4 little words. 4 little words changed my life. Silly. I guess I knew it was possible. We have always been bad choice-makers. Not like life-ending or extreme danger kind of choice-makers. Just stupid. Uncommunicative. Assuming. I thought we were safe. Why? Too afraid to think any other way? I just didn't want to let myself go there.
But April came. Toward the end of that beautiful, frilly, pink laced month I found a text message on my phone. I had to read it again, and again, and again. It just didn't make sense. It wasn't provocative. It wasn't overtly sexual. But it was intimate. It was not meant for me. I was never supposed to see it. It was meant to be sent to one of my closest friends at that time. Someone I trusted implicitly. Someone I adored. Someone he very obviously had romantic feelings for. There was, again at that time, no denying he had feelings for her. And she was too afraid to tell me how she actually felt about him. Didn't really matter after all. The damage for me was done. I was devastated.
The 4 little words came later on that night in the midst of a horrible argument. To say I fell apart is a gross understatement. My little world, everything I had known for the past 17 1/2 years, was gone. Someone told me at that time I was absolutely dis- regulated. A bit of an understatement now that I look back. But my unraveling didn't end there. Basically I spent the entire summer acting like a lunatic trying desperately to save what was and is unsaveable. Breaking my heart again and again and dragging my beloved children along with me. I did these things. My anxious nature didn't want me to see or accept responsibility for my life collapsing the way I allowed it to. And those 4 little words just bounced around inside my head. I prayed, bargained, pleaded, but nothing could save me from myself. No one but me.
This is not a happy re-entry to my blog. But it will get better. There are things that ARE better. Despite having one very bad friend, I have many, many wonderful, supportive, funny friends. Friends that make me laugh. Friends that pray for me. Friends that listen or take my mind off things. And in the past several weeks I have been able to set myself free some. I haven't catapulted myself yet........but someday I will. This situation is a long way from being settled. Everyday.....like 100's of thousands of other women (and men) I fumble along in my new founded state of no longer being founded. And every night...EVERY NIGHT....I am BETTER for it. Every morning I am better. I am sad. My heart hurts. I am mourning something precious. But I am also recognizing the precious in many other things. There is power in taking care of yourself. There is power in music. There is power in my children. Mostly there is power in my friendships........(family included.) No one may be as lucky as I am to have such amazing friends. New ones. Old ones. You are floating me along and I will never forget it.
Oh....those 4 little words......."My feelings have changed" still hurt. But I am working on letting them go. Looking forward to the day that those words float away like butterflies and never, ever return.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
My First 5K. It's All Downhill From Here
Sooo.....right after Christmas I overheard a friend of mine say she was training for a half-marathon. I piped up that I would love to train with her. She said the race was 4 months away and I thought "Hmmm....I can do that!" So I went home all excited, sat down at the computer, and began to research training. Now, let me explain something. I am, and always have been, a walker. Sometimes walking 3 miles, sometimes 5. I will do it for months straight then stop for whatever reason. I am not a member of a gym, nor do I have any indoor exercise devices. I have ALWAYS walked outside. Periodically, (and by that I mean anytime in the past 20 or so years) I have tried to run. I more gallumph than run. I just never was good at it, so I never stuck with it. That being said, after spending the last 2 months fighting a crippling depression where I was mostly in bed, I knew I was literally starting from scratch. But, really needing something to obsess over, I pressed on with my research. Oh it would be no problem to do a half-marathon, I discovered. As long as you are currently running 8 to 10 miles weekly, 4 months is a great training period. Um....yeah....the only running I was doing was running back to my bed after I unlocked the door in the afternoon to let the kids in from school. And now, on a new anti-depressant, just staying awake felt like exercise. Oh. And I am 44. But then my husband suggested that I start with something a little more feasible. Why don't I do a 5K? So after doing a bit of research I found a race in Nashville that was exactly 2 months away. I clicked on the link, signed up, and "Operation Butt Off the Couch" became a reality.
Now I am 2 weeks into "training." I am still terrible at running. I believe a tortoise AND a snail would smoke me. But, after finding a 2 month training schedule for a 5K called "Couch to 5K" (which describes me to a T), I am trying. At this point I cannot tell that I am improving, except that I am adding distance to my walks. And my neighborhood is HILLY. So, in all honesty, right now I am really just running downhill. My calves are sore, but oddly enough, the backache that has been plaguing me for months is pretty much gone. Maybe it's the stretching. Whatever it is, I'll take it. I sincerely hope to run this sucker. I may have to run and walk it. But on ST. Patrick's Day, early, eaaaarrrllllyyyy in the morning, I am going to be there. Walk, run, whatever.......I will do it. Hopefully running. I don't have running shoes because I invested in a very expensive pair of walking shoes over the summer and cannot justify the cost of running shoes just yet. My clothes are dorky old mom clothes, as I haven't bought any sleek, brightly colored Under Armor yet either.......but.......eff that. I'm going to do it anyway. Clomping, with my weird running gait, pushing up my glasses as they fall down my nose. Hey, my Mom did 5K's when she was 44, and she had a toddler! SO, using her as my inspiration, and because I cannot allow stupid depression to win, I am going to try this thing. I'll let ya' know how it goes.
Now I am 2 weeks into "training." I am still terrible at running. I believe a tortoise AND a snail would smoke me. But, after finding a 2 month training schedule for a 5K called "Couch to 5K" (which describes me to a T), I am trying. At this point I cannot tell that I am improving, except that I am adding distance to my walks. And my neighborhood is HILLY. So, in all honesty, right now I am really just running downhill. My calves are sore, but oddly enough, the backache that has been plaguing me for months is pretty much gone. Maybe it's the stretching. Whatever it is, I'll take it. I sincerely hope to run this sucker. I may have to run and walk it. But on ST. Patrick's Day, early, eaaaarrrllllyyyy in the morning, I am going to be there. Walk, run, whatever.......I will do it. Hopefully running. I don't have running shoes because I invested in a very expensive pair of walking shoes over the summer and cannot justify the cost of running shoes just yet. My clothes are dorky old mom clothes, as I haven't bought any sleek, brightly colored Under Armor yet either.......but.......eff that. I'm going to do it anyway. Clomping, with my weird running gait, pushing up my glasses as they fall down my nose. Hey, my Mom did 5K's when she was 44, and she had a toddler! SO, using her as my inspiration, and because I cannot allow stupid depression to win, I am going to try this thing. I'll let ya' know how it goes.
Monday, December 19, 2011
For My Sister.......A Teeny Little, Merry Little Memory
My Mama and Daddy had a very troubled marriage that dragged on for years. Now I am not going to throw them under the bus or anything. Maybe pre-kids I would have, but funny how children really make you reflect honestly on things, and that is not what this post is about. It is easy to look at what all parents do or did wrong, but I want to share something my parents did right. Absolutely right. Christmas. They had such a gift (har-dee-har) for getting Christmas right, year after year. And while I do suspect I am looking at this through rose-colored glasses, the magic my parents created deserves to be treasured. Especially for my sister, Jen, who packed away her memories long ago. This is for you.
Christmas in the 1970's consisted of nights leading up to the 24th spent in front of the giant console television watching Rankin and Bass puppets learn lessons and sing songs that still get stuck in my head today. A red plastic tray was always on our table, filled with nuts (uh, the unshelled kind....we had to do all the work.). A green polyester macrame Christmas tree with wooden red beads was always on the wall. That ribbony hard candy that tasted stale was in the Holiday candy jar. Boxes of Queen Anne's chocolate covered cherries were stacked on top of our (avocado green) refrigerator. A live tree was usually purchased around the 18th of December. It would have to sit in the garage overnight so the limbs would "relax." That would be pure torture! I remember my sister and I sitting on the cold, wooden steps just looking at that beautiful, dark tree, and smelling its wonderful aroma......so excited about bringing it inside to decorate. Argh....it was all about patience. Once the tree was brought inside, we had to wait for Mama and Daddy to test and string the lights. That just about took 10 forevers. When the lights were on, then Mama would get out the ornaments. Glass ones she and Daddy hung. The painted wooden ones, and the baked ones, Jen and I were allowed to hang.....as long as we spaced them correctly, and didn't get too many of the same kind in one spot. All the while the Robert Shaw Chorale Christmas album was playing on the record player. (It had scratches....so "The Little Drummer Boy" parumpapumpmed about a million times.) After our tree was up, Jen and I would just admire it....my goodness.they were so beautiful. Mama almost always made chili-dogs when we decorated the tree. We would eat them with Fritos. If we were really lucky, we would maybe get Doritos with melted cheese and jalapeno's on them. Then the four of us would turn off all the house lights, sit on the scratchy couch, and admire our amazing Christmas tree. It was magic!
Most Christmas Eve's we went to church. I recall the music had lots of bells ringing and chiming. I remember sitting in the pew, looking out the distorted glass windows, just praying for a glimpse of the mighty star, or Santa. I really wasn't picky as to which I saw. My Grandfather (who was our minister), usually kept Christmas Eve services short and sweet. But ALWAYS at the end we would sing "Silent Night" a capella. It still gives me chills to think about it. All the church lights would be brought down, we would move in close to one another, and then sing. The magic literally hung in the air.
After church, we would go to our grandparents for a "light" dinner. It was really just eating all the Christmas goodies you can imagine. And when your Grandfather is preacher at a large church.....people LOVE to bring over goodies. I remember there was this one lady who made Christmas pickles every year. They were so yummy. And my Grandfather had a good friend who worked for Frito-Lay. He would send over a big sample pack of chips!! My sister and I adored that particular gift. Not sure why....maybe it was the box they came in. At any rate, we felt so lucky to get to eat chips AND have soda!! Then Jen and I were allowed to open one gift. Of course, it was Christmas pajamas.....but I remember being so excited to get them. They usually matched, were fire-retardant, and itchy as hell. But we would put them on, have our pictures taken, then we were ready to go home and go to bed........c'mon....Santa had to come!!!!
And come he did.........We would wake up at the crack of dawn Christmas morning. We had to wait at the end of the hall, so Mama and Daddy could go start coffee and turn on the tree lights. We could hear them talking: "Oh my...wonder who that is for?" And: "Look at those stockings....they sure are full!" GAAAHHH....the torture was cruel....they moved SO slow. Finally we were allowed to run in.......and there, in all its sparkling glory.....was proof that Santa had come!! Stockings stuffed with the neatest things. Barbies, roller skates, chalk boards, basket balls, Mousetrap, Toss Across, the Jaws game, Playdough.....whatever it was....it was ALWAYS perfect. Some things were wrapped, some all set up (like the year we got the doll house....that was cool!) Mama and Daddy always seemed just as delighted as we did with what Santa had brought us. Then they would give us gifts from them (clothes)...then they would open gifts. They never fought. Mama would make a most amazing breakfast of country ham, redeye gravy, garlic grits and a fruit salad. Robert Shaw Chorale would skip through both sides of the album......and family would come to us, or visa versa. The day just nearly burst with love, excitement, and happiness.
Christmases stayed this way for years. Our family grew, people moved, babies were born, Christmas stayed magic. Even through most of high school. Things eventually did change. We grew. Mama and Daddy divorced, remarried, more children came along....then boyfriends, husbands, children of our own. Now it is up to us to build our own magic. And it is really hard. I have to hand it to my parents. I don't know how they did it. They fought a lot, and at times were terribly unhappy. Yet they held it together at Christmas. I am eternally grateful. My own marriage is fraught with issues this year.....but I gotta believe in the magic. Mama and Daddy set the bar high. My children deserve nothing less than magic themselves. And for my sister.....well, she deserves a few really sweet memories of our childhood. Ones which I am so happy to be able to supply. Merry Christmas Jen.............This is for you.
Christmas in the 1970's consisted of nights leading up to the 24th spent in front of the giant console television watching Rankin and Bass puppets learn lessons and sing songs that still get stuck in my head today. A red plastic tray was always on our table, filled with nuts (uh, the unshelled kind....we had to do all the work.). A green polyester macrame Christmas tree with wooden red beads was always on the wall. That ribbony hard candy that tasted stale was in the Holiday candy jar. Boxes of Queen Anne's chocolate covered cherries were stacked on top of our (avocado green) refrigerator. A live tree was usually purchased around the 18th of December. It would have to sit in the garage overnight so the limbs would "relax." That would be pure torture! I remember my sister and I sitting on the cold, wooden steps just looking at that beautiful, dark tree, and smelling its wonderful aroma......so excited about bringing it inside to decorate. Argh....it was all about patience. Once the tree was brought inside, we had to wait for Mama and Daddy to test and string the lights. That just about took 10 forevers. When the lights were on, then Mama would get out the ornaments. Glass ones she and Daddy hung. The painted wooden ones, and the baked ones, Jen and I were allowed to hang.....as long as we spaced them correctly, and didn't get too many of the same kind in one spot. All the while the Robert Shaw Chorale Christmas album was playing on the record player. (It had scratches....so "The Little Drummer Boy" parumpapumpmed about a million times.) After our tree was up, Jen and I would just admire it....my goodness.they were so beautiful. Mama almost always made chili-dogs when we decorated the tree. We would eat them with Fritos. If we were really lucky, we would maybe get Doritos with melted cheese and jalapeno's on them. Then the four of us would turn off all the house lights, sit on the scratchy couch, and admire our amazing Christmas tree. It was magic!
Most Christmas Eve's we went to church. I recall the music had lots of bells ringing and chiming. I remember sitting in the pew, looking out the distorted glass windows, just praying for a glimpse of the mighty star, or Santa. I really wasn't picky as to which I saw. My Grandfather (who was our minister), usually kept Christmas Eve services short and sweet. But ALWAYS at the end we would sing "Silent Night" a capella. It still gives me chills to think about it. All the church lights would be brought down, we would move in close to one another, and then sing. The magic literally hung in the air.
After church, we would go to our grandparents for a "light" dinner. It was really just eating all the Christmas goodies you can imagine. And when your Grandfather is preacher at a large church.....people LOVE to bring over goodies. I remember there was this one lady who made Christmas pickles every year. They were so yummy. And my Grandfather had a good friend who worked for Frito-Lay. He would send over a big sample pack of chips!! My sister and I adored that particular gift. Not sure why....maybe it was the box they came in. At any rate, we felt so lucky to get to eat chips AND have soda!! Then Jen and I were allowed to open one gift. Of course, it was Christmas pajamas.....but I remember being so excited to get them. They usually matched, were fire-retardant, and itchy as hell. But we would put them on, have our pictures taken, then we were ready to go home and go to bed........c'mon....Santa had to come!!!!
And come he did.........We would wake up at the crack of dawn Christmas morning. We had to wait at the end of the hall, so Mama and Daddy could go start coffee and turn on the tree lights. We could hear them talking: "Oh my...wonder who that is for?" And: "Look at those stockings....they sure are full!" GAAAHHH....the torture was cruel....they moved SO slow. Finally we were allowed to run in.......and there, in all its sparkling glory.....was proof that Santa had come!! Stockings stuffed with the neatest things. Barbies, roller skates, chalk boards, basket balls, Mousetrap, Toss Across, the Jaws game, Playdough.....whatever it was....it was ALWAYS perfect. Some things were wrapped, some all set up (like the year we got the doll house....that was cool!) Mama and Daddy always seemed just as delighted as we did with what Santa had brought us. Then they would give us gifts from them (clothes)...then they would open gifts. They never fought. Mama would make a most amazing breakfast of country ham, redeye gravy, garlic grits and a fruit salad. Robert Shaw Chorale would skip through both sides of the album......and family would come to us, or visa versa. The day just nearly burst with love, excitement, and happiness.
Christmases stayed this way for years. Our family grew, people moved, babies were born, Christmas stayed magic. Even through most of high school. Things eventually did change. We grew. Mama and Daddy divorced, remarried, more children came along....then boyfriends, husbands, children of our own. Now it is up to us to build our own magic. And it is really hard. I have to hand it to my parents. I don't know how they did it. They fought a lot, and at times were terribly unhappy. Yet they held it together at Christmas. I am eternally grateful. My own marriage is fraught with issues this year.....but I gotta believe in the magic. Mama and Daddy set the bar high. My children deserve nothing less than magic themselves. And for my sister.....well, she deserves a few really sweet memories of our childhood. Ones which I am so happy to be able to supply. Merry Christmas Jen.............This is for you.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
7 Year Itch
I am feeling unsettled. I am feeling confused. I am thinking of a conversation I had with someone at Christmas 7 years ago. Yep, that's right...7 years ago! This conversation floats through my brain periodically, because I have never, NEVER been able to make heads or tails out of the meaning....yet I don't think the attitude is that unusual. Anyway, as best as I can recall it...here goes:
I had, at the time. a 5 week old baby who was terribly colicky. He was fussy and irritable, therefore I was fussy and irritable. My husband had just found out that the job he had through a government contracting agency had basically totally fallen through. Rent, bills, groceries, 3 children were consuming my every thought. And it was Christmas. Oh.......and I had a raging stomach virus. Oh....and I was having trouble nursing fussy boy because he latched like a vortex. I literally almost fainted every time I nursed him. Oh....and one other detail.......a massive tsunami had just decimated parts of South Asia. The images were completely heartbreaking. The death and destruction were so random.
So.....I will make this little disclaimer....My husband and I were responsible for the situation that our family was in. It was not luck or anything like that....just very poor planning. But colic and stomach viruses happen....and I was sleep deprived and miserable. Then a former family member starts talking about Christmas shopping. He is going on and on about how he hates being at the mall and but that somehow he found himself there and was knocking stuff off his Christmas list like crazy. Then he says this "I was looking for this crazy, funky pair of tights for my niece. I knew they had them at this store, but couldn't find her color or size. There was all this rushing around in the store to find these perfect tights, but I wasn't having any luck. SO I stopped in the middle of the store, lifted my problem up to the Lord, and prayed. And when I opened my eyes after the prayer, there on a table close by, were the exact tights I was searching for. God is good! The Lord answers prayers." He......was.....serious.
As I type this, I realize it was much less of a conversation than a sermon (maybe?). I remember feeling literally sick. Punched in the gut. Yet I could not figure out exactly why I felt that way. I think my mind was full of images of children being swept out of their Mama's arms, loved ones being pulled away by a natural force far stronger than love and desperation.
God is good. The Lord answers prayers. Prayers about tights.
I have NEVER been able to reconcile this "conversation." Never been able to get a good sense of it. But for 7 years it has haunted my heart. Now I have it out of my heart, and on a computer. Ready for anyone to help me make sense of it.
I know there is so much suffering in the world. But I also know there is SO MUCH GOOD. So why does this odd episode from late 2004 refuse to leave my memory? Why am I bringing it up now? Maybe because there IS so much suffering in the world. Maybe I am just wondering where prayers land. Maybe I just do not know the answer. Maybe I never will. I have certainly been the recipient of answered prayers. This just confuses me even more. Trying to make sense out of a 7 year old conversation that just happened to take place after the tsunami. Prayers about tights...............huh............still confusing me all these years later.
I had, at the time. a 5 week old baby who was terribly colicky. He was fussy and irritable, therefore I was fussy and irritable. My husband had just found out that the job he had through a government contracting agency had basically totally fallen through. Rent, bills, groceries, 3 children were consuming my every thought. And it was Christmas. Oh.......and I had a raging stomach virus. Oh....and I was having trouble nursing fussy boy because he latched like a vortex. I literally almost fainted every time I nursed him. Oh....and one other detail.......a massive tsunami had just decimated parts of South Asia. The images were completely heartbreaking. The death and destruction were so random.
So.....I will make this little disclaimer....My husband and I were responsible for the situation that our family was in. It was not luck or anything like that....just very poor planning. But colic and stomach viruses happen....and I was sleep deprived and miserable. Then a former family member starts talking about Christmas shopping. He is going on and on about how he hates being at the mall and but that somehow he found himself there and was knocking stuff off his Christmas list like crazy. Then he says this "I was looking for this crazy, funky pair of tights for my niece. I knew they had them at this store, but couldn't find her color or size. There was all this rushing around in the store to find these perfect tights, but I wasn't having any luck. SO I stopped in the middle of the store, lifted my problem up to the Lord, and prayed. And when I opened my eyes after the prayer, there on a table close by, were the exact tights I was searching for. God is good! The Lord answers prayers." He......was.....serious.
As I type this, I realize it was much less of a conversation than a sermon (maybe?). I remember feeling literally sick. Punched in the gut. Yet I could not figure out exactly why I felt that way. I think my mind was full of images of children being swept out of their Mama's arms, loved ones being pulled away by a natural force far stronger than love and desperation.
God is good. The Lord answers prayers. Prayers about tights.
I have NEVER been able to reconcile this "conversation." Never been able to get a good sense of it. But for 7 years it has haunted my heart. Now I have it out of my heart, and on a computer. Ready for anyone to help me make sense of it.
I know there is so much suffering in the world. But I also know there is SO MUCH GOOD. So why does this odd episode from late 2004 refuse to leave my memory? Why am I bringing it up now? Maybe because there IS so much suffering in the world. Maybe I am just wondering where prayers land. Maybe I just do not know the answer. Maybe I never will. I have certainly been the recipient of answered prayers. This just confuses me even more. Trying to make sense out of a 7 year old conversation that just happened to take place after the tsunami. Prayers about tights...............huh............still confusing me all these years later.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Hope
Haven't written in such a long time. My fingers are cold and my typing is horrendous! But I am going to write about something! I might as well write it out because I think about it constantly. I don't know if others go through this or not. Recent events are causing me not just to question everything I ever believed in....but to actually really wonder what is going on. I am not going to write about it right now. I do assume it will make me lose friends. Oh well...........I wanna be honest. I have been totally obsessing over a word lately.....and that word is "Hope." Hopehopehope.......it's a very pretty word.....and it is keeping me going. But right now I have to take Blondie to Girl Scouts. I want to write about hope.......because it is a season for hope. Because I have hope. Because I love having hope. Because things may be weird and difficult......................but I have hope. I love having hope. In fact.....if you don't have hope.....I will give you some of mine! I gotta go! Duty calls. Must get back on the Mommy clock. More about hope later.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
My children.....I completely adore them. I try to teach them right from wrong based on my very basic understanding of the concept. I try to look out for them, while letting them make, and be responsible for their own choices. I am not a perfect Mama. Very far from it. I have eccentricities, issues, and hang-ups that affect my children every day. My battle with anxiety is on-going, and I know they pay the price sometimes. But I (and my husband) have continually tried to teach them that God's love knows no bounds. That race is not an issue in our house. That the color of your skin should have no bearing on who you are. I had actually not had any "in your face" racism to deal with when it came to my children, until we moved to Tennessee. I mean, it was there.....I heard it, to a degree.......but mostly ignored it. I mean, how could it affect me, right? I am a (sorta) middle class white woman who is fairly open-minded. Maybe I should have examined that part of myself further. Maybe I will. But now, this has to do with my children. I came of age in Alabama....so why is this crap surprising me??? But it is. And it is making me very, very angry. Recently we went to pick one child up at a friend's house. My husband gets out of the car to get that child. Uncle of child's friend asks my husband if he was in the military. My husband says he was. Uncle of child's friend proceeds to tell my husband that he was injured while in the military because "some n----- wasn't paying attention to his job." This man has NEVER met us before. Hasn't even seen me. Doesn't know my race. Says this IN FRONT of my child! My husband came back to the car bewildered. We reiterated to our children that that kind of talk was NOT acceptable....but I felt upset none-the-less. Why would this man assume we would ever agree with him, or think that was an appropriate way to speak in front of someone he had just met? My guess is.....this dude talks like that all of the time, and it means absolutely nothing to him. Then the other night, one of my children's friends tells me that his/her parents told them that dating outside of one's race was against God! Arrgghh!!!!! What an ugly, short-sided way to use God to support your own prejudices! So now, I am helping one of my children unravel the feelings of fright about God's wrath and find answers to some very tough questions. I also know that my middle-schooler has heard things at school that have upset her. You don't have to like our president....but PLEASE keep your racist comments to yourself....'cause your children are going to repeat them at school! My grade-schooler has heard things on her bus as well....oh...AND heard some children saying some pretty bad things at school when Obama did his speech for school children last year. But....while they have a right to believe and teach their chikdren whatever they feel is right, I have a right to disagree AND demand my children not have to be privy to it at school. I guess as far as friends go...I have to just be there for them. I don't feel like keeping them away from friends whose parents I disagree with is the right answer. This is so tricky. And it is such a broad topic. Religion, race, politics......heavy stuff for such young people. But this is the world we live in. I love it and I love our country. SO I guess I will just focus on my own 3 precious children. My gifts..............(given to me). Every once in a while, the awesomeness of responsibility in raising children just brings me to my knees. I guess that's not such a bad place to fall.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sooooo...........it's been a while. It's summer in full swing and the temps are already in the high 90's and it is not the heat.....it is the humidity, stupid!!
Anyway....been hanging out at the pool with the rest of the suburban moms (though they are probably school teachers out for the summer, and or not putting their families in dire straits while being out of work.) Bitter much? But really, I love the neighborhood pool. I am a people watcher by nature and have certainly observed some stereo-types over the past 2 weeks. I need to be clear, I am a chubby, very ordinary looking woman....I may fit into all category's or I may fit into none. These are just observations.
The Mom Who Doesn't Want Her Children Splashed- She may be my least favorite. The pool is full of children letting off energy. Full of parents playing with their kids. Chances are your precious little 2 year old is going to get splashed during an over-zealous game of sharks and minnows. Get over it....or take them to the baby pool. Oh....and I bet you park your giant Graco in the aisles of restaurants, don't you? yeah....I thought so.........
The Mom With The AAAHHHHMMMAAAZZZIIINNNGGG Boobs!!- Okay....I've had 3 kids. My boobs are big(ish) and staring at my toes. She's had 3 kids. Her boobs are up to her chin! They are, what, an E? And so perfectly round. Dolly has nothing on this gal.
The Mom Who Should Buy A New Bathing Suit- Just one made in this century. That's all.
The Drunk Creeper Dad- I suspect that 64ounce cup from "On the Run" is not full of Mountain Dew. Maybe it's because I can smell you 3 feet away. No, I don't want to be thrown, thank you. Neither does my husband. Really. Stop looking at my 13 year old when she walks away. REALLY!!!!!!
Dad's Who Bond With Kids By Throwing Them 7 Feet in the Air- Son....I haven't seen you all week....let me fling you into the next time zone!! Don't cry.....that'll just need some stitches, and your baby toe is over-rated anyway!!
Mom Who Wears a Bikini No Matter What- This is maybe the person at the pool I could learn the most from. Stretch Marks? Yeah, so what!! Overweight? You got a problem with that? I love how this mom carries herself. She is so confident in her body and skin. She is enjoying her children and her friends and she's gonna wear a bikini no matter what. Good for her.
The Mom Who Brings the Neighborhood- You know her. She has something like 14 kids with her. She stays all day. She brings two 24 packs of soda's and as many canister's of Pringles Foodlion can keep in stock. Are those brownies on her table? I'm gonna go sit by her.
There is so much more about the pool that I love. I love how teen boys remind me of labrador puppies. Fighting and wrestling and trying to be the Alpha Dog. I love (and remember) how the teen age girls 'get ready' to go to the pool. They are so pretty. Their skin is so smooth and tan. They fix their hair and put on make up. They stand at the end of the diving board for at least 5 minutes. Okay. All eyes are on them. Everyone is watching to see what she's gonna do. She gets off the board and goes back to tanning. I love summer.
It goes by all to fast. Enjoy your summer!! Wear lots and lots of sunscreen. We'll be wearing jackets before you know it!!!
Anyway....been hanging out at the pool with the rest of the suburban moms (though they are probably school teachers out for the summer, and or not putting their families in dire straits while being out of work.) Bitter much? But really, I love the neighborhood pool. I am a people watcher by nature and have certainly observed some stereo-types over the past 2 weeks. I need to be clear, I am a chubby, very ordinary looking woman....I may fit into all category's or I may fit into none. These are just observations.
The Mom Who Doesn't Want Her Children Splashed- She may be my least favorite. The pool is full of children letting off energy. Full of parents playing with their kids. Chances are your precious little 2 year old is going to get splashed during an over-zealous game of sharks and minnows. Get over it....or take them to the baby pool. Oh....and I bet you park your giant Graco in the aisles of restaurants, don't you? yeah....I thought so.........
The Mom With The AAAHHHHMMMAAAZZZIIINNNGGG Boobs!!- Okay....I've had 3 kids. My boobs are big(ish) and staring at my toes. She's had 3 kids. Her boobs are up to her chin! They are, what, an E? And so perfectly round. Dolly has nothing on this gal.
The Mom Who Should Buy A New Bathing Suit- Just one made in this century. That's all.
The Drunk Creeper Dad- I suspect that 64ounce cup from "On the Run" is not full of Mountain Dew. Maybe it's because I can smell you 3 feet away. No, I don't want to be thrown, thank you. Neither does my husband. Really. Stop looking at my 13 year old when she walks away. REALLY!!!!!!
Dad's Who Bond With Kids By Throwing Them 7 Feet in the Air- Son....I haven't seen you all week....let me fling you into the next time zone!! Don't cry.....that'll just need some stitches, and your baby toe is over-rated anyway!!
Mom Who Wears a Bikini No Matter What- This is maybe the person at the pool I could learn the most from. Stretch Marks? Yeah, so what!! Overweight? You got a problem with that? I love how this mom carries herself. She is so confident in her body and skin. She is enjoying her children and her friends and she's gonna wear a bikini no matter what. Good for her.
The Mom Who Brings the Neighborhood- You know her. She has something like 14 kids with her. She stays all day. She brings two 24 packs of soda's and as many canister's of Pringles Foodlion can keep in stock. Are those brownies on her table? I'm gonna go sit by her.
There is so much more about the pool that I love. I love how teen boys remind me of labrador puppies. Fighting and wrestling and trying to be the Alpha Dog. I love (and remember) how the teen age girls 'get ready' to go to the pool. They are so pretty. Their skin is so smooth and tan. They fix their hair and put on make up. They stand at the end of the diving board for at least 5 minutes. Okay. All eyes are on them. Everyone is watching to see what she's gonna do. She gets off the board and goes back to tanning. I love summer.
It goes by all to fast. Enjoy your summer!! Wear lots and lots of sunscreen. We'll be wearing jackets before you know it!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)