Growing Up

"To the immature, other people are not real."

I guess I am immature then.  Sometimes.  My 14 year old son told me a story today.  When he was five I got mad at him for something.  He went (or was most likely sent) to his room.  He was so mad he threw the teddy bear I gave him across the room because in his mind he just didn't want it anymore.  In fact, he didn't want anything I had given him anymore.  So, he looked for more to throw.  Then, realizing there wasn't anything else in the room that I had given him (you know, besides the bed, blankets, clothes, toys, books, and pictures) he stood in the middle of his room, looked up at the ceiling, and wailed.  Me?  I was clueless.  Clueless to the thoughts of a 5 year old boy.

I can't even imagine how clueless I have been over the years.  If I stop and think about it I feel very....inadequate.  How many times have I stomped right over a child's feelings?  Too many to count I am sure.  Stomp stomp stomp.  Hush up kid, stop that cryin'.

Then my thoughts turn to friends and family and neighbors.  My life is very real to me.  My concerns and worries and exhaustion.  I care for others.  We all do.  But there is this gap between caring and loving others as myself.

Over the years I had a real problem with that commandment.  Love others as you love yourself.  Huh.  Love myself?  Do I?  I spend most of my time hating myself.  At least I used to.  Not pretty enough, not stylish enough, not funny enough, not talented enough....that list is endless.  I have grown out of that.  Thank goodness.

 I am not sending myself a dozen roses too often, but I can see that as real as my life is,  Mrs. So and So's life is just as real.  She is real.  So is that kid over there.  That kid thinks about stuff.  He is only 5 years old, but he is real.  He will remember.  He will tell me someday.  'Mom, I was trying to find something to throw that you gave me because I didn't want anything of yours anymore.'

'Son, I was trying to make it through another day with 3 babies in diapers and no sleep.'

And he will understand.  Because I will drop that line when he is 35 with 6 small children.  And then, finally, I will be real.

Allergies

My allergies are acting up again.  I am allergic to three things.  Antibiotics, shell fish, and sugar.  That's right.  Sugar.  It makes me fat.  Allergies are so not fair.

Can I just tell you how sick I am of wearing the same sweats?  Or how about resorting to Paul's t-shirts because I can only take so much of that doughnut that keeps showing up under my really cute t-shirts.  For crying out loud, why can't I stay away from the one thing that makes me the most miserable?  Stupid cookies.

What if I convince myself that I really am allergic to junk food?  When I am at a party and someone offers...no....shoves the plate of brownies in my face and I say, "Oh, no thanks, I am on a diet." and they laugh and shove harder, wouldn't it be great to say "Oh!  My heck!  Get those things away from me!!  I am allergic!!!"  I might get a different response.  Something like an apology would be nice.

I mean really.  What is worse?  Hives or Fat?  Fat of course.  Every once in a while I just want someone to put me out of my misery.  Just take me out to the back of the farm and pull the trigger.  If I am going to kill myself, why not do it quick.  Rip it off.  Like a band aid.  Instead, I choose to do it slowly.  Bite by bite.  Stupid flipping apple pie.

Discipline.  Discipline is the thing.  Or was it listening to my body and intuitive eating?  Wait...I think I know...it was moderation...moderation in all things.  No, wait, it is coming to me...abstinence.  Yes, that is it.  Abstinence.  No, that isn't right.  I think I was talking about allergies.  I am allergic to that bucket of red vines!  I am I tell you!

Get that pie away from me before my butt swells up and explodes out of these sweat pants!

Apology accepted.

Two Wrongs Definetely Do Not Make a Right

Two apple pies don't make a crisp, healthy apple.  No matter how much you like apple pie.  Don't argue, just listen.  I read the Twilight series.  All four.  Don't condemn me just yet though.  You can do that later.  I went and saw the first Twilight movie...in the theater....about a month after it came out.  Please, keep your applause until after the presentation.  Last night we decided to go see a movie.  "Fandango, won't you tell me please what movies are playing?"

"New Moon is playing!" says Fandango.

"New Moon?"  Well, let's go see that.  Surely it can't be as bad as the first one.  I mean, they have a budget this time.  And practice.  Apparently money can't buy everything.  And practice?  I guess making one movie just wasn't enough time to learn the ins and outs of believable dialogue.  Darn.

We buy tickets for the 7:30 show.  We go over at six.  Because we wanted to eat dinner first.  As we drive by the movie theater on our way to the place we were going to order, sit down, and eat fabulous food (I was hungry....) we glance over at the really long line in front of the theater....the kind of line that just screams (literally) "Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!  Edward!!!!!  OOOhhhhhhhhh!!!!  Jacob!!!!!!"  Could this be the line in to see the movie we are going to see we ask?  You betcha!  It is.  Remember...it is only  6:00.  Darn.

We stand in the only 1 1/2  hour movie line I have ever stood in.  I didn't even wait this long to see Harry Potter.  I would happily stand in line for hours at midnight to see that movie.  Unfortunately for us we were not standing in that line.  Darn.

So we stand.  And shift.  And stand.  We spot a familiar face.  Which is a big deal when you are new...again...and you never spot familiar faces anymore.  We go in.  We save seats for the familiar faces....which is no small thing when you have 2 theaters worth of teenagers fighting for seats...."AAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!  Edward!!!!!!! OOOhhhhhhhhh!!!!!  Jacob!!!!!!!!".   We then eat the only thing available.  Hot dogs.  Darn.

After our delicious dinner we settle in for the show.  Seriously...I am not "moonlighting" as the next famous movie critic.  Mainly because I can't get past words like lame and corny...and ridiculous.

As much as we may like eating apple pie...I am still pretty sure that one is enough.  If you think that the second one is going to make up for the first one then you would be wrong.  Darn Again!

Trust me.  Skip the second pie, just eat the apple.  And yes, you can condemn me now.

Check and Double Check

I have list making friends.  I have list making family members.  I don't list make.  I tried it once, for a day.  The list got in my way and I threw it in the garbage.  I am not sure why I am not a list maker.  I like to plan and prepare and do things way early and be on time and make sure things are perfect, so it would make sense to make lists and check them twice.  Nope.  Hate em'.  It is okay though, I have decided that I can get by without the list.  I have decided that the only way to get through this life is to be anti-list.  You can actually be anti-anything if you decide it.  And if you declare yourself anti-something then you have a position.  You are on a side.  I am officially and publicly on the anti-list side.

Lest I make enemies, let me explain the anti-list position.  There are lots of things I could be doing.  There are lots of things I should be doing.  I could list them out for you now, but then I would be going against my declared position.  I am sure you can think of the list if you try really hard.  Just think of all the talks, articles, books, grand ideas, goals, and other such material that fuel the list that grows inside your head.  Got it there?  Good. 

Can I possibly get through everything on that list?  Seriously.  All of it?  Don't leave anything out here.  I am talking about the Granddaddy of all Lists.  The Big One.  It has everything on it.  Yes, yes, even that....

I say nay.  I cannot.  But it isn't the list that is important.  I have decided that it is my ability to do what needs to be done that matters.  Why does this make me anti-list?  Because it is the list that is killing me, even the one in my head.  I can't literally list out all possibilities when the one thing that I should be doing is learning to weave baskets under water and I didn't think to put that on my list and so I therefore am not doing that one thing that really is more important that the 20 things I have floating around in my head for the week. 

And so I have a new plan.  It is the live moment to moment plan.  Yes.  No list.  Not even the one in my head.  So far it is a fabulous plan.  Things just work out.  No kidding.  No really...all you freaked out plan ahead or die people out there...things really do work out.  My new favorite word is:  fluid.  My life feels more fluid.  Go figure.  Of course my life is pretty calm right now and I am hoping that the next rocky drop off doesn't do my new plan in...but hey, I am new at this, so cut me some slack. 

So, to all my list making friends I say there is a better way!  Throw that list out!  Live each moment.  One moment at a time!  35 years old and so wise.  Sigh.....

Now, on to the next thing on my list....

Secret

I have a secret.  I know exactly where The Wild Things Are.  They are in our homes.  In our schools.  In our neighborhoods.  Wild things are generally unpredictable.  And sometimes they bite.  The darlings.

I get very nervous around them too.  Especially when I am driving near and around them.  My stomach crunches.  My forehead scrunches.  Everyday at 3pm when I pick my little wild things up from school there are hundreds of little wild things in big groups "walking" by my huge Suburban.  Cute little clusters of wildness go by just barely missing my bumper and could at any moment jump under my running vehicle that I am gripping with both hands and standing on the brakes of for fear of accidentally letting go.

You just never know.  It could happen.

The biting I am not too worried about...generally.  Except when my littlest wild thing buries his little head into my tummy...his little baby teeth are usually full of cloth then he comes back up.  I am always glad it isn't skin.  Whew, safe again.  The darling!

Since we are talking about my littlest piece of wild, I may as well mention the bath he took a couple of days ago.  As a mommy of six, I don't usually get a bath.  I get up at 5:00 am each day and wait for my mommy shower while baby is sleeping.  At noon.  I wear jammies and work out clothes for 7 hours prior to self-cleaning time.  Now you know when not to come visit me.

I decided to live life on the edge the other day and take a morning shower.  It was just me and munchkin at home and I took care to close and turn lights off in the "toilet room" and the laundry room and other such places to discourage munchkin from entering forbidden paths.  I have a shower with glass walls and so I knew I would be able to see munchkin for the duration of the cleaning time as long as that time was pretty dang short....because...well, because I was sure munchkin would hang around and stare with wide eyes at the sight.  Don't worry, I am sure he won't remember a whole lot before age two.  Let's hope not.

I jumped in and the race started.  Halfway through the race our little man decided that he too needed to get clean.  He didn't know that he had on the only set of good clean clothes of his size in the house and that mommy would really rather not do laundry...especially "emergency laundry"...which is of course the worst kind of laundry.  He also didn't know that the water will be cold unless you turn the faucet all the way to the left.  He does know how to climb into mommy's big tub and turn the cold water on.  He does know what the soap is for.  And he does know how to climb back out.  Now he knows what wet tile does when you step on it in wet socks.  The poor darling.

I, of course, got to take the world's fastest shower.

If anyone asks Where the Wild Things Are you can tell them that I know, along with mothers every where, standing together with linked arms wearing a lot of deodorant.