because I hear myself talking through her sometimes. She is listening.) and while she is a fair-skinned beauty, she is made of many colors. Brown, peach, red, orange, yellow, black and pink.
 |
| Wiggly tooth. |
This heart is a marvel. She is so loyally in love with us and any animal that may cross the path of her mind. She cries over beauty and love as well as pain, sorrow and anger. This heart gives her a passion for life that is so raw.
 |
She wants to grow up really fast. She's over it. She's on to the next thing. I want her to stay 6, not forever, just until this December when she turns 7. I have a feeling we may always have a push and pull between us. Me metaphorically saying.. "Ella, wait a minute" and her saying... "I'm fine, I want it this way, let's go." It may get dicey but I know that if I am able to always keep a place in her heart, that she, we and I will be okay. More than that, that she will have a shot at fulfilling her potential and finding her way. I will then be able to sit back, elbow Matt and say... "Would you look at her? She's awesome." Actually, we already say that. Nonetheless, I am securely buckled up because it's gonna be wild.
I love her so much.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
How full is your latte?
Is it possible to change how full you perceive your cup to be? Is it half full, just the right amount of Kool-Aid or is it overflowing with coconut water? I feel our life experiences as well as our God-given personalities form our perspective or the lens through which we see, feel, act and generally live our lives.
I know a wonderful woman and mom. She's a dream realizer and positive-thought seeker and a beauty finder. She's unapologetic for her, what some feel is sort of a polly-anna-y, way of going about her wonderful and life-affirming business. She is thoughtful and intelligent and steadfast. I don't feel like she has to make regular treks to the beach to place her head in the sand, either. She is plugged in. This is her addressing happiness. I admire her. http://urbanblissdesign.com/life/positive-happiness-the-urban-bliss-life/
I wanna know how it's done. I damn well want to know. I am not kidding. I am ready to know. I want to know how to counteract, process or dismiss the emotional effects of Glenn Beck holding a rally for people who represent the worst of America on a hallowed day in a hallowed location. There are so many of these blows that offend my (embarrassingly) sensitive nature. War, intolerance, ignorance, molestation, earthquakes, poverty, illness, violence, oppression, depression. The unfairness and savagery of our world.
My cup of iced Americano is generally half empty to just right. It empties and refills and stays level for awhile and then empties again and so on. I sincerely would like to explore how to... more often than not, live in a state of gratitude. To be thankful for the beauty and abundance around me instead of worrying about Glenn Beck.
My mom would ask me to give to God. Well, God never said life would be easy (in fact, my life is very easy in comparison to most) or fun or full of happy moments. Clearly. Fine. Okay. I still don't know how to process a starving child. The boy is in the back of my mind asking me to deal with him and Katrina and the cabby who got shot for being Muslim. Maybe I need medicine to anesthetize my delicate constitution? I don't really want to color over it, though. I want to process it and deal with it and live with it while still seeking beauty, finding gratitude for my life's ease. Maybe I just need to come to terms with the fact that I got lucky on my tour here on Earth and I better live largely and generously while taking that big deep breath that hopefully releases the fear and worry.
How do you take off the clear, or on your worst days...dark, murky glasses and grope around for the rose-colored ones?
I know a wonderful woman and mom. She's a dream realizer and positive-thought seeker and a beauty finder. She's unapologetic for her, what some feel is sort of a polly-anna-y, way of going about her wonderful and life-affirming business. She is thoughtful and intelligent and steadfast. I don't feel like she has to make regular treks to the beach to place her head in the sand, either. She is plugged in. This is her addressing happiness. I admire her. http://urbanblissdesign.com/life/positive-happiness-the-urban-bliss-life/
I wanna know how it's done. I damn well want to know. I am not kidding. I am ready to know. I want to know how to counteract, process or dismiss the emotional effects of Glenn Beck holding a rally for people who represent the worst of America on a hallowed day in a hallowed location. There are so many of these blows that offend my (embarrassingly) sensitive nature. War, intolerance, ignorance, molestation, earthquakes, poverty, illness, violence, oppression, depression. The unfairness and savagery of our world.
My cup of iced Americano is generally half empty to just right. It empties and refills and stays level for awhile and then empties again and so on. I sincerely would like to explore how to... more often than not, live in a state of gratitude. To be thankful for the beauty and abundance around me instead of worrying about Glenn Beck.
My mom would ask me to give to God. Well, God never said life would be easy (in fact, my life is very easy in comparison to most) or fun or full of happy moments. Clearly. Fine. Okay. I still don't know how to process a starving child. The boy is in the back of my mind asking me to deal with him and Katrina and the cabby who got shot for being Muslim. Maybe I need medicine to anesthetize my delicate constitution? I don't really want to color over it, though. I want to process it and deal with it and live with it while still seeking beauty, finding gratitude for my life's ease. Maybe I just need to come to terms with the fact that I got lucky on my tour here on Earth and I better live largely and generously while taking that big deep breath that hopefully releases the fear and worry.
How do you take off the clear, or on your worst days...dark, murky glasses and grope around for the rose-colored ones?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Vices & Inimmaculate Consumption
What A Feeling ~ lyrics by Irene Cara
First, when there's nothing but a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind
All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride
In a world made of steel, made of stone
Well I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart
[Chorus:]
What a feeling, bein's believin'
I can't have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life
Take your passion, and make it happen
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life
Now I hear the music, close my eyes, I am rhythm
In a flash it takes hold of my heart
What a feeling (I am music now), bein's believin' (I am rhythm now)
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life
What a feeling...
What A Feeling (think sarcasm)
Hands clasped to the divoted red plastic wrapped handle bar. I walk in, Starbucks in hand. List in the other hand. The List is a useful prop, an excuse to come. A feeling comes over me. I am still tired from staying up too late and waking too early. The feeling is one that says it might be really enjoyable to find a corner, in this place of promises and wonder, to sleep. Just curl up, lay down, in an inconspicuous corner and rest a minute. The next feeling that washes over me, once it sets in that I'm here, is one that I think is the direct result of an explosion of endorphins cursing through my veins.
Target promises (and this is where it's gets really pathetic) to restore the magic that I *think* I have lost at a price I can afford. It's bright clean spaces, modern signage, the famous designers with their almost as rad stuff offer a polished veneer that appeals and speaks to my inner machinery in a way that is frightening to me. When I felt the "rush" upon entering this store, I knew I needed to look into what this place really meant to me.
Why analyze? What's the big whoop? Why not just give into the very Inimmaculate Consumption and the promise of fabulousness and restoration of self-esteem. Well, because that's not healthy. Immaculate is defined as: im·mac·u·late ( -m k y -l t). adj. 1. Impeccably clean; spotless. See Synonyms at clean. 2. Free from stain or blemish; pure. 3. Free from fault or error. This consumption is a not clean and is not pure, nor is free from fault. This consumption is on-going. It's superficial. It temporarily fills a void. It says get in there and see what little do-dad they have that might get you one step closer to being the complete package.
The List.
It gets dicey because it is sort of necessary to visit The Promiseland, as realistically, I need Soft Scrub as well as thank you notes (and this other stuff: sort-of cute v-neck little pocket tee, piggy bank, jegging (only to be returned due to excessive creasing and generally not living up to my expectations), a third conditioner to help Ella with her hair of a texture that is so different from mine, that product trial and error is necessary), pick up prescription, certain kind of milk, return of online purchase, dollar section browse, a sports bra, Nutella, sunscreen with little or no chemicals, shampoo that does not contain sulfates, a lamp shade, lemon cream lotion, birthday supplies, school supplies, a stainless water bottles without bpa, a rechargeable battery, organic sheets, tie dyed socks, printer paper, a watch, memory foam matress topper and the list continues on into infinity.)
Messy Issues.
See what I am saying? Inimmaculate. Messy. Too much. A vice promising health and sweet smelling skin. I really only needed Soft Scrub, thank you notes, birthday supplies and a rechargeable battery. The rest was unnecessary or could wait.
Money is an issue here. Realizing that the promises and answers I am looking for are not for sale here is an issue. The consumption and what it means for the environment is an issue here as well.
We buy too much stuff. I love the idea of practicing efficiency. Streamlining. Making less trash. Not falling for the lie that the buying will fulfill you.
I will remove the monkey from my back. It's heavy and it keeps flinging shit at me.
First, when there's nothing but a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind
All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride
In a world made of steel, made of stone
Well I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart
[Chorus:]
What a feeling, bein's believin'
I can't have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life
Take your passion, and make it happen
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life
Now I hear the music, close my eyes, I am rhythm
In a flash it takes hold of my heart
What a feeling (I am music now), bein's believin' (I am rhythm now)
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life
What a feeling...
What A Feeling (think sarcasm)
Hands clasped to the divoted red plastic wrapped handle bar. I walk in, Starbucks in hand. List in the other hand. The List is a useful prop, an excuse to come. A feeling comes over me. I am still tired from staying up too late and waking too early. The feeling is one that says it might be really enjoyable to find a corner, in this place of promises and wonder, to sleep. Just curl up, lay down, in an inconspicuous corner and rest a minute. The next feeling that washes over me, once it sets in that I'm here, is one that I think is the direct result of an explosion of endorphins cursing through my veins.
Target promises (and this is where it's gets really pathetic) to restore the magic that I *think* I have lost at a price I can afford. It's bright clean spaces, modern signage, the famous designers with their almost as rad stuff offer a polished veneer that appeals and speaks to my inner machinery in a way that is frightening to me. When I felt the "rush" upon entering this store, I knew I needed to look into what this place really meant to me.
Why analyze? What's the big whoop? Why not just give into the very Inimmaculate Consumption and the promise of fabulousness and restoration of self-esteem. Well, because that's not healthy. Immaculate is defined as: im·mac·u·late ( -m k y -l t). adj. 1. Impeccably clean; spotless. See Synonyms at clean. 2. Free from stain or blemish; pure. 3. Free from fault or error. This consumption is a not clean and is not pure, nor is free from fault. This consumption is on-going. It's superficial. It temporarily fills a void. It says get in there and see what little do-dad they have that might get you one step closer to being the complete package.
The List.
It gets dicey because it is sort of necessary to visit The Promiseland, as realistically, I need Soft Scrub as well as thank you notes (and this other stuff: sort-of cute v-neck little pocket tee, piggy bank, jegging (only to be returned due to excessive creasing and generally not living up to my expectations), a third conditioner to help Ella with her hair of a texture that is so different from mine, that product trial and error is necessary), pick up prescription, certain kind of milk, return of online purchase, dollar section browse, a sports bra, Nutella, sunscreen with little or no chemicals, shampoo that does not contain sulfates, a lamp shade, lemon cream lotion, birthday supplies, school supplies, a stainless water bottles without bpa, a rechargeable battery, organic sheets, tie dyed socks, printer paper, a watch, memory foam matress topper and the list continues on into infinity.)
Messy Issues.
See what I am saying? Inimmaculate. Messy. Too much. A vice promising health and sweet smelling skin. I really only needed Soft Scrub, thank you notes, birthday supplies and a rechargeable battery. The rest was unnecessary or could wait.
Money is an issue here. Realizing that the promises and answers I am looking for are not for sale here is an issue. The consumption and what it means for the environment is an issue here as well.
We buy too much stuff. I love the idea of practicing efficiency. Streamlining. Making less trash. Not falling for the lie that the buying will fulfill you.
Then there's THIS.
Target spends loads of money (Thank you Supreme Court for ruling that corporations can spend oodles of money on political candidates. bumper sticker: Palin 2012, brought to you by Wal-Mart) supporting the nuttiest of ring-wingers. Michele Bachmann. Michele Bachmann! To think that some of my money will funnel into her campaign makes me want to take a pocket knife and manually carve off each freckle that adorns my face. What A Feeling (think... maybe NOT sarcastically, maybe it's theme song in the making?? hmmm.)
Reign it in. Period. Get a grip. Buy what you need and no more. Realize that this job of taking care of my children is a blessing, a hard and joyful blessing. I will stop blaming them for my frump as I often think it not necessary to make any kind of look happen because I am just sticking around the house, grocery shopping, picking them up, etc. I will do things that actually fill me with passion, creativity and joy. I will write more and surf less. I will sew and draw. I will keep some of it for myself and share some of these passions with the kiddos. Fill up the tank in fulfilling ways that don't smack of instant gratification and hollow promises. I will remove the monkey from my back. It's heavy and it keeps flinging shit at me.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Knock Knock. Helloooo? Anyone there? Ya, tons are.
I am standing at my personal portal to the "Internets", the tubes if you will that the dear late Senator Ted Kennedy referred to some years ago. Oh shit, what's that? Some really creative and witty people just whizzed by with the stuff that makes me laugh and wish I could find words that some how string together so *funnily* and interestingly. Sure, I'm a pro surfer (read: shopper/researcher) by now, but writer and creator? I am officially three sentences in and digging it. And, while I am over-analyzing every word choice so as not to take you down the path of how gratifying it was to get my laundry done or foist upon you the same wit and/or drivel you have already read... I like this. I could write for me, myself and I, and no one else, and find the process gratifying. I'm self absorbed. Nah, not moi... I'm not going to lie, maybe a little, but the truth is, I like to put words together and always have.
I am a mom to two little ones. The 6 year old is, just in time, turning a corner and becoming really enjoyable. She almost got sent back. The 4 year old is a fine young man all-the-way around, but could whine a bit less (...in an effort to keep my comments "even". I am now the master at keeping every last molecule of oxygen and or food/toy item -"even."). Their hair is as red/orange as the setting sun. People ask me if it's dyed. Doesn't everyone dye their kids hair? They also get spray-tanned.
He, who is being referred to as Jose (at this time) has been mine for 15 years and is a stellar fellow. Sharp as a tack. He keeps my shoes organized and my heart full of love and some irritation now and again. He's also hot. He looks better as he gets older which is just... friggin' beyond annoying.
I currently stay at home with the little people (young) that live here. I usta work in apparel merchandising and miss getting paid for my work. Such a loaded topic. It's been a tough road wrought with isolation, self-doubt and the overwhelming desire to have some time to myself. Such first-world problems. Truly. Absolutely. Remember, self- absorbed... But, maybe, amid the need for "space" or the wanting my girl to stop running around like a feral child or the boy with the "maaaaam, she _____", it's also okay, because these are my experiences and as long as I can remember to raise my head up once in a while to take the long view, to remember how blessed I am to have the mass gobs of love I have (and the courage to make needed change when necessary), things will unfurl as God intends.
Right on.
I am a mom to two little ones. The 6 year old is, just in time, turning a corner and becoming really enjoyable. She almost got sent back. The 4 year old is a fine young man all-the-way around, but could whine a bit less (...in an effort to keep my comments "even". I am now the master at keeping every last molecule of oxygen and or food/toy item -"even."). Their hair is as red/orange as the setting sun. People ask me if it's dyed. Doesn't everyone dye their kids hair? They also get spray-tanned.
He, who is being referred to as Jose (at this time) has been mine for 15 years and is a stellar fellow. Sharp as a tack. He keeps my shoes organized and my heart full of love and some irritation now and again. He's also hot. He looks better as he gets older which is just... friggin' beyond annoying.
I currently stay at home with the little people (young) that live here. I usta work in apparel merchandising and miss getting paid for my work. Such a loaded topic. It's been a tough road wrought with isolation, self-doubt and the overwhelming desire to have some time to myself. Such first-world problems. Truly. Absolutely. Remember, self- absorbed... But, maybe, amid the need for "space" or the wanting my girl to stop running around like a feral child or the boy with the "maaaaam, she _____", it's also okay, because these are my experiences and as long as I can remember to raise my head up once in a while to take the long view, to remember how blessed I am to have the mass gobs of love I have (and the courage to make needed change when necessary), things will unfurl as God intends.
Right on.
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