i sleep in you
recklessly waking
to your image
in tea leaves
signs, omens, and old wives' tales
bind me
returning me to dreams
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Monkey Bars on a Cloudy Night
Last night, I was on my way home from work, and noticed that the Lippitt Park playground is reasonably well lit after dark. I've driven past this playground many times. It's my family's favorite playground to visit. We often attend the farmer's market there. But I saw it for the first time last night. It was one of those odd moments of something familiar becoming new for just a moment. I continued home. I put my children to bed, and left again to meet some friends for a night out after the stress of the past couple of weeks.
After a fun night out, I purposely headed home in the direction that would once again take me past Lippitt Park. Once again, it was well lighted. This time, I pulled over. I took a walk around, feeling the happiness of childhood there, and decided to climb to the top of the monkey bars. There I sat. I only spent a few minutes on that dome. It was cold, and the breeze simultaneously cut through me and caressed me. The silence was both lonely and beautiful. I suddenly felt happy and free, a feeling I'd needed for weeks. I climbed down, and went home feeling as light as a laugh on the breeze.
I learned two things last night. Sometimes we need to let go of the seriousness of life and embrace our childhood, even if we are well beyond those years. The other thing is, if one decides to sit on top of monkey bars in New England in October at 2am, one should be wearing socks . . .
After a fun night out, I purposely headed home in the direction that would once again take me past Lippitt Park. Once again, it was well lighted. This time, I pulled over. I took a walk around, feeling the happiness of childhood there, and decided to climb to the top of the monkey bars. There I sat. I only spent a few minutes on that dome. It was cold, and the breeze simultaneously cut through me and caressed me. The silence was both lonely and beautiful. I suddenly felt happy and free, a feeling I'd needed for weeks. I climbed down, and went home feeling as light as a laugh on the breeze.
I learned two things last night. Sometimes we need to let go of the seriousness of life and embrace our childhood, even if we are well beyond those years. The other thing is, if one decides to sit on top of monkey bars in New England in October at 2am, one should be wearing socks . . .
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Untitled
Days like today make me wish with all my heart I were a visual artist. I get images in my head, and I want to share them. I don't draw or paint. Sculpture seems beyond my grasp. I am not a photographer or videographer. And yet, I have these images that I would like other people to feel. So, I am left with words. The words that follow do not do my image justice at all. I hope you enjoy anyway.
Footprints left
in dust
still covering my feet
from the walls crumbling
around my shoulders
Hand prints left
in paint
still drying over cracks
ever widening
Finger paint marks
your stone body
from my blind attempt
at escape
when the roof caved
under the weight of my sigh
Footprints left
in dust
still covering my feet
from the walls crumbling
around my shoulders
Hand prints left
in paint
still drying over cracks
ever widening
Finger paint marks
your stone body
from my blind attempt
at escape
when the roof caved
under the weight of my sigh
Mine to Bear
I gave birth to my own crown
one thorn at a time
carefully nailing each into my forehead
and perfectly arranged hair
stepping back from the mirror
to admire my handiwork
my new red pearls
before climbing onto my cross
of splinters
of glitter
of tiny white lights
and memories
I stretch my arms
to embrace the ghosts
to be beaten and whipped
until my skin fell away
and I was released
raw into the world
to wander
one thorn at a time
carefully nailing each into my forehead
and perfectly arranged hair
stepping back from the mirror
to admire my handiwork
my new red pearls
before climbing onto my cross
of splinters
of glitter
of tiny white lights
and memories
I stretch my arms
to embrace the ghosts
to be beaten and whipped
until my skin fell away
and I was released
raw into the world
to wander
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Paralyzed
I'm not really one to write rhyming poems. It seems so stilted to me, but here I have one. I'm not in love with it. I'm still playing with it. It just sounds so forced to me. I'd love feedback.
it only took a look
to wreck it all
I asked you to wait
I passed you by
you watched me fall
The set of your shoulders
paralyzed me in flame
with no voice left
to scream in pain
you'll never own this blame
you saw barren waste
I saw hope cloaked in gold
my pain is written on you
our story closed
my own left to be told
it only took a look
to wreck it all
I asked you to wait
I passed you by
you watched me fall
The set of your shoulders
paralyzed me in flame
with no voice left
to scream in pain
you'll never own this blame
you saw barren waste
I saw hope cloaked in gold
my pain is written on you
our story closed
my own left to be told
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Dream #3
In my dream, it is so dark, I can't see anything. My eyes are open. I'm staring, trying to see something, anything. I'm not afraid. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I am only aware of my being, that I have a body, even though I can't see it to be sure. My body is being rocked gently, as though I were laying in the palm of a giant who carried me around like a child might carry a robin's egg that has been thrown from the nest. All of a sudden, I feel the sensation of falling. My stomach goes into my throat, like it does of the first hill of a roller coaster, when the bottom drops out and you are free fall. Still all is dark. Still I feel no emotion. While still falling, I wake up. My stomach is still in my throat, and nothing daylight offers seems to fix it.
Dream #2
In my dream, I couldn't hear anything. People were talking. I knew this, but I couldn't hear a word of it. I was walking through a crowded room, and people were talking to me, saying hello. I couldn't hear them. I became increasingly frustrated with the pats to the back, the grabbing my shoulder, and smiles and moving lips. I was confused and I was trying to tell people that I couldn't hear anything they said. I couldn't even hear my own voice, and the people went right on smiling and laughing and greeting me as though I'd said nothing. And I stood in the middle of this room, crowded with happy people all telling me hello and I screamed at the top of my lungs I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I DON'T UNDERSTAND! But they swirled around me, still laughing. Still smiling. Still patting my shoulder. Still saying hello. As if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Dream #1
This is not a real dream. This is something that came to me, and may go into my play. I've had a rough couple of days, and this piece (monologue?) came back to mind.
And in my dream, I was flying, but I didn't want to be flying. I just couldn't help it. I couldn't stop. I kept going higher and higher. I looked down and the treetops were getting smaller. All I could think of was how I would return. What would happen if I just ceased to fly? I could imagine the fall and my body being broken by the trees, falling into a thousand pieces on the ground, unrecognizable as me. All of my pieces and all of the parts of me I keep hidden, visible to anyone who might walk through the trees and find me. Or the pieces of me. So, I closed my eyes and just tried to feel the wind against my face, but I could still see the treetops through my closed eyelids. Still getting smaller. And I let go.
And in my dream, I was flying, but I didn't want to be flying. I just couldn't help it. I couldn't stop. I kept going higher and higher. I looked down and the treetops were getting smaller. All I could think of was how I would return. What would happen if I just ceased to fly? I could imagine the fall and my body being broken by the trees, falling into a thousand pieces on the ground, unrecognizable as me. All of my pieces and all of the parts of me I keep hidden, visible to anyone who might walk through the trees and find me. Or the pieces of me. So, I closed my eyes and just tried to feel the wind against my face, but I could still see the treetops through my closed eyelids. Still getting smaller. And I let go.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Wishing Better
I watch
my own innocence
run away
in the trail of the skirt you insist upon wearing
cream
gold
filmy
trailing behind you
as you run for the school door
and away from me
I press my hand to the window
willing you not to leave my sight
and I wonder
if all the hope
I crowd into your tiny body
hurts your heart
as much as it hurts mine
my own innocence
run away
in the trail of the skirt you insist upon wearing
cream
gold
filmy
trailing behind you
as you run for the school door
and away from me
I press my hand to the window
willing you not to leave my sight
and I wonder
if all the hope
I crowd into your tiny body
hurts your heart
as much as it hurts mine
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Seeking: SWTrain wreck
I should have put Male somewhere in the title of my ad. Something like "Seeking: SWM." However, I thought "train wreck" was more accurate. I should also point out that the "W" is optional. I've simply found, in my experience, that white males make the most exceptional train wrecks. If you are a train wreck with the particular combination of being a tall, thin, bassist with dark curly hair, I will instantly fall in love with you. If you possess that particular combination and also drive a VW, I will not only instantly love you, I will take you home on the first date. Clearly, you are my soul mate. If you possess this particular combination and the thought of a woman loving you to the point of obsession after the first date is disturbing to you, even a little bit, clearly you are too healthy. Please do not respond to this ad. I know a healthy man when I see one, and I am not interested. You can't fool me. If the thought of love at all, even after months of togetherness, is disturbing to you, you may be the one for me.
I enjoy long, philosophical conversations that focus primarily on our former marriages. I would prefer that you do not have children from said former marriage as I prefer a man who cannot understand the pressures of being a single mother and will get annoyed when I cannot change my plans based on your golf game or fishing trip. I cannot resist a man who openly belittles my work in nonprofit theater, but will tell me several times in a ten-minute span that I am "hot" and/or a "MILF." I find this line of compliments especially charming when used to interrupt a discourse about the book I am currently reading or something important going on in the world, or after I've used a "big" word in conversation. I find it exceptionally captivating when you periodically disappear. This includes not responding to phone calls, text messages, or emails, and avoiding being physically present until you want to have sex. I love a man who only communicates through text messages. It gets right to the point when you are making a booty call after a disappearance. I find the element of surprise exhilarating, and keeps the relationship fresh. However, I prefer we not call it a relationship, and that we never talk about it or our feelings.
You should be planning a move, preferably out of state. You get extra points if you are a busy workaholic. Please be a ball of neurosis I will never be able to unravel, obsessive about your hair and clothing, and enjoy eying other women in front of me. If you are up for running away when you start to have feelings for me, please email me. Send an amazingly intelligent email, use correct punctuation, and give me hope that this time I've found a man worth putting faith into. Please include a picture of your VW.
I enjoy long, philosophical conversations that focus primarily on our former marriages. I would prefer that you do not have children from said former marriage as I prefer a man who cannot understand the pressures of being a single mother and will get annoyed when I cannot change my plans based on your golf game or fishing trip. I cannot resist a man who openly belittles my work in nonprofit theater, but will tell me several times in a ten-minute span that I am "hot" and/or a "MILF." I find this line of compliments especially charming when used to interrupt a discourse about the book I am currently reading or something important going on in the world, or after I've used a "big" word in conversation. I find it exceptionally captivating when you periodically disappear. This includes not responding to phone calls, text messages, or emails, and avoiding being physically present until you want to have sex. I love a man who only communicates through text messages. It gets right to the point when you are making a booty call after a disappearance. I find the element of surprise exhilarating, and keeps the relationship fresh. However, I prefer we not call it a relationship, and that we never talk about it or our feelings.
You should be planning a move, preferably out of state. You get extra points if you are a busy workaholic. Please be a ball of neurosis I will never be able to unravel, obsessive about your hair and clothing, and enjoy eying other women in front of me. If you are up for running away when you start to have feelings for me, please email me. Send an amazingly intelligent email, use correct punctuation, and give me hope that this time I've found a man worth putting faith into. Please include a picture of your VW.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Losing Hope
I was hoping I'd lose it.
That's why.
That's why I couldn't -
That's why I didn't tell you.
I couldn't be -
I didn't want to be -
That bitch.
The one who would say you can't leave
because of some life-altering event.
When, really, every event is life-altering.
Where do you draw the line?
I was worried right before you left.
Or whatever you did.
We never really talked about what "we" were.
I liked it that way.
I liked just reading the way you touched me.
I liked seeing it in your eyes,
In your smile.
My god your smile -
I suppose it's only appropriate that
We didn't talk about what we weren't going to be.
Deny what you want,
I saw it on your face -
All over your face -
The morning I woke up
With this baby inside of me.
Our baby.
I opened my eyes to you smiling.
Your eyes couldn't hold all the love inside of them.
And it scared you.
I felt so many things
Laying in your arms that morning.
I knew I'd found a man
Worth loving
If only I knew how.
I knew you'd found a woman
Worth loving
If only you knew how.
I knew you were scared enough to run
by the way you held me close
for so long we were both late for work.
I knew you'd run.
I knew I'd let you.
I knew we'd created something.
I just wanted to stay in your arms
In that patch of sunlight
Watching the snow fall.
I wanted to forget the future.
I knew when you kissed me goodbye
I wouldn't kiss you again.
You didn't know it.
But I did.
A week later, I still hadn't heard from you.
I was worried then.
About being late.
I was worried.
Two weeks later, I saw you with her.
And I knew.
I couldn't tell you.
I couldn't be that bitch.
I couldn't pull you back in.
I couldn't be her.
I couldn't tell you.
You didn't want me.
You chose a familiar, well-beaten path
Rather than to let us grow.
So, how could I tell you we were growing together anyway?
I know I'm not easy -
I'm not a woman who is easy to love.
And I know why you were scared.
I knew this baby would scare you even more.
And I have prayed for three months
That I'd lose it.
Her.
It's a girl.
I didn't want -
I don't want to trap you.
But I had to tell you.
That's why I asked you here.
So, I could tell you -
The way your eyes told me -
Only I'm telling you -
In words -
Because that's all I have now.
Words
And her.
I'm taking our chance at love
And I'm walking out of that door with it.
I'm giving you warning -
The warning you didn't give me.
Don't worry.
I'll hold her close.
And keep her in the sun.
I hope she has your smile
So I'll never miss it again.
That's why.
That's why I couldn't -
That's why I didn't tell you.
I couldn't be -
I didn't want to be -
That bitch.
The one who would say you can't leave
because of some life-altering event.
When, really, every event is life-altering.
Where do you draw the line?
I was worried right before you left.
Or whatever you did.
We never really talked about what "we" were.
I liked it that way.
I liked just reading the way you touched me.
I liked seeing it in your eyes,
In your smile.
My god your smile -
I suppose it's only appropriate that
We didn't talk about what we weren't going to be.
Deny what you want,
I saw it on your face -
All over your face -
The morning I woke up
With this baby inside of me.
Our baby.
I opened my eyes to you smiling.
Your eyes couldn't hold all the love inside of them.
And it scared you.
I felt so many things
Laying in your arms that morning.
I knew I'd found a man
Worth loving
If only I knew how.
I knew you'd found a woman
Worth loving
If only you knew how.
I knew you were scared enough to run
by the way you held me close
for so long we were both late for work.
I knew you'd run.
I knew I'd let you.
I knew we'd created something.
I just wanted to stay in your arms
In that patch of sunlight
Watching the snow fall.
I wanted to forget the future.
I knew when you kissed me goodbye
I wouldn't kiss you again.
You didn't know it.
But I did.
A week later, I still hadn't heard from you.
I was worried then.
About being late.
I was worried.
Two weeks later, I saw you with her.
And I knew.
I couldn't tell you.
I couldn't be that bitch.
I couldn't pull you back in.
I couldn't be her.
I couldn't tell you.
You didn't want me.
You chose a familiar, well-beaten path
Rather than to let us grow.
So, how could I tell you we were growing together anyway?
I know I'm not easy -
I'm not a woman who is easy to love.
And I know why you were scared.
I knew this baby would scare you even more.
And I have prayed for three months
That I'd lose it.
Her.
It's a girl.
I didn't want -
I don't want to trap you.
But I had to tell you.
That's why I asked you here.
So, I could tell you -
The way your eyes told me -
Only I'm telling you -
In words -
Because that's all I have now.
Words
And her.
I'm taking our chance at love
And I'm walking out of that door with it.
I'm giving you warning -
The warning you didn't give me.
Don't worry.
I'll hold her close.
And keep her in the sun.
I hope she has your smile
So I'll never miss it again.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
To My Grandmother
From the myspace archives.
To My Grandmother
(written November 17, 2008)
I still remember
white bed
blurry at the time
due to watering the pink roses
that you stitched on the spread
with a prayer in each
for me
I still remember
gentle hands
smoothing my hair
stroking my face
rubbing my back
hands that smelled
of cigarettes and lotion
and pearlescent polish
I still remember
shh, shh, shh softly
never telling me
not to cry
to stop that mess
or you'd give me something to cry about
just gentle clucking
I call my daughter Chicken
My little Chicken
I still remember
pride in your voice
the way you would say it
as you held me close
letting me smell
a hint of magnolia
from the blossoms
always in a glass bowl on your table
flowers bloom
from cracks left behind in rocks
you saw one forming
in your arms
under your hands
I still remember
confusing you
with the Virgin Mary
wanting to call you Mother
to always breathe
cigarettes, lotion, magnolia
to always hear
clucking
to always feel
warm
soft
now I only hope
the cracks left behind
grow pink roses
To My Grandmother
(written November 17, 2008)
I still remember
white bed
blurry at the time
due to watering the pink roses
that you stitched on the spread
with a prayer in each
for me
I still remember
gentle hands
smoothing my hair
stroking my face
rubbing my back
hands that smelled
of cigarettes and lotion
and pearlescent polish
I still remember
shh, shh, shh softly
never telling me
not to cry
to stop that mess
or you'd give me something to cry about
just gentle clucking
I call my daughter Chicken
My little Chicken
I still remember
pride in your voice
the way you would say it
as you held me close
letting me smell
a hint of magnolia
from the blossoms
always in a glass bowl on your table
flowers bloom
from cracks left behind in rocks
you saw one forming
in your arms
under your hands
I still remember
confusing you
with the Virgin Mary
wanting to call you Mother
to always breathe
cigarettes, lotion, magnolia
to always hear
clucking
to always feel
warm
soft
now I only hope
the cracks left behind
grow pink roses
Sarcasm Explained
From the myspace archives.
Sarcasm Explained
(written October 21, 2008)
I like to stay in my room while the kids are first awake, getting breakfast, getting ready for school. I love to listen to them when they think I'm not listening. This morning, I caught a gem.
Girl: I'm telling.
Boy: Nooooooo!!!!
My daughter walks into my room with her nose in the air. My son walks in quickly at her heals. He's carrying a rod from a set of blinds I took down. Uh-oh.
Girl: Mom, T__ just put that curtain stick thing in his cereal.
Me: Gimme the curtain stick thing.
The kids leave my room to go back to the kitchen.
Boy: Thanks a lot, M___ .
Girl: (sweetly) You're welcome.
Boy: I didn't really mean thank you. I meant something else. I meant you're a meanie.
Girl: Mooooooommmmm!!!!
Good morning, kids.
Sarcasm Explained
(written October 21, 2008)
I like to stay in my room while the kids are first awake, getting breakfast, getting ready for school. I love to listen to them when they think I'm not listening. This morning, I caught a gem.
Girl: I'm telling.
Boy: Nooooooo!!!!
My daughter walks into my room with her nose in the air. My son walks in quickly at her heals. He's carrying a rod from a set of blinds I took down. Uh-oh.
Girl: Mom, T__ just put that curtain stick thing in his cereal.
Me: Gimme the curtain stick thing.
The kids leave my room to go back to the kitchen.
Boy: Thanks a lot, M___ .
Girl: (sweetly) You're welcome.
Boy: I didn't really mean thank you. I meant something else. I meant you're a meanie.
Girl: Mooooooommmmm!!!!
Good morning, kids.
Streams
From the myspace archives.
Streams
(written October 20, 2008)
Tonight, attempts to shut down thoughts only create more thoughts and sleep escapes me. I read the same three pages over and over, and I still don't know what they say, but my thoughts interest me more. Even though I'm not sure what the words on the page say, I wonder why I can't write like Kerouac. Not that his style is much more than what you'd read in my journals, minus the bad poetry and rewrites. For some reason, I think of the color pink but I see strange shades of lavenders and greens. My walls behind my closed eyes. So, I get up. I write. I can't find my journal, so readers of my blog get to suffer this evening. No funny anecdotes to relate this evening. Just want to sleep and hope that exorcising my thoughts will bring me just that. The problem is the thoughts run so fast, I can't quite remember them all from moment to moment, and in just the time it took to search for my journal, which I now remember I threw in my purse in a just-in-case moment, to fuckthejournal, turn on the computer and get here . . . Where was I going with this? Sleep. Funny. It's early for me. But I fell asleep on the couch tonight, 8ish, son snuggled onto my hip, DVD with animated animals who talk and I've seen it so many times I can recite every animal's inner dialogue. But I think he needed mom's hip tonight. They spent the weekend away, and I loved the quiet, the peace, the clean, the doing yoga in my underwear in the living room hearing only my sounding breath and feeling my own smile. Sometimes, it's nice to not hear "MOM!!" or feel the tug on the leg or wear a bracelet that says I can be interrupted during my class because I am Mother. Infuriating. And then he asked to watch TV with me. Of course. And all is well. At times I see that smile and I can't breathe. The universe, God, higher power, whatever name you want to give it, gave me that smile. And it put me to sleep on the couch with a smile on my own face. They are both sleeping now. There is quiet, but the quiet is filled with something I can't explain, not even to myself. And I can't sleep. And I have thought of things that have nothing to do with my children, but thoughts of a universe filled with magic because I'm not sure what else to call it right now. My universe. Overlapping other universes. Waves in all directions. People, amazing things that they are. Amazing energy in my life. Exciting and terrifying. And I wonder how I am calm and smiling when all I want is sleep that I'm not meant to have right now. I wonder how other people can ignore or deny or make fun of the energy surrounding us all. I have only begun to learn to follow where the universe is pointing, and I'm getting better all the time. It keeps a calm smile in my soul. Maybe other people would be happier if they did the same. But it's kind of hard to follow something you ridicule. Like the government. But those are thoughts I can't deal with now. I'll never sleep. Responses to questions could have been better, but somehow I think my disjointed monosyllables or notquitesentences were understood and taken to heart. I think of my grandfather sitting in the chair in which my grandmother used to sit. And I think of her blanket that I pulled out when the chill came into the air. And I wonder why thoughts of her keep me awake, among other things. My nephew is two and I heard his little voice say "Hi Aunt Leann" in the phone today, and I wonder what it must be like to be so tiny and to be handed a voice and told to tell that voice named Aunt Leann that you love it. I miss him. I've only met him 3 times for a couple of days at a time. How do little people imprint themselves on you so quickly? I worry. And it keeps me awake. I remember a time, I ran myself to death with work, school, babies, love, hate and I never had trouble sleeping. Now, life is calmer, happier, more love and I can't say I hate. So, why does sleep escape me now? I have more time to think, maybe. And thoughts lead to more thoughts. But I think I am too tired to relate anymore of mine tonight.
Streams
(written October 20, 2008)
Tonight, attempts to shut down thoughts only create more thoughts and sleep escapes me. I read the same three pages over and over, and I still don't know what they say, but my thoughts interest me more. Even though I'm not sure what the words on the page say, I wonder why I can't write like Kerouac. Not that his style is much more than what you'd read in my journals, minus the bad poetry and rewrites. For some reason, I think of the color pink but I see strange shades of lavenders and greens. My walls behind my closed eyes. So, I get up. I write. I can't find my journal, so readers of my blog get to suffer this evening. No funny anecdotes to relate this evening. Just want to sleep and hope that exorcising my thoughts will bring me just that. The problem is the thoughts run so fast, I can't quite remember them all from moment to moment, and in just the time it took to search for my journal, which I now remember I threw in my purse in a just-in-case moment, to fuckthejournal, turn on the computer and get here . . . Where was I going with this? Sleep. Funny. It's early for me. But I fell asleep on the couch tonight, 8ish, son snuggled onto my hip, DVD with animated animals who talk and I've seen it so many times I can recite every animal's inner dialogue. But I think he needed mom's hip tonight. They spent the weekend away, and I loved the quiet, the peace, the clean, the doing yoga in my underwear in the living room hearing only my sounding breath and feeling my own smile. Sometimes, it's nice to not hear "MOM!!" or feel the tug on the leg or wear a bracelet that says I can be interrupted during my class because I am Mother. Infuriating. And then he asked to watch TV with me. Of course. And all is well. At times I see that smile and I can't breathe. The universe, God, higher power, whatever name you want to give it, gave me that smile. And it put me to sleep on the couch with a smile on my own face. They are both sleeping now. There is quiet, but the quiet is filled with something I can't explain, not even to myself. And I can't sleep. And I have thought of things that have nothing to do with my children, but thoughts of a universe filled with magic because I'm not sure what else to call it right now. My universe. Overlapping other universes. Waves in all directions. People, amazing things that they are. Amazing energy in my life. Exciting and terrifying. And I wonder how I am calm and smiling when all I want is sleep that I'm not meant to have right now. I wonder how other people can ignore or deny or make fun of the energy surrounding us all. I have only begun to learn to follow where the universe is pointing, and I'm getting better all the time. It keeps a calm smile in my soul. Maybe other people would be happier if they did the same. But it's kind of hard to follow something you ridicule. Like the government. But those are thoughts I can't deal with now. I'll never sleep. Responses to questions could have been better, but somehow I think my disjointed monosyllables or notquitesentences were understood and taken to heart. I think of my grandfather sitting in the chair in which my grandmother used to sit. And I think of her blanket that I pulled out when the chill came into the air. And I wonder why thoughts of her keep me awake, among other things. My nephew is two and I heard his little voice say "Hi Aunt Leann" in the phone today, and I wonder what it must be like to be so tiny and to be handed a voice and told to tell that voice named Aunt Leann that you love it. I miss him. I've only met him 3 times for a couple of days at a time. How do little people imprint themselves on you so quickly? I worry. And it keeps me awake. I remember a time, I ran myself to death with work, school, babies, love, hate and I never had trouble sleeping. Now, life is calmer, happier, more love and I can't say I hate. So, why does sleep escape me now? I have more time to think, maybe. And thoughts lead to more thoughts. But I think I am too tired to relate anymore of mine tonight.
Life Lesson 3249874
From the myspace archives.
Life Lesson 3249874
(written September 18, 2008)
The following conversation was held this morning while getting ready for school:
Boy: I wish I could be a dad forever.
Me: When you have kids, you will be a dad forever.
Boy: But I need a wife!
Me: Yes, you do. But go to college before you get married.
Boy: I know! But when I get a wife, she'll get babies in her belly. And then she will pop them out. They will pop right out of her tummy. But I won't get babies in my belly because I'm a boy.
Does this really need any extra commentary from me??
Life Lesson 3249874
(written September 18, 2008)
The following conversation was held this morning while getting ready for school:
Boy: I wish I could be a dad forever.
Me: When you have kids, you will be a dad forever.
Boy: But I need a wife!
Me: Yes, you do. But go to college before you get married.
Boy: I know! But when I get a wife, she'll get babies in her belly. And then she will pop them out. They will pop right out of her tummy. But I won't get babies in my belly because I'm a boy.
Does this really need any extra commentary from me??
My Ugly Day
From the myspace archives.
My Ugly Day
(written August 24, 2008)
My Ugly Day
(written August 24, 2008)
Lately, I've been getting more attention than I'm used to. In part because I've been working out like mad, and look great. In part because I'm newly divorced, and men can smell the single on me. In part because I've been in a happy place and am putting out lots of positive energy into the universe and I'm getting it back. In part because I'm confident and finally becoming my own person. It's been nice for the most part. I'm not entirely adjusted to it, and I've had to dodge a couple of cars. But hey . . .
Today, I got a lot of attention when I was walking the public streets. After my words above, you may be wondering why today is special. Two words: Savor Providence. I was working the event today. So that the staff and volunteers stood out, we wore neon green t-shirts. Medium was the smallest size they ordered. When I was handed mine, I asked if I could just wear a belt and stilettos with it and really rock it out. I was told no. Sigh . . . So, I show up in my huge bright green shirt and jeans. I was a pair of tapered acid wash jeans and a scrunchie away from being the coolest kid from 1989! As long as I was in the box office, I was fine. People understood why I was wearing it. Ordinary civilians, on the other hand, had no idea what to make of the hideousness that was The Savor Providence Uniform while I was roaming the streets for icecream.
My friend, who never fails to point out that he can't believe I have two children, said "Oh, my . . . Don't you look . . . earth-friendly today." I ran over to the mall today, and was not stopped by the T-mobile guy this time. I guess he didn't want me too close to the merchandise since I was obviously on break from my community service. The chick in front of me on the escalator did the turn around to get a better look at me but pretended she wasn't looking by continuing to look around over my head. You could see the "Oh, dear God," go through her head. Trust me, love, I felt the same way. The guys who are always sitting out on the street and call me "the pretty intellectual girl" looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. Traffic did not stop to let me cross today. The street cleaners looked at me with pity.
Next I should see if I can sneak into prison with this thing.
Ghosts
From the myspace archives. I don't really like this poem. I like the idea, but it needs massive work.
Ghosts
(written August 23, 2008)
I miss the man
who wrote songs
while stroking my naked belly
and loved me
enough to fade away
but left his tortured soul behind
to make me cry.
Ghosts
(written August 23, 2008)
I miss the man
who wrote songs
while stroking my naked belly
and loved me
enough to fade away
but left his tortured soul behind
to make me cry.
A Moment
From the myspace archives.
A Moment
(Written August 10, 2008)
Clothed in liquid silver
sewn of sunshine and raindrops,
I stand under a canopy
of ever deepening purple
perfectly positioned by a god
whose many faces I see
through various shields
poorly positioned for a defensive battle.
I turn my face
to the gently falling rain,
accepting the kisses given,
and I embrace the universe
overwhelmed by the importance of being.
A Moment
(Written August 10, 2008)
Clothed in liquid silver
sewn of sunshine and raindrops,
I stand under a canopy
of ever deepening purple
perfectly positioned by a god
whose many faces I see
through various shields
poorly positioned for a defensive battle.
I turn my face
to the gently falling rain,
accepting the kisses given,
and I embrace the universe
overwhelmed by the importance of being.
Today was beautiful
From the myspace archives.
Today was beautiful
(written August 8, 2008)
I took today off from work. I had lots of stuff to get done. So far, I only accomplished one thing on my "To Do" list. Since it is now 5:45pm, I doubt anything else will get done. And that's okay with me. I had such a beautiful day.
I dropped the kids off at daycare, and went to the gym for a training session. I got to learn new cardio equipment that I'm pretty sure will try to kill me just like the current equipment. My trainer also took my weights up. I now have 10 or 12 pounds behind these guns. Watch out! I also had a nice conversation with him about going into a wellness field. He was very encouraging, and thinks I would be great at it. We talked about ways to get me into a wellness field without having to go back for an entirely new four-year degree. He's got me seriously considering being a yoga instructor.
Next, I went home to shower and dress for the day. I put on some jeans and a tank top, got ready to leave. Then, I decided that I wouldn't wear the jeans. Today was a red dress kind of day.
I went over to drop someone else's belongs where they should be. I checked item one from my list, and attempted to move on to item two.
That would be going to the Social Security Office to change my name with the federal government. God forbid they have a hard time tracking me . . . Anyway, I got lost. I know. It's very shocking, with my uncanny sense of direction, to think I would get lost in a town as easily navigable as Pawtucket. However, I did indeed get lost. And gave up on my quest. Hell, I have the rest of my life to change my name. I decided to go look for a table.
I'm looking for a table to use as a desk. I would like to paint it and possibly texture it. So, I visited the Salvation Army. I didn't find anything like what I was looking for. But I needed coffee at this point. And since I was on the East Side, I thought I'll go to the Coffee Exchange. Which is when my day turned from ordinary to nice.
I bought my coffee and sat down on the porch to read. It was lovely. I happened to look up to see a friend disappearing off the deck with his coffee. I got his attention and instead of reading more of my book, I had a lovely conversation. It was nice to see him. Totally random since I never run into him. But very nice. I then wandered down Wickenden Street to enjoy the beautiful sunshine, and wandered back to my car.
I decided to head home to track down directions to the Social Security Office. As I pulled up to the house, it began to rain. When, I stepped out of the car, I stood on the sidewalk to enjoy it for a moment. The sun was shining so bright and the rain was lightly falling, covering me in silver. I just turned my face to the rain and let it wash over me, breathing deep, smiling. And suddenly, my day was magical and beautiful. Moments like these should be cherished. It's moments like this one that I can truly feel something larger than all of us, and I want to hold moments like that in my heart forever.
Today was beautiful
(written August 8, 2008)
I took today off from work. I had lots of stuff to get done. So far, I only accomplished one thing on my "To Do" list. Since it is now 5:45pm, I doubt anything else will get done. And that's okay with me. I had such a beautiful day.
I dropped the kids off at daycare, and went to the gym for a training session. I got to learn new cardio equipment that I'm pretty sure will try to kill me just like the current equipment. My trainer also took my weights up. I now have 10 or 12 pounds behind these guns. Watch out! I also had a nice conversation with him about going into a wellness field. He was very encouraging, and thinks I would be great at it. We talked about ways to get me into a wellness field without having to go back for an entirely new four-year degree. He's got me seriously considering being a yoga instructor.
Next, I went home to shower and dress for the day. I put on some jeans and a tank top, got ready to leave. Then, I decided that I wouldn't wear the jeans. Today was a red dress kind of day.
I went over to drop someone else's belongs where they should be. I checked item one from my list, and attempted to move on to item two.
That would be going to the Social Security Office to change my name with the federal government. God forbid they have a hard time tracking me . . . Anyway, I got lost. I know. It's very shocking, with my uncanny sense of direction, to think I would get lost in a town as easily navigable as Pawtucket. However, I did indeed get lost. And gave up on my quest. Hell, I have the rest of my life to change my name. I decided to go look for a table.
I'm looking for a table to use as a desk. I would like to paint it and possibly texture it. So, I visited the Salvation Army. I didn't find anything like what I was looking for. But I needed coffee at this point. And since I was on the East Side, I thought I'll go to the Coffee Exchange. Which is when my day turned from ordinary to nice.
I bought my coffee and sat down on the porch to read. It was lovely. I happened to look up to see a friend disappearing off the deck with his coffee. I got his attention and instead of reading more of my book, I had a lovely conversation. It was nice to see him. Totally random since I never run into him. But very nice. I then wandered down Wickenden Street to enjoy the beautiful sunshine, and wandered back to my car.
I decided to head home to track down directions to the Social Security Office. As I pulled up to the house, it began to rain. When, I stepped out of the car, I stood on the sidewalk to enjoy it for a moment. The sun was shining so bright and the rain was lightly falling, covering me in silver. I just turned my face to the rain and let it wash over me, breathing deep, smiling. And suddenly, my day was magical and beautiful. Moments like these should be cherished. It's moments like this one that I can truly feel something larger than all of us, and I want to hold moments like that in my heart forever.
I Wanna Be a Rockstar!
From the myspace archives.
I Wanna Be a Rockstar!
(written August 7, 2008)
I Wanna Be a Rockstar!
(written August 7, 2008)
I usually have music going in my house. I'm usually singing along. If there isn't music going, I'm still singing something. My daughter has picked up that habit.
This morning, she announced "I wanna be a wocksta."
I said "Me too!"
"But Mommy, you don't know no wocksta songs. But I do! Wanna hear?"
"Of course!"
And she sings My Wocksta Song:
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah
"Wanna hear my other wocksta song?"
"Yes!"
And she sings the best song I've ever heard. I was writing fast and furious to get this down, but I missed parts. This is what I got:
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I wish I could be a wocksta now
yeah, yeah
but I don't know how
I just know how to sing wocksta songs
I don't have any wocksta clothes
I guess I should buy some
yeah, yeah, yeah
'cause I really wanna be a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I wish I had a daughter who wants to be a wocksta
but I don't
I only have a mommy
I wanna be in a wocksta band with her
but she always says no, no, no
but it would be fun to be in a wocksta band
yeah, yeah, yeah
so I should start one at school
So please bring your wocksta clothes
and your wocksta glasses
and do everything your teacha says
please, please, please
Anyone want to sign her now? Too cute!
This morning, she announced "I wanna be a wocksta."
I said "Me too!"
"But Mommy, you don't know no wocksta songs. But I do! Wanna hear?"
"Of course!"
And she sings My Wocksta Song:
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah
"Wanna hear my other wocksta song?"
"Yes!"
And she sings the best song I've ever heard. I was writing fast and furious to get this down, but I missed parts. This is what I got:
I'm a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I wish I could be a wocksta now
yeah, yeah
but I don't know how
I just know how to sing wocksta songs
I don't have any wocksta clothes
I guess I should buy some
yeah, yeah, yeah
'cause I really wanna be a wocksta
yeah, yeah, yeah
I wish I had a daughter who wants to be a wocksta
but I don't
I only have a mommy
I wanna be in a wocksta band with her
but she always says no, no, no
but it would be fun to be in a wocksta band
yeah, yeah, yeah
so I should start one at school
So please bring your wocksta clothes
and your wocksta glasses
and do everything your teacha says
please, please, please
Anyone want to sign her now? Too cute!
While on "vacation" . . .
From the myspace archives.
While on "vacation" . . .
(written August 3, 2008)
I just got back from my "vacation" from myspace and facebook. It was amazing to me how much drama and BS they brought right to my home, and a week away from it was fabulous! I think I'll be doing it more often. So, don't be surprised if I disappear for a bit sometimes. If you want my real email address, I'm happy to give it out! Anyway, I had a lot happen in my week away! Quick update:
My car broke down twice. Fun times! This caused two things: Leann being highly pissed that she missed a week of the gym AND Leann having to learn new bus routes. This I am highly excited about! Now I worked out the math, and if I took the bus on a regular basis, it would cost me less than just my parking! And I get the added benefit of not adding my car's emissions to the rest of the air pollution! Rock on!
Thinking about how I could help the environment got me thinking of other things my family could help with. I've got the kids helping me recycle more. I even found myself reaching for my bag sewn of old clothing rather than my leather briefcase. I've been interested in sustainable living for some time, but don't know a lot about it. I started reading up this week. There are lots of ways I can help make a better place for my children to grow, and I'm very excited about it! Not only will I be supporting my local artists, I will be supporting my local farmers now as well. Anyone want a date to the farmers' market?? I also realize that I am the reason stuffwhitepeoplelike.com exists.
I read a graphic novel. And I liked it. Holy crap!
I got my official, certified copy of my divorce decree! I can officially change my name on everything now. I'm annoying my coworkers on a regular basis by pointing Heath out to them every time it pops up anywhere! (Sorry, Brian. Really, I am. I just can't control myself. It's so exciting!!) This new development caused a strange dream. Since I don't typically remember my dreams, I find it amusing that this one is one I would remember. I was getting married. Actually, I was already married. I was at the reception, standing there in my beautiful white gown, ready to give my toast to the groom. My beautiful groom is smiling at me, and I am horrified to see that my groom is a friend (he will remain nameless to save him the embarrassment of me dreaming about him. LOL). Everyone in the room is smiling at me. And all that comes out of my mouth is "What the hell am I doing? I mean, I'm glad I have such a wonderful person to spend my life with, but seriously, what the hell am I doing?" Everyone just keeps smiling like I'd made the sweetest speech ever, and my groom is looking so proud, and I wake up in a sweat. WEIRD.
I got my nose pierced. After years of saying "Well, maybe, but . . ." I just did it. Lauren held my hand, quite literally. I'm in love with it! Now on to my tattoo!!
I decided that I want to start singing again. For real. I'm tired of talking about how we want to do something, and we never do it. Let's do it! You know who you are! Anyone with me?
Now, I'm thinking I just need a day at the beach . . . Anyone up for it?
While on "vacation" . . .
(written August 3, 2008)
I just got back from my "vacation" from myspace and facebook. It was amazing to me how much drama and BS they brought right to my home, and a week away from it was fabulous! I think I'll be doing it more often. So, don't be surprised if I disappear for a bit sometimes. If you want my real email address, I'm happy to give it out! Anyway, I had a lot happen in my week away! Quick update:
My car broke down twice. Fun times! This caused two things: Leann being highly pissed that she missed a week of the gym AND Leann having to learn new bus routes. This I am highly excited about! Now I worked out the math, and if I took the bus on a regular basis, it would cost me less than just my parking! And I get the added benefit of not adding my car's emissions to the rest of the air pollution! Rock on!
Thinking about how I could help the environment got me thinking of other things my family could help with. I've got the kids helping me recycle more. I even found myself reaching for my bag sewn of old clothing rather than my leather briefcase. I've been interested in sustainable living for some time, but don't know a lot about it. I started reading up this week. There are lots of ways I can help make a better place for my children to grow, and I'm very excited about it! Not only will I be supporting my local artists, I will be supporting my local farmers now as well. Anyone want a date to the farmers' market?? I also realize that I am the reason stuffwhitepeoplelike.com exists.
I read a graphic novel. And I liked it. Holy crap!
I got my official, certified copy of my divorce decree! I can officially change my name on everything now. I'm annoying my coworkers on a regular basis by pointing Heath out to them every time it pops up anywhere! (Sorry, Brian. Really, I am. I just can't control myself. It's so exciting!!) This new development caused a strange dream. Since I don't typically remember my dreams, I find it amusing that this one is one I would remember. I was getting married. Actually, I was already married. I was at the reception, standing there in my beautiful white gown, ready to give my toast to the groom. My beautiful groom is smiling at me, and I am horrified to see that my groom is a friend (he will remain nameless to save him the embarrassment of me dreaming about him. LOL). Everyone in the room is smiling at me. And all that comes out of my mouth is "What the hell am I doing? I mean, I'm glad I have such a wonderful person to spend my life with, but seriously, what the hell am I doing?" Everyone just keeps smiling like I'd made the sweetest speech ever, and my groom is looking so proud, and I wake up in a sweat. WEIRD.
I got my nose pierced. After years of saying "Well, maybe, but . . ." I just did it. Lauren held my hand, quite literally. I'm in love with it! Now on to my tattoo!!
I decided that I want to start singing again. For real. I'm tired of talking about how we want to do something, and we never do it. Let's do it! You know who you are! Anyone with me?
Now, I'm thinking I just need a day at the beach . . . Anyone up for it?
On Today's Nervous Breakdown
From the myspace archives.
On Today's Nervous Breakdown
(written on July 25, 2008)
On Today's Nervous Breakdown
(written on July 25, 2008)
This morning I found myself sobbing on my bedroom floor. I was wearing a pretty sun dress and only minutes before had felt fabulous, checking out how nice my legs are beginning to look in heals. Then, I broke down. I slammed the door, fell to the floor and sat in a heap sobbing. The kind of sob you can't control. The kind of sob where your cheeks are sheets of water, and you don't know where it's all coming from. My bag was thrown across the room, the contents scattered everywhere. It sat there flopped dejectedly over itself, embarrassed to witness my breakdown.
Why was I in the middle of my room sobbing? Not easy to say. My car broke down. My son was playing in the sink, getting his school clothes soaked. We had 5 minutes to leave. My daughter was still standing in her room dripping wet from her shower, with no thought of getting dressed. And we had 5 minutes to leave. I couldn't find my earrings. The man I like doesn't like me. Every exboyfriend I know has asked me for a divorce fuck. I can't find a better job or a second one. And we had 5 minutes to leave. The money I'd saved is dwindling. The child support didn't come this week. It's looking like I won't make it down to Virginia to see my family or old classmates in October, perhaps not at all this year. My boss looked at me funny yesterday. Providence smells like garbage and I had to walk through it today. I know walking through it, I'm going to be cat called like I have been everyday for the past week because apparently men can smell the single all over me. But the nice ones won't talk to me. And we had 5 minutes to leave. My back hurt. I have bruises I can't explain. Pawtucket stinks like the river. And we had 5 minutes to leave. My daughter can't find her shoes that I'd told her to get 30 minutes before. The car is going to cost me another $400. I forgot to pay the phone bill. I talked to my mother on the phone last night. I haven't finished the writing for my grandfather and family members are up my ass about it. MOMMY!! Where are my keys? And we had 5 FUCKING minutes!
And I end up on the floor, crying my eyes out. All I wanted at that moment was to be held. "When is it my turn?" I kept repeating that phrase over and over. "When is it my turn?" I wonder sometimes, especially at the times I just can't take the shit life throws at me, why no one is here to take care of me. Why do I always have to be strong? Why do I always feel like I should be taking care of people around me? Where is someone to hold me and pat my head and tell me how stupid I was being because it always works out? My bedroom is empty. Except for me. I look at the mirror. I am alone.
But as I think of my man - who is out there somewhere, who will hold me one day - I think the man I want would never see me like this. Why? Because the breakdowns will be gone. I'm not saying he'd never see me sad or crying or in a manic writing phase. He would. But I've said before, it would take a strong man to be with me and let me figure him out. It would take a strong man to take the time to figure me out. I haven't found that man yet. What I have found is inner strength.
There was a day I actually believed that I had to put up with my husband's infidelity and abuse. When I would threaten to leave, I was told on several fronts I was crazy. There was a day I believed that I had no right to have dreams because I'd had babies. During that time, the fits came almost nightly. They were uncontrollable. I felt like I was drowning, dying. I think maybe my breakdowns were part of me trying to live. I went through hell. I left my husband. I spent my second pregnancy without him, with only Andrea there (God love you. I always will). I drove myself around while I was in labor. I worked a full 40-hour week, and took 15 credit hours in school. My son got sick. My divorce got nasty. I got ridiculously financially in the hole. I had to fight.
I went into battle screaming. It was dirty and muddy and filthy and bloody and painful. Somehow, little by little, skirmish by off-shore police action, I fought for a life. I'm poor. I don't have a man around to hold me. I'm still trying for that degree. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. But I've got a life of my own, and for the most part I'm happy. My children are amazing. I no longer cry when I have to write a rent check. The migraines are less and less frequent. I have a beautiful network of friends. I have many scars and am still screaming, but life is good and getting better every day.
Today was a rare day, and I look forward to a day when I can look back and just say "Oh, well."
Why was I in the middle of my room sobbing? Not easy to say. My car broke down. My son was playing in the sink, getting his school clothes soaked. We had 5 minutes to leave. My daughter was still standing in her room dripping wet from her shower, with no thought of getting dressed. And we had 5 minutes to leave. I couldn't find my earrings. The man I like doesn't like me. Every exboyfriend I know has asked me for a divorce fuck. I can't find a better job or a second one. And we had 5 minutes to leave. The money I'd saved is dwindling. The child support didn't come this week. It's looking like I won't make it down to Virginia to see my family or old classmates in October, perhaps not at all this year. My boss looked at me funny yesterday. Providence smells like garbage and I had to walk through it today. I know walking through it, I'm going to be cat called like I have been everyday for the past week because apparently men can smell the single all over me. But the nice ones won't talk to me. And we had 5 minutes to leave. My back hurt. I have bruises I can't explain. Pawtucket stinks like the river. And we had 5 minutes to leave. My daughter can't find her shoes that I'd told her to get 30 minutes before. The car is going to cost me another $400. I forgot to pay the phone bill. I talked to my mother on the phone last night. I haven't finished the writing for my grandfather and family members are up my ass about it. MOMMY!! Where are my keys? And we had 5 FUCKING minutes!
And I end up on the floor, crying my eyes out. All I wanted at that moment was to be held. "When is it my turn?" I kept repeating that phrase over and over. "When is it my turn?" I wonder sometimes, especially at the times I just can't take the shit life throws at me, why no one is here to take care of me. Why do I always have to be strong? Why do I always feel like I should be taking care of people around me? Where is someone to hold me and pat my head and tell me how stupid I was being because it always works out? My bedroom is empty. Except for me. I look at the mirror. I am alone.
But as I think of my man - who is out there somewhere, who will hold me one day - I think the man I want would never see me like this. Why? Because the breakdowns will be gone. I'm not saying he'd never see me sad or crying or in a manic writing phase. He would. But I've said before, it would take a strong man to be with me and let me figure him out. It would take a strong man to take the time to figure me out. I haven't found that man yet. What I have found is inner strength.
There was a day I actually believed that I had to put up with my husband's infidelity and abuse. When I would threaten to leave, I was told on several fronts I was crazy. There was a day I believed that I had no right to have dreams because I'd had babies. During that time, the fits came almost nightly. They were uncontrollable. I felt like I was drowning, dying. I think maybe my breakdowns were part of me trying to live. I went through hell. I left my husband. I spent my second pregnancy without him, with only Andrea there (God love you. I always will). I drove myself around while I was in labor. I worked a full 40-hour week, and took 15 credit hours in school. My son got sick. My divorce got nasty. I got ridiculously financially in the hole. I had to fight.
I went into battle screaming. It was dirty and muddy and filthy and bloody and painful. Somehow, little by little, skirmish by off-shore police action, I fought for a life. I'm poor. I don't have a man around to hold me. I'm still trying for that degree. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. But I've got a life of my own, and for the most part I'm happy. My children are amazing. I no longer cry when I have to write a rent check. The migraines are less and less frequent. I have a beautiful network of friends. I have many scars and am still screaming, but life is good and getting better every day.
Today was a rare day, and I look forward to a day when I can look back and just say "Oh, well."
Star Shine and Sweet Dreams
From the myspace archives.
Star Shine and Sweet Dreams
(written July 20, 2008)
Stars shine
exposing my imperfection
cowering in the dark
in amazement
over the muscle of your thigh
as it rests next to mine
afraid to touch you
terrified not to
frozen with indecision
I wish on the brightest star framed in the window
until it moves away
in frustration
beginning to feel
the dark will suffocate
and the stars take pity
a small miracle
you sigh in your sleep
reach out as though you lost something
roll over
finding me
pull me into the curve of you
so every inch of me
touches every inch of you
the beginning of your beard scratches my back
making every nerve sing
I suppress my shiver
not wanting you to wake
not wanting to ruin this moment
thanking the stars
feeling the beginning
learning your imperfection
knowing it fits mine
the way your cheek fits the space of my back
where you lay
Star Shine and Sweet Dreams
(written July 20, 2008)
Stars shine
exposing my imperfection
cowering in the dark
in amazement
over the muscle of your thigh
as it rests next to mine
afraid to touch you
terrified not to
frozen with indecision
I wish on the brightest star framed in the window
until it moves away
in frustration
beginning to feel
the dark will suffocate
and the stars take pity
a small miracle
you sigh in your sleep
reach out as though you lost something
roll over
finding me
pull me into the curve of you
so every inch of me
touches every inch of you
the beginning of your beard scratches my back
making every nerve sing
I suppress my shiver
not wanting you to wake
not wanting to ruin this moment
thanking the stars
feeling the beginning
learning your imperfection
knowing it fits mine
the way your cheek fits the space of my back
where you lay
Winter
From the myspace archives. Even though it is a sad poem, it is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy.
Winter
(reworked and posted on July 17, 2008)
I hate these cold winter days
gray and lonely
reminding me of you
and the cold, lonely way you loved me.
bitter, biting cold
It was love nonetheless
that blanketed me
like the snow enshrouds my flowers now.
Through my breath on the glass
my angels call to me
with open arms
asking me to join them
before they too are buried
in the gray and lonely.
Winter
(reworked and posted on July 17, 2008)
I hate these cold winter days
gray and lonely
reminding me of you
and the cold, lonely way you loved me.
bitter, biting cold
It was love nonetheless
that blanketed me
like the snow enshrouds my flowers now.
Through my breath on the glass
my angels call to me
with open arms
asking me to join them
before they too are buried
in the gray and lonely.
Male Secrets
From the myspace archives.
Male Secrets
(written July 10, 2008)
Male Secrets
(written July 10, 2008)
So, I went out to lunch with some friends today. This was mainly because I haven't seen one of them in months, and the other I haven't seen in weeks, and we haven't all three been in the same room since . . . well, since a long time ago. Anyway, Girl 2 and I are friends with Girl 3's boyfriend. He decided to tag along on our girls' lunch today. I am so very glad he did!
The unfortunate state of my life is that I go out on a lot of first dates that go nowhere. I'm not interested, he's not interested, we're both not interested, whatever. It happens and you move on. Well, because none of us have seen each other and gotten our girl talk in, that's what lunch was about. So, Girl 3 was asking me about the guy I had started seeing the last time I talked to her. And we moved on through a few months of first dates with occasional questions for clarification from Girl 2.
I was saying how there was one I was actually interested in, but I never heard back from him.
Me: So, a girl has to assume at some point he's not interested and move on. Right?
Girl 2: Or you waste five months on his loserdom.
Boyfriend: Well, maybe he's busy.
Girl 3: Stop playing Devil's advocate.
Me: Yeah!
Boyfriend asked about a few things concerning the potential interest and our outing. I answered. The girls clarified along the way.
Boyfriend: Okay, so he's probably not interested. BUT if he actually told you that, this conversation would be about "He's such a jerk! Oh my god! He actually said that?"
Now, I will admit here that he's right. I would have been saying something quite similar. Probably much more colorful with lots of adjectives thrown in. However, I was not going to admit defeat before I'd even been able to look at a menu!
Me: But I would at least appreciate the honesty! I mean, why do men tell you they want to see you again, and never call? What's the point? Don't do that! At the end of the night, you could just say "Yeah. Had a good time. Good night."
Boyfriend: Did he slip you tongue?
Me: What does that have to do with it?
Boyfriend: Okay. Well, if he slipped you the tongue, he's obligated to tell you the truth.
Why don't I know these things? Seriously, is there a rule book, an instruction manual, anything?? Because I need to know more of this stuff!
The unfortunate state of my life is that I go out on a lot of first dates that go nowhere. I'm not interested, he's not interested, we're both not interested, whatever. It happens and you move on. Well, because none of us have seen each other and gotten our girl talk in, that's what lunch was about. So, Girl 3 was asking me about the guy I had started seeing the last time I talked to her. And we moved on through a few months of first dates with occasional questions for clarification from Girl 2.
I was saying how there was one I was actually interested in, but I never heard back from him.
Me: So, a girl has to assume at some point he's not interested and move on. Right?
Girl 2: Or you waste five months on his loserdom.
Boyfriend: Well, maybe he's busy.
Girl 3: Stop playing Devil's advocate.
Me: Yeah!
Boyfriend asked about a few things concerning the potential interest and our outing. I answered. The girls clarified along the way.
Boyfriend: Okay, so he's probably not interested. BUT if he actually told you that, this conversation would be about "He's such a jerk! Oh my god! He actually said that?"
Now, I will admit here that he's right. I would have been saying something quite similar. Probably much more colorful with lots of adjectives thrown in. However, I was not going to admit defeat before I'd even been able to look at a menu!
Me: But I would at least appreciate the honesty! I mean, why do men tell you they want to see you again, and never call? What's the point? Don't do that! At the end of the night, you could just say "Yeah. Had a good time. Good night."
Boyfriend: Did he slip you tongue?
Me: What does that have to do with it?
Boyfriend: Okay. Well, if he slipped you the tongue, he's obligated to tell you the truth.
Why don't I know these things? Seriously, is there a rule book, an instruction manual, anything?? Because I need to know more of this stuff!
Not Such Babies Anymore
From the myspace archives.
Not Such Babies Anymore
(written July 4, 2008)
I watch my children growing up everyday, but some days it really smacks me in the face that they really aren't babies anymore. Today, as early as it is, has been one of those days.
The first thing that happened today was my daughter asking if we could go to the Miracle Grow Ground. The wha?? It took her several tries before she got frustrated and said "You know! The thing that goes around and around with the horsies!" The Merry-Go-Round!! Aha! And the stupid Mommy understands.
It just goes to show how long it's been since I've had to understand baby speak on a regular basis. I was looking through some of my older blogs and my journals, where I've phonetically written out my little girl's speech. I didn't realize how much I've missed hearing the W's substituted for R's. Or the cute little things she would say to try to get her point across. Or saying things like "I put my dirty clothes in the hampster." It's just all part of growing up - not only for her, but me as well.
The next thing to happen was my son talking about when he grows up. He snuggled up next to me on the couch and was telling me how he would grow up and have a house of his own and M would have a house and neither of them would live with me anymore. He wanted to assure me that he would still love me, but he wouldn't live with me anymore because he wants to be a daddy and live with his kids. I wanted to cry. This very touching moment was interrupted by my daughter calling from the next room.
Girl: But Mommy said we have to take care of her when she gets old!
Boy: How do we do that?
Girl: We have to go to college.
Boy: (Rolls his eyes at his sister) Mommy, how do we take care of you when you're old?
Me: Well, you'll have a house when you get big and get married and have kids, and when I get too old to live in my house, you build an apartment in your house so I can come live with you. (I laughed.)
Boy: (Smiles) That's weird.
Yes, it is. I completely agree with you, my love. But I just smiled at his little body disappearing into the kitchen.
Not Such Babies Anymore
(written July 4, 2008)
I watch my children growing up everyday, but some days it really smacks me in the face that they really aren't babies anymore. Today, as early as it is, has been one of those days.
The first thing that happened today was my daughter asking if we could go to the Miracle Grow Ground. The wha?? It took her several tries before she got frustrated and said "You know! The thing that goes around and around with the horsies!" The Merry-Go-Round!! Aha! And the stupid Mommy understands.
It just goes to show how long it's been since I've had to understand baby speak on a regular basis. I was looking through some of my older blogs and my journals, where I've phonetically written out my little girl's speech. I didn't realize how much I've missed hearing the W's substituted for R's. Or the cute little things she would say to try to get her point across. Or saying things like "I put my dirty clothes in the hampster." It's just all part of growing up - not only for her, but me as well.
The next thing to happen was my son talking about when he grows up. He snuggled up next to me on the couch and was telling me how he would grow up and have a house of his own and M would have a house and neither of them would live with me anymore. He wanted to assure me that he would still love me, but he wouldn't live with me anymore because he wants to be a daddy and live with his kids. I wanted to cry. This very touching moment was interrupted by my daughter calling from the next room.
Girl: But Mommy said we have to take care of her when she gets old!
Boy: How do we do that?
Girl: We have to go to college.
Boy: (Rolls his eyes at his sister) Mommy, how do we take care of you when you're old?
Me: Well, you'll have a house when you get big and get married and have kids, and when I get too old to live in my house, you build an apartment in your house so I can come live with you. (I laughed.)
Boy: (Smiles) That's weird.
Yes, it is. I completely agree with you, my love. But I just smiled at his little body disappearing into the kitchen.
Return of the Ordered Universe
From the myspace archives.
Return of the Ordered Universe
(written May 30, 2008)
Recently my universe went totally off-kilter. I have many theories about why. However, I took some time to really think things over, and decided that I had allowed too many other people's stress and drama to invade my life. I have enough of my own, which is carefully balanced with beautiful, calming energy. I allowed too much outside negativity to throw my universe into a tailspin.
In my out of control existence, I did not handle a lot of things well. I was out at night too much - when stress invades, I get almost claustrophobic in my house. I feel like I can't breathe. My once-a-week outting turned into three, sometimes four. I would come home from work, put the kids to bed, and leave again (don't worry - I had a sitter. I didn't get that out of control). This caused other problems - lack of sleep, lack of money, etc. I felt like I needed constant companionship, happy people around me all the time. I was hoping their good vibes would help my bad vibes go away. Instead, it backfired. I saw negative in everything. I was angry or sad or both on a pretty consistent basis. My already faulty self-sensor system went on total meltdown and I would say whatever to whoever and not think about the outcome before the words floated in the air. Thus, I put negativity, stress, and drama into other people's universes.
And for this, I would like to apologize to anyone who had to deal with me.
I have said many times in a not-so-joking manner that I am much better at running other people's lives than I am at running my own. One thing I tell people who are having a pretty consistent or repetitive problem in life is that they have to take a look at what they are doing to perpetuate the problem. In the end, no matter what is going on, I am the only one who can change anything in my life. I decided it was time to take my own advice.
I have recently dealt with the outstide stress and negativity that was coming into my life. I won't go into details since it involves other people. Part of a drama free life is not putting negativity into the universe - it will only come back to you. I definitely don't want it back. I will say that I came to the conclusion that I no longer want people in my life who do not contribute to it in a positive way. A friend is not a person who only contributes bad vibes, stress, and negativity. I'm not saying I want an all positive all the time streaming radio station. That is impossible, and part of a friendship is to help each other through tough times.
Peace and a calm soul are too important to lose sight of. Thank you to everything and everyone who reminded me of that. I do feel peace. I do feel the calm coming back. Being at home has been lovely. Thank you. Thank you to my friends who gave me a verbal bitch slap in order to make me see that I was becoming one of those negative-infused people that I have no use for. Thank you to my children for reminding me what true beauty is. Thank you to my universe for having a way of putting me back on track even when I am lost in a dark wood.
Return of the Ordered Universe
(written May 30, 2008)
Recently my universe went totally off-kilter. I have many theories about why. However, I took some time to really think things over, and decided that I had allowed too many other people's stress and drama to invade my life. I have enough of my own, which is carefully balanced with beautiful, calming energy. I allowed too much outside negativity to throw my universe into a tailspin.
In my out of control existence, I did not handle a lot of things well. I was out at night too much - when stress invades, I get almost claustrophobic in my house. I feel like I can't breathe. My once-a-week outting turned into three, sometimes four. I would come home from work, put the kids to bed, and leave again (don't worry - I had a sitter. I didn't get that out of control). This caused other problems - lack of sleep, lack of money, etc. I felt like I needed constant companionship, happy people around me all the time. I was hoping their good vibes would help my bad vibes go away. Instead, it backfired. I saw negative in everything. I was angry or sad or both on a pretty consistent basis. My already faulty self-sensor system went on total meltdown and I would say whatever to whoever and not think about the outcome before the words floated in the air. Thus, I put negativity, stress, and drama into other people's universes.
And for this, I would like to apologize to anyone who had to deal with me.
I have said many times in a not-so-joking manner that I am much better at running other people's lives than I am at running my own. One thing I tell people who are having a pretty consistent or repetitive problem in life is that they have to take a look at what they are doing to perpetuate the problem. In the end, no matter what is going on, I am the only one who can change anything in my life. I decided it was time to take my own advice.
I have recently dealt with the outstide stress and negativity that was coming into my life. I won't go into details since it involves other people. Part of a drama free life is not putting negativity into the universe - it will only come back to you. I definitely don't want it back. I will say that I came to the conclusion that I no longer want people in my life who do not contribute to it in a positive way. A friend is not a person who only contributes bad vibes, stress, and negativity. I'm not saying I want an all positive all the time streaming radio station. That is impossible, and part of a friendship is to help each other through tough times.
Peace and a calm soul are too important to lose sight of. Thank you to everything and everyone who reminded me of that. I do feel peace. I do feel the calm coming back. Being at home has been lovely. Thank you. Thank you to my friends who gave me a verbal bitch slap in order to make me see that I was becoming one of those negative-infused people that I have no use for. Thank you to my children for reminding me what true beauty is. Thank you to my universe for having a way of putting me back on track even when I am lost in a dark wood.
Raising Children
From the myspace archives.
Raising Children
(written May 13, 2008)
There are many things in life that make a person stop think "Am I doing the right thing?" And the right thing is so subjective for each person and situation and circumstances at that point in life. As a mother, I think about it all the time. Am I doing the right thing? It's scary to think how large an influence I am in shaping two people. Today they are happy children, but one wrong move on my part and they could be damaged serial killers. It's a tough burden to bear.
I love my children. I do the best I can for them. But I worry. I work too much. If I take a night for myself, am I spending too much time away? I need to clean the house, but they need to get outside. We haven't been to the park in a month. They are filthy from playing outside, but they are falling asleep and really should get to bed - no bath tonight. They won't touch the tofu I cooked; McDonald's for the kids - and mom has failed again. These are the small things, the everyday things. Can you even imagine the big things that come up?
Yesterday, my kids were out playing with some of the neighborhood kids. There's a boy who is a bad influence that I've told my kids they aren't allowed to play with anymore. But of course, when I poked my head out of the window to check on the kids, they were not only playing with him, my son was joining him in throwing things at the cars. Great. My son is on a path to delinquency. So, I called them inside. They both came right away, and my son said he was sorry for doing it. I reiterated that he was not to play with that boy and never to do bad things with him. Nevertheless, Mommy Worry set in. What is the right thing to do??
This morning, my daughter woke up very early with a fever and a nasty cough. So, I called my neighbor downstairs to see if my son could walk with her son to school this morning. I can see him from my kitchen window the entire way to school. He stopped to look both ways before he crossed the street. He walked, then ran, then dawdled to cut down some high weeds with a stick (fighting some imaginary foe, I'm sure). But he went straight to the school yard and when the bell rang, he immediately got in line to go into class, and I could see him smile when his teacher opened the door. My son loves school.
I'm raising a good boy. Am I doing the right thing to worry so much?
Raising Children
(written May 13, 2008)
There are many things in life that make a person stop think "Am I doing the right thing?" And the right thing is so subjective for each person and situation and circumstances at that point in life. As a mother, I think about it all the time. Am I doing the right thing? It's scary to think how large an influence I am in shaping two people. Today they are happy children, but one wrong move on my part and they could be damaged serial killers. It's a tough burden to bear.
I love my children. I do the best I can for them. But I worry. I work too much. If I take a night for myself, am I spending too much time away? I need to clean the house, but they need to get outside. We haven't been to the park in a month. They are filthy from playing outside, but they are falling asleep and really should get to bed - no bath tonight. They won't touch the tofu I cooked; McDonald's for the kids - and mom has failed again. These are the small things, the everyday things. Can you even imagine the big things that come up?
Yesterday, my kids were out playing with some of the neighborhood kids. There's a boy who is a bad influence that I've told my kids they aren't allowed to play with anymore. But of course, when I poked my head out of the window to check on the kids, they were not only playing with him, my son was joining him in throwing things at the cars. Great. My son is on a path to delinquency. So, I called them inside. They both came right away, and my son said he was sorry for doing it. I reiterated that he was not to play with that boy and never to do bad things with him. Nevertheless, Mommy Worry set in. What is the right thing to do??
This morning, my daughter woke up very early with a fever and a nasty cough. So, I called my neighbor downstairs to see if my son could walk with her son to school this morning. I can see him from my kitchen window the entire way to school. He stopped to look both ways before he crossed the street. He walked, then ran, then dawdled to cut down some high weeds with a stick (fighting some imaginary foe, I'm sure). But he went straight to the school yard and when the bell rang, he immediately got in line to go into class, and I could see him smile when his teacher opened the door. My son loves school.
I'm raising a good boy. Am I doing the right thing to worry so much?
Work in Progress
From the myspace archives.
Work in Progress
(written May 4, 2008)
After admiring my soul in the mirror
and comparing it to my new haircut
I remember a bitch in a bathroom
saying "I wouldn't remember you"
Then I think of the guy
hoping he'll put a check in the box by the "YES"
I look back at the mirror
Wishing my stomach were flatter
My thighs were thinner
My stretch marks gone
and that I could wear my soul like my new haircut
Work in Progress
(written May 4, 2008)
After admiring my soul in the mirror
and comparing it to my new haircut
I remember a bitch in a bathroom
saying "I wouldn't remember you"
Then I think of the guy
hoping he'll put a check in the box by the "YES"
I look back at the mirror
Wishing my stomach were flatter
My thighs were thinner
My stretch marks gone
and that I could wear my soul like my new haircut
Funny Kid Moments
From the myspace archives.
Funny Kid Moments
(written April 14, 2008)
I realized that I haven't posted child humor in a while. And they've been pretty funny lately. Here are some of my favorites:
_____________________________________________________
The kids are playing in the next room and I overheard my son say to his sister, "Hey, kid!"
My daughter gets puffed up, and yells back to show her indignation, "I am NOT a kid!"
Boy, in his best you-really-are-a-moron voice: "Yes, you are."
Girl, still yelling: "I'm telling! MOM!!!!"
Me: "You're a rotten kid. And so is T___."
T. just laughs, but the girl deflates, pouts and walks away to sulk.
"I'm not a kid. I'm not rotten eda."
____________________________________________________
I am forever telling my daughter how beautiful she is. If you need proof, just take a second to look through my pictures. One thing I say on a regular basis is "Who's my pretty girl?" She, of course, replies "Me!" and gives me a big hug. So, last week, she walks into my room as I'm getting ready for work. In appreciation of my chosen outfit, she puts her hands on hips, smiles, shakes her head in approval and says "Who's my pretty mommy?"
____________________________________________________
My son comes home from school, and pulls a piece of paper out of his backpack. He says "I wrote you a love note." My heart swells for a minute as I take it from him. Then, I read:
DEAR mommy
WHen YUO BUY A caR I AM gunA WAnT A blue caR.
What more could a Mommy ask for? That's true love right there.
Funny Kid Moments
(written April 14, 2008)
I realized that I haven't posted child humor in a while. And they've been pretty funny lately. Here are some of my favorites:
_____________________________________________________
The kids are playing in the next room and I overheard my son say to his sister, "Hey, kid!"
My daughter gets puffed up, and yells back to show her indignation, "I am NOT a kid!"
Boy, in his best you-really-are-a-moron voice: "Yes, you are."
Girl, still yelling: "I'm telling! MOM!!!!"
Me: "You're a rotten kid. And so is T___."
T. just laughs, but the girl deflates, pouts and walks away to sulk.
"I'm not a kid. I'm not rotten eda."
____________________________________________________
I am forever telling my daughter how beautiful she is. If you need proof, just take a second to look through my pictures. One thing I say on a regular basis is "Who's my pretty girl?" She, of course, replies "Me!" and gives me a big hug. So, last week, she walks into my room as I'm getting ready for work. In appreciation of my chosen outfit, she puts her hands on hips, smiles, shakes her head in approval and says "Who's my pretty mommy?"
____________________________________________________
My son comes home from school, and pulls a piece of paper out of his backpack. He says "I wrote you a love note." My heart swells for a minute as I take it from him. Then, I read:
DEAR mommy
WHen YUO BUY A caR I AM gunA WAnT A blue caR.
What more could a Mommy ask for? That's true love right there.
So I'm reading this book . . .
This is another one from the myspace archives. This one is special to me though. I hated the book, but his section about Molly really struck me. I've often been Molly, and I've often had those looking over their shoulders return to tell me what fools they've been after I'm past caring enough to let them return. It's heartbreaking in a way I can't even explain. Not only for me, but for them. I was forced to miss out on wonderful men, but they missed out on me.
So I'm reading this book . . .
(written January 11, 2008)
. . . and I dislike it. It is Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Celine. This is my third attempt to read it. I have simply been unable to get past the first 50 pages up until now. It has taken me a good six weeks to arrive at page 199. I'm trying. I hate leaving a book unfinished once I've picked it up. Unless it is anything by John Reichy. But I digress. . .
The first 50 pages are rather amusing in their cynicism, delving into the horrors of being a soldier during WWI. After that, you feel beat over the head with his hatred of and scorn for the human race. There are many, many passages I could highlight to illustrate my point, but why bother. If you open the book and point to a random passage, you'll understand.
Arriving on page 199, I read the following:
I suppose I take issue with his last line. I don't think Life tricks people into expending their passions on what they have presently. I think we trick ourselves into not fully cherishing what and who we have in our lives now. And that is how we let life slip away from us. I believe that time and tenderness spent on a person will only be given back to you. And when it is given back, it renews the tenderness you can give again. And when the "inside" is focused on, love grows. And where there is love, there is more life than anyone could hope to find elsewhere. So, why bother looking over your shoulder? Just look under your nose.
So I'm reading this book . . .
(written January 11, 2008)
. . . and I dislike it. It is Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Celine. This is my third attempt to read it. I have simply been unable to get past the first 50 pages up until now. It has taken me a good six weeks to arrive at page 199. I'm trying. I hate leaving a book unfinished once I've picked it up. Unless it is anything by John Reichy. But I digress. . .
The first 50 pages are rather amusing in their cynicism, delving into the horrors of being a soldier during WWI. After that, you feel beat over the head with his hatred of and scorn for the human race. There are many, many passages I could highlight to illustrate my point, but why bother. If you open the book and point to a random passage, you'll understand.
Arriving on page 199, I read the following:
"Molly and I avoided elaborate confessions. She knew the score. She was too sincere to say much about her grief. She knew what went on inside, in her heart, and that was enough for her. We kissed. But I didn't kiss her properly as I should have, on my knees if the truth be known. I was always partly thinking about something else at the same time, about not wasting time and tenderness, as if I wanted to keep them for something magnificent, something sublime, for later, but not for Molly and not for this particular kiss. As if life would carry away everything I longed to know about it, about life in the thick of the night, and hide it from me, while I was expending my passion in kissing Molly, and then I wouldn't have enough left, I'd have lost everything for want of strength, and life - Life, the true mistress of all real men - would have tricked me as it tricks everyone else."
For several pages, he's gone on about what a good woman Molly is and how nice she is to him and how he trusts her (something he points out that in fearful people takes the place of love). And yet, he won't let her be enough. And it makes me wonder how often we all do it. Beautiful things happen everyday. Love is something to cherish, and sometimes the best things for us are right under our noses. Yet, we turn from it, often very willingly. I know I have been guilty of that myself.I suppose I take issue with his last line. I don't think Life tricks people into expending their passions on what they have presently. I think we trick ourselves into not fully cherishing what and who we have in our lives now. And that is how we let life slip away from us. I believe that time and tenderness spent on a person will only be given back to you. And when it is given back, it renews the tenderness you can give again. And when the "inside" is focused on, love grows. And where there is love, there is more life than anyone could hope to find elsewhere. So, why bother looking over your shoulder? Just look under your nose.
Why?
From the myspace archives.
Why?
(written December 14, 2007)
I get excited about Christmas. I do every year. I always spend too much money on gifts. I spend a lot of time cooking. We decorate. We send cards. We take pictures. I get so excited about waking up to see what Santa brought the kids.
And then I get frustrated. I have spent SO much time cleaning this house the past few days. I've spent a lot of time wrapping presents. I woke up this morning hearing presents being ripped and fighting. When I ran into the living room, my children had donuts and oranges all over the floor. They had moved the couch. And they had taken every present from under the tree and piled them up in the middle of all of this mess. The ripping I'd heard was one of the presents being torn through by another gift. But why did I bother?
Yesterday, New England had its first snow storm of the season. I had to go to the laundry mat. Why? Because my son came home from school with lice. Fun. So, now, not only do I get the joy of cleaning my house AGAIN. I have to wash all of the laundry AGAIN. I know it isn't his fault. But I'm working my butt off to make sure the lice are gone, and they get to destroy what I'm doing right behind me.
While I was at the laundry mat, I decided that I would get pizza for dinner last night and donuts for breakfast today. I knew school would be canceled today, and I wanted them to have a good snow day. So, I thought I would have donuts and hot chocolate for breakfast and they could go play outside until they froze and then come in for more hot chocolate. But that didn't work out. They got to the donuts before I even woke up. They finished those off and pulled out the left-over pizza to eat. Which was one of the boxes in their tower. They had pulled out a couple of oranges and left the peel all over the floor. There is something sticky on the floor. I'm sure it's poorly wiped up juice. Nevertheless, it is disgusting.
I'm so frustrated. I work so hard to make sure they have everything they need. I can't afford to get them everything they want. So, when Christmas comes around, I buy too much. I'm so tired, and they don't get it. Don't get me wrong, I don't expect them too understand. They are too little. But it is depressing. And Santa stopped granting my wishes a long time ago.
Why?
(written December 14, 2007)
I get excited about Christmas. I do every year. I always spend too much money on gifts. I spend a lot of time cooking. We decorate. We send cards. We take pictures. I get so excited about waking up to see what Santa brought the kids.
And then I get frustrated. I have spent SO much time cleaning this house the past few days. I've spent a lot of time wrapping presents. I woke up this morning hearing presents being ripped and fighting. When I ran into the living room, my children had donuts and oranges all over the floor. They had moved the couch. And they had taken every present from under the tree and piled them up in the middle of all of this mess. The ripping I'd heard was one of the presents being torn through by another gift. But why did I bother?
Yesterday, New England had its first snow storm of the season. I had to go to the laundry mat. Why? Because my son came home from school with lice. Fun. So, now, not only do I get the joy of cleaning my house AGAIN. I have to wash all of the laundry AGAIN. I know it isn't his fault. But I'm working my butt off to make sure the lice are gone, and they get to destroy what I'm doing right behind me.
While I was at the laundry mat, I decided that I would get pizza for dinner last night and donuts for breakfast today. I knew school would be canceled today, and I wanted them to have a good snow day. So, I thought I would have donuts and hot chocolate for breakfast and they could go play outside until they froze and then come in for more hot chocolate. But that didn't work out. They got to the donuts before I even woke up. They finished those off and pulled out the left-over pizza to eat. Which was one of the boxes in their tower. They had pulled out a couple of oranges and left the peel all over the floor. There is something sticky on the floor. I'm sure it's poorly wiped up juice. Nevertheless, it is disgusting.
I'm so frustrated. I work so hard to make sure they have everything they need. I can't afford to get them everything they want. So, when Christmas comes around, I buy too much. I'm so tired, and they don't get it. Don't get me wrong, I don't expect them too understand. They are too little. But it is depressing. And Santa stopped granting my wishes a long time ago.
Backseat Mayhem
From the myspace archives.
Backseat Mayhem
(written September 4, 2007)
After our usual evening routine of leaving the daycare and going to the YMCA, the kids and I decided to go to the grocery store. While heading to the store, the kids started in on their usual arguments. I tuned them out. Thank god my ears turned themselves back on for the following conversation:
"I'm gonna call the police!" Says my 4-year-old princess in a huff.
She promptly starts dialing 9-1-1 on her Disney Princess cell phone. As it rings to horribly electronic versions of Disney songs, I have time to think "I'm so proud that she has remembered all of our talks about what to do in an emergency" before I hear:
"Hello. Police? Come get this stupid boy." Realizing that I may in fact be listening and that she would get in trouble for saying stupid, she quickly amends her request. "I mean, come get this boring boy. I don't like him."
Then, she deepens her voice so that her brother will hear what the police officer is saying to her and says "Okay. I'll come." She then hangs up her phone and I'm sure she gave her brother a nice example of how far her tongue can actually stick out of her mouth without detaching from her head.
Her brother will not be deterred by mere police coming to get him. Oh, no. "Oh, yeah? I'll call Superman. Superman?! Come get her!" He then deepens his voice so that his sister will know Superman means business, and has Superman answer "Okay. I'm on my way." He then turns to his sister to say "See? Superman's gonna get you."
I was disappointed that this argument had to end. But as Superman descended to pinch the princess on her arm, I pulled into the parking lot and declared that no one would be getting a treat at the store. Take that police AND Superman.
Backseat Mayhem
(written September 4, 2007)
After our usual evening routine of leaving the daycare and going to the YMCA, the kids and I decided to go to the grocery store. While heading to the store, the kids started in on their usual arguments. I tuned them out. Thank god my ears turned themselves back on for the following conversation:
"I'm gonna call the police!" Says my 4-year-old princess in a huff.
She promptly starts dialing 9-1-1 on her Disney Princess cell phone. As it rings to horribly electronic versions of Disney songs, I have time to think "I'm so proud that she has remembered all of our talks about what to do in an emergency" before I hear:
"Hello. Police? Come get this stupid boy." Realizing that I may in fact be listening and that she would get in trouble for saying stupid, she quickly amends her request. "I mean, come get this boring boy. I don't like him."
Then, she deepens her voice so that her brother will hear what the police officer is saying to her and says "Okay. I'll come." She then hangs up her phone and I'm sure she gave her brother a nice example of how far her tongue can actually stick out of her mouth without detaching from her head.
Her brother will not be deterred by mere police coming to get him. Oh, no. "Oh, yeah? I'll call Superman. Superman?! Come get her!" He then deepens his voice so that his sister will know Superman means business, and has Superman answer "Okay. I'm on my way." He then turns to his sister to say "See? Superman's gonna get you."
I was disappointed that this argument had to end. But as Superman descended to pinch the princess on her arm, I pulled into the parking lot and declared that no one would be getting a treat at the store. Take that police AND Superman.
4-Year-Old Cat Calls
From the myspace archives.
4-Year-Old Cat Calls
(written July 26, 2007)
4-Year-Old Cat Calls
(written July 26, 2007)
I just dropped my daughter off at daycare. As you enter the daycare building, you walk past a fenced-in outdoor play area. Beside the door three of the four- and five-year olds who were playing outside that morning, lined up inside of the fence.
As my daughter and I walked past, one of the boys said "Hi!" I said hello back, because it is not unusual for the kids to say hello in the morning. Then, one of the boys said to my daughter "Hey, baby." My daughter got really upset, and turned to me. Pointing at the offender, she said "He just called me a baby! I'm not a baby! I'm a big girl!" I ushered her in the door, assuring her that she was indeed a big girl. The way the boy said it, I wasn't sure if he really had simply called her a baby or if it was the typical male start of a conversation. I hoped for the former.
My hopes were dashed as I walked out of the building. Oh, yes. I was cat-called by the same group. "Hey, M___'s mom. What's up?" "Hey, baby." I just kept walking.
Funny Things Heard in the Atkins' Home
From the myspace archives.
Funny Things Heard in the Atkins' Home
(written June 20, 2007)
Funny Things Heard in the Atkins' Home
(written June 20, 2007)
While my children are a never-ending source of amusement for me, I must say they have been upping it a notch the past couple of days. Here are a few of my favorites:
Boy: Mommy, you're a pretty girl.
Me: Thank you, sweet boy.
Girl: I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Me: Of course you are, honey.
Girl: I was askin' my bruda. I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Boy: (Unitelligible grumble)
Girl: (sounding very small and verging on tears) T____? . . . I'm pretty too, right?
Boy: Yes. Now, leave me alone.
____________________________________________________________________
Me: Time for bed.
Girl: But we didn't have dinner yet.
Me: Yes, you did.
Girl: No, we didn't.
Me: We had pizza, remember?
Girl: That wasn't dinner.
Me: Yes, it was. And now its time for bed.
Boy: My sister is right. That wasn't dinner because I'm hungry again.
___________________________________________________________________
And the BEST:
Girl: Mom, I put my dirty clothes in the hampster.
Boy: Mommy, you're a pretty girl.
Me: Thank you, sweet boy.
Girl: I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Me: Of course you are, honey.
Girl: I was askin' my bruda. I'm a pretty girl too, right?
Boy: (Unitelligible grumble)
Girl: (sounding very small and verging on tears) T____? . . . I'm pretty too, right?
Boy: Yes. Now, leave me alone.
____________________________________________________________________
Me: Time for bed.
Girl: But we didn't have dinner yet.
Me: Yes, you did.
Girl: No, we didn't.
Me: We had pizza, remember?
Girl: That wasn't dinner.
Me: Yes, it was. And now its time for bed.
Boy: My sister is right. That wasn't dinner because I'm hungry again.
___________________________________________________________________
And the BEST:
Girl: Mom, I put my dirty clothes in the hampster.
Alone Time
From the myspace archives.
Alone Time
(written May 6, 2007)
I have recently made a decision. I have decided that I need to learn to do things on my own. Well, not on my own, really. I do that already. But ALONE. For instance, I have never been to a movie by myself. Not once. Ever. That needs to change my friends.
I have come to this conclusion because of a stupid boy. I do not have trouble finding dates. However, since making a switch into Monogamy Land, I have spent the last three weekends at home. Needless to say, I don't think I'm liking my tenure in Monogamy Land, and I'm quickly approaching the border back home. Why? Because the more I sit at home, the more I hate the walls around me. The more I hate the walls around me, the more angry I am at stupid boy. I was bitching to another friend of mine about the situation, and he asked why didn't I just go alone or go out with my girlfriends or have people over to my place. I was speechless. Hard to believe that I would not have something to say, but it is true. He was totally, 100% correct.
I don't go out with my girlfriends because I am not specifically invited to go out with them. Now, I know that it isn't really an invitational thing when the girls decide to get together. That doesn't stop me from feeling like I am somehow crashing their good time if I decide to go. Only when someone specifically says "Leann, would you like to join us?" do I feel that it is okay to be there. Well, that has to stop. And what is keeping me from being the one to say "Hey, anybody want to go for cocktails?" Nothing. That's what. Absolutely nothing. Except my own irrational brain waves.
Same thing with inviting people over. I've just been lazy. And I hate to do my dishes and it is slightly embarrassing. That part can be hurdled. So, I think I will. Oh, yes, oh yes. People at my house. What a novelty! It would also solve the problem of having to find a sitter. Why didn't I think of this before??
But I think the most important thing is that I am terrified to go anywhere alone. Why is that?? I made my first endeavor last night. I went to Route 44's CD release party last night. It was a rocking party. Here's my problem: I get there. I don't know anyone. I become instantly shy. If you know me, you know I'm not really shy. So, how is it that I clam up in a room full of people celebrating that they have a common interest while that said common interest is totally rocking out the house on stage? I found I couldn't talk to anyone. Thank God, I ran into some friends of mine and I could hang out with them. Otherwise, I would have been the weird quiet chick in the corner all night. I have decided that I must face this fear, and make repeated endeavors out unaccompanied. I will be going on a weekend away in July. Totally alone. But before I do that, I think I will take in a movie.
Alone Time
(written May 6, 2007)
I have recently made a decision. I have decided that I need to learn to do things on my own. Well, not on my own, really. I do that already. But ALONE. For instance, I have never been to a movie by myself. Not once. Ever. That needs to change my friends.
I have come to this conclusion because of a stupid boy. I do not have trouble finding dates. However, since making a switch into Monogamy Land, I have spent the last three weekends at home. Needless to say, I don't think I'm liking my tenure in Monogamy Land, and I'm quickly approaching the border back home. Why? Because the more I sit at home, the more I hate the walls around me. The more I hate the walls around me, the more angry I am at stupid boy. I was bitching to another friend of mine about the situation, and he asked why didn't I just go alone or go out with my girlfriends or have people over to my place. I was speechless. Hard to believe that I would not have something to say, but it is true. He was totally, 100% correct.
I don't go out with my girlfriends because I am not specifically invited to go out with them. Now, I know that it isn't really an invitational thing when the girls decide to get together. That doesn't stop me from feeling like I am somehow crashing their good time if I decide to go. Only when someone specifically says "Leann, would you like to join us?" do I feel that it is okay to be there. Well, that has to stop. And what is keeping me from being the one to say "Hey, anybody want to go for cocktails?" Nothing. That's what. Absolutely nothing. Except my own irrational brain waves.
Same thing with inviting people over. I've just been lazy. And I hate to do my dishes and it is slightly embarrassing. That part can be hurdled. So, I think I will. Oh, yes, oh yes. People at my house. What a novelty! It would also solve the problem of having to find a sitter. Why didn't I think of this before??
But I think the most important thing is that I am terrified to go anywhere alone. Why is that?? I made my first endeavor last night. I went to Route 44's CD release party last night. It was a rocking party. Here's my problem: I get there. I don't know anyone. I become instantly shy. If you know me, you know I'm not really shy. So, how is it that I clam up in a room full of people celebrating that they have a common interest while that said common interest is totally rocking out the house on stage? I found I couldn't talk to anyone. Thank God, I ran into some friends of mine and I could hang out with them. Otherwise, I would have been the weird quiet chick in the corner all night. I have decided that I must face this fear, and make repeated endeavors out unaccompanied. I will be going on a weekend away in July. Totally alone. But before I do that, I think I will take in a movie.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Looking for Princes
From the myspace archives.
Looking for Princes
(written on April 25, 2007)
I've written before about how my daughter insists that she needs to marry her brother because he is a prince and she is a princess and princesses must marry a prince. Well, I was getting ready for work in the morning, and the following conversation started with my daughter:
"Mommy, you's a beautiful princess."
"Thank you, baby. You're a beautiful princess too!"
"Mommy, princesses marry princes."
"Yes, they do."
"You need to marry a big, big, big prince betause you're a big, big, big lady."
"Gee, thanks. Uh-huh."
"And I need to marry a lil prince betause I'm a lil guwal."
"Well, you can wait until you're big to get married."
"But I tan marry my bruda."
From the other room comes an indignant "NO!" from the said brother.
"BUT YOU'S A PRINCE! I HAVE TO MARRY A LIL PRINCE!" screams back the little princess.
"NOOOO!"
"Honey, girls do not marry their brothers."
"But princesses do!"
The little princess ignores the last comment, saying: "You tan marry my daddy betause he's a big prince and you's a big princess."
"I don't think so, honey."
"But why? He's a prince!"
Not wanting to explain the why to my 3-year-old, I resorted to her level. "But Daddy's not my brother."
"Oooohhhh . . . Then you tan marry Pappy."
"But Pappy's married to Nana."
"Well, we got to find you a big prince." With that she left the room.
And off we go . . .
Looking for Princes
(written on April 25, 2007)
I've written before about how my daughter insists that she needs to marry her brother because he is a prince and she is a princess and princesses must marry a prince. Well, I was getting ready for work in the morning, and the following conversation started with my daughter:
"Mommy, you's a beautiful princess."
"Thank you, baby. You're a beautiful princess too!"
"Mommy, princesses marry princes."
"Yes, they do."
"You need to marry a big, big, big prince betause you're a big, big, big lady."
"Gee, thanks. Uh-huh."
"And I need to marry a lil prince betause I'm a lil guwal."
"Well, you can wait until you're big to get married."
"But I tan marry my bruda."
From the other room comes an indignant "NO!" from the said brother.
"BUT YOU'S A PRINCE! I HAVE TO MARRY A LIL PRINCE!" screams back the little princess.
"NOOOO!"
"Honey, girls do not marry their brothers."
"But princesses do!"
The little princess ignores the last comment, saying: "You tan marry my daddy betause he's a big prince and you's a big princess."
"I don't think so, honey."
"But why? He's a prince!"
Not wanting to explain the why to my 3-year-old, I resorted to her level. "But Daddy's not my brother."
"Oooohhhh . . . Then you tan marry Pappy."
"But Pappy's married to Nana."
"Well, we got to find you a big prince." With that she left the room.
And off we go . . .
I'm so insulted . . . Kind of . . . Okay, not really.
From the myspace archive.
I'm so insulted . . . Kind of . . . Okay, not really.
(written April 17, 2007)
My daughter is home sick today. It's been a fun day. She started antibiotics yesterday, so she is feeling well enough to want to play today. So, I let her play and watch movies in the living room while I gave in to my eBay addiction. I also allowed her to have a bowl of dry Kix in the living room to snack on while she watched her cartoon. Normally, I do not allow children to bring food out of the kitchen in my home.
Well, about 15 minutes into my vintage clothing online shopping session, my son comes into my office saying "You have to come see what my sister did! Come look! In the bathroom! The whole bowl! Look!"
Exiting my office, I come directly into the living room where I find that my daughter has stolen her brother's snack of Sun Chips. She was sitting on the floor with a bowl of Kix beside her, cutting up the Sun Chips into small crumbs with one of her plastic play-kitchen knives. She looks up with a radiant smile to say "Look, Momma! I'm making Kix Chip soup!" She scoops up some of the shattered chips, puts them in her cereal bowl, and stirs the chip crumbs into her Kix with one of her tea set spoons. My son stands on the other side of the room, still beckoning me out of the living room toward the bathroom. I shake my head at my daughter's soup and go into the bathroom.
Here, I find that my little girl had failed in her first attempt at Kix Chip soup. The shards of chip must have simply been too large for her texture pallet. How do I know this from walking into the bathroom? Well, I'll tell you. She had dumped the entire bowl of cereal and chips into the bathroom sink and run the water over it, leaving a sticky goopy mess of lumpy Kix and soggy chips. Instead of getting angry, I realized I should have kept more of an eye on the snacks in the living room and I declared that it was nap time.
My daughter did not want to take a nap. She got very angry. She cried. She stamped her feet. She smacked the floor. She screamed. None of this worked. I walked out of the room. Then, she started yelling at me.
"I don't like you anymore, Mommy!"
"I don't even love you anymore!"
"You're meeeeeaaaann!"
And then the best one ever: "You're not a princess anymore! You're a boy!"
Well, I couldn't stop laughing. And the poor girl was so mad that she had failed to insult me that she laid down and cried for 20 minutes straight. What's a Mommy to do?? It was FUNNY!
I'm so insulted . . . Kind of . . . Okay, not really.
(written April 17, 2007)
My daughter is home sick today. It's been a fun day. She started antibiotics yesterday, so she is feeling well enough to want to play today. So, I let her play and watch movies in the living room while I gave in to my eBay addiction. I also allowed her to have a bowl of dry Kix in the living room to snack on while she watched her cartoon. Normally, I do not allow children to bring food out of the kitchen in my home.
Well, about 15 minutes into my vintage clothing online shopping session, my son comes into my office saying "You have to come see what my sister did! Come look! In the bathroom! The whole bowl! Look!"
Exiting my office, I come directly into the living room where I find that my daughter has stolen her brother's snack of Sun Chips. She was sitting on the floor with a bowl of Kix beside her, cutting up the Sun Chips into small crumbs with one of her plastic play-kitchen knives. She looks up with a radiant smile to say "Look, Momma! I'm making Kix Chip soup!" She scoops up some of the shattered chips, puts them in her cereal bowl, and stirs the chip crumbs into her Kix with one of her tea set spoons. My son stands on the other side of the room, still beckoning me out of the living room toward the bathroom. I shake my head at my daughter's soup and go into the bathroom.
Here, I find that my little girl had failed in her first attempt at Kix Chip soup. The shards of chip must have simply been too large for her texture pallet. How do I know this from walking into the bathroom? Well, I'll tell you. She had dumped the entire bowl of cereal and chips into the bathroom sink and run the water over it, leaving a sticky goopy mess of lumpy Kix and soggy chips. Instead of getting angry, I realized I should have kept more of an eye on the snacks in the living room and I declared that it was nap time.
My daughter did not want to take a nap. She got very angry. She cried. She stamped her feet. She smacked the floor. She screamed. None of this worked. I walked out of the room. Then, she started yelling at me.
"I don't like you anymore, Mommy!"
"I don't even love you anymore!"
"You're meeeeeaaaann!"
And then the best one ever: "You're not a princess anymore! You're a boy!"
Well, I couldn't stop laughing. And the poor girl was so mad that she had failed to insult me that she laid down and cried for 20 minutes straight. What's a Mommy to do?? It was FUNNY!
Four = BIG
From the myspace archive.
Four = BIG
(written March 13, 2007)
My childrens' birthdays are coming up soon. In fact, my son will be 6 years old on Thursday. So, this morning, my daughter and I were discussing what we should buy him for his birthday and what kind of cake we should make him. But when you are a three-year-old princess, life revolves around you. So, the conversation, of course, landed on her birthday which is coming up in 6 weeks.
"Mommy, I'm going to be fowah years old on my birthday."
"That's right, honey."
"I won't be frwee years old no mowah. Frwee years old means I'm little. Fowah years old means I'm big."
"Four means you're a big girl?"
"Yes!"
"So, that means you'll have to do all the things a big girl does."
"Yeah."
"So, you're going to go to bed when I tell you to?"
"Yeah, betause a big girl would do dat."
"That's right. And you'll have to eat vegetables."
"But I don't like vegables," she says wrinkling her nose in horror.
"But big girls eat vegetables, honey. Are you sure you want to be big?"
She thought for a second, heaved a huge sigh, and said "Okay. I'll eat vegables. I like carrots."
"Carrots are yummy."
"Yeah. I like carrots and cheese and that's enough vegables. I can be a big girl."
Four = BIG
(written March 13, 2007)
My childrens' birthdays are coming up soon. In fact, my son will be 6 years old on Thursday. So, this morning, my daughter and I were discussing what we should buy him for his birthday and what kind of cake we should make him. But when you are a three-year-old princess, life revolves around you. So, the conversation, of course, landed on her birthday which is coming up in 6 weeks.
"Mommy, I'm going to be fowah years old on my birthday."
"That's right, honey."
"I won't be frwee years old no mowah. Frwee years old means I'm little. Fowah years old means I'm big."
"Four means you're a big girl?"
"Yes!"
"So, that means you'll have to do all the things a big girl does."
"Yeah."
"So, you're going to go to bed when I tell you to?"
"Yeah, betause a big girl would do dat."
"That's right. And you'll have to eat vegetables."
"But I don't like vegables," she says wrinkling her nose in horror.
"But big girls eat vegetables, honey. Are you sure you want to be big?"
She thought for a second, heaved a huge sigh, and said "Okay. I'll eat vegables. I like carrots."
"Carrots are yummy."
"Yeah. I like carrots and cheese and that's enough vegables. I can be a big girl."
Two Kid Stories This Morning
From the myspace archive.
Two Kid Stories This Morning
(written February 19, 2007)
First Story:
A few days ago, my children were fighting over some mardi gras beads that I gave my daughter to play dress-up with. They both love to play with them for different reasons, and the other morning, they wouldn't stop over these beads. Well, I distracted them by making them get dressed. We were going to go to the YMCA. They were excited. The fighting stopped. We went on with our day. As the kids and I are leaving the Y, my son is complaining to me that his foot hurts. I ask him if his boots are rubbing him, or if his socks are bunched up. He says, "No, my necklace hurts." "Your necklace?" I ask. "Yes, my necklace," he replies, most irritated that I'm not faster on the uptake. "You put the necklace in your shoe?" Well, he looked at me like I was the craziest mommy on the planet, and comes back with "No. In my sock." How could I be so stupid??
Second Story:
The kids played this morning while I slept in a little. So, naturally, both their bedroom and the living looks like they were both sources of a natural disaster. So, I told them that I was going to make pancakes for them if they would help me clean. My daughter gets upset and says "But Moooommm! I only have two hands!" I mean, how do I stand up to that argument?? So, I tell her, "Well, you're just going to have to learn to make due. Or I'll make broccoli for breakfast." She learned to work with her disability pretty quickly.
Two Kid Stories This Morning
(written February 19, 2007)
First Story:
A few days ago, my children were fighting over some mardi gras beads that I gave my daughter to play dress-up with. They both love to play with them for different reasons, and the other morning, they wouldn't stop over these beads. Well, I distracted them by making them get dressed. We were going to go to the YMCA. They were excited. The fighting stopped. We went on with our day. As the kids and I are leaving the Y, my son is complaining to me that his foot hurts. I ask him if his boots are rubbing him, or if his socks are bunched up. He says, "No, my necklace hurts." "Your necklace?" I ask. "Yes, my necklace," he replies, most irritated that I'm not faster on the uptake. "You put the necklace in your shoe?" Well, he looked at me like I was the craziest mommy on the planet, and comes back with "No. In my sock." How could I be so stupid??
Second Story:
The kids played this morning while I slept in a little. So, naturally, both their bedroom and the living looks like they were both sources of a natural disaster. So, I told them that I was going to make pancakes for them if they would help me clean. My daughter gets upset and says "But Moooommm! I only have two hands!" I mean, how do I stand up to that argument?? So, I tell her, "Well, you're just going to have to learn to make due. Or I'll make broccoli for breakfast." She learned to work with her disability pretty quickly.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I need to learn.
From the myspace archive.
I need to learn.
(written February 11, 2007)
I was getting ready for work a couple of weeks ago, when I realized I hated everything in my closet. I was bloated, and nothing looked good. "Uuuugh," I groan, checking out the too tight jeans. "I feel so fat."
Now, the other day, I was planning my outfit around a specific pair of shoes. (Ladies, you understand, right??) Well, I just couldn't find the right shirt. "Uuuuugh," I groan, checking out the latest choice. My daughter walks up to me, and stands beside me observing the mistake.
"Mommy, are you fat again?"
"What?"
"You's belly?" she says, patting my abdomen. "Is you's belly fat again?"
"No, honey. Mommy isn't fat."
"But you were before."
"No, I wasn't."
"But you said 'Uuuugh. I feel fat.' You's belly was fat."
I tried to explain to her how bloating works, but how do you do that in three-year-old terms. She looked at me like I was crazy and simply said "So, you's fat." And promptly walked away to play.
Remind me to watch what I say in front of her.
I need to learn.
(written February 11, 2007)
I was getting ready for work a couple of weeks ago, when I realized I hated everything in my closet. I was bloated, and nothing looked good. "Uuuugh," I groan, checking out the too tight jeans. "I feel so fat."
Now, the other day, I was planning my outfit around a specific pair of shoes. (Ladies, you understand, right??) Well, I just couldn't find the right shirt. "Uuuuugh," I groan, checking out the latest choice. My daughter walks up to me, and stands beside me observing the mistake.
"Mommy, are you fat again?"
"What?"
"You's belly?" she says, patting my abdomen. "Is you's belly fat again?"
"No, honey. Mommy isn't fat."
"But you were before."
"No, I wasn't."
"But you said 'Uuuugh. I feel fat.' You's belly was fat."
I tried to explain to her how bloating works, but how do you do that in three-year-old terms. She looked at me like I was crazy and simply said "So, you's fat." And promptly walked away to play.
Remind me to watch what I say in front of her.
Questions of Race
My daughter went through a period where she was asking a lot of questions about skin color and gender. It was hard. I reached out for advice from friends, and I'm glad I did. I got lots of great advice. Here are the two blogs around that issue.
Help from other parents, please!
(written January 28, 2007)
Okay, I have an issue that I'm not sure how to handle. I would really appreciate some advice from other parents.
My daughter has been asking a lot of questions about her skin color lately. I suppose that's normal. She started by asking what color she was. I told her she was caucasian. She said "No, Mommy. I'm white." I pointed to the bathroom wall, which is white-white. I asked her what color it was. She said it was white. I held her arm up to it. I asked her if her arm looked white. She said no. I told her again that she was caucasian.
The next instance was with one of my friends. My friend keeps the kids on Saturday so that I can go to my stage combat class. My friend is Latino. My daughter asked me if my friend was black. I said "No, she is Hispanic." My daughter said "Oooohh, she's 'spanic." I asked her if it mattered what my friend was. She said "Yes. She isn't black."
THEN, the one that really made me angry. We were preparing to go to my friend's house once again. Now, my friend has a son about my daughter's age. They have such a great time playing together. He is darker skinned than his mother. I asked my daughter if she was excited to see my friend's son again. She said "Mom. I don't like black boys." I got very angry. I told her I didn't ever want to hear that out of her mouth again. I asked her if the little boy hit her or was mean to her. She said no. I asked her if he was nice to her. She said yes. So, I asked "Well, if he's nice to you, what does it matter what color he is?" She started pouting, knowing I was mad, and wouldn't answer me.
I just don't know what to do. Race does not play a part in my home. I have no idea who is talking to her about this sort of thing. She has many people of all different races around her on a daily basis. I am just not sure how to respond to this sort of talk. I know she has to be curious, and I know she is going to notice the differences between her and her classmates and teachers and so forth. But how do I respond?? Any advice would be much appreciated!!
Update on the Girl Issue
(written February 6, 2007)
In our last episode . . . My daughter has been interested in skin color lately, and finally said to me "Mom. I don't like black boys." Said Mom lost it.
First, I would like to say thank you to the parents who responded, both online and in person. You all gave great advice. You are all absolutely correct that I needed to remain calm and not settle for the "I don't know" answers I was getting from her.
On Monday, I started talking to her about it again. We were getting ready in the morning, one of her favorite times to hang out with me. So, I told her I shouldn't have gotten so angry and that I was sorry for that. I asked her if she remembered what she said and asked her why she said it. I got the "I don't know." I continued to ask if someone had said anything. I talked to her about reasons why she might not like someone, and how she might hurt someone's feelings. Finally, it came out that a little boy in her class has been very mean to her teacher lately. My daughter loves her teacher and has been very upset at the way this boy has acted. He is black. So, I talked to her about how she shouldn't say she doesn't like all black boys. I also talked to her teacher about it, and the teacher said she would talk to her.
So, thank you for the advice guys. This was a load off my mind.
Help from other parents, please!
(written January 28, 2007)
Okay, I have an issue that I'm not sure how to handle. I would really appreciate some advice from other parents.
My daughter has been asking a lot of questions about her skin color lately. I suppose that's normal. She started by asking what color she was. I told her she was caucasian. She said "No, Mommy. I'm white." I pointed to the bathroom wall, which is white-white. I asked her what color it was. She said it was white. I held her arm up to it. I asked her if her arm looked white. She said no. I told her again that she was caucasian.
The next instance was with one of my friends. My friend keeps the kids on Saturday so that I can go to my stage combat class. My friend is Latino. My daughter asked me if my friend was black. I said "No, she is Hispanic." My daughter said "Oooohh, she's 'spanic." I asked her if it mattered what my friend was. She said "Yes. She isn't black."
THEN, the one that really made me angry. We were preparing to go to my friend's house once again. Now, my friend has a son about my daughter's age. They have such a great time playing together. He is darker skinned than his mother. I asked my daughter if she was excited to see my friend's son again. She said "Mom. I don't like black boys." I got very angry. I told her I didn't ever want to hear that out of her mouth again. I asked her if the little boy hit her or was mean to her. She said no. I asked her if he was nice to her. She said yes. So, I asked "Well, if he's nice to you, what does it matter what color he is?" She started pouting, knowing I was mad, and wouldn't answer me.
I just don't know what to do. Race does not play a part in my home. I have no idea who is talking to her about this sort of thing. She has many people of all different races around her on a daily basis. I am just not sure how to respond to this sort of talk. I know she has to be curious, and I know she is going to notice the differences between her and her classmates and teachers and so forth. But how do I respond?? Any advice would be much appreciated!!
Update on the Girl Issue
(written February 6, 2007)
In our last episode . . . My daughter has been interested in skin color lately, and finally said to me "Mom. I don't like black boys." Said Mom lost it.
First, I would like to say thank you to the parents who responded, both online and in person. You all gave great advice. You are all absolutely correct that I needed to remain calm and not settle for the "I don't know" answers I was getting from her.
On Monday, I started talking to her about it again. We were getting ready in the morning, one of her favorite times to hang out with me. So, I told her I shouldn't have gotten so angry and that I was sorry for that. I asked her if she remembered what she said and asked her why she said it. I got the "I don't know." I continued to ask if someone had said anything. I talked to her about reasons why she might not like someone, and how she might hurt someone's feelings. Finally, it came out that a little boy in her class has been very mean to her teacher lately. My daughter loves her teacher and has been very upset at the way this boy has acted. He is black. So, I talked to her about how she shouldn't say she doesn't like all black boys. I also talked to her teacher about it, and the teacher said she would talk to her.
So, thank you for the advice guys. This was a load off my mind.
Silence
From the myspace archives.
Silence
(written January 23, 2007)
Blood is the gift I gave you
And in return
Silence
Like standing naked in snowfall
Waiting for God to arrive
To give me something
Anything to believe in
Besides the pain of each snowflake
Hitting my frozen, bloodless skin.
And I wait
waiting for you to feel my silence.
My silence
Like the sun burning a summer's heat
Melting, fusing me into the ground
So I can feel everything offered
Including you
My blood boiling over
I believe
It must melt your silence.
But all I see
Are footprints left in the snow from when you walked away
Leaving only silence behind.
Silence
(written January 23, 2007)
Blood is the gift I gave you
And in return
Silence
Like standing naked in snowfall
Waiting for God to arrive
To give me something
Anything to believe in
Besides the pain of each snowflake
Hitting my frozen, bloodless skin.
And I wait
waiting for you to feel my silence.
My silence
Like the sun burning a summer's heat
Melting, fusing me into the ground
So I can feel everything offered
Including you
My blood boiling over
I believe
It must melt your silence.
But all I see
Are footprints left in the snow from when you walked away
Leaving only silence behind.
I don't want to be awesome!
From the myspace archives.
I don't want to be awesome!
(written January 18, 2007)
I don't want to be awesome!
(written January 18, 2007)
Today, I picked the kids up from daycare and had to bring them with me to the performance hall. We had a concert tonight and I had a sitter issue (meaning, I didn't have one for the night). So, I'm talking to them in the car about how quiet they will have to be when the music starts. They start telling me how good they are going to be, and how they are going to listen to the music and be very quiet and help me because they love me. Then, they start arguing over who loves me more. This is not a real argument. This is a playful banter that we all get into at least once a day. So, I jump in with "HEY!" Silence from the backseat. "How did you get so awesome??" Again, a moment of silence. Then my daughter, near tears, says "But I don't want to be awesome. I want to be pretty." Was I wrong to laugh so hard?
Sometimes, I'm just not sure.
From the myspace archives.
Sometimes, I'm just not sure.
(written January 17, 2007)
I should start this blog by saying, I'm very sad. If you aren't interested in why, stop reading. Seriously.
I have been trying to call my ex-husband for two weeks. Granted, in two weeks, I've only called twice. But with my first message, I guess I was expecting a call back.
Right now, I have not seen child support in about 6 weeks. When my ex changed jobs, he said that he had called the child support agency to let them know. I expected a delay. After a month, I called the office myself to see what was up. I was told he had never contacted them about a change of employment, and I was asked if I knew where he was working. I told them. Now, it will take another few weeks for all of that paper work to go through and for me to see any money. In the meantime, I'm not sure how I'm going to pay for everything I need to pay for. My bills have fallen behind in order to make sure the daycare is paid on time. That is just one "for instance." I don't think my ex understands that at all. He has no idea how much money it takes to raise two kids. However, the first time I called him, I didn't mention any of this. I kept it to myself because there is a bigger issue that I wanted to discuss with him.
My son is being evaluated for autism. Don't get me wrong, that doesn't scare me. I have been trying to tell teachers about some behavioral quirks that I have seen in my son since he was two years old. In fact, for a time, I worked at a school in New York for children with disabilities. One of the training classes that I had to take was all about autism. I sat through that class shocked that my son showed several traits for it. At the time, he was in speech therapy and I asked his speech therapist about how I might have him evaluated. She said he wasn't, and for me not to worry about it. Since then, I have asked every teacher, therapist and pediatrician he's had about his behaviors and what it might be. I have, at times, mentioned autism. No one has listened to me. I have always been told there is no way he is autistic because he is too social and loving.
Now, he is in kindergarten. He has a speech therapist, a resource teacher, and a regular teacher. He is up for re-evaluation for speech, and there is protocol that must be followed in order for the speech pathologist to do so. The first step is to have a meeting with all of his teachers, the school principal, psychologist, social worker, and the director of special education. After hearing the reports from the teachers and from me, the psychologist said he sounded like a puzzle and asked if she could evaluate him as well because of behavioral issues that seemed to happen frequently in the classroom. The psychologist and the special ed director both mentioned autism as a possibility. Now, they can only look for "red flags" and I would actually have to have him diagnosed by a doctor. But if they find these flags, it sounds like I am going to be on a long journey. Either way, I will be relieved to know for sure and I will know how to handle these behaviors. Like I said, autism doesn't scare me. But I would like the other parent to be involved.
When I left my ex the first message, I told him briefly about the meeting and that our son would be evaluated for flags of autism. That was two weeks ago. No return call.
I know my ex loves his kids. So, why does he back away from them? I know we're a long way away. But he could call. When I call him about something like this, he should at least respond. He should be more involved. Especially when his son thinks the world of him. Everyday, I hear about how tall he's getting - like his daddy. Everyday, I hear how strong he's getting - like his daddy. Everyday, I hear something about his daddy.
Before Christmas, I picked the kids up from daycare and began to drive to a shopping area. I asked the kids what they wanted to get their dad. My daughter immediately said "I don't know." My son thought about it for a few minutes and said "Daddy needs a house." I told him that Daddy had a house, and didn't need another one. My son thought some more, and said "Can we get Daddy a fence with some Christmas lights on it to go around his house?" I told him that Daddy already had a fence around the backyard, but we could get him some lights if that's what he wanted to buy. So, he thought some more. "Daddy needs a car." I told him that Daddy has a car. "What color is it?" "White," I replied. "Well, Daddy needs a green car, like us." I managed to talk him out of buying Daddy a car. So, he thought some more. My ex-husband had come up for Thanksgiving to see the kids. It is the first time he's ever visited here. When he arrived, he wasn't wearing a coat. We all asked him about it, and he said he'd lost it. Finally, I hear a very serious voice come from the back seat. My son said "Can we buy Daddy a coat? It's too cold for him to not wear a coat." My heart melted. "Of course we can buy your daddy a coat." I had to take him to three stores before he found a coat that he wanted to buy his father. I spent way more money than I intended to when we got in the car at the daycare, but it meant so much to my little guy to get a coat for his dad.
Now, when the Christmas fiasco happened, I only explained part of it to the kids. I told the kids that their dad had been in a car accident, which meant his car got hurt and he wouldn't be able to drive up to get us. On Saturday, the kids and I were leaving the gym and my son asked again if we could buy Daddy a new car. I again said that Daddy has his own car. My son said "But you said Daddy's car got hurt and he couldn't drive it." He was very upset with me when I told him that we were not going to buy his father a car.
This is why I'm sad. My son is concerned about his dad all the time. My son is so loving and sweet. My son is the kind of kid who breaks his donut in half to share with his sister because she gobbled hers up in a blink, and then breaks his half in half to share with his mommy who didn't get a donut. If my son had the money, I am positive he would buy his dad a house with a fence and lights to go on it and a green car and the warmest coat he could find. So, why can't his dad even call to ask why his son is being evaluated for autism?
Sometimes, I'm just not sure.
(written January 17, 2007)
I should start this blog by saying, I'm very sad. If you aren't interested in why, stop reading. Seriously.
I have been trying to call my ex-husband for two weeks. Granted, in two weeks, I've only called twice. But with my first message, I guess I was expecting a call back.
Right now, I have not seen child support in about 6 weeks. When my ex changed jobs, he said that he had called the child support agency to let them know. I expected a delay. After a month, I called the office myself to see what was up. I was told he had never contacted them about a change of employment, and I was asked if I knew where he was working. I told them. Now, it will take another few weeks for all of that paper work to go through and for me to see any money. In the meantime, I'm not sure how I'm going to pay for everything I need to pay for. My bills have fallen behind in order to make sure the daycare is paid on time. That is just one "for instance." I don't think my ex understands that at all. He has no idea how much money it takes to raise two kids. However, the first time I called him, I didn't mention any of this. I kept it to myself because there is a bigger issue that I wanted to discuss with him.
My son is being evaluated for autism. Don't get me wrong, that doesn't scare me. I have been trying to tell teachers about some behavioral quirks that I have seen in my son since he was two years old. In fact, for a time, I worked at a school in New York for children with disabilities. One of the training classes that I had to take was all about autism. I sat through that class shocked that my son showed several traits for it. At the time, he was in speech therapy and I asked his speech therapist about how I might have him evaluated. She said he wasn't, and for me not to worry about it. Since then, I have asked every teacher, therapist and pediatrician he's had about his behaviors and what it might be. I have, at times, mentioned autism. No one has listened to me. I have always been told there is no way he is autistic because he is too social and loving.
Now, he is in kindergarten. He has a speech therapist, a resource teacher, and a regular teacher. He is up for re-evaluation for speech, and there is protocol that must be followed in order for the speech pathologist to do so. The first step is to have a meeting with all of his teachers, the school principal, psychologist, social worker, and the director of special education. After hearing the reports from the teachers and from me, the psychologist said he sounded like a puzzle and asked if she could evaluate him as well because of behavioral issues that seemed to happen frequently in the classroom. The psychologist and the special ed director both mentioned autism as a possibility. Now, they can only look for "red flags" and I would actually have to have him diagnosed by a doctor. But if they find these flags, it sounds like I am going to be on a long journey. Either way, I will be relieved to know for sure and I will know how to handle these behaviors. Like I said, autism doesn't scare me. But I would like the other parent to be involved.
When I left my ex the first message, I told him briefly about the meeting and that our son would be evaluated for flags of autism. That was two weeks ago. No return call.
I know my ex loves his kids. So, why does he back away from them? I know we're a long way away. But he could call. When I call him about something like this, he should at least respond. He should be more involved. Especially when his son thinks the world of him. Everyday, I hear about how tall he's getting - like his daddy. Everyday, I hear how strong he's getting - like his daddy. Everyday, I hear something about his daddy.
Before Christmas, I picked the kids up from daycare and began to drive to a shopping area. I asked the kids what they wanted to get their dad. My daughter immediately said "I don't know." My son thought about it for a few minutes and said "Daddy needs a house." I told him that Daddy had a house, and didn't need another one. My son thought some more, and said "Can we get Daddy a fence with some Christmas lights on it to go around his house?" I told him that Daddy already had a fence around the backyard, but we could get him some lights if that's what he wanted to buy. So, he thought some more. "Daddy needs a car." I told him that Daddy has a car. "What color is it?" "White," I replied. "Well, Daddy needs a green car, like us." I managed to talk him out of buying Daddy a car. So, he thought some more. My ex-husband had come up for Thanksgiving to see the kids. It is the first time he's ever visited here. When he arrived, he wasn't wearing a coat. We all asked him about it, and he said he'd lost it. Finally, I hear a very serious voice come from the back seat. My son said "Can we buy Daddy a coat? It's too cold for him to not wear a coat." My heart melted. "Of course we can buy your daddy a coat." I had to take him to three stores before he found a coat that he wanted to buy his father. I spent way more money than I intended to when we got in the car at the daycare, but it meant so much to my little guy to get a coat for his dad.
Now, when the Christmas fiasco happened, I only explained part of it to the kids. I told the kids that their dad had been in a car accident, which meant his car got hurt and he wouldn't be able to drive up to get us. On Saturday, the kids and I were leaving the gym and my son asked again if we could buy Daddy a new car. I again said that Daddy has his own car. My son said "But you said Daddy's car got hurt and he couldn't drive it." He was very upset with me when I told him that we were not going to buy his father a car.
This is why I'm sad. My son is concerned about his dad all the time. My son is so loving and sweet. My son is the kind of kid who breaks his donut in half to share with his sister because she gobbled hers up in a blink, and then breaks his half in half to share with his mommy who didn't get a donut. If my son had the money, I am positive he would buy his dad a house with a fence and lights to go on it and a green car and the warmest coat he could find. So, why can't his dad even call to ask why his son is being evaluated for autism?
I'm a Winner! (or not)
From the myspace archives.
I'm a Winner! (or not)
(written January 8, 2007)
Right now, I am sitting at my computer. I hurt all over, my hair is a mess, and I have five gold stars stuck across my chest. Why? Because according to my daughter, "You's a winna, Momma."
I hurt all over because I've been working out like a crazy woman, and I went to the gym with a friend. I've worked muscles that I don't get in my normal routine. So, I'm convinced that I need to join an actual gym rather than doing this at home all the time. However, that is beside the point right now. It seems like basic training for Mommy-hood. I need to be strong, fit, tough, have the energy of ten three-year-olds . . . Until you are lifting said three-year-old with sore abs, arms, thighs . . . groan . . .
My hair is askew because I have been snuggling in bed with my kids, reading and having quiet time together this evening. I couldn't take watching another Disney movie and I wasn't up for playing games after a full day of taking my daughter to work so I could leave and take her to a doctor's appointment then go pick up her brother and head home to make dinner and put away the laundry I folded last night and clean and . . .
Taking my daughter to work today was great on one hand. I love having the time with my kids. She is such a good girl, and played quietly by my desk all day. Still, I was constantly distracted by the "Mommy?" "I have to go potty." "Can I have a snack?" "Did you bring my other coloring book?" I got very little done in the few hours I was at work today, but I felt more exhausted than normal upon leaving at half day. Then, off to the doctor for my daughter. She's had a bit of a cold for about two weeks now, but it has been getting much better. In the last few days, I have barely noticed anything at all. However, she began telling me her ears hurt. Better safe than sorry, I took her into the doctor only to be told she's fine. Sigh . . . Since my girl was hungry and had been so good at both my work and at the doctor, I treated her to her favorite meal, pepperoni pizza. After we finished eating, we headed back toward home to pick up my son from his after school daycare. He was napping when we arrived. He was so knocked out, I had to carry him to the car. He's getting so big. I won't be able to pick him up like that much longer. And did I mention, I hurt all over? At home, we sat down to go over the contents of my son's backpack.
Afterward came dinner. I made omelets. Now, as far as I can remember I have loved omelets, but I have been largely unsuccessful at making them. They turn into scrambled eggs with stuff in it. However, thanks to a friend of mine treating me to breakfast last weekend (smooches! thank you!), I decided I needed to give it another shot. So, I did. And the omelets came out beautifully. I put them on my children's plates. My daughter says "What's this?" My son promptly replies "Eggs with stuff in it." I was crushed. My first real, beautiful omelet and it was still just eggs with stuff.
After that, we read quietly snuggled in my bed. I read a short story from a collection I'm reading right now. The kids flipped through their own books. When I was finished with my story, I read each of their books aloud to them. When that was done, I laid out toothbrushes and jammies and let them get ready for bed. My daughter got ready quickly and came to sit with me in the office while I was checking email. She got out a card and a pen and started scribbling, telling me she was writing her name. Then she starts singing a song about what a pretty, nice mommy she has. My heart melted for a minute. Then, my son reared his ugly anti-bedtime head. I went into battle. When I returned, my daughter was singing that I was a winner and started putting gold star stickers all over my chest. She handed me her fairy wand, telling me I was a winner and I got to keep her wand. My son stood in the office doorway, smiling. I smiled back. My daughter turned to her brother and said "Mommy is a winner. Isn't she?" My son just looked at me and said "No. I don't want to go to bed."
Sigh . . .
I'm a Winner! (or not)
(written January 8, 2007)
Right now, I am sitting at my computer. I hurt all over, my hair is a mess, and I have five gold stars stuck across my chest. Why? Because according to my daughter, "You's a winna, Momma."
I hurt all over because I've been working out like a crazy woman, and I went to the gym with a friend. I've worked muscles that I don't get in my normal routine. So, I'm convinced that I need to join an actual gym rather than doing this at home all the time. However, that is beside the point right now. It seems like basic training for Mommy-hood. I need to be strong, fit, tough, have the energy of ten three-year-olds . . . Until you are lifting said three-year-old with sore abs, arms, thighs . . . groan . . .
My hair is askew because I have been snuggling in bed with my kids, reading and having quiet time together this evening. I couldn't take watching another Disney movie and I wasn't up for playing games after a full day of taking my daughter to work so I could leave and take her to a doctor's appointment then go pick up her brother and head home to make dinner and put away the laundry I folded last night and clean and . . .
Taking my daughter to work today was great on one hand. I love having the time with my kids. She is such a good girl, and played quietly by my desk all day. Still, I was constantly distracted by the "Mommy?" "I have to go potty." "Can I have a snack?" "Did you bring my other coloring book?" I got very little done in the few hours I was at work today, but I felt more exhausted than normal upon leaving at half day. Then, off to the doctor for my daughter. She's had a bit of a cold for about two weeks now, but it has been getting much better. In the last few days, I have barely noticed anything at all. However, she began telling me her ears hurt. Better safe than sorry, I took her into the doctor only to be told she's fine. Sigh . . . Since my girl was hungry and had been so good at both my work and at the doctor, I treated her to her favorite meal, pepperoni pizza. After we finished eating, we headed back toward home to pick up my son from his after school daycare. He was napping when we arrived. He was so knocked out, I had to carry him to the car. He's getting so big. I won't be able to pick him up like that much longer. And did I mention, I hurt all over? At home, we sat down to go over the contents of my son's backpack.
Afterward came dinner. I made omelets. Now, as far as I can remember I have loved omelets, but I have been largely unsuccessful at making them. They turn into scrambled eggs with stuff in it. However, thanks to a friend of mine treating me to breakfast last weekend (smooches! thank you!), I decided I needed to give it another shot. So, I did. And the omelets came out beautifully. I put them on my children's plates. My daughter says "What's this?" My son promptly replies "Eggs with stuff in it." I was crushed. My first real, beautiful omelet and it was still just eggs with stuff.
After that, we read quietly snuggled in my bed. I read a short story from a collection I'm reading right now. The kids flipped through their own books. When I was finished with my story, I read each of their books aloud to them. When that was done, I laid out toothbrushes and jammies and let them get ready for bed. My daughter got ready quickly and came to sit with me in the office while I was checking email. She got out a card and a pen and started scribbling, telling me she was writing her name. Then she starts singing a song about what a pretty, nice mommy she has. My heart melted for a minute. Then, my son reared his ugly anti-bedtime head. I went into battle. When I returned, my daughter was singing that I was a winner and started putting gold star stickers all over my chest. She handed me her fairy wand, telling me I was a winner and I got to keep her wand. My son stood in the office doorway, smiling. I smiled back. My daughter turned to her brother and said "Mommy is a winner. Isn't she?" My son just looked at me and said "No. I don't want to go to bed."
Sigh . . .
Bah Humbug!
From the myspace archives. A rant from a really crappy week.
Bah Humbug!
(written December 28, 2006)
I am pissed. I really need a lot of shit off of my chest. So, right now, I'm going to rant. I'm going to rant like I've never ranted on this stupid blog. It will be a stream of consciousness blog, so ride the raft if you dare to. There will be white rapids crashing over huge fucking boulders. There will be lots of spelling mistakes and cut of sentences and no paragraph breaks. Because I am pissed and I am going to let it all out. Right here, right now. On the fucking blog. Blogging. What the fuck is up with the fucking BLOG anyway?? I mean, I can talk to all of you, or I can post a "private" blog on the internet? Oxymoron, anyone?? Anyway. How is it that I feel like I have no one to talk to right now, and yet I can talk to everyone on the myspace network with one little click on a button?? What is wrong with us? Where have we lost that connection to other human beings?? I interact with my computer more than I interact with the people I love. Why? Because they are all on the computer!! I find it much easier to write an email than to call. Why?? Because I don't want to bother them! WHY?? I DON'T KNOW! But I know when I pick up a phone, I feel like I'm suddenly a huge intruder into someone's personal space. I feel like they are cringing to hear the phone ring. I'm perfectly happy to have anyone call me at anytime. I don't get why I feel like a nuisance to everyone around me for using the telephone. But maybe that's why no one calls me. Does everyone feel that way now?? I'm begging, anyone who reads this, CALL! I miss you! I miss your voice! Just fucking call! I'm tired of knowing the font you prefer better than I can recognize your voice! If you don't know me, pick up the phone and call someone you DO know! Unless, of course, you are calling to yell at me. I've had enough shittiness this week. Christmas day in fact. I've had more than one woman should have to stand. While, I know that ex-husbands are EX's for a reason, I still find myself surprised at how shitty mine can be. First I should day that the Commonwealth of Virginia sucks goat balls. They can't get it right. They are half-wits. All government workers. If you don't live in a commonwealth now, for the love of GOD, don't move to one! If you are living in one now (that would include Virginia, Massachusetts, Kentucky and Pennsylvania) I strongly urge you to leave. Bunch of god damned socialists run it all. And if you study history at all, you know a god damned socialist government DOES NOT WORK. Communism is a hugely failed experiment. WHY?? Because it gets stuck in the SOCIALISM stage and bloody revolutions happen to bring it back to a democracy or some other dictatorship. Anyway, to get back to reason number 925467785874466492149 that the fucking Commonwealth of Virginia sucks is that I have not received child support in a month. This is not the fault of my ex. No, truly, it is not. He changed jobs. He alerted the Child Support office. He did everything he was supposed to do. It has taken them WEEKS to do the paperwork on it. So, no child support. We were supposed to travel to Virginia to see my family and then the kids were to stay with their dad for a week while I came home to Rhode Island. Because Rhode Island is my home! A STATE! Where we all know who REALLY runs things and money talks. In Spanish. But nevertheless it still talks. Anyway, my ex told me he would help me pay for said trip. He told me this a month ago. Now, while I was not initially excited to have to make that trip. I mean, who is really ever up for a 9 hour drive (and that's with amazingly good traffic, and no construction in Connecticut - snerk)? Not this woman! But I booked the car the day after my ex told me he would send extra money for this trip. And I started to get excited. My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. She's held on longer than the time the doctor gave her. For all I know, she'll be around next Christmas. But the fact is, I hear her voice on the phone, and I know she's getting more and more tired. I know she won't be around next Christmas and I wanted to be there this year. I grew up with my father saying on a daily basis "Damn women. I can't wait to have you all out of my house." Lord knows, the road has been rocky with my father. But when it comes down to it. I love him. He's my Daddy. I called to wish him a happy birthday the week before Christmas, and he actually said to me "I'm really looking forward to having all of my children and grandchildren at home for Christmas this year." My father has never said anything like that to me, and it brought tears to my eyes. I got emails from everyone in my family about how excited they were to see me. And my favorite aunt and uncle decided to make the trip from Kentucky to be there at Christmas when I was supposed to be there. So, all this build up, and I'm sure you can see where this is going. My ex fell through with the money. Now, I have to say, that honestly wasn't his fault either, but how he handled it, I blame him for. He changed jobs shortly after he told me he would send me money. The new job held his paycheck until the second pay period. That put a major crimp in his cash flow. But did he bother to call me about what was going on? NO! I happened to try to contact him at his old job (the only number I had for him) because of my son's report card (that rant to come) only to be told he no longer worked there. So, I did the only thing I could think of and that was to email his mother. I told her that I needed to talk to him because if he wasn't going to have the money for the car, I needed to make other arrangements. The last thing I heard was that he would take care of it and for me not to worry. So, I didn't. A few days before we were supposed to leave, I was calling every chance I got to see what was up. He told me they were still holding his paycheck, but that he should be able to get a couple hundred to send to me. Next thing I know, he's telling me he decided to have a tire and rim put on his car so he wasn't riding around on the spare anymore, and he had to use the $200 he had to do that. Okay, I might be a woman, but I'm not a fucking idiot. I know damn good and well that a USED - not even NEW - tire and rim are NOT going to cost $200. Or he really got screwed. I mean, ass raped with no lube. End result: No money sent to me to go to Virginia. So, then, he gets into a car accident. WHY? Oh, Karma is a bitch. That's why. This solid gold used tire blew and he wrecked the car. KARMA. Fucking Karma. So, now he's just pissed at the world, but I'm the closest thing to lash out at. His mother offered to drive to meet me halfway and take the kids down to Virginia. I can't tell you how thankful I was. I have really been looking forward to this break for a long time. I have really loved the thought that I could finally trust their dad enough to keep them for an extended period of time. I really wasn't worried. I kept thinking how great it would be for both the kids AND their dad. Real bonding time that has been sorely missed, especially by my son. She told me she would meet me and that she would bring the kids back whenever I wanted and that she would make sure they saw my family. I was excited. But after missing Christmas at my parents' house, I at least didn't say anything to the kids. All kinds of issues came up in the meantime. It seemed like no one down in Virginia knew where the kids would be staying. His mother is really ill and when I stopped to think, was wondering how she would make that drive twice. But the major issue became when the kids would be back. No one could get them back or even meet me halfway again until January 6. My son would miss an entire week of school. Not acceptable. Especially after the report card he brought home. (Here is were I will have the report card rant.) My son is functioning below the appropriate level in 38 out of 39 areas. When I had a conference with his teacher about this, I find out that it is because she is giving him timed tests. Timed VERBAL tests. MY SON HAS A FUCKING SPEECH DELAY!!!!! How the fuck can this woman totally ignore that he has an issue like that?? He has an IEP and has two resource teachers. She is giving him literally ONE minute to name all of his uppercase and lowercase letters as she points to them. That's 52 letters. That's roughly 1 second per letter. My poor son can't get the words out of his mouth that fast! But I do flash cards at home with him. He knows the stuff she says he doesn't. We read together all the time. He's picking out small words. We were picking up pizza tonight and he said "What does p-i-z-z-a spell?" Don't tell me this kid isn't learning!! Funny thing is, the other two teachers both think he's progressing quite well and think he's a great kid. What do I hear from his classroom teacher? That his BEHAVIOR is improving. And she freely admits that she has taken to telling him that she can't understand him and doesn't have time for it. EXCUSE ME?? I had enough sense not to deck the bitch in the face. So, when she blew me off telling me she needed to move on to her next meeting (after a whole 7 minutes of her time had gone by), I decided to make an appointment with the principal. Until I have that meeting, it is important that my son be in school and continuing to work. When school starts back on January 2, he can't be out for that entire week! I said I would be willing to work with a day, but not 4. How can I go to the principal saying that the teacher isn't doing the right thing when it comes to my son, when they can turn right back around and ask me why I'm letting him skip a week of school? I can't. That's what. So, I ended up telling my ex that if no one could meet me earlier than that, we were just staying home. He was of course mad. But he took responsibility for getting us down there when I could have done something about it. He screwed up. I'm tired of covering for him and bending over backwards to make him happy. He hasn't done that for me, god knows! I just find it funny that I have managed to get down there THREE times this year and I've gotten down without a hitch. But the one time it is up to him, it is all messed up. Figures. But in his mind it is all my fault and I'm the one being unreasonable. He tells me "If this is the way it's going to be, Leann, we need to have something written in the court. . ." "EXCUSE ME??" I raise my voice at him. "How is this MY fault?" "DON'T YOU YELL AT ME, BITCH." This is where I hung up the phone. I also was so upset that I called back to scream into his answering machine "HOW DARE YOU! MAYBE IF YOU BEEN AROUND FOR THE LAST FUCKING FIVE YEARS, THINGS WOULDN'T BE THIS HARD, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Granted, this was not my finest moment. But I get threatened with court from a man who didn't even call us for over a year at one time? I get threatened with court from a man who I had to cover for when my two-year-old daughter came home from daycare holding a Father's Day craft she made and asked me "Mommy, who is MY daddy?" I get threatened with court from someone like that?? I have worked my ass off to raise these kids! I have done everything I can for them. I have worked three jobs at a time just to put food on the table at certain times. I have worked jobs I hated and hated getting out of bed to go to. But I did it for them! And he has the nerve to call me a bitch and threaten to take me to court on Christmas day?? HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ASKED SANTA FOR!! How could I have ever loved him so much? And how did it all end up here? Where I can't stand the thought of him sometimes. Where I'm so hurt and bitter, I'm afraid I'll poison any other love I may ever come across. IF I can find anyone worth my time. Which brings me to another point I'm pissed over. MEN. They don't fucking get it. I mean, since my husband and I split, I have had two rather serious relationships. One, I was engaged to, and I knew when I said yes that I was making a mistake. I managed to grow a brain before that happened. Then, I shut myself off. My second relationship grew out of a fun time. We would go out, we would have fun. I thought nothing of it ever being more than that, until one day it was. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him whispering he loved me. He thought I was asleep, and I pretended I was. I realized that I could love him back, so I started letting myself love him. And then it was gone. So, I continued to date. Now, I moved to Rhode Island with basically a suitcase of clothes and a box of toys. I now have an apartment filled with more crap than I need, and I'm slowly decorating it to my taste. I'm much more financially stable and my life feels as normal as you can get for working in the performing arts. I'm for the most part happy. I know I don't need a man in my life. But it sure would be nice to have one. I'm not talking marriage. I'm not sure I want to go there ever again. That may change, but I'm not ready and I'm not sure there's a man out there that I would want to be with until the day one of dies. I'd hate to be standing at the poor man's grave thinking "Well, thank God! It's about time!" But I do miss being held at night. I miss some to rub my back when I've had a rough day. I miss making love. Not sex. You can get a fuck anywhere. I miss love. But what I've realized is that because I do want it, I'm probably pushing to hard for it. I do like someone. No where near in love, please don't get me wrong. But like. Like I turn into a highly annoying giddy school girl. I commented on this to a friend last week who told me it was probably a good thing that I turn into someone with half of my normal mental capacity while around this man because I'm so intense I would run him away. Apparently, I am not for the faint of heart. Apparently, I have some intensity about me that I don't really notice. I've written about this before, so I won't go on. But I feel damned if I do and damned if I don't. I don't want a man who would want my retarded alter ego, and I don't think this man does. Really, there has been a massive slow-down in communication between us. I can't tell if it is the holidays or disinterest, but really IT FUCKING SUCKS! This goes back to where a phone call would be nice. A "Hey! Are you free Saturday night?" would be great! But even if I got a big "Hey, I read your blog and I'm just calling to say fuck off and leave me alone" I would be happy. At least I would know. I just don't get men. Or lack of communication. Or communism. I also don't get why we decided black matches everything or why I can't own a pair of shoes for every outfit I own or why people feel they have to be politically correct all the damn time or why people don't try to get to know each other. For those of you reading this far, I'll give you some random facts about myself so you can get to know me better. I love calla lilies. I love the ones that are read and fade into this lush yellow in the middle. They make me smile every time I see them. I never really made a decision to go into performing arts. I used take so many classes, I ended up with a major in theatre and I was behind on my primary major (English Lit), so the life kind of chose me. But if you know me, you know I don't regret it. My given name is Cristen Leann. I dropped the Cristen in favor of my last name because I have never in my life gone by Cristen. I have always been Leann. Why? Give me a call. I'll tell you
Bah Humbug!
(written December 28, 2006)
I am pissed. I really need a lot of shit off of my chest. So, right now, I'm going to rant. I'm going to rant like I've never ranted on this stupid blog. It will be a stream of consciousness blog, so ride the raft if you dare to. There will be white rapids crashing over huge fucking boulders. There will be lots of spelling mistakes and cut of sentences and no paragraph breaks. Because I am pissed and I am going to let it all out. Right here, right now. On the fucking blog. Blogging. What the fuck is up with the fucking BLOG anyway?? I mean, I can talk to all of you, or I can post a "private" blog on the internet? Oxymoron, anyone?? Anyway. How is it that I feel like I have no one to talk to right now, and yet I can talk to everyone on the myspace network with one little click on a button?? What is wrong with us? Where have we lost that connection to other human beings?? I interact with my computer more than I interact with the people I love. Why? Because they are all on the computer!! I find it much easier to write an email than to call. Why?? Because I don't want to bother them! WHY?? I DON'T KNOW! But I know when I pick up a phone, I feel like I'm suddenly a huge intruder into someone's personal space. I feel like they are cringing to hear the phone ring. I'm perfectly happy to have anyone call me at anytime. I don't get why I feel like a nuisance to everyone around me for using the telephone. But maybe that's why no one calls me. Does everyone feel that way now?? I'm begging, anyone who reads this, CALL! I miss you! I miss your voice! Just fucking call! I'm tired of knowing the font you prefer better than I can recognize your voice! If you don't know me, pick up the phone and call someone you DO know! Unless, of course, you are calling to yell at me. I've had enough shittiness this week. Christmas day in fact. I've had more than one woman should have to stand. While, I know that ex-husbands are EX's for a reason, I still find myself surprised at how shitty mine can be. First I should day that the Commonwealth of Virginia sucks goat balls. They can't get it right. They are half-wits. All government workers. If you don't live in a commonwealth now, for the love of GOD, don't move to one! If you are living in one now (that would include Virginia, Massachusetts, Kentucky and Pennsylvania) I strongly urge you to leave. Bunch of god damned socialists run it all. And if you study history at all, you know a god damned socialist government DOES NOT WORK. Communism is a hugely failed experiment. WHY?? Because it gets stuck in the SOCIALISM stage and bloody revolutions happen to bring it back to a democracy or some other dictatorship. Anyway, to get back to reason number 925467785874466492149 that the fucking Commonwealth of Virginia sucks is that I have not received child support in a month. This is not the fault of my ex. No, truly, it is not. He changed jobs. He alerted the Child Support office. He did everything he was supposed to do. It has taken them WEEKS to do the paperwork on it. So, no child support. We were supposed to travel to Virginia to see my family and then the kids were to stay with their dad for a week while I came home to Rhode Island. Because Rhode Island is my home! A STATE! Where we all know who REALLY runs things and money talks. In Spanish. But nevertheless it still talks. Anyway, my ex told me he would help me pay for said trip. He told me this a month ago. Now, while I was not initially excited to have to make that trip. I mean, who is really ever up for a 9 hour drive (and that's with amazingly good traffic, and no construction in Connecticut - snerk)? Not this woman! But I booked the car the day after my ex told me he would send extra money for this trip. And I started to get excited. My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. She's held on longer than the time the doctor gave her. For all I know, she'll be around next Christmas. But the fact is, I hear her voice on the phone, and I know she's getting more and more tired. I know she won't be around next Christmas and I wanted to be there this year. I grew up with my father saying on a daily basis "Damn women. I can't wait to have you all out of my house." Lord knows, the road has been rocky with my father. But when it comes down to it. I love him. He's my Daddy. I called to wish him a happy birthday the week before Christmas, and he actually said to me "I'm really looking forward to having all of my children and grandchildren at home for Christmas this year." My father has never said anything like that to me, and it brought tears to my eyes. I got emails from everyone in my family about how excited they were to see me. And my favorite aunt and uncle decided to make the trip from Kentucky to be there at Christmas when I was supposed to be there. So, all this build up, and I'm sure you can see where this is going. My ex fell through with the money. Now, I have to say, that honestly wasn't his fault either, but how he handled it, I blame him for. He changed jobs shortly after he told me he would send me money. The new job held his paycheck until the second pay period. That put a major crimp in his cash flow. But did he bother to call me about what was going on? NO! I happened to try to contact him at his old job (the only number I had for him) because of my son's report card (that rant to come) only to be told he no longer worked there. So, I did the only thing I could think of and that was to email his mother. I told her that I needed to talk to him because if he wasn't going to have the money for the car, I needed to make other arrangements. The last thing I heard was that he would take care of it and for me not to worry. So, I didn't. A few days before we were supposed to leave, I was calling every chance I got to see what was up. He told me they were still holding his paycheck, but that he should be able to get a couple hundred to send to me. Next thing I know, he's telling me he decided to have a tire and rim put on his car so he wasn't riding around on the spare anymore, and he had to use the $200 he had to do that. Okay, I might be a woman, but I'm not a fucking idiot. I know damn good and well that a USED - not even NEW - tire and rim are NOT going to cost $200. Or he really got screwed. I mean, ass raped with no lube. End result: No money sent to me to go to Virginia. So, then, he gets into a car accident. WHY? Oh, Karma is a bitch. That's why. This solid gold used tire blew and he wrecked the car. KARMA. Fucking Karma. So, now he's just pissed at the world, but I'm the closest thing to lash out at. His mother offered to drive to meet me halfway and take the kids down to Virginia. I can't tell you how thankful I was. I have really been looking forward to this break for a long time. I have really loved the thought that I could finally trust their dad enough to keep them for an extended period of time. I really wasn't worried. I kept thinking how great it would be for both the kids AND their dad. Real bonding time that has been sorely missed, especially by my son. She told me she would meet me and that she would bring the kids back whenever I wanted and that she would make sure they saw my family. I was excited. But after missing Christmas at my parents' house, I at least didn't say anything to the kids. All kinds of issues came up in the meantime. It seemed like no one down in Virginia knew where the kids would be staying. His mother is really ill and when I stopped to think, was wondering how she would make that drive twice. But the major issue became when the kids would be back. No one could get them back or even meet me halfway again until January 6. My son would miss an entire week of school. Not acceptable. Especially after the report card he brought home. (Here is were I will have the report card rant.) My son is functioning below the appropriate level in 38 out of 39 areas. When I had a conference with his teacher about this, I find out that it is because she is giving him timed tests. Timed VERBAL tests. MY SON HAS A FUCKING SPEECH DELAY!!!!! How the fuck can this woman totally ignore that he has an issue like that?? He has an IEP and has two resource teachers. She is giving him literally ONE minute to name all of his uppercase and lowercase letters as she points to them. That's 52 letters. That's roughly 1 second per letter. My poor son can't get the words out of his mouth that fast! But I do flash cards at home with him. He knows the stuff she says he doesn't. We read together all the time. He's picking out small words. We were picking up pizza tonight and he said "What does p-i-z-z-a spell?" Don't tell me this kid isn't learning!! Funny thing is, the other two teachers both think he's progressing quite well and think he's a great kid. What do I hear from his classroom teacher? That his BEHAVIOR is improving. And she freely admits that she has taken to telling him that she can't understand him and doesn't have time for it. EXCUSE ME?? I had enough sense not to deck the bitch in the face. So, when she blew me off telling me she needed to move on to her next meeting (after a whole 7 minutes of her time had gone by), I decided to make an appointment with the principal. Until I have that meeting, it is important that my son be in school and continuing to work. When school starts back on January 2, he can't be out for that entire week! I said I would be willing to work with a day, but not 4. How can I go to the principal saying that the teacher isn't doing the right thing when it comes to my son, when they can turn right back around and ask me why I'm letting him skip a week of school? I can't. That's what. So, I ended up telling my ex that if no one could meet me earlier than that, we were just staying home. He was of course mad. But he took responsibility for getting us down there when I could have done something about it. He screwed up. I'm tired of covering for him and bending over backwards to make him happy. He hasn't done that for me, god knows! I just find it funny that I have managed to get down there THREE times this year and I've gotten down without a hitch. But the one time it is up to him, it is all messed up. Figures. But in his mind it is all my fault and I'm the one being unreasonable. He tells me "If this is the way it's going to be, Leann, we need to have something written in the court. . ." "EXCUSE ME??" I raise my voice at him. "How is this MY fault?" "DON'T YOU YELL AT ME, BITCH." This is where I hung up the phone. I also was so upset that I called back to scream into his answering machine "HOW DARE YOU! MAYBE IF YOU BEEN AROUND FOR THE LAST FUCKING FIVE YEARS, THINGS WOULDN'T BE THIS HARD, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Granted, this was not my finest moment. But I get threatened with court from a man who didn't even call us for over a year at one time? I get threatened with court from a man who I had to cover for when my two-year-old daughter came home from daycare holding a Father's Day craft she made and asked me "Mommy, who is MY daddy?" I get threatened with court from someone like that?? I have worked my ass off to raise these kids! I have done everything I can for them. I have worked three jobs at a time just to put food on the table at certain times. I have worked jobs I hated and hated getting out of bed to go to. But I did it for them! And he has the nerve to call me a bitch and threaten to take me to court on Christmas day?? HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ASKED SANTA FOR!! How could I have ever loved him so much? And how did it all end up here? Where I can't stand the thought of him sometimes. Where I'm so hurt and bitter, I'm afraid I'll poison any other love I may ever come across. IF I can find anyone worth my time. Which brings me to another point I'm pissed over. MEN. They don't fucking get it. I mean, since my husband and I split, I have had two rather serious relationships. One, I was engaged to, and I knew when I said yes that I was making a mistake. I managed to grow a brain before that happened. Then, I shut myself off. My second relationship grew out of a fun time. We would go out, we would have fun. I thought nothing of it ever being more than that, until one day it was. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him whispering he loved me. He thought I was asleep, and I pretended I was. I realized that I could love him back, so I started letting myself love him. And then it was gone. So, I continued to date. Now, I moved to Rhode Island with basically a suitcase of clothes and a box of toys. I now have an apartment filled with more crap than I need, and I'm slowly decorating it to my taste. I'm much more financially stable and my life feels as normal as you can get for working in the performing arts. I'm for the most part happy. I know I don't need a man in my life. But it sure would be nice to have one. I'm not talking marriage. I'm not sure I want to go there ever again. That may change, but I'm not ready and I'm not sure there's a man out there that I would want to be with until the day one of dies. I'd hate to be standing at the poor man's grave thinking "Well, thank God! It's about time!" But I do miss being held at night. I miss some to rub my back when I've had a rough day. I miss making love. Not sex. You can get a fuck anywhere. I miss love. But what I've realized is that because I do want it, I'm probably pushing to hard for it. I do like someone. No where near in love, please don't get me wrong. But like. Like I turn into a highly annoying giddy school girl. I commented on this to a friend last week who told me it was probably a good thing that I turn into someone with half of my normal mental capacity while around this man because I'm so intense I would run him away. Apparently, I am not for the faint of heart. Apparently, I have some intensity about me that I don't really notice. I've written about this before, so I won't go on. But I feel damned if I do and damned if I don't. I don't want a man who would want my retarded alter ego, and I don't think this man does. Really, there has been a massive slow-down in communication between us. I can't tell if it is the holidays or disinterest, but really IT FUCKING SUCKS! This goes back to where a phone call would be nice. A "Hey! Are you free Saturday night?" would be great! But even if I got a big "Hey, I read your blog and I'm just calling to say fuck off and leave me alone" I would be happy. At least I would know. I just don't get men. Or lack of communication. Or communism. I also don't get why we decided black matches everything or why I can't own a pair of shoes for every outfit I own or why people feel they have to be politically correct all the damn time or why people don't try to get to know each other. For those of you reading this far, I'll give you some random facts about myself so you can get to know me better. I love calla lilies. I love the ones that are read and fade into this lush yellow in the middle. They make me smile every time I see them. I never really made a decision to go into performing arts. I used take so many classes, I ended up with a major in theatre and I was behind on my primary major (English Lit), so the life kind of chose me. But if you know me, you know I don't regret it. My given name is Cristen Leann. I dropped the Cristen in favor of my last name because I have never in my life gone by Cristen. I have always been Leann. Why? Give me a call. I'll tell you
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