A great afternoon

Ok, done. I turned 40. The Earth did not slip off its axis. After lunch with Burpykitty, I went of by myself to do something I am too ashamed to do with others around. Unfortunately, by its very nature, what I wanted to do needs to be done in public, in a very specific place, in a very specific way.

I slipped off to my destination. I walked through the tall doors, and paused for a moment, breathing deeply. I did not linger though; I had to walk around the inner circumference to be sure no one I knew was there. It was not where I was that was embarrassing, it was what I was there to do.

Barnes and Noble was clear of anyone familiar. I quickly, but surreptitiously, headed to the diet, nutrition and self-help section. About halfway down, in the fitness section, is the fashion section. Nina Garcia and Rachel Zoe, "How not to Look Old" next to "What not to Wear". I grabbed a stack of books about six high, and slunk over to the Starbucks Cafe inside the bookstore. I spent the next two hours hunched over brightly illustrated books, and allowed myself to be yelled at by women who weigh as much as I did my sophomore year of high school.

It was heaven.

Caught between two worlds...

Tomorrow is the day. November 19, 2008.

I was fine with turning 40, because I had it in the back of my mind that once I got forty out of the way, I would go back to the thirties. My brother was kind enough to shatter this illusion for me.

I am currently obsessed with fashion and style books. I go through this every once in a while. Apparently this is how I deal with milestone birthdays. I need to know how to dress for this new age. Some say all the worlds a stage, I say it is a series of themed costume parties.

The Countdown Begins

I have exactly on week left of my thirties; one week during which I can honestly be referred to as a young woman. I will be turning 40 one week from today.

I was raised in a time when 40 year old women wore comfortable shoes and had sensible haircuts. I was raised thinking bitterness and unhappiness were inevitable. I spent my teens assuming my Joie de Vie had an expiration date. I am so happy to be wrong about that.

Two factors have worked together to make my life a fairytale. When I was 16, I gave my life to the Lord. I became a born-again Christian. My relationship with God has not been a smoothly ascending path through fragrant flowers. In fact, sometimes it is a battlefield. But it has been consistent. Though I have rejected Christ's lordship over my life, His love and grace have never abandoned me. I will work for the next 23 years to be as consistent a follower as He has been, a Lord.

The other factor that has made my life better than my best childhood fantasies is my husband. I met Steve in a bar in 1991, eight months after the birth of my beautiful son, Alex. Steve was everything I thought I could never have, handsome, educated, and kind. For reasons I will never understand, he is crazy about me. He makes me want to be the woman he sees when he lookes at me. His love makes up for all the pain in my life. His love has made me who the mother, sister and friend that I am today. He is, without a doubt, God's greatest earthly gift to me. Every day I try to deserve the love of this man.

So here I am, almost forty. I am about forty pounds over weight. My face is starting to droop, my lines are starting to deepen, and it takes a little longer these days to look fresh and pretty. I am the mother of two teenagers, one "tween" and on little kid. I am so busy I forget to eat, or sometimes even pee.

I feel exactly like a princess. I think I won the life lottery. I am the happiest girl in the world.

If this is what my first forty years brought me, I can't wait to see what the next forty might bring.

One hundred dollars.....

My 28 year old sister and my 21 year old brother are living with Steve and me and our four kids. Because of this,it is rare for the six of us that make up my immediate family to have dinner alone. Last night was the first time it has happened in the several months we have been in our new home. Both the sibs were working, and Alex was off.

My family has been hit by the economic firestorm, same as most Americans. We have tried to be faithful in our giving, in spite of the uncertainty that we are feeling. Steve and I decided to give a portion of our normal tithe to another charity, besides our church. In the past we have given to St. Jude's Children's Hospital, and Birth Choice, a pro-life abortion counseling center. We decided to get the kids input and pick one as a family. Steve and I took advantage of the family meal to ask the kids about it. Their responses shocked and delighted me.

"We have $100 t0 spend on a charity that we choose. We wanted to know where you thought the money should go." I said.

They began talking over each other at once. 11 year old David piped up, "Children's' hospitals."

14 year old Katie said "I always think of young mothers. It must be hard to be poor and have kids to take care of."

18 year old Alex, ever global minded said, "Starving kids in Africa."

But the most passionate response came from 6 year old Annie. "Homeless people!" We all stopped talking and looked at her in surprise. She went on, meeting our eyes, sharing information she found to horrible to be believed. "There are people in this world who don't have homes! They live in the wild, and they need money to buy clothes, and food! Maybe we could give them a thousand dollars to buy a house." She looked at us beseechingly and went on. "They don't have homes. We need to help them."

I didn't know Annie knew homelessness even existed. Not only does she know, she cares. All the kids made their cases for the charities that thought we should support, but no one came close to Annie's passion and persuasiveness. I think we were convince of her commitment when she began pounding on the table chanting "Homelessness, homelessness," like Al Pacino, but in a very different sort of movie.

The truth is, they are all important causes. Bad economy does not preclude children getting sick. Africa is no better than it has ever been. Children are dying of starvation and AIDS. Single mothers need more help than ever, especially if Christians say they oppose abortion. My eyes filled with tears, because, as my family made their points about the causes they wanted to support, $100 suddenly seemed like such an insignificant amount, and there is so much need and pain in the world.

In the end, Annie won. Steve and I decided that, starting with the youngest, the kids would choose the charities for the next four months. After that, maybe Steve and I will get a turn, and then we will start over.

I am proud of my kids, and how instantly they came up with things they thought were important. Not one of them even paused long enough to ask if we could keep the money, even though we have been going without things we used to take for granted.

Where would you give a hundred dollars?

How did this happen?

As I was growing up, I always related to the outcasts. I was a young child at the very end of the hippie movement. I envied their freedom, and ability to live there lives without caring about what people though. When I saw David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust, I was in love.
In 1983, my freshman year of high school, I had a hard-core punk-rocker in my biology class. I can't imagine what he saw in me, with my tortoise shell glasses, bad haircut, and hand me down clothes, but he began to indoctrinate into the world of punk music and rebellion. I felt like I found my place in the world. I had already been wearing hand-me-downs for years, as my adoptive mother felt that school clothes were an unnecessary expenditure, so it was a small leap to go from ugly accidentally to ugly on purpose. I got contacts and cut my hair into a mohawk. Being rejected by society somehow made me feel accepted. I had a spine of steel when it came to being myself, and expressing my self creatively. I eschewed social status at school, never went to a single school dance, and sneered at cheerleaders.
Fast-forward, 25 years. I have a 14 year old daughter. She is tall, slender and beautiful. She is also a cheerleader. My years of muttering about how anti-woman it is to stand on the sideline, cheering for the boys, have fallen on deaf ears. She has also been nominated for freshman homecoming princess. Not in a "Carrie-let's dump-pig-blood-on-her" way, but, a "she's-sweet-and-pretty" way.
How did this happen?
And why am I so proud of her?

In the eye of the beholder

As I sit, I have a veiw out my front window of a hill with tall majestic palm trees. They are straight, and lush and green. Palm trees often remind me of Noble Zulu warriors with elaborate head-dresses. I am sure many people see the simple beauty and strength in a palm tree. Not me. I hate them. They remind me all the time that I did not move very far from my home town of Las Vegas. They remind me that I live in a place where the seasons change on the calender, but nowhere else.

XX6 went trick-or-treating in a t-shirt and jeans. I had to keep a water bottle with me because it was so dry. I will be putting Thanksgiving decorations up in an attempt to instill a feeling of a change of season.

Sometimes I have to remind myself why I love Southern California. It is beautiful, anytime you can look around and not have your eyes land on a palm tree.

Hello.....Does anyone still care?

Hello all.

We moved.

My kid stopped screwing his life up and gave his heart to The Lord.

I have been in a fugue state. I am so eager to get back to my life. I am almost there.

I had a panic attack at the dentist, and had to reschedule. No really, I did. Even though I rescheduled, my jaw still hurts.

We are having shepherd pie for dinner to use up some leftover mashed potatoes.

I really think that is enough excitement for one posting. If you think you can handle the excitement, check back soon.

Sweet Serene Summer

My sister, the one I drove to rehab, is now staying with me. I am trying to remember why I thought it was a good idea. Oh yeah, living with my father would drive anyone to do drugs.

My commitment to get out and do things with the kids has not been fulfilled yet. I have family drama, real estate drama, and an unusually heavy workload this month. Still, I am taking tomorrow off to take the kids to the beach. Even though I hate the beach, even though I just received another assignment, even though it will cost me 50 dollars in gas, and even though I run the risk of an embittered super-hero throwing me far into the ocean because he mistakes me for a beached whale. Can you tell how excited I am? I don't actually hate the beach, it's just a lot of work for not much pay-off. I'm also not a big fan of sandy crevices, if you know what I mean.

My writers group is going well. I am so proud of my writers and their commitment to writing, and coming to share their thoughts on the other members writings. My book club is one of the things allowing me to hold on to my sanity. Having that to look forward to once a month is wonderful. It's also a good thing this month, because Rebecca may well be the only book I read this month!

I am the perfect storm of "get fat." I am stressed about choosing a house to buy, I am premenstrual, and my dad is torturing me. So.... I had cake and ice cream for dinner, (Entenmanns fudge cake, or as I call it, Period Cake), and I had chips and onion dip for dessert. All washed down with white wine. Now I know why prisoners on death row ask for things like fried chicken for their last meal. It is familiar and comforting. I am watching "Atonement" on video-on-demand. I am worried that stress may actually cause me to chew my own head off, starting with my cheeks, and working up and out. Any suggestions for how I can keep from eating my self into oblivion, chewing my own face off, or becoming catatonic and laying fetal position on my bed for the next three days? If so, I welcome them.

Sigh... I need a new extended family.

Usually I use this space for funny observation, or sentiment, but this is just blowing off steam. This is great steaming pile of "I don't deserve this!" I am the oldest of seven. Three of my sibs have had serious drug problems. One of them is a literal kleptomaniac. The two that are really trying to do things the right way are being completely ignored, or worse, my dad picks fights with them, telling them all the things they are doing wrong, while the ones with severe problems are coddled, or the efforts to succeed are sabotaged by my dad. When I try to take a stand, and say, "I don't want someone who continually steals in my house," or "I don't want my daughter looking up to a drug addict," do you think my dad supports that? No, he makes sure I look like the biggest bitch on earth. You know the sister I spent 6 hours driving to rehab? My dad went and got her from rehab without even telling me, and brought her to Vegas. How is that good for her? Why didn't he call me? Ask my advice, or ask me to keep her here? Because I think he likes when his kids are unhealthy. I really do. My one brother who lives in Temecula and is working and going to school, and never does drugs, is an object of rage for my father. My dad has an extra car, and instead of letting this brother use it, he brought it back to Vegas for my sister, who has been caught stealing, doesn't have a job, or a drivers licence. I am so sick of trying so hard to be who I need for my family, only to have my father actively trying to keep his children oppressed. I give advice, and tough love, and soft love, and I have someone undoing everything I do. I am so enraged right now, I don't know whether to cry, or scream.

What's left to eat?

XY11 spent the night at a friends house and they came to my house for breakfast. I was busy, (in other words awake) so I did the lazy mom homemade breakfast. Frozen whole grain waffles, fried eggs and cut fruit. I asked the child, we'll call him, ummm... Rickets, how many eggs he would like. "One," he replied. I was mildly surprised since XY11 would gladly put away a dozen fried eggs at one sitting, but okay. I then asked which fruit he would like. Cut up cantaloupe? Grapes? Plums, nectarines? No, nope, no thanks. I asked him what fruit he does like. None. Oh, then you must eat vegetables instead. No, nuh-uh, only corn and potatoes. Huh! And your mom lets you not eat fruits and vegetables? Yeah, she doesn't care. Wow! Not my place to judge, or make the kid feel like a freak, so I let it go. As the boys were finishing breakfast, I noticed "Rickets" poking the outer edges of the egg with his fork like one might poke a jellyfish that washed up on the shore. "Is it over cooked?" I asked. "No, I've never eaten an egg before, and I don't know how to." "You mean you've only eaten scrambled eggs?" "No, I've never eaten any eggs." My resolve to not make the kid feel like a freak was waning. I knew if asked more questions he would be self conscious. But, seriously! Oh my goodness! No fruit, no vegetables, no eggs. There's not much left. His entire diet must be comprised of either neon artificial colors, or goldeny-beige. Yikes. I am so grateful for my whole grain, fruit and vegetable eating children. I also don't feel as bad about the monthly Kool-aid purchase.

Writing for pay is very different than writing for me. Hopefully the stuff I am working on for my self, (novel) will pay me eventually, I mean the assignment writing. Speaking of writing, my amazing cousin got an offer on her book! It is a comical take on a parenting self-help book. I will keep you updated. Back to me. I am not being the greatest summer mother, but I am trying. The many hours XX5 spent playing video games yesterday indicates I might not be trying hard enough. I bought the recent Time magazine that focuses on childhood obesity. Guilt upon guilt!
XY17 has a girlfriend, pretty much for the first time. I really like her. She is very sweet, smart and cute. I am always pushing XX17 to have friends over. He spends more time at his friends homes then they spend here. I really just want kids over here so I can feed them. It's a sickness. I need help. I know.

Day three of Summer Vacation

I have committed to being a good mother this summer. Having a kid barely graduate provides ample motivation. On day one of Summer Vacation I took XX5 to the library. Yesterday XY11 had his crew over to swim. Today, day three of Summer Vacation, I took XX5 to the Summer Reading program at the library. The theme for the summer program is "Catch the Reading Bug". Today there was a lady talking about bugs. Or so I thought. Actually, she was a "bug wrangler". XX5 and I stood in the blaring sun for twenty minutes. The line wrapped around the building, filled with sensibly shod mothers and there adorable children. This is how it is, apparently, whenever there is a free event in Temecula. I didn't know, because this is the first summer I have tried to be a good mother. I was shocked at how aggressive mothers and fathers were in getting a place in line. I was really getting pissed off. This seven foot tall (approximately) blond lady was determined she and her three nine or ten year old sons were going to push ahead of me and my five year old daughter. Sure enough the mini-giants got a seat, second row, right in the middle, while poor little XX5 was banished somewhere over on the far right. I don't think so. "Can you see?" I asked XX5. "No," she said with a sigh. I grabbed her hand and marched over to the mini-giants with the primo seats. "I'm sure you great big boys won't mind if this tiny little girl sits in front of you do you?" They didn't. Turns out that may not have been the greatest idea I ever had. I was settled in, seated with the other parents, reading, keeping half an eye and half an ear open so I would have something to talk about on the way home. I heard the bug lady ask for a volunteer, a brave volunteer. I saw XX5's hand go up, sort of half-heartedly. Remember, this is the girl that says "ewww" at the sight of a butterfly. This is not a good prospect for a brave volunteer for a bug lady. As luck would have it, out of 80 or more children, Bug Lady picks the most bug averse child I personally have ever met. XX5 gets up there, cracks a few jokes, and then is told to act like a tree. I know my kid, and I am poised to leap out of my seat to rescue XX5 as she faints from terror. I almost faint as I see, behind XX5's back, the bug lady pick up a 10 inch long. 1 1/2 inch in circumference, black millipede. She drapes it around XX5's wrist. Luckily, my daughter's pride, at that moment, was greater than her fear. She swayed slightly, and her larger eyes grew larger, but she stood there. She stood there for about 30 seconds, and then she said, in the immortal words of BurpyKitty, "Okay, I'm done!" She thrust her her hand toward Bug Lady. "I mean it," she said "I'm done now." Bug Lady quickly removed the shiny slithery bug from her wrist. XX5 wasted no time return to her seat on the floor. Bug Lady picked another little girl. After the millipede, Bug Lady placed a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach on the little girls back. "Thank goodness," I heard XX5 mutter.

At the end of the program, we were told that there were barbecue flavored meal worms and sour-cream and onion flavored crickets for us to sample. If you ate a bug you got a sticker. A sticker wouldn't quite do it for me. If I ever eat a bug, you can bet there was a six digit pay-off involved. Or a Mercedes.

Here I sit, June 16, the first day of Summer Vacation. XY17 graduated by the skin of his teeth. Really. We didn't know if he was going to graduate until two days before the ceremony. I strongly suspect creative grading on the part of at least one of his teachers. But, let's back up a moment, to a few days before all four of my kids graduated! my father called to let me know that my oldest younger sibling, 27 year old Cilla is finally done with her ten year long opiate and speed addiction. I know what you are picturing, and you are wrong. My sister is gorgeous, still, and the sweetest person you ever could meet. She is just naturally kind, like our Nana. She is never mean, and the only time she has ever hurt me is by being addicted to drugs. I love her, but from afar, because I can't deal with how she has lived her life. Anyway, she decides to leave her very wealthy drug dealing boyfriend, and move from Philly to SoCal to go into an intensive year-long Christian drug rehab. I am thrilled! I am also the one who drives her for six hours to two different locations the day before my kids graduate from, in order, middle school, elementary school, pre-school, and high-school. If you have not figured it out, either from reading this blog or knowing me, I am not a person who functions well under lots of stress and time constraints. As I typed that, I heard God laugh. In spite of the fact that I hate driving, I was very happy to have that time with Cilla. I love her so much. I want my sister, not some drug-addict whose name I avoid mentioning.

I got home at around 10pm, exhausted, and knew I had a huge day the following day. I was pretty together until XY17's graduation. Then I started crying and couldn't stop. I can't believe my baby is grown. I want to make sure I am the best possible parent to the three I still have in school.

"May you live in interesting times"

Life continues to be interesting. Roser's mother was in the hospital for about six days last week. She had a liver biopsy and we are waiting for the results. big sigh. We are not expecting any thing drastic, probably just some damage from a medication she was taking. I am having a hard time being clever or artistic right now, but at the same time I am dreaming about writing. I miss it terribly. I think this is how poets are born. I don't have the mental fortitude even for a short story now, a few sparse stanzas are all I could manage.
XY11 is starting the pre-season football stuff; meeting the coaches, getting equipment, and stuff like that. Watching a group of 21 10 and 11 year olds throw together an impromptu football game while the coach talks to parents, makes you feel like not that much has changed. Eleven year old boys still have too much energy. They still have bruised shins and scraped elbows. They still get freckles across their noses in the summertime, and they still like being tucked in, even if they would rather be tortured than admit it to their friends. XY11's childhood is slipping away quickly. More quickly than his 17 year old brother's did. I wish I could preserve his innocence and youth, but I can't.

Sigh....

My dear friend, Prettyface commented recently that she feels like she is in the beginning scenes of a 1970's disaster film. You know the ones where the characters are going about their business in sunny kitchens, with a small TV playing in the background. You can just here the newscaster reporting on things like, honeybees disappearing, and coyotes becoming more aggressive, shark attacks, and 30,000+ people dying in natural disasters in a three week period. Little stuff like that. When she first mentioned it, Myanmar and China had not yet happened. I hate anything that has to do with end-times theology. I get angry when people say that the end is coming. We don't know! We can't know. The symbols and clues in the Bible are there so we will recognize the time after the fact, not before. But still, I'm kind of freaking out here. I think about the time in the '60's when the Kennedys, and Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X were assassinated. There was Viet Nam, and Kent State. I guess people were freaking out then too.

Mothers Day

It is good to be the mother of a 13 year girl who can cook. I had the best Mother's Day brunch ever. Omelets, sour cream coffee cake, caramel ring-arounds, and bacon. Roser is sweet, but XX13 can cook! Roser can cook too, but he's more of a dinner chef. Take my advice. If you have kids, teach them how to cook. It will greatly improve the quality of your Mother's Day Brunches.

All week I have been thinking about what I want to do today. I want to lay out by the pool and read. It will be too cold to go in the pool, but laying out will be nice. I have to start a new book. I don't know which I will pick. I have a busy week for work, so I am going to enjoy today.

Of Books and Women

I am happy to tell you about a new blog I am part of. Of Books and Women. Officially it is the website for the Book Club I am involved with. Unofficially it is a place for every one to discuss books. Tell everyone what you are reading, and what you are planning to read. Tell what you loved, and what you have hated; the embarrassing guilty pleasure, and the classic you think was overrated. Please check it out, and tell me, us what you think.

What TV has come to..

I am truly thankful for DVR, or Tivo. I am going to bed earlier because I don't have to stay up to watch my crime shows that I love. I was especially grateful yesterday, when I realized, late yesterday afternoon that the two hour season finale of "Dexter" aired Sunday night and I completely forgot about it. Luckily the DVR was set to record all episodes. Whew! Roser likes sitcoms, and we have those set to record on Monday night and we watch them as we can through the week. I was so excited last night to have two full hours of Dexter to watch.

It turns out, major life stress does not mix well with TV shows about dismembering, blood-draining serial killers. I got about fifteen minutes in to it, and realized it was a bad choice. A day, during which you cried in your car over the prospect of your kid not graduating , is without a doubt a sitcom day. I had several to choose from. This brings me to my complaint. What the H-E-double hockey sticks is wrong with sitcoms? I thought "Friends" and "Seinfeld" introduced a new era of comedy. I thought realism, and subtlety was the new funny. I thought the days of bouncing breasts and the lecherous neighbor went out with Chrissy, Janet and Jack. Some of the humor in "Rules of Engagement" is sharp, observational and funny. Much of the interaction between the long married couple have Roser and I looking at each other knowingly, laughing uncomfortably. The relationship between the engaged couple is one we all remember. But, like a salad where all the components are fresh and tasty, except for one rotten slimy cucumber, there is a stereotype straight out of the Benny Hill '70s. The single neighbor is a repulsive sex and porn addict. He is a caricature and completely unbelievable. He is a fly in the ointment of this otherwise perfectly fine, (though not great) sitcom. Every time he is on the screen, I am annoyed. No one in real life would act like this, and if they did, they wouldn't have a job. (Downloading so much porn on his computer that it crashes, in his huge, presidentially appointed corner office, and then trying to have sex with the sexy tech who arrives to fix it.) The other object of my disdain is "The Big Bang Theory". I know the premise wasn't much to start with, but I thought it would be a light silly comedy. It is. Light, and a little silly, but not very funny. I watch it mostly cause the guy who was Darlene's boyfriend on "Rosanne" is on it, and I have sort of a weird crush on the robotic roommate, Sheldon. The show was consistently bland, occasionally slightly funny, until last night. Sheldon, the autistic savant has a super-hot twin sister, that his roommate and colleague of many years didn't know existed. By super hot, of course, I mean comically large breasts. Well, at least something was funny. Sort of. She was just one of the many girls Jack and Larry fought over in "Three's Company". A card board cutout, though definitely not flat.

In these sad, difficult times, I think we deserve decent comedy. Something believable, and with out stock characters. I feel like the creators of these shows don't care enough to make an enjoyable show. It feels like good enough is just good enough.

Don't even get me started on "Two and a Half Men".