Crybaby

So tonight I was watching the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concert on HBO. I highly recommend it to any major music fan. I was enjoying CSN, James Taylor, Bonnie Raitt. Smokey Robinson sounded surprisingly good and it was lovely when he and Stevie Wonder sang Tracks of My Tears. Then it cut to Paul Simon singing a song from Graceland, an album I love. I am thinking he is really starting to look old, but he still sounds great. He sang a Beatles song with Crosby and Nash and then, non-chalantly, Art Garfunkel walks onto the stage. "How cool", I think, and keep folding the clothes in front of me. Then Paul starts the beginning strains of The Sound of Silence and I am transfixed. I feel a lump in my throat and I quietly listen to the song and their harmonies and by then end I have tears streaming down my face. I am 4 years old again, standing in front of my parents stereo listening for the umpteenth time to the Simon and Garfunkel 8 track tape with my sister. We are singing The Boxer's "LY LA LY, LY LA LY LY LY LA LY..." at the top of our lungs. The clothes sat unfolded for the entire set as I cried and sang and thanked the Lord when Aretha popped in shortly after and sang "Baby, I Love You." That will pull anyone out of a funk.
Now anyone who knows me at all knows I have a weird emotional relationship with music. By the age of 7, I was obsessively listening to the radio, sometimes all by myself in the front room of our house. My first memories are songs- John Denver, Simon and Garfunkel, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn. Then came The Eurythmics, Lionel Ritchie and Michael Jackson and, yes,even Wham!. The love affair has gone on from there. I also have a history of losing composure at concerts. I heard Bob Dylan playing harmonica in concert- I cried. I was 6 feet away from Emmylou Harris as she sang at the first ACL fest- I cried. And there was absolutely no limit to the emotion and tears that poured out of me as I stood less than 4 feet from Prince, in all his tiny glory, as he sang Purple Rain and played that amazing guitar solo. I was a mess. A glorious mess. I love those moments because I feel like they are some of the most honest of my life. I sometimes think that when I react so strongly to something as simple as a few chords and lyrics, I am letting go of all the emotion I hold back in real life. I was never told not to cry. Never stifled as a kid, but the thing in me that wants everyone to be comfortable won't let me make them uncomfortable with my tears or my anger (which usually comes with tears too). So if they come up at an inconvenient time, I stuff them back down. I make a joke. I say my allergies are acting up. Tonight I was alone in my living room and I let it loose. Then they played "The Boxer" and "Bridge Over Troubled Waters". You can only imagine the crying/singing/caterwauling that was going on down there. But I needed it and I feel so much better for it. I get teased for it sometimes (you know who you are), but I think it is nice to know that I have a soul that can be touched that deeply. Or maybe I am just a big baby. Either way, I feel good.

Love like you've never been hurt

My new old friend Gina sent this to me on a forward email. They usually suck, but I really love this and wanted to share.

"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin."

Yum, I want some more

Ponder with me, for a moment, the importance of good hummus. Oh let me just break it down- it is like crack, people. Marlon has discovered a new talent in creating homemade hummus. It all started the other day when he was going to the store and I asked him to buy some hummus. It is my favorite snack and even though it probably isn’t, I have convinced myself it is healthier than other alternatives. So he calls me from our beloved HEB from among the “fancy people” food and asks if I can look up a recipe for hummus to check the ingredients. I do and there they are- chickpeas, tahini, garlic, salt, olive oil- not difficult. After seeing the $3.50 price on the tiny package of the store’s version, he decided to make some. The first one was a basic recipe minus the tahini, plus feta cheese (makes it smell terrible while you are blending it, but tastes good) and extra garlic and salt. After chilling it, we started in on it. That large bowl full lasted 2 days, barely. The next one was made with tahini (it makes a big difference), spinach, garlic, etc. This one has been calling me minute by minute. I ate it for lunch today with wheat thins. Just that. That batch is not long for this world either.

I realized, though, that my favorite thing about this new culinary habit of Marlon’s is the way it started. Yes, some people could look at it from the standpoint of, “Well he just didn’t want to spend the money.” I, however, take a different view. My darling, misunderstood husband took a fact- his wife really wanted some hummus- and then made it his mission to get me some in the best possible way- more bang for the buck. (The homemade is also much better than the store bought, just FYI.) It is so small and probably seems stupid, but this is the kind of thing that I really want. I want those little daily reminders that he is listening to me. I think that is all anyone wants- to feel like what they putting out into the world isn’t in vain. Someone is listening and caring about what they say. To paraphrase Manny from “Modern Family”, my hummus is made with the added secret ingredient of caring. Yum- I am ready for some more.

A Letter to Young American Women- from Newsweek

"Editor's note: Editor's note: Journalist Gail Collins, the first woman to edit The New York Times editorial page, is the author of "When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present." She wrote this piece, a letter to the next generation of women, exclusively for CNN.

(CNN) -- Dear Young American Women,
It's possible that you have been told a time or 10 that you don't appreciate how tough your elders had it. It's true that, if you had been coming of age back in, say, 1960, you would probably be feeling more restricted, if only because you were doomed to spend your days in a skirt, nylon stockings and girdle. (Everybody wore a girdle back then, even Barbie, the individual least in need of a foundation garment in American history.)
Back then, if you wanted a career that involved travel, you'd have to have become a flight attendant. Although good luck with that -- there were 100 applicants for every opening. People paid to go to special schools to learn how to improve their chances of being chosen for that very job that involved appallingly low pay and allowed you to be fired if you gained weight or got married.
Fifty years ago, women couldn't get a credit card or apartment lease unless their father or husband co-signed. And it was perfectly legal for an employer to say that he didn't hire women. (Madeleine Kunin, the future governor of Vermont, applied for an editing job at my own beloved New York Times and was asked if she'd like to consider waitressing in the corporate dining room.)
You may be thinking right now that this actually doesn't sound so bad, that it would be more fun to take to the streets protesting job discrimination than worrying about living in the streets because there aren't any jobs around at all.
Point well taken. You've got your own problems and truly, you are not required to bow down to the generation that gave you equal opportunity to play high school sports. (Now even Sarah Palin loves Title 9. But when it first became law, men were sure it would mean the end of football and everything they held dear. Rep. Pat Schroeder of Colorado was touring a local high school shortly after it passed, and the boys' basketball coach said "Show the congresswoman what you think of Title 9." The team turned around and mooned her.)
There are plenty of challenges that still remain and you know about them better than me. If you're planning on knocking them dead in business or one of the professions, you may discover, to your shock, that there's still discrimination out there. If you're thinking about a military career, there's never been a better time for a woman, but the problem of sexual harassment in the field is disturbingly real.
No matter what you're doing, you're probably going to wind up worrying about how to balance work and family.
Violence against women hasn't gone away; it actually seems to be getting worse. And if you're prepared to worry about things on an international sphere, the oppression of women in other parts of the world is a cancer that has to be cured if the planet is going to evolve in the right direction.
What with all that, it looks like there's plenty on your plate. And if you don't feel like dwelling on the non-problems, if you automatically assume that a woman has as much right to have a terrific career and exciting adventures as any guy, that's great. For the entire history of recorded civilization, people had ideas about women's limitations, and their proper (domestic) place in the world. That all changed in my lifetime -- came crumbling down. The fact that I got to see it, in the tiny sliver of history I inhabit, just knocks me out. You taking it for granted knocks me out.
But if you do want to take a look back now and then, and contemplate how America evolved into a country where women could finally claim their rights, you might enjoy the ride even more. It's a great story, and it was all leading up to you."

We feel you Falcon

Bill Cosby once joked about people who praise the honesty of children. He said those are people who do not have children. To a degree, I see what he means. I think we all learned a lesson this week about the true honesty of children from Falcon Heene. If you have been on a mountain top somewhere, Falcon is "The Balloon Boy". His parents, though I use that term loosely on these two, told him to hide in the attic while they staged a media event. We were all worried about him, all oddly relieved when he wasn’t in the balloon and once he was found, just thought he was a scared kid who had screwed up and hidden. The cynic in all of use thought something in the milk wasn’t clean, but were ready to go on with things and be happy the kid was alright. Then this happened on national television.

Hey, Dad. You asked. What we saw there was a child who was put on the spot, asked a question and just told the truth. He didn’t know there was anything wrong with that. Later as the parents tried to cover it up on morning show after morning show, Falcon began vomiting, also on national television. It was the physical reaction of a freaked out little kid who was taken advantage of by the people he trusted the most. (I’m with you, Falcon. It makes me want to puke too.)
Honesty is a tricky thing. We teach our kids to always tell the truth, except when we don’t want them to. We tell them one thing, but we expect them to know when to clam up or even lie. I would like to think I would never knowingly involve my child in deceit the way the Heene’s did, but I have said something ugly about someone around Lily and then told her not to tell anyone about it.
Thank you Richard and Mayumi Heene. I think you may have taught us parents a lot by showing us how nasty it looks to encourage dishonesty in our children. Hopefully, we can remember it next time we wish our little angel would know to just say they liked the dinner grandma made instead of answering, "not really".

I couldn't say it any better so read this...

http://rubypearlslips.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-mad-to-you.html

THANK GOD!

No more ‘Jon & Kate’ after November

I could have 10 different conversations about aspects of "Jon & Kate plus 8"-a show I have watched maybe 10 times. It only took a few for me to form some major opinions about the whole thing. The husband/wife interactions (yikes) , the child-rearing techniques, the questions about the effect of being watched your whole life would have, and my biggest issue, the wisdom of using such major fertility treatments when you already have 2 beautiful kids. But I digress. I will simply say thank goodness someone turned out the lights on this thing. I hope this family can recover.

Not really mine

Saturday, after the longest of days, I tucked Lily into bed and she looked up at me and said, “Mom, I know it was frustrating and drove you crazy, but I think you did a great job and should do it again.” She was referring to the fall carnival of which I had been the chairperson of the planning committee and one of the main event runners for. (It was one of the things that inspired the blog post before this, to be frank.) It was one of those mom moments you have to take a mental picture of and the next time she screams, “TORTURING MOTHER!” at me, I can take it out and remember how proud she is and that she really does love me.

So my daughter is growing up, daily, before my eyes. She is sharp and sarcastic and opinionated. I am not raising the perfect young lady who acts appropriately at all times, but she knows when to be respectful and when to be funny and already is developing the driest of wits. (Maybe it is all those episodes of the “The Office” and “Seinfeld”.) It kind of blows my mind that she is approaching 10 years old. Double digits! In a lot of ways, a child will always be your baby, but you start finding yourself in the middle of a conversation with them and it hits you, this is an adult conversation. This is a meaningful, important thing we are discussing and it throws you off a little. Maybe they agree with you and maybe they don’t. It is much different than any you had when they still thought you knew everything. Lately, I will laugh at something Lily says or asks and she gets irritated with me because it isn’t “funny”. I explain that I am laughing in amazement at her thought process, how she already seems to be “in on the joke”.

Other times I am reminded how young and naïve she is- like when she realized the death penalty is a real thing and still in practice. She just assumed it was an old fashioned notion that, of course, would have been ended long ago. She said “They still do that!?” her eyes wide in utter disbelief. Discussing segregation, she shakes her head in disgust and says, “soooo stupid,” anytime it comes up. “Why would anyone ever think like that? I just don’t get it!” My personal favorites are her thoughts on misogyny. Watching Sense and Sensibility she was confused as to why the mother and sisters had to move out of their own house so that their half-brother could move in after the father died. I explained, as is it is to a child in the film, that houses went from father to son, not father to daughter. She rolled her eyes.

These were all things she thought of on her own. No prodding or planting of ideas from dear old mom. She is a person with her own opinions and frankly, she could care less what you think about them (which I LOVE!). I guess what I am saying is, I have had a relationship with this girl since she was born (and before, for that matter) and I am still getting to know her. I remember hearing Goldie Hawn once talking about once your child is born, they aren’t really yours anymore. Because they are a separate person now so they belong to themselves. You can guide them and try protect them, but they are their own person. I am beginning to understand what she meant.

Self-inflicted time suckage

So I had an interesting conversation last night with my husband about how I use my time. I always feel like I have none of it, but don’t we all. He pointed out, and when I really started breaking it down I agreed, that a lot of the running I do is self-inflicted.

I am a mover. I have calendars set up on Microsoft Word from now through January and generally always have plans set weeks in advance. It is a practice I started when I was pregnant and have continued. When I started this, my whole life was planning for that big moment- the day the baby came- so it made sense to know exactly what was coming. Now I wonder if it is really necessary or are these calendars are just enabling me to see too far into the future. So much so that I over-plan mine and my family’s life. This summer I had 6 full weeks off of work and promptly filled every day with something. (I am attempting to not make a calendar for those weeks at all this year. )

How much of my life is spent on unnecessary things? How often do I stay home an entire weekend and just hang out and read with my kid? Read a book alone for that matter? Have a great, un-rushed conversation with my husband? When someone asks me what is going on, it is impossible to make it a short answer so I generally make a joke about how “crazy” everything is. I even have more leeway because I married a neat freak who cleans the house and cooks most nights, yet I often have nearly every weeknight filled and weekends are even worse.

Here’s an example: today I woke up and made a sack lunch for my daughter and went to work. After work today I a) have a meeting to pick up something for the fall carnival at my daughter’s school, b) have to drive my daughter to softball practice, c) will leave her there while I rush to a PTA meeting that I will, in turn, have to leave early in order to d) get back to the softball practice to hand out raffle tickets for her team that are my responsibility as Team Mom. I will get home just in time to get the kiddo to bed. Then I have laundry to do, etc. It sounds like I am complaining, but the simple fact is that no one made me do any of it. The only real requirement tonight is taking Lily to softball. That’s it.

It makes you wonder what would happen if you just removed yourself from the extraneous activities. Would the world fall apart? There is something to be said for those supermoms that do it all. I respect them, but I don’t think I want to be one of them. I think, sometime soon, I need to quit trying to be PTA Mom, Team Mom, Super Mom and just be Lily’s mom.

A reminder to keep everything in persepective

a forward I actually read-

"Why Parents Drink

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up.. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to 'Dad.'
With the worst premonition he opened the envelope
with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you.. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.
I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice.
But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it' s not only the passion... Dad she's pregnant.
Stacy said that we will be very happy.
She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children together.
Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone.
We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy.
In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better... She deserves it.
Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself.
Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren..

Love,

Your son John


PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house.

I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than a report card. That's in my center desk drawer.

I love you...

Call me when it's safe to come home."

Evidently, I still have a curfew

Just when you feel like a real live grown up, your grandmother sits in her living room waiting for you to get home. You have been out too late. It is 12:45 AM.

I went to Groesbeck, TX this weekend for homecoming and stayed with my grandmother- a long time resident. I lived and went to school as a Groesbeck goat from 3rd-6th grade and still think of it as my hometown, of sorts. If you have not experienced a small town homecoming, you have no idea what a big deal they are. First, of course, there is the football game on Friday night. The entire town is there and it a cacophony of old men yelling at the coaches and/or referees, giggling teenagers and jingling bells from the multitude of gigantic mums. Then, Saturday morning is the homecoming parade in which each class from the high school, yes THE high school, hosts a float as do many area businesses. The whole main strip is shut down for the vintage cars, floats, trailers, horses, etc. Then on to the Groesbeck Exes Association BBQ lunch. That is usually it for me, but this year, I was invited to the Groesbeck Class of 1994 15-year class reunion. I moved away just before 7th grade, but spent four intense years with these guys and through the miracle of Facebook, have become reacquainted. I went to my first official "Pasture Party" (I have the camouflage "Goats '94" koozie to prove it) and had a grand ole time until about 12:02 (2 minutes after I had planned to be home) when I get a text from my sister who is at Nana's house.

"Nana is waiting up on u. I told her u were still there and she said u just had 2 come home because it is so late"

Now, I had a midnight curfew back when I was 17, but that was about, oh, I don't know, sixteen years ago! It's not like I party all night every weekend, but when I do go out, I usually manage to stick it out til about 3 AM or so- especially when I am hanging out with people I haven't seen since I was 12. But how do you explain to the sweetest old lady in the world why anyone would want to stay out past 12 when she is sitting in her recliner, in her rollers and no dentures, stiff with worry because some guy was once killed in a car wreck near the street I was on. So, grumbling, I said my goodbyes and headed to the car to drive the 4 minutes from the party to Nana's house. An old buddy came running to the car to let me know where everyone was heading to for the next "phase" of the evening and to say how glad she was that I came. Talk about adding insult to injury. I didn't want to leave that party, much less miss out on a whole new location!

But maybe it was good. I am always the last to leave a party and take the chance of wearing out my welcome. This time, thanks to Nana, maybe I left them wanting more.

Happy Mother's Day

I haven't posted in forever, but I thought this article was worth it. I am struggling with my over-protective ways, but getting more bold by the day. Lily has taken to scootering around the few streets right around us on her own and she loves the independence. Baby steps, right! So anyway, here was my inspiration.

Best and Worst of the Oscars- Ceremony Edition

There are more best than worst cause I am an optimist and I thought, for the most part, the show was great this year. Here goes:

Best- The Montages – Especially the action and comedy ones- I haven’t seen The Reader either, but putting it in the comedy section was inspired. Now I will probably laugh when I shouldn’t. The action montage just ruled- nuff said.

Worst- Irritating music playing while presenters were talking- While I like the idea of the throwback to a dinner club, etc. The extra music was distracting.

Best- The Stage and Seating design- They made it intimate and the old school club setting worked well.

Worst- Movie Musicals number- Yikes. I love musicals and I hated this. First of all, I’m not sure when the rule started that Beyonce isn’t allowed to wear pants, but it is time to change that. Girlfriend is hot as she can be, but it is getting old. The songs were too random and choppy sequencing just didn’t work. I would have been much happier to see the cast of Mamma Mia, period.

Best- Acting Award Presentations- It actually was an honor to be nominated because each nominee was given more than the obligatory name check.

Worst- Sophia Loren- I am all about the legends and older women owning their sexuality, but there comes a time, okay. The make up was bad, the wig was bad, the dress was reaaaaaaalllllly bad. Her delivery of her section seemed like it was done with eyes half way rolling. Meryl deserves better.

Best- Shirley MacLaine to Anne Hathaway- Even if it was written for her, Shirley made it feel like she was talking off the top of her head and Anne’s reactions were priceless.

Worst- Dark Knight doesn’t win much- I loved Slumdog Millionaire, but The Dark Knight got way snubbed. It was one of the best movies of last year, easily.

Best – Sean Penn’s speech- Mentioning in an honest way, as a friend would do, Mickey was gracious and touching. The opening line was classic and without being overly dark, he said exactly what he meant about prejudice.

Best- Danny Boyle’s smile- Effusive, genuine and contagious

Best- Dustin Lance Black- Whatever your opinion, there is never anything wrong with telling young people that they have value. He used his time up there to do something besides read a list of names. Good on him.

Worst- Cut to Angelina repeatedly during Jen’s stage time- It was in bad taste (but we knew it had to be done). It was like watching your divorced parents at a wedding and wondering how it is going to go. Surprise everybody! They are both grown ups so it was fine and a nice smile was exchanged.

Best- Kate Winslet’s dad- That whistle and her big wave to him was so adorable. It reminded you that she is just somebody’s kid and she wanted to wave to Mum and Dad.

I'm Just Sayin'

This is supposed to be a "warts and all" picture of Brad Pitt in W magazine. He isn't that boy from "Thelma and Louise" anymore, but there ain't nothing wrong with that.