M-O-T-H-E-R

I take my role as a parent seriously. Not to say that I am a serious parent. I think anybody who knows me is aware that "serious" isn't really my forte. Even the teen-ager who is loathe to compliment me admits that "even when [I'm] mad, [I] still try to be positive". I think I understand, maybe more than those who grew up in relatively happy and heatlhy families, that being the best parent you can possibly be guarantees the future of your child, your bloodline, the species and the planet. There is not any job more important than parent. Not the President of the United States (apparently anybodycan do that job - or not, as the case may be), not cancer research (although important), not janitor at Arrowhead. Nothing, and you will never convince me otherwise, is more important than being a good parent. The thing that I, as most responsible parents, have learned on the job is that parenting is a good deal more than: washing dishes, fixing meals, washing clothes, cleaning bathrooms, putting band-aids on boo-boos, weaning covertly, scoopin' the kitty poop, dusting and vacuuming, fixing the computer "what???"s, giving baths, walking the dog, painting the chipped paint, calling the attorney, purchasing Christmas, Valentine's, Birthday, etc. gifts, coloring, playing horsie, scooping the dog poop...well, my list goes on and on - it varies according to the parent - good parenting is about the emotional, spiritual, psycological, social and etiquette life of a child. Yes, manners = good parenting. Do you want your child to be a reject at a four star restaurant, for goodness'sake? What if your child grows up to be important and has tea with the Queen? Best to be prepared.

The thing is...I'm not able to do all those things at this time, in this situation. I find it the most frustrating, debilitating, depressing, anguished feeling. My children deserve a wonderful childhood - and it has so very little to do with money. Really. I never planned on being rich - well, after 30 I never planned on being rich. (I did, however, expect to be a tad more solvent than current) Family outings are non-existent in our household. I can't even recall the last time that our family did anything together that didn't involve work, helping Daddy work, or preparing things so Dad can work. I am God's girl, yet I can't even take my children to church without some major rescheduling. (The teen-ager had such a negative church experience on BI that she now refuses to attend anything, which is a shame)

I am stymied as to how I am single-handedly supposed to teach my son to be a man - a good man - and teach my daughter how to cope in a realistic world she's never had experience with before, when my days are strictly scheduled around feedings, snacks, school drop offs and pick ups, painting, litter boxes - I mean, it has to be or these things don't get done and it really IS important to have clean dishes, clean clothes (but I won't tell you how long my daughter wore one pair of jeans - it's just too hard to wrap your mind around something like that), food and sleep. The cats need to be healthy and are solely dependent on me.

This has never been my lifestyle, up to now. I have always been a bit of a free spirit, fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl. I live for social activity - not just any kind, but close friendships and acquaintances whose company one actually enjoys. One of the reason I always liked the community theatre scene more than the professional one was because people were there to have fun. Regular Joes - dentists, policemen, students, computer programmers, entrepreneurs, middle management, whatever, everybody had that one thing of loving live theatre and performing or "crew-ing", and a small community was born in that. Nerdy, maybe, but I love nerds. I used to love my weekly D&D Games - and all the soda and chips that went with it - to get together with imaginative individuals who could really make me laugh (I learned later that not all Players are that fun - I stopped when I was the only gal in a room full of 20-somethings men who'd never had a date or a joke in their lives). Even more, I love those community theatre parties where there was a little wine, lots of soda and punch, tons of food and a really good time. There was always some silly game like "Pictionary" or "Balderdash" or even "Charades" and we loved playing them. I don't want to hang out with people who only want to eat, get trashed and talk sex. How boring! Professional theatre parties are all about the booze, the drugs and the connections. Booooo-rrrrr-innngggg (although, 20 years ago it was exciting to watch, at first, and it WAS part of the job)I miss entertaining. I miss fixing party food and cleaning the house in anticipation. I miss introducing people to each other. But I digress. I've never really been the kind of gal who stays home all day cooking, cleaning, slaving. It doesn't sit well on me. That's not to say I don't enjoy it, under the right circumstances. It's just these aren't exactly the right circumstances. I certainly am not the kind of gal who takes sacrificing the salon, the clothes, the facials and the dentist with a good attitude. I don't want my children to grow up thinking that life is about never getting what makes you happy.

My children's spiritual, emotional and psychological needs aren't being met. Neither are mine. It's the Christmas season and I need to kick myself in the butt, get a hold of myself and turn back into what makes me me. I need to get that keyboard set up, no matter whether I have the strong person to help me carry equipment down the stairs or not. I need to locate the Christmas decorations and the tree myself and put it up myself, whether the living room is fully painted or not. I need to go to the hardware store and get those eyehooks myself to keep the baby or the cats from pulling the tree over (cuz I've still got a few brain cells operating). Then I need to take a deep breath, sing Christmas Carols as I scoop poop, explain Christmas to the baby in a sing-song voice as I wash the bottles (I said 'weaning', not 'weaned') and hope that someday soon I will relax enough to find a path to being the best parent I can possibly be.

And if a face messy from sugar cookies smiles up at me...well, it'll all be worth it, won't it?

I Wanna Talk About Me

When don't I, right?

Some random musings I've had over the course of a day and a half:

Approximately 60% (unofficial - not a statistic) of the homes in Bath decorate the outside of their houses for holidays. Apparently there is a great deal of civic pride in the fact. I'd better get some kind of Christmas flag or yard thingy pronto.
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There are still women in this country who actually think any husband is better than no husband at all. If he has a job, a running car and doesn't beat you...what other standards?

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Speaking of husbands...knowing who I am and how much of who I am is defined by this incredible musical talent and great gift of performing I've been blessed with (let's face it, it's not egotistical if you really are that good), who in their right mind would sit within arm's thwacking distance of me and proclaim, "I thank my lucky stars every day that I was never forced to learn an instrument or waste my time in a music class"?

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If the yard gets just a few inches more of rain this week, I can have my own practice rink. Very Maine.

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I went to my first Sweet Adeline's rehearsal last night. My husband, with his first big night home alone with the baby (and no mother living next door to bail him out), had absolutely no rough spots or episodes at all. Which is what we want, right? So why was I a little disappointed when the baby never cried for me at all? A whimper would've been nice.

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For Christmas I want a bumper sticker that says: Oh, I'm sorry, are my law-abiding, safety conscious ways inconveniencing you?
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I probably should put up some Christmas decorations. But when??????

Rich Girl

I was reading through some Ogden Nash earlier (don't ask me why I was reading poetry when the dishes are piled mile-high in the sink and the cats wanted to be fed - tough!) and I came across a poem I hadn't seen in quite some time. I hope y'all get the same little chuckle I did.

Lines Indited with all the Depravity of Poverty

One way to be very happy is to be very rich
For then you can buy orchids by the quire and bacon by the flitch. And yet at the same time
People don’t mind if you only tip them a dime,
Because it’s very funny
But somehow if you’re rich enough you can get away with spending water like money
While if you’re not rich you can spend in one evening your salary for the year
And everybody will just stand around and jeer. If you are rich you don’t have to think twice about buying a judge or a horse, Or a lower instead of an upper, or a new suit, or a divorce, And you never have to say When, And you can sleep every morning until nine or ten,
All of which Explains why I should like very, very much to be very, very rich.

Hair

My daughter wants me to go blonde again.

My natural color is a nice, rich brown (ish-reddish).

My natural color now is gray (started turning in high school, been tinting it ever since...who knows how much of it has turned)

I'm damn near close to just shaving my head and keeping a pack of Shicks nearby. Hey, if Sinead can do it...

I'm not doing red. Too much work and none of my clothes go.

D. likes the brown but thinks I "glow" as a blonde. M. likes the blonde, but then she is one. Baby probably likes the brown since it's all he's known.

All that's going on in the world, and I'm posting about my hair. *sigh* I really am vain.

No Place Like Home For The Holidays

I love the holidays. Absolute, all-out, gleeful adoration of the holidays. All of them. The bigger the better. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, top of my list. Easter? You betcha. I love the "little" ones, too. Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day. The important ones: Independence Day, Veteran's Day, Labor Day. I love 'em all, and each one for its own personal (to me) identity. Even more unifying, each one for its unique food offerings.

With all due respect to those who "poo-poo" the holidays (sorry, BIB, but I'm putting you and a thousand others on the spot), I always thought the "I hate the commercialization so I'm cynical about said holiday" a bit of a cop out. I hate the commercialization as well. That's why I don't feel I am forced to buy my mother flowers (although, since she's dead, it's probably the one gift I can give), my sweetie diamonds or chocolate, my dad a tie (although, since he's dead, it's probably the one gift...well, never mind...), nor do I feel I have to buy -to quote our dear blogger friend - "every annoying" toy known to mankind for my kids, only to have them throw them into the landfill because it's not what they really wanted. Dude, have a daughter. Nothing you get her will ever be what she really wanted and she made her own list! That's life, my friend. Which is why I don't usually buy those kinds of toys and, instead, buy things for others that come in really large boxes which I then give to my kids for hours of entertainment and imagination. I don't buy into the commercialization of a holiday (but I definitely get caught up in the excitement) therefore I don't buy what the commercials tell me to. I'm less popular on Christmas Day, but my gifts usually are well-used.

When my mother was alive, I commemorated Mother's Day creatively, if I could. Never once did I give her a super sappy card or flowers. I embroidered pillow cases (poorly) with her zodiac sign. (Aries, a sign I'm always at odds with) One year, I wrote a parody in her honor. She wasn't all that amused, unfortunately, but she never did have much of a sense of humor.

For Valentine's Day with a sweetie who was as romantic and holiday obsessed as I, I made a mixed tape (oops, dating myself) of songs that had (or would have) special meaning to us. That particular sweetie knew how important it was to me to celebrate holidays and gave me a very special, very inexpensive gift that I treasure to this day.

And then there's Christmas. Sometimes the lean ones are the most memorable, the most significant. They require us to use our creativity and special talents instead of simply throwing money in place of thought. You want the true spirit of Christmas? (Forgetting both the Christian - wow, that word does not look right at all; I hate it when that happens; and historical socio-political for the time being) For the true spirit of Christmas, re-read "Gift of the Magi". It'll melt your heart more than Tiny Tim ever did.

When you write a personal note in a Christmas card. When you knit a cheesy, lopsided scarf. When you take the time to look up something on the internet and forward the information...do you have any idea how incredibly warm and beloved you've made another human being feel? Anybody with half an ounce of self-respect knows what a true gift is, and it has nothing to do with the value of the price tag. It has everything to do with the value of the thought. Every time you sat down to knit another row (or, in my case, rip out another row cuz I can't cable and chew gum at the same time), or sprinkle glitter on glue, or spend an evening burning a comp CD is hours that you've spent actually thinking of someone you care about. That counts a hell of a lot more than iPods (which, granted, are very cool - maybe more of a birthday kind of gift). People want to know how important they are, not how easily they can be bought.

Unless they're teen-agers. Then their very souls are for sale if there's a portable DVD player involved.

Some people no longer receive that one gift that says "I'm thinking of you often". They own beautiful jewelry they never have a place to wear and cabinet mounted CD players they can't use in the living room and in-line skates they have nowhere legal to use. Give them a break this year, huh? Give them something that makes them treasure you every time they see/hear/use it.

And if you'd like to send me a Christmas card this year, please do. I like to display the cards of all the people who took the time to think of me. And that only costs 37 cents...