My mom is cuter than your mom...

I'm falling in love with my mother all over again.  We haven't always had the best relationship, not the worse, but at some point, teenager years I'm sure, we drifted apart.  Mostly because we're so different and she had no earthly idea what to do with me or how to deal with me when I was younger.  And I didn't understand her either, for that matter.  Honestly, I judged her harshly when I was younger.  My daughters have done the same thing with me at times...what goes around, comes around.

My mother grew up very sheltered.  She's very innocent when it comes to the ways of the world.  She doesn't drink, never smoked, and has never cursed.  I remember once when I was a little girl, I heard her call my Dad a "titty-baby".  That was it for her.  The mother of all curse words.  I was a little wild, drank a lot, smoked and cursed...a lot.  Not that she knew that.  I worked very hard to keep it from her.  I take that back, one time she saw me smoking.  I was 20 and waiting for her to pick me up from the downtown bus station.  I'd had a really rough summer living in Destin, Florida and needed to come home to get my head together and rest.  She arrived early and when she rounded the corner and saw me sitting on a bench, duffle bag at my feet, with a cigarette in my hand, she cried. It broke my heart.

But these last 10 years or so, things have changed.  For me, things really started to change when my girls became teenagers and I saw myself in them.  And the way they treated me sometimes.  And the way I treated my mother all those years ago.  And the way she must have felt.  Not that my daughters are wild and rebellious, they're aren't.  They're good girls.  But there have been plenty of moments when they have made me feel like the most ridiculous, unintelligent woman on the face of the earth with one withering glance.

My mother, at the age of 68, is changing, too.  She's becoming more independent.  She's trying new things.  She texts like a 13 year old girl.


Mom's text:  have i told u how much i luv u 4evr?

Me:  I love you too, Mom!

Mom:  Sweet.

So stinkin' adorable.

Last week, she bought a Kindle Fire.  We've had a few tutoring sessions as she has never, ever, even turned on the computer at their house.  The internet is a foreign concept to her.  Amazon.com?  Please.  Email?  No clue.  Pandora blew her away.  I don't blame her...it blows me away, too.  She calls me and asks me how to wake up her Kindle, how to compose an email, how to turn it off, and how to turn it back on.   She wants to learn how to put her things "up in the cloud" as she says.  She needs lots of apps, she says, because all the girls at work have apps.  What is an app, by the way, she asks? 

The first day she bought it, after a two-hour long tutoring session at Starbucks, I reminded her how to purchase books at Amazon.

"Oh, no...I'm not buying books for this thing.  I only read real books," she said.

"Never?" I asked, "Because it's pretty cool to buy a book and never have to leave your house!  It's right there!  Instantly!"

"Naah....I just want to learn how to transfer money from my savings to my checking account.  Oh yeah, and I want to shoot people emails.  I definitely want to do that."

So adorable.  

Put the Crazy back in the Closet

I admit I don't follow politics very much.  I'm not alone in this.  A lot of people have grown tired of the endless child-like arguing between the parties and tune out.  I'm registered as a Democrat but haven't always voted that way.  I consider the candidate when I vote.  But over the years, and especially these last four years, the extreme Republicans seem to have lost their ever-loving minds.  There's a mob mentality, "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out", sort of feverish pitch to their rhetoric.  For all their talk against big government telling them what to do, they sure do spend a lot of time telling everyone else what to do.  And how to believe.  And who to marry.  And all in the name of God.  It isn't the first time that God has been used to further people's agendas.  You don't want to marry someone of the same sex? Then don't.  You don't believe in abortion?  Then don't have one.  You think everyone on welfare are lazy, opportunist tearing down this country?  They aren't.  I'm a Christian.  I've had an abortion.  I've been on welfare.  I haven't married someone of the same sex because I'm not homosexual. When I see posts on facebook telling me that as a Christian, if I care about my country, I better vote Republican, I see that as bullying.  I see that as pushy.  I see that as a complete manipulation and slap in the face to the God that I believe in.  And I don't want any part of it. 


There are other issues, besides the ones I've mentioned, that this writer, Jane Devin, addresses.  For me, she nailed it. 

Thoughts about empty nests and Hurricane Isaac

A week and a half ago, I moved my daughter into her dorm at LSU.  LSU is in Baton Rouge.  Baton Rouge is about an hour away from New Orleans.   She's the last of my three children to leave the nest.  I've been writing about nothing else except for preparing for the empty next for about eighteen months now.  I'm fully prepared.

I've got this.  

I grieved for a few days but now I'm getting used to it.  My bathroom stays clean for more than two hours.  So does the kitchen.  My grocery bill is like eleven dollars and 32 cents.

And now Hurricane Isaac is moving in.

1.  I've adjusted, rejoiced even, in my new empty nest status.  I think I can get used to this.  The crying was minimum.  As I said, I prepared in advance for this.  Hell, I've been preparing for turning 50 since I turned 31.  I've been preparing for the empty next FOREVER. 

2.  They are coming home.  Classes have been cancelled.  I'm glad. 

3.  I've barely had time to adjust to my clean bathroom and my tiny, grocery bill.

4.  Isaac means "laughter."

5.  I'm glad I only have a handful of readers so I don't get pummeled with comments about how heartless I am about the approaching hurricane and how its name means "laughter."

6.  It's not funny.  I get that.

7.  Life is strange.

My Girl

When my son was younger I prayed that one day he would find the right woman for him.  That she would get him, encourage him, make him a better man, be a good mother to their children.  I prayed that often.  I pray the same thing for my daughters.  Because I know how important that is...I know how getting involved with the wrong person can set you off on the wrong path for years. 

When he met Samantha, we call her Sam, I wasn't so sure. 

It's been rough for the both of them, for sure.  But I continue to be amazed by her.  She is the woman I prayed for.  She is strong.  She is smart.  She is funny.  She is an amazing mother.  She is always herself, never making apologies.  She calls him out when he needs it because she loves him, not because she has to be right.  In short, she sees my son the same way I see him and fights for their marriage and their family.

She has become a daughter to me and I just wanted you to meet her.  I don't feel free to tell her story here and how she's evolved because it's her story, not mine.  But I can tell you she means the world to me.  And I'm so proud of the woman she's become.

Ahhh..beach time

I made it to the beach, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina a couple of weeks ago.  This is the place where I feel most at home, most relaxed, most content.  Not necessarily Myrtle Beach, any beach, anywhere.  It's been five years and so long overdue and all I can say is...ahhh.  

I feel so much better. 

This older gentlemen walked the beach everyday, same time every evening.  I can think of nothing I'd like better when I'm his age.

Watching the seagull, watching the waves.

  The sweetest sister in the entire universe, my sister, Pammy.  

 The boardwalk.  

 This is my, youngest, Sara.  She was so pleasant, so easy-going and so much fun for the entire trip.  Stevey couldn't make it because she's having her own beach time in Los Angeles while she's interning at Current/Elliott.

My Mom, on the left, and her sister. 

 My beautiful nieces.

Did I mention it was a girls only trip?

This visit ought to hold me over for another year.  I'll never let this much time pass between beach trips.

And one day, I will own a little beach cottage. I will.

And this song will constantly be playing in the background.  

Little Birds

Being a mother is no cake walk.  Most of the time, your heart is stuck in your throat and your mind just reels and reels at what you should do, could have done better, pledge to do better in the future.  These little people and the incredible responsibility they bring is almost too much to bear at times.  But we do.  We bear them, carry them, comfort them, encourage them, lecture them, and maybe, sometimes yell at them.  All this in the midst of trying to keep your head together, the bills paid, a roof over their heads, dealing with your boss, keeping food on the table and shoes on their feet.  Those kids are the center of your world, even though, you know that one day they will leave.  That's the goal.  To send them flying.  To give them enough guts and courage to test their wings.  To fly on their own.  And hopefully, to fly to places you never even imagined they would go.  To fly to places you wish you'd had the courage to fly to.

And one day, if you're lucky, they do.

They fly.

And you sit back and observe with a big, fat grin on your face.  And you see that they are more than what you hoped for.  That they are different, apart, from yourself.  And while they grow up and are still full of doubt and questions about life and the future, you know.  You know that somewhere along the way, you did something right.  You know that they will be okay.  You know that you, in some way, had a part in this amazing, complicated, talented, compassionate human being. 

These are two of my three kids.  My girls. The one in the back, Stevey, is working her way through a design internship this summer in LA.  She's only 19 and even though she was my most fearful child, would walk up 10 flights of stairs instead of riding the elevator, she moves forward in spite of those fears.  She's accomplished so much in the one short year since she left for college. 

The one in the front is Sara.  She detests exercise. She just graduated high school and is on her way to college in a couple of months.  As you can see, she's more laid back, she takes a different approach to life.  She's smart as a whip but not in a hurry.  I have no doubt that she will get to where she wants but she'll take a different route than her sister.  Maybe more detours, maybe not.  Night and day, these girls.  And I love that about them.  I love that they contrast and compliment each other.  I love that where one is strong, the other is weak, and vice versa.  And I love that they lean on each other and have learned to accept their differences.  

They are fiercely independent and strong.  So much more so than I was at their ages.  So yeah, I'm kind of proud.  And now I'm sitting here with a big, happy grin on my face while I sit and watch them fly. 


 

Monday

 
On days like these, every noise feels like an assault.  Monday morning and the garbage truck bangs, snorts and crashes down the street like a prehistoric machine.  I search for a little silence.  It isn't happening.  My husband wakes up early for a change and hovers around my chair, asking questions I already answered last night.  The tiny, shrilling ring of the fax machine is constantly in the background, like a mosquito, until I reach over and yank the cord out of the back.  Please be quiet.

I've barely been awake for thirty minutes before my cell phone starts buzzing and humming.  Questions already?  My boss must know everything under the sun, ASAP and FYI and ETA, btw.  Nothing can wait and why should it?  Not when the answers can be had, must be had, right now.  Text me. Email me.  Call me.  I MUST KNOW!

The more I search for silence on days like these, the more the noise finds me.  Get over yourself, it says, and deal with me.  Deal with us.  And answer these questions while you're at it. 

What time is my job?
Where are my keys?
Where is his lunchbox?
Is this the last week of school?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Is the coffee fresh?
Did Robert go to work today?
Do you have breakfast bars?
Are you okay?
What's wrong?
Are you mad at me?
What time is dinner?
What's for dinner?
Did you take my dress to have it altered?
Where's that invoice?
Who are you talking to?
Seen my belt?
Do you have any ideas on how to increase business?

And the garbage truck, brakes squealing, is barreling down the road for what seems like the 100th time in an hour, picking up empty pizza boxes, bags of lawn trimmings, and all the other debris from people trying to cram all the fun and work they can into two days.  Before Monday.  Before the world comes crashing in again with all of its demands and noise and days like these.