The Rainbow Connection

“What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing
and what do you think we might see?
Someday we’ll find it The Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me.”
-Kermit the Frog & The Muppets

My father’s birthday is in two weeks and today I ventured out to buy his birthday card. It reminded me how much I hate buying my father a birthday card – and I struggle with it every year. You see, Dad and I don’t have a typical Father/Daughter relationship, and I’m guessing that it’s probably been about twenty-some years since we have.

Every year I stand in the store in front of the cards, looking at “Birthday -Dad”. I pick up cards, read them, put them back in their place. The cards all say things about “the difference you’ve made” or “the things you taught me” or something to the effect of how dad raised you, Happy Birthday. And every year I try to find something that even kind of sort of fits – because unfortunately, Dad didn’t teach me much, and he wasn’t an overwhelming influence on my life, and to be honest, he just wasn’t there much.

I’m not saying that it’s all his fault.

My parents divorced when I was four or five years old. My dad is a musician, worked nights. My brother and I would spend every other weekend with him, but we would be left with sitters at night while he worked, and he would sleep late the next day. It’s kind of the nature of the beast with a career like dad’s, but it also made it difficult to spend time with him. There were times when his schedule was a blessing – I have a vivid memory of my dad bringing me a lunch at school – one from Burger King – because I’d left my lunch at home. Having days off, he was able to do that. I also remember my mom driving me to day camp once and I got sick on the way there – I ended up throwing up out the window of her Volkswagen Bug – so she dropped me off with dad. I ended up feeling better and he drove me all the way to the day camp field trip destination.

My dad is a pianist – and when he would work, he would call home sometimes and I would ask him to play me a song. He would ask “What song?” and I would always say, “Play ‘Rainbow Connection’.” It was my favorite song from The Muppet Movie. When I’d see him again the next time, he’d say, “I played your song for you.”

When I was 13, my mom moved me and my brother across the country. Living 2000 miles away from dad, it was hard to have a “normal” relationship. Many times along the road, it really felt more like he was a trusted adult, rather than a parent – almost a friend, if you will. The years that followed were the years when I was really growing into the person I am, and during that time, I’d see dad maybe 2 weeks out of each year – less once I went away to college. The person who taught me to drive? Not my dad. The person asking me where I was going and who I was going with? Not my dad. The one at all my school events? The only one dad saw was my high school graduation.

Because of that, it makes it hard to define that relationship when card shopping – especially because as time goes on, the tension with my dad fluctuates given the issues ongoing with my brother. My dad is not, and probably has never been, the one I turn to when I’ve needed strength, and those days when I stand in front of the cards looking for something that describes how I feel, it makes me so sad that I can’t find the words, that I don’t feel those things, that I don’t have those stereotypical feelings for my dad. That there is no card that “fits”.

After about ten minutes of browsing, I did find a card. Was it the perfect card? No. But it will work.

Seasons of Love

“Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?”
- The cast of “RENT”

Today, the snow is falling steadily from the sky and they are predicting 3 – 6 inches of snow to blanket the area. As a girlfriend of mine suggested, perhaps the weather is part of what is bogging me down lately. I wouldn’t doubt it. There’s not much wrong that wouldn’t be cured by the absence of gray clouds and the feeling of warm sun on my face. I know I’ve been a bit of Debbie-Downer lately, and I truly believe that life is cyclical – and I’m just in a slumpy part of life right now. Decembers for me are typically not a time of year that brings me much joy.

Today, though – today, I’m gonna try to reflect on things that have touched me, that make my life not so much of a pain in my ass. Things that get me out of bed in the morning. In no particular order, some of the highlights of my life/year:

• Starbucks Gingerbread Latte (nonfat, sugar free, no whip)
• My 5 year old is learning to read
• My 5 year old wrote all her numbers up to 90 this morning
• My 2 year old says she loves me
• Kisses and hugs from my kids
• My husband gifting me with the 12 Days of Christmas – it’s a big pain in his ass, but he knows that I love that he does it.
• My husband gifting our daughters for the 12 Days of Christmas – they were ungrateful about it at times, and didn’t really make it very much fun for him
• My stepson didn’t get expelled (…yet)
• My husband’s Ex didn’t cause too much drama this year – yeah, she did some of her Stupid People Tricks, but nothing too extreme and nothing we couldn’t handle
• That I’m in my kitchen rocking out to “The Boys of Summer” by the Ataris even though it’s COLD outside and snow is falling
• Hey wait! Rocking out in the kitchen, Period. I love dancing. I love dancing in my kitchen.
• I love dancing in my living room too.
• I love my year of gadget acquisition – Clothes and shoes be damned. Hook me up with computer gear, a new iPod, the iPhone – ah, bliss. I’m a geek in training, I think. Love that stuff.
• Love all the magazines I get – around the 15th of the month, the magazines start coming – like ten of them. Glamour, Real Simple, Wired, Parents, Parenting, Women’s Health, Rolling Stone (this one is actually bi-weekly, I think), Entertainment Weekly, Cookie, and more. I’m just a magazine freak. If I’m not reading magazines, I’ve got a book open.
• Speaking of books, I love that Christmas has left me with a pile of about six books I need to break into… Love having new books to read.
• I love kindergarten. My daughter is having a blast and learning stuff – and I have a few days with just my little one each week. Everyone wins.
• Cookie Minster from Coldstone Creamery – YUM
• Learning to make cheesecake. Bliss
• “Turbo Jam” exercise DVD
• Cappuccinos
• Coke Zero
• Water with Lemon
• “The Bourne Ultimatum”
• The fact that Matthew McConnaghey seems to not own any shirts and is always photographed with those abs prominently displayed – niiiiiice
• Long term enduring friendships
• Love

Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town

“I changed by not changing at at all, small town predicts my fate
Perhaps that’s what no one wants to see…”
-Pearl Jam

I was talking to a friend today and found myself struggling to find the words for how this year has been for me. It’s hard to explain – this has been probably one of the most emotionally challenging years for me. So many aspects of this year have kicked me in the ass that I find myself longing for the ball to drop into 2008, to see if the new year brings positive changes.

This was a year of loss – in both a literal and figurative sense. My grandmother and great aunt both passed away. In my life, I haven’t had to attend too many funerals, and I haven’t often been affected by deaths. I’ve been pretty lucky, I realize, to not have more experience of first hand loss. Death does crazy things to the survivors – which I did get to see firsthand – including my dad and aunt’s struggle over their inheritance (my aunt is somewhat of a money grubbing leech, and my dad eventually, after months of struggle, just caved in to her demands to be done with it). Another part of death that was new to me was how quickly put the dead on a pedestal and then take them down. It was at my grandmother’s memorial service when my dad’s wife shared with me that my grandmother never really liked me that much. How was I supposed to feel about that?

On the figurative sense, this was the year that I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I am losing myself, and I know that I say that in this blog time and again, but I really feel sometimes that if I could just tear away some of these layers, I could find me again in there. At the core of it all, I feel like I’m the same person I’ve always been, but then again, I know that there are parts of me evolving and changing. While it seems that I am constantly feeling something, feeling things so strongly, I also feel lately that there are times when I don’t – because sometimes it’s just the same ol’ thing, and I have to refuse to let myself buy into getting worked up or enmeshed in the stuff.

I feel like 2007 is the year that my rose-colored glasses came off and I started seeing people for who they are, and found that there were many people who just don’t have much to offer me and my life. That actually makes me saddest of all – that realization. Because, it’s lonely. I’ve lost closeness with people this year that have been a part of my life for over a decade – and without them, without that degree of closeness, it’s hard. But on top of me realizing that they might not have much to contribute to my life anymore, is the reciprocal thought that maybe I’m not adding much positive to their lives either. We’re busy these days, folks – it’s not unusual to invest your time in the friendships that are most fruitful and meaningful. But it’s odd not to turn to people that I once relied on.

I am so blessed in so many ways, and I look forward to growth and evolution and joy in 2008. I can’t wait for it. Because I am so over 2007.

I Love to Watch a Woman Dance

“‘Cause to dream sometimes, that’s the only way to go to places you can’t get to any other way.”
-The Eagles

This morning, I left my house without my children. I had a plan, you see. For Christmas, I was a proud recipient of the most fun tech gadget ever – an iPhone. My journey today included cancelling my old cell phone policy (Sayonara!) and heading to the beloved Apple Store to pick up some accessories for the iPhone – a protective case, and such. Then I wanted to mosey on over to Barnes & Noble to spend my lovely gift card. My husband agreed to hold down the fort with the kiddos, and I proceeded to get ready.

 I showered, got dressed, did the hair and makeup (and lest you think I was turning into one of those people, I will have you know that I was ready within twenty minutes). I went downstairs and was tinkering in the kitchen, when my husband said to me, “You’re going to the phone store, right?” Uh huh. “Are you trying to get some free accessories or something?” Huh? “You can see right down your shirt, all the way to your belly button.”

Charming.

You see, he says this EVERY damn time I wear this shirt. And I should tell you, it’s not a skeevy shirt at all. It’s a lovely purple shirt with 3/4-length sleeves that has a built-in white “cami” underneath so it looks layered, though it’s really not. It has several buttons up the front – but the ladies reading this know, they are mostly for show. You start buttoning up those buttons and then you can’t see the white cami part. It makes the whole shirt look kind of funny. I’m not a busty gal – I don’t have boobs popping out all over the place. The shirt is only “indecent” if I am bending over to put a dish in the dishwasher – I task I assure you I wasn’t planning to take on at the freakin’ Apple Store. Also, it’s winter. There’s snow on the ground. I was planning on wearing a coat.

But, at that point, it really didn’t matter. It just made me feel so ugly. I headed back upstairs, put on a green turtleneck sweater and my husband said to me, “What? Are you mad?” I told him that as a matter of fact, I kind of was – that the implication that I’m gonna whore myself out for freebie phone accessories was somewhat ludicrous. He said, “Well, don’t you think you need to know if you can see down your shirt?”

“So TELL me that, say, ‘I can see down your shirt when you bend over’ and not act like I’m deliberately trying to get that kind of attention.”

Ugh. It evolved into one of those, “So you can joke with me but I can’t joke with you?” sort of discussions – and it was a discussion and not an argument. I assured him that I would really try not to joke with him, if it made him feel as insulted as I felt. He didn’t have a response for that. I grabbed my new Eagles’ cd, my lovely new phone and hit the road. Spending two hours alone felt so good.

The togetherness of the past several days has been wearing on me. Not just that my husband has been off work for five days (though it’s such a rarity that neither one of us really knows what to do when he’s home for that long!). It’s that my oldest daughter is off of school and has been home and wanting entertainment. My stepson has been over for the past several days. Everyone is on vacation… except me.

I definitely crave my solitude and my order and my routine. Right now, I am feeling claustrophobic – like everyone is crowding me out. Doesn’t help that in the midst of the day, I was attacked by cramps so painful and so miserable, I spent an hour curled up in a ball on the floor. The hardest part about days like these is that I feel so guilty for wishing them to be over. Life already goes by so fast – and I have got to get better about savoring the moments each day. If I don’t regain some normalcy soon, though, the next week is going to be pretty rough too.

Carol of the Bells

“Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells
All seem to say throw cares away
Christmas is here bringing good cheer
To young and old, meek and the bold…”
-Traditional Christmas Carol

 Well, here it is. Christmas Eve day. I’m trying to find some spirit and some joy and really, despite the fact that this could well be my scroogiest holiday season ever, I’m having an okay day. I’ve already prepared a batch of brownies (Peppermint brownie sundaes for dessert tomorrow – yuuuuuum!), and I’m working on the dough for Monkey Bread right now. Yes, straight up sugar tomorrow – I can feel my ass grow just thinking about all the yummy treats. But, what the hell – it’s Christmas, right?

My daughters are excited, and my stepson is his sullen self. I’m so thrilled. Not even noon yet, and I’ve had to put on my referee jersey. It just gets old, but I’m trying not to let it bog me down.

I mean, tomorrow’s Christmas. That’s a joyful thing. I can’t wait to see my kids’ faces light up with their gifts. Even my husband has a surprise or two coming that I think he’s going to be happy about.

I’m still ready for it to be over.

Heart of the Matter

“The more I know the less I understand
All the things I thought I figured out, I have to learn again…”
-Don Henley

Seems like this blog is where I tend to unload all the less than perky thoughts that roll around in my head. Guess I have to put those thoughts somewhere – hold them in too long, and I might spontaneously combust.

 It never fails to amaze me how I thought things would be so different at this point. I had things going a certain way – marriage, job, then a baby. I went back to work after the baby, and then a few years later, had another and decided to stay home. The cliche is true for me – I have never worked this hard in my life. I can’t just say I’m a stay-at-home mom though – I’m one of those who must qualify that by letting you know I am working part time and I do freelance, and so I am contributing to my family’s financial picture as well.

The thing no one really told me about staying home was how freaking lonely it is. Sure, I’m surrounded by my kids all day, but surprisingly, what I miss are those stupid little moments where on Monday morning, sipping coffee in an office with my coworkers gabbing about our weekends. Or yelling over the partition walls to ask them questions. Or trash-talking our micromanaging boss. I miss having an identity that is more than just “Chief Nose Wiper” and “Head Diaper Changer”. “Queen of the Laundry” and “Dinner Guru”.

I know that what I do is important. I do. I know that.

But after all these years of knowing who I am, I just don’t really know anymore and that sucks. My kids are young and these years aren’t going to last forever. I know that I will most likely look back and be so relieved for the days, weeks, months, years spent with them. I know that, which is why I press on, because I also know how quickly the time flies by. Yet, I have lost myself and no one cares but me. I feel like I’m struggling to find time for myself, and in that, I get sad and frustrated with the people around me. The system ain’t broke for them. The clothes are washed, the house is (relatively) clean, and dinner is on the table every night. The system is broke for ME – me, who was up with a two year old at 5:30, who put a meal on the table that two kids refused to eat, who has to retreat to the treadmill just to pop on some headphones and find some peace.

This is quite likely a PMS-induced post – but I wonder if things were different, if I’d still find something to be upset about, or if the load would be lifted off my shoulders?

I Wanna Go Too Far

“I’m the one they all depend on
Sensible, predictable and strong
But every now and then, I feel like I’ve played that role too long
I need to rock the boat, I need to speak my mind
Just this once let it all unwind…”
-Trisha Yearwood

I am probably the only person you will ever come across who will tell you that I wish I had raised more hell when I was younger. I wish I had been less afraid of disappointing people. I wish I had been less concerned with what people thought. I played by the rules, and as a result, everyone got this idea in their head of the me I’m “supposed” to be. The me that is dependable, the me that is there unfailingly…

 There has been a time or two that I have deviated from this role somewhat, and both times resulted in what I can only describe as Category IV family drama. Both times, of course, happened when I was approximately 800 months pregnant with either of my daughters. If you’ve ever met a pregnant woman near the end of a long gestational period, you’ll know it’s generally not a good idea to piss her off. And generally, it doesn’t matter what you say or do, she’ll be pissed off about anything (particularly if the end of said pregnancy is in the hottest July on record for your region). At the end of both of my pregnancies, my mother was able to aggravate me so severely, I hung up on her after screeching at her like a she-devil for a length of time. Totally unexpected. Of course, my mother, not used to me acting out against her AT ALL, did what most mothers might have done – she cried. A lot. And then tried to guilt me for making her cry. And I did what any self-respecting pregnant lady would do, and I played the Pregnancy Card – big time – and made her get off my back about it.

Beyond that, though, I think I tend to be pretty even keeled – at least by outward appearances. Sometimes, I feel like I really want to do the unexpected, to cross some line, to live the life I want to live – and quit being so concerned with what people are going to say.

A few months ago (before the Road Trip Debacle of October), I got together with some girlfriends for a night of (too much) sangria and some games and chat. I realized that even though I’ve been pretty low key for most of my life, there is so much about me they don’t know because the times I have “broken the rules”, I haven’t advertised that. Unsurprisingly, then, I’m considered this saintly pure one. Which is fine, I suppose.

Some days I want to do something that no one expects from me – get a tattoo, pierce something, say something totally unexpected. Just to do it. And to close my eyes and not even THINK about the reactions.

Winter

“Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose, get my new boots on
Get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter
Put my hands in my father’s glove.”
-Tori Amos

Winter is not causing warmth in my heart – and as much as I love Tori’s song – I’m gonna agree to disagree (though I really super duper love love love the song). Winter has never been a time of year that brings me much particular joy. Aside from Christmas, actually, I could do away with the whole winter thing altogether. It could have something to do with the fact that for the first half of my life, I was a West Coaster who didn’t have snow in my life. We moved to the midwest when I was a teen, and I’ve never really enjoyed the shift from fall to winter.

I hate how it’s so dark, so early. I hate how it’s cold. I’m a freak-of-nature who loves to work out daily – I hate being limited to the treadmill in the basement instead of taking walks outside. I’m not a particularly outdoorsy kind of gal – but I do like having the option.

With winter comes the inevitable bout with cooties. I have two kids. We also have several kids over frequently. Three things kids do not do consistently: Cover their mouths, wash their hands, not infest others with cooties. It should come as no surprise then that I am sicker than a dog with a veritable pharmacy on my kitchen counter from a well-meaning doctor who didn’t seem too super sure what was wrong with me, but since I have had sinus infections before, he was guessing (Guessing?! How ’bout that medical degree, huh?) that that is probably what it is this time. Faaaaaaaaantastic. So, I’m taking an antbiotic that makes my mouth taste like I’ve been gargling with pennies, a decongestant that makes me dizzy, and at night, a cough syrup with codeine that renders me useless and doesn’t entirely help my cough. With our crappy prescription coverage on our insurance, these three gems cost about $85, and I’m feeling WORSE. Yippee.

Perfect

“We’ll love you just the way you are if you’re perfect…”
-Alanis Morisette

I’m not perfect. I will never be perfect, and while I am my own harshest critic, I really don’t even aspire towards perfect anymore. I’m 31, and have spent at least the past 15 years looking at myself in the mirror with critical eyes, thinking and re-thinking everything I say, doing the “coulda, shoulda, woulda” dance in my head. And after all that time spent, and I’m still not perfect.

I have no patience. I get worn out easily. I am a good mom, but have a hard time tolerating neediness from anyone other than my kids. I don’t want to be relied upon, I want other people to be able to figure things out on their own. I don’t want to fix other people’s problems. I don’t mind being the confidant – actually, I like that part. I don’t want to be the therapist.

I spend too much money on over priced coffees and I tend to be selfish when I’m unhappy because sometimes the fastest way to bring me joy is a bit of retail therapy. I crave technological gadgets I don’t really need (hello iPhone), and get my mind set on why I kinda sorta deserve it.

I get resentful when I feel other people aren’t pulling their weight. It makes me want to stop pulling MY weight. I keep score, but hate when others do.

I get upset when my size-2 pants get a little snug and I am more comfortable in my size-4. It makes me over analyze every bite I put in my mouth until I’ve once again gotten comfortable in my jeans. I hate jeans fresh from the dryer because the tightness makes me feel bad about myself.

I can’t accept compliments. I find it hard to believe other people might find anything about me aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes I’m the obnoxious person who answers a compliment with a, “whatever” rather than a “thank you”. (Though to my credit, I’ll never ask you if my ass looks fat in these jeans, because frankly a) I don’t really want to know and b) I already think it does).

I’m not a secret keeper, per se, but I need my privacy. Having people in my space bothers me – there’s a time and a place. I get antsy when people push too hard for closeness outside of my timetable. When I need my space, it has nothing to do with YOU, it has everything to do with ME needing ME time. I don’t like to molly-coddle when someone is upset because I am shutting them out – I spend so little time alone, I crave it. Alone time is like crack to me. I am addicted, but sometimes it’s hard to get.

I will never be perfect, because human nature just isn’t that way. Someday, maybe I’ll be less imperfect, or maybe I’ll lower my standards.

So Much To Say

“Keep it locked up inside
Talk about the weather
Can’t see the light
Open up my head and let me out, little baby…”
-Dave Matthews Band

I admire those who are able to trust easily, who are able to find the person or people they trust, and just pour all their thoughts on the table and do so without fear of consequence or of the listener’s reaction. I admire them… but don’t want to be one.

Frankly, while sometimes I feel like I’m maybe misunderstood, or that people might not “get me” and that they might understand me better if I were to open up more, I also like knowing that there are layers of me that belong just to me, and to those I chose to share with. I rarely share every layer with every one. I tend to be quiet, and don’t always say much – but that doesn’t mean that I have nothing to contribute. Often, I have thoughts rattling in my head, but I just don’t let them out. You know, that sounds almost a bit strange – and I don’t mean it strangely! I am always thinking – my brain is always churning. I am very protective with my words, though.

There is a joy in having those people to trust. There is a joy in knowing there are people to share those words with – with no fear of consequence, criticism, and nothing but understanding and compassion. Lately, I find myself trying to trust my friends more – trying to not hold things in, trying to not do everything on my own. It’s been a curious exercise, to say the least – and I haven’t been disappointed. But for someone who has held things back for so long, putting myself out there is still very hard to do.