|
|
One of Life’s Great Mysteries: SOLVED Getting your period on Halloween: A pleasant coincidence or irrefutable evidence that there IS a god? I prefer to believe that somebody up there thinks I’m SO awesome and deserving that they put my cycle in the direct path of a seemingly endless supply of chocolate. …………. I spent the entire day and evening of Halloween doing kid things starting with a “Costume Book Parade” (because the schools cannot directly reference Halloween in case it offends someone…frakking political correctness on steroids in the public schools = STUPID) at my son’s school. Later we went on a marathon trick or treat session complete with a tantrum right on the sidewalk (fortunately I’ve grown completely immune to the maternal humiliation that comes with one of those) and I ended the day falling asleep on the sofa in a sea of KitKat wrappers. Parenthood = proof that dignity is, in fact, totally overrated. Awesomely Awesome. How else could I possibly describe this past truth about enzyte weekend spent in O-Town (that’s Orlando to all you non-Floridians) with Anissa, Shash and Britt? I’ve tried to set up blogger get-togethers before and the lamers ended up bailing — no need to name names — YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! But this time, with the exception of Karl, who, sadly, couldn’t make it, we all showed up with bells on! It started with me driving from my house to Anissa’s house, which is about 20 minutes away via the expressway. We got on the interstate and were promptly greeted by what appeared to be a head on collision and one car on fire. YIKES. A couple miles later, traffic begins to slow and we eventually see a car tipped over on it’s side, with a tow truck driver sort of scratching his head while he ponders how the ever loving hell he’s gonna get this thing out of the median. Rubbernecking buttheads that we are, I slow down even more so Anissa can take a picture because we’re certain it will make an awesome submission to FAIL Blog. With assistance from TomTom, Anissa’s very chatty GPS thingy, we eventually we make it to Shash’s lovely home and spend the evening just chillin; eating pizza, watching Juno, blabbing and stalking Motherbumper’s Stylehive because she has the bestest taste in all of blogland. Saturday we headed out to do some shopping because Anissa needed shoes.
Can you guess which foot is mine? Then we met up with Miss Britt, (who is, BTW, one of them there Hot Blogger calendar girls) and went to eat. We spent most of our dinner taking pictures of each other while drinking tropical concoctions of the girly variety and then we headed to the outlet mall. Shopping is a very popular pastime in O-Town.
On the way there, while crawling through traffic, an extremely fine young man walking past decided to taunt us (okay, me) with his shirtlessness, causing numerous propositions of the unladylike variety to come flying out of our car. I vaguely recall someone (okay, me) yelling “We have moneyyyyyy!!! Later we got spiffed up and headed to Universal’s Citywalk which is basically a huge entertainment complex of nightclubs, restaurants, movie theaters etc.
We were having an awesome time at a dance club, what with random young guys hovering around us on the dancefloor (Hello stranger! My ego thanks you!) when we realized Shash’s purse, which contained all our cameras, phones, makeup etc had become inexplicably waterlogged. Everything was soaked and all electronics were non-working. As you may have guessed, it was a major buzzkill and thus we hopped in a cab and headed back to our hotel. The highlight of that little jaunt was when our cab driver asked how we all knew each other and we told him we were bloggers and Britt goes “Well, we’re kind of a big deal on the internet.” We were in hysterics — the humor clearly lost on our kindly old driver. When we arrived at the hotel, the poor guy accepted a drippy, soaking wet $20 bill from Anissa like it was a dead rat. I really didn’t blame him considering we had NO idea what the mystery liquid actually WAS. The next morning (me = slightly hungover) we checked out and got our cars from the valet but realized we hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye so we stopped in some random parking lot and took another frillion pictures before hitting the road home.
If you ever get a chance to hang out with Anissa, Shash or Britt, don’t miss it — Anissa is, seriously, as funny in person as she is on the internet. To call her the life of the party would be an understatement.
Shash is super nice as well as kind and thoughtful. If you ever need someone to talk to, she’s the one.
And Britt is like the girl next door — she’s a lot of fun and makes you instantly comfortable; you’ll feel like you’ve known her forever.
It never ceases to amaze me how people can merely read each other’s blogs and when in person, become such fast friends. We laughed a LOT, we might have teared up a tiny, tiny bit, we shared things in confidence and we had a LOT of girltalk (You missed out, Karl!). It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I really hope we get together again and hopefully Karl (and anyone else who wants in) will be able to join us for the madness of another blogger “Well, we’re kind of a big deal on the internet” weekend! Check out all the pix here! * I would be remiss if I didn’t include the weekend’s collective list of casualties: one toothbrush, one pillow, one pair of pajamas, four cameras (thankfully I’d only brought my crappy little Nikon and not the D-50), one cell phone, one Crackberry, lots of gum, mints and makeup and the air mattress that we killed Nation Lampoon’s Vacation-style by unwittingly dragging the power cord behind the car for well over an hour on the interstate. When we finally figured it out, the thing that used to be the plug was but a nub of plastic with one sad little prong miraculously still attached. And holymotherojeebus…I’m so glad it wasn’t as cold this weekend as it is now. I know you northerners will laugh hysterically but it’s been in the 40’s here and I’m SO DAMN COLD!!!!!!! Do you ever feel like you’re at some kind of turning point in your life but you don’t know where the turn will take you or when? I just don’t feel like writing about my life so much these days. That’s not to say it isn’t entirely bloggable, because there’s rarely a dull moment around here. I just seem to have misplaced my ability to see the possibilities in any of it. Maybe it’s writer’s block. *sigh* So what HAVE I been doing besides gazing at my navel? Um… • Reading a lot. • Watching season 1 of Gossip Girl while doing many, many, many crunches. My abs of steel should be appearing ANY DAY NOW. Heh. • Battling the killer headaches from hell. • Going to WAY too many kiddie birthday parties • Watching a lot of election coverage and hoping with every fiber of my being that the candidates supported by these lunatics (see below) do not win. What has happened to America? When did we become such a nation of a$$holes?
Today my husband had off from work for Columbus Day but my kids still had school. Translation: The huz and I were sans kids for part of the day. I know what you’re thinking, you naughty, naughty people. But no…we didn’t loll around in bed all day doing things currently only done under cover of night while the rugrats slumber. We actually both worked for most of the morning on our respective web development projects and about an hour and a half before school let out, we went to the mall to partake in some food court fare, mainly because we couldn’t decide where to eat and also because the mall is, literally, right down the street from my house. I know…totally lame way to spend a free day — but I’m OTR. The bed-lolling wasn’t going to happen regardless. The truth is, I can’t even remember the last time we did something alone, together. We walked through the mall HOLDING HANDS while talking, laughing and making fun of ugly stuff in the store windows. We ate and had an actual uninterrupted conversation. We were like…a couple again. Not parents. Not caretakers. Just us. And it was awesome. A couple of years ago, I wrote a post about teaching my daughter the “facts of life”. Having gone back and read it again, I’m shocked that I only have another year before I’m supposed to start having open and honest discussions with my daughter about her lady parts and how they pertain to babymaking and S-E-X and all the other stuff that should, ideally, be covered in such conversations. One year? I can’t even envision my baby, who is, in some ways, pretty sheltered, even being interested such things. Just answering her casual inquiries about why I need tampons practically sends her running from the room in total disgust. What do YOU remember about learning, or NOT learning the facts of life? You know — puberty, periods, sex and the like. Do you recall what you thought before you really knew what the deal was? And guys? What about you? I ask because last night I read this really interesting post by Tori about her daughter knowing the in’s and outs of having a period and it brought back all kinds of memories of growing up female. As I noted in Tori’s comments, my first experience with the curse, the monthly bill or as some call it, our friend, was seeing my much, much older sister changing her maxi pad in the bathroom when I was about 4. I was simultaneously mystified and horrified. She shooed me out of there but later I went back into the bathroom, plucked her pad out of the trash, unwrapped it and just looked at it. If I’d known the expression back then, you can bet I would have been saying “WTF????” Later, at a large holiday gathering I told everyone at the table about my discovery and even used my grandfather’s hankie as a prop to demonstrate how my sister put on a maxi pad. Yeah…she never really stopped being pissed about that. I wouldn’t have any more period shenanigans for quite some time after that and though I recall whispers and mentions of “the period” as I got older. it wasn’t until I read Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret by my beloved Judy Blume, when I was about 9 or 10 that I started to form a vague idea of what it was all about. I became very interested in the gear and would often peek inside people’s cabinets to see if they had any tampons or pads. My mom had the pads so those were no big deal but the tampons intrigued me. You must understand that I still was not clear on the mechanics of the whole thing so I was very curious as to where this big old Q-tip was supposed to go. Rather fortuitously, around that same time, my mom got me a book that was supposed to take care of everything and edumacate me on the mysterious details of womanhood. But it really didn’t help all that much. I had all the information…you know, like you bleed every 28 days to shed the uterine lining unless you’re pregnant yada yada yada but the diagrams were so scientific; so encyclopedic. It was hard to relate to or even imagine that I had all that weird stuff inside me. And sex? Oh yeah, I definitely wanted the scoop on sex. Forget it. No mention of the deed whatsoever. The book was strictly focused the assorted lady parts. All I knew about sex or “baby-making” was what I learned from an after- school special, which was also rather vague and as I recall, kind of cartoony. But it wouldn’t be long before information and MIS-information trickled down from older girls. As I recall, the first real scoop I ever heard about anything sexual was from my friend’s sister. She had befriended Lola, a French exchange student that we were in total awe of and Lola had informed her that when you “suck a boy’s penis” your lips get salty. I was all “Ewwww! Why the hell would anyone want to do THAT???” And really…salty?? Not quite how I’d describe it but I suppose it’s in the ball park of accurate. At the time, though, I imagined my lips encrusted with salt crystals like a pretzel…lol And I’ll never forget my cursory introduction to concept of homosexuality. Again, the same older sister as before was outside with my friend and I and in the distance, a girl name Jo rode past on the boulevard. Big sister and Jo exchanged some snarky words and then my friend’s sister shouted out what sounded like “You’re a lead!” As usual, I was clueless. “Lead?” I asked, “Why is she calling her a lead?” And my friend broke into gales of laughter. “Not LEAD!!! LEZ!!!” Me: Lez? I tried to play it cool but I was totally confused… In the next few years, I would learn the more accurate facts about sex but never from a parent. My mom passed away before I ever even got my period (at age 14 I was a late bloomer) and my stepmom did try to have “the talk” with us but my stepsister and I tormented her with the most ridiculous questions and then laughed hysterically. I plan on teaching my daughter all that puberty stuff as we go along and definitely, I want her to know everything about her period by age nine because girls develop SO early now. We’ve drunk organic milk since I was pregnant with her and we eat mostly organic meats so she’s being deprived of all those synthetic growth hormones. Add to that the fact that I was the last girl of all my friends to “become a woman” and it’s entirely possible that she, too, will be a late bloomer. Hopefully, if that’s the case, she won’t hate it as much as I did. As for the big sex talk, I guess that sort of goes along with the period talk but God, nine seems awfully young to be discussing such mature things. I do suspect I’m deluding myself, though, and that if I waited any longer, I run the risk of being laughed at and ridiculed like my poor stepmother was. She’ll be six in a couple months and nine in only three years. I only have three years (or less) to address all of this. *deep breath* I just got my annual open invitation to my step-aunt’s house for Thanksgiving *big sigh* This is always a downer for me because I know I won’t be going. And then I think about how long it’s been since I’ve seen everyone. And I think about all the people who have never met my son and probably never will. It just bums me out because I’d actually really love to go. But I can’t because SHE will be there — “she” being my sister. My sister and I haven’t spoken in four years; since my father’s memorial service. I know. It’s SUCH a cliché. Family member dies and surviving family members have a falling out and never speak again. Thing is…it wasn’t over an inheritance or who got Dad’s favorite fishing pole or whatever. It was over something as ridiculous an an imaginary slight; something that didn’t even happen. My husband was ready to beat someone’s ass because of how my sister and her husband treated me over this nonsense, on the night before our dad’s memorial service, and I apologized for something I didn’t even do to keep the peace. But I guess that wasn’t enough. When we left to go home, I foolishly thought that everything was okay. I thought my apology had appeased her and her idiot husband and that we could just move past that awful weekend. I even fought with my own husband, who by then officially despised both of them, about inviting them as I did every year, to my daughter’s birthday party. She never responded. Never RSVP’d. The day of my daughter’s party a birthday card arrived with a note inside, to a child that wasn’t old enough to read, saying they were sorry they wouldn’t be able to come. She couldn’t be bothered to let me know me via phone, email, text, instant message or any other means and say that they wouldn’t be able to come? Seriously? I made no attempts after that to contact her. That was in August of 2004. At Christmas she sent my daughter a $50 check which I quietly ripped up and threw away. I really resented that she thought she could still have contact with my child while treating me like I had the plague. We were a package deal — my daughter, my husband and myself. Take all of us. Or none of us. The following spring, she sent my daughter a souvenir t-shirt from Europe. I put it up in the closet and forgot all about it, still pissed that she thought she could be a part of my child’s life while totally shunning me. To be honest, I don’t miss her that much. For someone only five feet tall, a full nine inches shorter than myself, she was always kind of scary to me. Perhaps it’s because she’s ten years older and was always very bossy, critical and scathingly judgmental. In any case, her absence in my life has actually allowed me to exhale and relax a little. I no longer had to worry about what tactless, hurtful thing she would say to me or have to choke back a biting response for the sake of family harmony. And my God, she’s always had the most enormous chip on her shoulder. It involved numerous gripes and perceived injustices — blended family issues, being adopted issues, feeling like my dad liked his “new” family better issues… It was always something and she spent her life keeping score. But to be fair, she had good qualities, too. She was very generous with money and material things, if that could be considered a “good” quality. I think because of her extreme emotional constipation, it was her way of showing love. She also had a strange sort of charisma — that she reserved for other people. I rarely got to enjoy that side of her. The really messed up part is how nobody in the family (step-family) will acknowledge this falling out between us. Everyone knows but they all tiptoe around it, which is so typical — they always pretend unpleasant things don’t really exist. But if you make any reference to it at all, even just to say that you don’t want to attend some event because she and her idiot husband might be there, they all start making noises about how they don’t want to get involved and it REALLY pisses me off. I have NEVER asked anyone to GET INVOLVED. Apparently merely expecting those people to acknowledge reality is one really tall effing order. I know she would NEVER refrain from attending something because I might be there. She’s just that kind of in-your-face obnoxious. So…I opt out instead. I just can’t stomach the idea of being around her — the tension, the visceral anxiety I would feel — it’s just not worth it. I honestly dread the day someone in the “family” dies because I know there won’t be any avoiding her. And how befitting that the last time I saw her was when someone died. Gah. I can’t decide if I’m doing my children a disservice or not. They’re not related to any of the people that would be at this Thanksgiving thing any more than I am. I actually have no other family if you don’t count my assload of step-relatives. Do they count? Should they? It seems now that my Dad is gone, so many of those ties have frayed. He truly was the glue that held us all together. So, we’ll either spend Thanksgiving with my mother-in-law, here in town, or she’ll leave to go to one of my husband’s sibling’s homes around the state. Of course, we’ll be invited and of course, we probably won’t go. My husband, who comes from an awesome family, just doesn’t know how good he has it. He doesn’t make any extraneous efforts to maintain a close relationship with his siblings. I mean he loves them and all, but he doesn’t realize how lucky he his and doesn’t cherish what he has. I feel like my kids are the ones who are getting cheated. They deserve to have a circle of aunts, uncles and cousins that they actually know and love. So…I think I’m going to push for some kind of extended family Thanksgiving this year. Just not with MY family… About once or twice a year, I find myself writing about my how quickly my babies are growing up. I know it’s a well-worn path in the mommy blogosphere but I find myself there once again and I simply cannot suppress the urge to put my melancholy into words. My daughter is eight now. Eight. When I was a kid, I knew girls that were getting boobs at nine. Boobs. Breasts. Puberty. Nine. I often find myself wondering how much longer it will be before she rejects me altogether and retreats into her secret tween world where moms are hopelessly lame and most unwelcome. I shudder and feel slightly sick thinking about it. Last night, my husband and I were musing at how she has really blossomed this year; really come into her own, so to speak. Even her Brownie troop leader noticed it at the first post-summer meeting. Theoretically, this is a good thing and yet, sitting on the porch, I actually cried about her growing up and becoming this, this…person. It’s silly, I know. She’s something of an enigma to me, my daughter. She’s similar to me in so many ways and yet so different. Sometimes I wonder if this is, simply put, the way of the mother-daughter relationship. Interestingly enough, however, I find that as she matures, there is much more for us to share. Last weekend we watched “The Devil Wears Prada” together. The weekend before that we watched “Little Women.” I was secretly thrilled that she was interested enough to sit down and watch with me. It gave me hope that maybe we aren’t so different after all. In any case, I’m working on trying to keep her close to me, to build a bridge between us that will withstand pubertal mood swings, teenage tantrums and any other unforeseen curveballs. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Breaking old habits and trying to incorporate new, more effective ways of relating to my kids takes a certain amount of discipline, which I don’t naturally possess. I just hope I can keep it up. This growing-up thing is agonizing to me, at times. Dealing with a sullen, distant pre-teen child in the near future would probably send me over the edge… On the same topic, I’ve been reading a book called “Hold on to Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More Than Peers.” Peers aren’t yet an issue for us but I’m reading it because it was recommended to me by Cristina, my partner over at Green Mom Finds. This book has helped me to understand the nature of children in ways I never did before and it suddenly all seems so obvious. *smacks head* I won’t bore you with the details but I highly, HIGHLY recommend it. ……………………. Have you noticed I’ve been away from the computer a lot the past week or two? Not much blogging happening and almost no twittering… It’s AMAZING how much stuff you can actually get done when you pretend blogs don’t exist — like finish the other three books in the Twilight saga AND start reading the partial draft for book five. Is there something wrong with me (like severe arrested development) that though I’m a grown woman, I STILL enjoy “young adult” fiction? Is it weird that I think about the characters from the Twilight books like they’re real? Is it weird that I wish I had someone, like a book club or even a friend (ahem…that would be you, Apryl) to discuss them with? Is it weird that I CAN’T F*CKING WAIT FOR THE MOVIE TO COME OUT ON 11-21-08? That I will happily sit in a theater crammed to the gills with gaggles of teenage girls and probably a few boys to watch a movie that will probably NEVER compare to the books? Is it weird that reading these books has unearthed something long buried in me? That now when I listen to desperate, heart-wrenching love songs I totally GET THEM again? Because I’m NOT SAPPY ENOUGH already. Well, I don’t care. And if anyone out there wants to discuss Edward Cullen as the perfect male, I’m available. |