The other day, my daughter wrote me this note.
I don’t know what it means, EXACTLY, but knowing her, I think it’s supposed to be about how much fun we have when we sing together. The feeling she has in her heart when her family is happy. Now I don’t want to put words in her mouth, so I will just leave it at that. I can’t be 100% certain of what goes through her cute little head, what she sees with her serious brown eyes, all the expressions that she sometimes hides from me under the mop of her curly brown hair.
Sometimes I can guess. But I will never truly know.
“You’ve been getting really political lately” – My husband, in regards to my activity on Facebook, Twitter and yes, this blog.
When John told me this a few weeks ago, I was like “Really?” knowing in my heart (yes, this bleeding, left leaning heart) that he was right. “What do you mean?” wanting him to tell me so I understood what he means by “really political.” You know, versus just “slightly political.”
“Well, you put up a link to a post that is obviously written with a liberal slant on your Facebook page and then you ask people for their thoughts.”
“So? I am asking for an open discussion.”
“Well you never put up a conservatively written link and ask for anybody’s feedback on that,” he countered.
When I was younger, I always had this vision of what being a mother would be like. I knew it would be hard, juggling that successful career, running around with my kids in parks, cooking homemade meals every night while still remaining to stay in shape through all of this.
Because everybody knows if you are doing that much work, you must be burning a lot of calories.
But being a mother is NOTHING like I thought. Nothing that I bargained for. These were the realizations that hit me very early on.
1. Control. Or lack thereof. As someone who could be relied upon to be on time, stick to commitments, be out of bed early and even manage to throw a workout in before a 7 AM flight, losing this practically gave me angina. I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten my family prepared to go somewhere to be stalled by a “What’s that smell?” from my husband or a “Mommy, I need to go potty!” or an even more reassuring, “Oops, Mommy, I missed the toilet!”
I have known times like this.
I was talking to a close friend the other day about depression, something her husband had gone through recently after some stressful stuff in their lives piled up too, too quickly to control.
“It’s hard for me. I don’t handle things that way. I’m not wired that way,” she said, explaining that she wants to support him but finds it challenging, not understanding why he is handling their pressures so differently than her.
I understood completely. Before I was impacted by it, depression was just something Tom Cruise and Brooke Shields fought about (with a little intervention from Matt Lauer – boo-ya!). Depression was commercials that I forwarded on my DVR, sometimes catching the tail end of the ever reassuring “side effects include death, hysteria, inexplicable flatulence. In rare cases, liver, lung and rectal cancer have been reported.”
This is an old post, but I thought of it last night as I was in bed, bathed in darkness, right before my eyes closed.
Let’s make a law that gay people can have birthdays, but straight people get more cake – you know, to send the right message to kids. - Bill Maher
He also likes to wear his sister’s plastic high heel shoes around the house and will carry her purse all sassy-like on his right shoulder.
As we get ready for dinner and we ask him which cup he wants, it’s always the purple one.
With flowers on it.
The other day our amazing Au Pair, Heather, went to pick up Nico from school. She was wearing this pink sweater with Red hearts on it. Here is what it looks like.
The first thing out of Nico’s mouth when he saw Heather was, “Heather, I love your sweater. I just love it!” He brought his hands to his cheeks to express his enthusiasm as well.
It’s been one week since the election. Some have wept tears of joy. Others have wept for other reasons. I would say that most of America has dealt with it the way you would expect, in a pretty straightforward, matter of fact way.
Amidst all of this though, there does seem to be a newly awoken anger. Perhaps it’s an anger that’s been here all along and has been fairly dormant. Perhaps my head has been so far up my own ass these days that I didn’t notice.
That’s possible too.
The anger just seems to have reached new levels.
Notwithstanding ignorant comments like the one from Bill O’Reilly which I wrote about last week, I feel like there is a volatility in the air. People remain highly sensitized and are clamoring to fight, to exchange words. To scream the loudest.
Proof that Bill O’Reilly Will Always be an Asshat
Ok, y’all. (Yes, I know I am an Indian girl from New Jersey, but I have lived in Virginia long enough to say y’all).
I have not said much about the election this year. I have gotten annoyed at Facebook friends that have also been acting like asshats trying to shove their political beliefs down my throat and talking ignorant shit about BOTH candidates. I know, I know, let’s move FORWARD.
Ok, I will. I promise. Just give me a second to say something first.
Bill O’Reilly has said something to upset me.
What? Bill O’Reilly? Stop the effing presses. Are you kidding me? When has he ever said anything offensive before? I will give you this, next to Glenn Beck and Ann Coulter, he looks like Gandhi, but still.
Bill. Said. Something. Questionable.
This is going to sound really mean. So I am going to try to sugar coat this as much as possible and really say this as delicately as I possibly can.
Hmmm. Looking for the words.
My five year old daughter is a complete pain in the ass.
I know. I KNOW. That’s really bad to say but that’s the nicest way I can put it. And I am even feeling generous right now.
Don’t get me wrong. She has those moments that all parents talk about. Those “magical” moments, where a parent looks at their child and realizes that there must be a God. I think even Atheists must feel that twinge of doubt when these moments occur. Those moments, where it feels like someone just squeezed your heart and you have to catch your breath because you can’t believe it’s even possible that you brought this amazing, independent, loving, precious, cherubic angel into the world.