Girlfriends

There is a relationship that no man can ever understand and no amount of explaining to him will help him "get it". It is the relationship between two or more female friends. It is the one we call "girlfriends".

I can not imagine my life without these wonderful creatures. I have several different groups of girlfriends.

There are those friends I have made on an email list devoted to women who gave birth in July 1998. We have been together since we were pregnant. Several of us have met in real life. We have seen the sadness of miscarriages, the death of an infant, the cancer and subsequent treatment of one of our July98 children and illnesses that ranged from minor to too frightening to even contemplate. We have also seen the joy of our kids overcoming adversity, walking, talking, reading and becoming incredible young people who are well on their way to making a difference in their world. We have had differences of opinion, but through it all we have remained strong and stood by each other through the roughest of storms.

I have a group of "mom" friends as well. These are the women I have met at preschool, school, dance classes, sporting events, PTA and various other "mom" activities. They are a special group of women as well. They are bright, witty and busy ladies who never slow down and are constantly working to make things better for the school, for the teams and of course, for their children. Many of them have careers, but are still always available to help in a classroom, throw a class party, be a fundraiser or decorate an auditorium. These are the ladies who remind me that you CAN do it all.

Finally, there are the friends I have known since childhood. These are the women I have known since I was six years old. We were girls together before we were women. We've been through everything from Bluebirds to childbirth together.

They know my deepest, darkest secrets and I know that they would never reveal them. They know my innermost thoughts and desires. We have shared things as girls, teenagers, young women and now, as grown women that no other person can be a party to. Those times whether difficulties or victories are ours alone to share.

I know that I could call on them anytime day or night and they would be there. There would be no pain, no sorrow, no heartbreak, no adversity that any of us would have to go through alone. We share a bond that transcends every other friendship we will ever have. We share our pasts, our whole lives.

The friendships that men share are not necessarily less than those of women, but they are not the same. It is not likely that a group of male friends would hold each other while they cried or laugh until they wet their pants. They won't be able to share terrifying stories of childbirth or talk about the relationship with a lover in the most intimate of detail.

What men can do is love these women. They are the protectors, the nurturers. They bring children and laughter into the world. They bring love into the heart of all those whose lives they touch.

Be it ever so humble...

There is truly no place like home.

After a weekend road trip to North Dallas, nothing looked as good as my house, my garage, my kitchen, my bed....well you get the picture. We love our friends there and we always have a wonderful time. There is play time for all the kids, swimming, and shopping for mom, as well as a chance for me to reconnect with my two best friends from childhood.

Still, no matter that it's a bit messy or that there is going to be laundry out the wazoo, home is still the best. We missed our furry girls. Although to be honest Blossom, is sporting a little less fur these days since we took her for her summer shearing. She seems a little bit humiliated now that she is sans most of her lengthy coat, but I would be willing to bet she is cooler.

Of course, the dogs miss us too. Minnie refuses to eat when are not around. This presented a problem during our twelve day trip to DisneyWorld. Lucky for her she and Blossom were being pampered by my dad all weekend. Dogs at his house eat better than royalty.

We had a busy weekend going to Dave and Busters for a bank-account-busting evening of games, swimming several times and shopping. By 12:30 this afternoon after I had been drug through Build-a-Bear Workshop I was more than ready to see the Oklahoma state line.

As Zac, in all his 6 year old wisdom, put it as we walked through the door. "Ahhhhhh, home sweet home."

Mama's Boy

Is it a truth universally acknowledged that all guys are mama's boys? Or at the least most of them are?

What is is about these male creatures that makes them the center of their mother's world?

In the dating world I met many men whose complete ineptness endeared them to me. It wasn't nearly as cute when I realized they weren't just acting helpless. They really were helpless. If you are over 21 and your mom is still making your bed as well as doing your laundry and ironing it is time for a reality check.

Yet even after those experiences I find that my son is frequently coddled and waited on, not only by me, but by his big sister as well. I certainly want him to grow up to be an independent man who is able to take care of himself, but I seem to fall into his trap regularly. His sister isn't immune to his charms either. She can often be found making him a drink or a sandwich or something else that he has conned her into.



Are females just hardwired to fall victim to the innocent looks and pleading puppy dog eyes? I know for certain that my son is able to make himself a bowl of cereal. He has no broken limbs and he's a perfectly competent 6 year old. Is gender at play here when he pleads for someone to "serve" him?

I suppose some would say he is spoiled, but I do not think that is the case. He is willing to go get his own drink or snack when I'm not close at hand. However, just let his sister or I get in the vicinity and suddenly he's helpless. He hasn't seen this example set by his daddy either. More often than not daddy is doing something for someone else.

I encourage my son to express his individuality and he will come into the kitchen to help me stir something or help unload the dishwasher. He labors in the yard with his grandpa on weekends, so I don't think that laziness is really an issue either.

I'm not sure I will ever have the answer to this problem. I make an effort daily to have him do things on his own and not to cater to him. He still loves to snuggle and since I know that within a year he will be too cool to come anywhere near me I refuse to give up that little bit of bonding time that we have. In the meantime I make it a point not to look into those brilliant blue eyes or at the grin with the missing toothtoo often because I know my heart will be melted again.

Goodbyes

I was never much good at goodbye

- Night Ranger

Goodbyes are just another of life's lousy moments. I suppose there are times that you want someone out of your life when goodbye isn't such a bad thing. If you have to say goodbye to someone you love it is a whole different story.

My family is a small one. There was my grandmother, my mother, my aunt, her two daughters and my father. We have always been close and the loss of my grandmother and my aunt has brought the remaining family closer. We tend not to migrate. For those who have left and lived other places for awhile always return home.

Almost 24 years ago my older cousin was pregnant with her first child. Our family loves babies, so we were all overjoyed. We waited anxiously to see this new person. I can remember when my cousin went past her due date and I went to the school office every day at lunch time to call and check on her.

Lauren was finally born on Labor Day 1982. A rather fitting date for her entry into the world since getting her here had been a little difficult. Of course, we were all enchanted by this little creature. Babies are such amazing little beings. I loved holding her, rocking her and talking to her.

As she got older I cared for her frequently just as her mom had cared for me when I was young. She would go with me to run errands and I often stayed with her and her baby brother when their parents were out of town. Our lives became intertwined in that amazing mesh that is love and family.

We weren't quite as close as she grew older, but when my own children were born she was there and as she got older she became someone who would take care of them and love them.

Today she packed up her car and left to live on the other side of the US. She has grown into a remarkable young woman. She is smart and funny and she has an incredibly bright future ahead of her. I tried not to cry, but it was hard when I remembered her as a mischievous three year old who always had hugs to spare.

In time she will marry and have her own children and the circle of life will go on. I try to look at it not as if we are saying "goodbye", but simply as if we are saying "until you are home again".

Butterflies

A Butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam, and for a brief moment
his beauty and glory belong to our world.......
but then he flies on. And although we wished he could have stayed,
we feel so blest to have seen him........

This morning while I was drying my hair I looked out my bathroom window and saw a butterfly perched on a shrub outside. I was reminded of this poem that I had read. I had been having a rough morning and I wondered for a moment which one of my loved ones who had passed on was sending me the message that everything would be okay.

I feel their presence around me in times of tears and times of joy. I know that they watch over me and my children. I know that my children's grandparents watch over them and their cousins.

I like to think that our guardian angels are the people who have loved us and moved on, but their spirits remain with us to help us through the difficult times and share our joys.

I know that I wasn't alone when my children were born. My grandmother had a soft spot for little boys since we had been a family of virtually all females. My son would have been one of her greatest joys and I believe she watches over him and laughs at his antics, enjoying the great-grandson she never got to know in life.

In my daughters room there is an angel in a snow globe. It was given to me by my aunt and now it is my daughter's guardian angel. I know she is looked over and protected by many angels, but their are days when I swear to you she is channeling the spirit of her great-aunt. She is a girly girl who loves flashy things with beads and sequins. I can see how much fun she would have had shopping with her Aunt Hona.

I so wish they were still here with us. I miss their laughter and the sound of their voices. I miss their mannerisms and their flaws. I don't pass a bar of Dove soap without being overwhelmed by the scent of my grandmother. I don't see a pair of flashy shoes or dangly earrings without my aunt's sweet smile coming to mind. Sometimes when I'm really angry I whip out the phrase she used and call someone a "beady eyed sack of Siberian snake s**t". And then I laugh.

These are my butterflies. They are not the only ones, but they are the ones I think are with me most often.

A few photos of Oklahoma

Zoe on top of Mt.Scott with Lake Lawtonka in the background

A buffalo on the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge

God save us from idiocy

In Memory of Victoria


"Dumbya" has managed to defeat the hopes of every person hoping for a cure for diabetes, paralysis, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's and a host of other diseases and injuries with his veto. Apparently it crossed some "moral boundary" that he has set.

I guess it wasn't against his moral boundaries to lie to the American people and lead them into an unnecessary war where our husbands, wives, sisters and brothers would be killed or maimed for no apparent reason. He also didn't seem to have any "moral boundary" issues when he was wiretapping people's phone lines and lying about that. Where was his "moral boundary" when the poor people of New Orleans were drowning in filth?

For Bush to call himself a Christian actually nauseates me. Perhaps it is time he stepped back and asked "What would Jesus do?" Would Jesus have left his fellow men adrift in a river of sewage and human remains to fend for themselves? Would Jesus leave his people in a country barraged by bombs and then ask them to pay their own way home? Surely as a Christian Mr. Bush is familiar with the name "Jesus Christ". Most of us remember him as the guy who died on the cross so that we might be cleansed of our sins. Mr.Bush doesn't seem to remember him at all.

Three of the definitions of Christian are as follows:

1. Manifesting the qualities or spirit of Jesus; Christlike.
2. Relating to or characteristic of Christianity or its adherents.
3. Showing a loving concern for others; humane.

Not once can I remember "W" or any of his cronies displaying any of the aforementioned qualities. If they had then perhaps many of the people of New Orleans would be safe tonight instead of dead. Perhaps the men and women killed in Iraq would be at home with their loved ones instead of being just a memory in a photograph on the wall. Maybe if he had listened to the warnings preceding the 9/11 attacks there would be 2,749 more people on this Earth tonight.

There is no excuse for the kind of behavior this administration has displayed. Bush is quite simply a buffoon and a puppet for the likes of Cheney, Rumsfeld and Rove. The fact that the American people actually voted him into office in 2004 (we all know who really won in 2000!) simply stuns me. What group of people who refer to themselves as "Christians" could put into office a group of people who so obviously do not posess any of the qualities of a Christian?

Tonight before I go to bed I will say a prayer. I will pray tonight that people with good sense actually find a way into power and people with power might actually obtain an iota of good sense.



P.S. The photo above is of my half-sister, Victoria, who could have been spared dying at age 23 and leaving a 4 year old daughter behind if there had simply been a cure for the Type 1 diabetes that caused the coronary artery disease that killed her.

Wasted time

And I could have done so many things, baby
If I could only stop my mind from wonderin' what
I left behind and from worrying 'bout this wasted time

- The Eagles "Wasted Time"

So yeah, I'm wondering if the last 18 years or so have just been wasted. Was I meant to be doing something amazing and instead I've only been doing the mundane?

I should be able to look back on this time and see that there was something significant to it. There was a marriage and there were two extraordinary children. In that respect I know that it wasn't all necessarily wasted. It was just different from what I expected.

Where do we get our expectations for our lives? Do they come from our parents? Do we create them ourselves? Do we look around at our contemporaries and think, "Damn, I should be doing something like that!"

I have friends with careers and I have friends that are at home moms. Some of the career women want to stay home and be moms and some of the moms want careers. Are we ever truly just satisfied with what we have? Do my friends with careers worry that they've wasted time by being at work while the kids are growing? I already know that several of the "career" moms fear that they've missed out on the best of their career years by being at home with their children, although almost all agree that they wouldn't trade that time for anything.

I've discovered that I want something more from my life that what I have right now. I don't think there is anything wrong with that. It doesn't make what I have not fulfilling. It just means I have more room in my heart to be filled.

If it's too loud, you're too old....

(photo by soonerluv)


and apparently, I'm too old.

My mom and I took Zoe to OKC to see Teddy Geiger in concert last night. For those of you who don't know him, he is the up and coming "Shaun Cassidy" of her generation. Truthfully, the boy is smoking hot, which is great if you're a 17 year old girl, but it just makes me feel like a dirty old woman.

It was rather a long evening. We arrived at the venue at 6:00 p.m. to wait in line in the 100+ degree heat. At 7:00 p.m. the doors opened and we were finally in some semblance of air conditioned comfort. At 8:00 we were treated to a loca OKC band called (I think) "Fifth Sunday". They were really very good. Lest we forget, OKC has produced some awesome bands. The Flaming Lips come quickly to mind.

At 9:00 we were graced with the presence of a band called "Dirtie Blonde" and they were actually quite good as well. They had a great female singer. I was pretty impressed with the quality of the opening acts since I have seen some before that were just embarrassingly bad.

FINALLY! 10:00 and here comes Teddy to the screams of his adoring teen fans and more than a few middle age women. We were rocked, we were serenaded. After a word with one of the security guards at the door, Teddy wished a "Happy Birthday" to a certain someone in the crowd. It was all very cool and hopefully I will have my hearing back in a few days.

7/15/98

This morning, as I do on every July 15, I woke up thinking about what I was doing "X" number of years ago today. Today it is 8 years.

I was checking into the hospital and being prepped for surgery. My belly was swollen huge with the new human I was about to bring into the world.

We were fairly sure it was a little girl, but not 100%. I worried about whether or not she would be healthy. I wondered what she would look like and if she would love me as much as I already loved her.

Really, after lugging around an extra person in your stomach for nine months it is a relief to be numb from the waist down. I thought I would be nervous, but I wasn't, I was excited and couldn't wait to see my baby.

My doctor went to work and after some tense moments when the nurses had to push down on my belly rather forcefully to help dislodge her from under my ribs I had a beautiful baby girl.

I was assured that she was healthy and in possession of all her limbs, fingers and toes and then she was whisked away and I was put into a blissful stupor for the next hour.

Finally I was allowed to hold her and just gaze at her perfection. I knew from that moment that she would be an exceptional person and she is.

She is beautiful and brilliant and funny. She can make me laugh and on occasion, yes, she makes me cry. She is so loving, always hugging me and telling me she loves me. She is loving to others as well. When she gives love, she does so wholeheartedly and without reservation. I worry that trait won't always serve her so well in the future, but I'm glad that she has a caring heart. I just don't want her to wear it on her sleeve.

So, to my first baby on the occasion of her eighth birthday I would like to say "Thank you for coming into my world Zoe Rebecca and making it a brighter place. I love you so very much, Mommy"

(Photography by Steve Miller)

Alive

(Bloggers note: The following was written c. 1986-87 judging by the typewriter I obviously used. When I compare this to my present emotional state I find I apparently haven't moved on too much :-) )

To think and to feel and to dream is the essence of being. My being is frightened, hurt, but alive.

When I think, I think too much. I blow small things into proportions unimaginable by others. This frightens me. Thinking that is done by humans should not reach beyond what is concrete,(note: yeah, I was a little young and naive at this point, wasn't I?) but mine does.

My feelings and emotions are as strong as my thinking, but they have been broken, like my heart. I care about everyone and everything (again, boy was I naive, yet when all of this does not care back I become disheartened and disenchanted with all that I think is good in the world.

My dreams are alive. They are unbroken by people who do not care. They are what is solid in life and they are what will keep you going when thinking and feeling bring you down.

When the world tries to break you through your thoughts and feelings you must learn to live on your dreams for they are what keeps life alive.

The Fort

(Bloggers note: I came across a file full of writings and poetry that I did in '83-'87 when I was somewhere between 14 and 18 years old. I am posting some of them here. The following was written c. 1984 and must have been done for a school assignment because there is a lovely red "A" at the top.)

The Fort

I remember how you looked
standing upon the pile
of wood.
Wearing patched jeans
and jacket,
your toy gun in hand.
And I remember how you looked
standing on the creek bank
right before we pushed you in.
I can still see us sneaking out,
egging cars as they drove past.
In my heart I can feel the rush
of first love once again.
But most of all, I can still see the look.
It filled your eyes with rage.
You hated me.
Then together,
with destruction in our hearts,
we tore it down.
We destroyed the fort,
with our love,
and our hate.

Fear

And I wonder if all my life's about

The sum of all my fears and all my doubts

- Faith Hill "When The Lights Go Down"

Fear is probably the second most powerful emotion I have ever known. For me it is strong and unrelenting.

Lying in the dark at night I pray. I bargain with God. Please just take the fear away. I know
it is ruining my life and it has already taken too big a chunk of my life as it is. I don't want it spoiling the time I have with my children while they are at this age of wonder and amazement. I want to experience everything with them without the specter of anxiety hanging constantly over my head.

I want my life to be meaningful, but how can it be when fear pervades the very essence of my being at every inopportune moment possible? I grind my teeth virtually into a fine
powder. My heart races. Again I pray and I bargain. Just please, please make it go away. I don't
want it anymore.

Of course I ask, why me? Why am I plagued by this incessant fear when there are others who are so free? They go about life without any qualms never questioning whether they might pass out in a public place and have to be carried out on a stretcher. Many of my fears are irrational and I
try not to give them too much life. I have other fears that are perfectly reasonable. They
are the ones that take over my thoughts and try to take awaythe peace of mind that I fight for every day. I've tried it all- medication, meditation, hypnosis, relaxation techiniques- you name it. I've taken a shot at it.

There have been some temporary respites, but none that have been permanent. I've taken away a little more knowledge from each episode and I know how to fight back the mild panic and even some of the more vicious attacks of terror. One of these occurred atop a mountain and
breathing and praying my way through that one was quite an experience. I did it though and felt stronger for it afterwards.

If only I could reserve the strength from each time I successfully fight off an episode and keep it with me always. It doesn't work that way and at night when I put the lights out my mind goes into overdrive and I am once again trapped in my own private hell.

But seriously....

I swore that I was going to post something serious and relevant. Something that had nothing to do with motherhood, kids and any of the other things that seem to be totally central to my life at the moment.

I've started a paper on the gay marriage debate (for one of my courses) and Heaven knows that I'm certainly highly opinionated on a disproportionately large number of other subjects.

I'm going to ponder on this overnight and hopefully I will come up with something exciting to say.

Dispensing with dirt

Whoever it was that thought up the concept of housecleaning should be taken out and shot. Okay, they're probably already dead, but still. I'm sure there was a fanatical little cavewoman with OCD who spent far too much time dusting her rocks off with a bunch of weeds. She probably also criticized her next cave neighbor for being "filthy".

I've thought of calling on those cute British gals from Lifetime, but I'm afraid my house isn't dirty enough for them. Honestly, I don't sleep with cat poop in my bed and I doubt if they swabbed my bathroom they would find traces of plague. I may live a bit on the cluttered side, but the people those gals visit are just disgusting.

I've tried to pinpoint exactly what about cleaning house it is that I hate so much. Maybe it's just the work in general. Certainly there are other things I would rather be doing. I've never been one to enjoy mucking about in anything nasty which I extend to include toilets and dust bunnies.

There is of course some reward in a job well done and I do feel a certain sense of relief once things are all picked up, dishes washed and laundry put away, but it's not as good as say, an orgasm or even chocolate.

BC (before chlidren) I watched too many of those decorating shows on TV and read too many magazines. I began to fancy myself having a showplace for a home. Then I started finding binkies in the sofa cushions and my floors became littered with an array of children's characters. Now if I can just get the kids to get their clothes into a hamper I feel as if I have accomplished something.

I've seen the cutesy little saying "Cleaning house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk while it is still snowing." This phrase was obviously coined by a mother. Honestly, I can get the dishes loaded and running and walk into my kitchen 10 minutes later and the sink is full again. Trying to keep up with the laundry is just impossible. I've quit trying. It is apparent that once a shirt is placed into a hamper it begins multiplying into an assortment of other shirts, pants etc.

So, I really have no good ending for this commentary except to say that I should probably go and fold the towels that are in the dryer. *sigh*

Growing Pains

My daughter had to say goodbye to yet another best friend tonight. She is moving to Texas. This is the second best friend in two years to move. I know that it is extraordinarily hard for her to have someone leave that she has become close to. This stems largely from the fact that it is very hard for her to overcome her shyness and make friends in the first place.

My heart aches for her. I know that she feels lost and alone at the thought of Kaitlyn being gone. I wish I knew a way to console her, but I don't. This is one of those life lessons that she is going to have to go through and learn from. I can be there for her, but I can't make the pain go away.

I think that one of the hardest things I've had to learn to deal with as a mother is that I cannot, in fact, make EVERYthing better. I can doctor cuts and bruises. I can fluff the pillows of the sick and cater to their needs. I can wipe away their tears and console them, but I can't fix the heartbreaks.

I know there will be plenty of them. There will be mean kids and first boyfriends and girlfriends who will break their hearts. Hopefully, they won't be like their mom and live with the recurring theme of unrequited love in their lives. They will have unfulfilled dreams and aspirations and when the world lets them down their hearts will be crushed. All I can do is be there for them, listening, offering a shoulder, mopping up tears.

I watched them last spring frolicking on a beach in Gulfport, MS. They were so carefree; experiencing the exhilirating pull of the ocean tides for the first time. I have a favorite picture of the two of them on that beach together, hugging. I wish that they could always be that close, that innocent and happy.

In August, Hurricane Katrina came ashore at Gulfport and swept away great chunks of the beach and boardwalk that we walked upon. She swept away the calm beauty of that beach. I know there will be storms in my children's lives that will sweep away their innocence and joy. I only hope that they don't wash away their faith and hope. For without those two things there is no life.

Rewarding Kids

(This was originally a response to a discussion taking place on one of my email groups. It's been slightly retooled for posting here.)

Am I the only one who thinks it's time we stop molly-coddling the kids, quit tiptoeing around and trying to be so PC and let them learn to deal with reality???

I'm all for rewarding good behavior and helping them develop good self-esteem, but some of this "feeling good about ourselves" stuff has just gone WAY over the top. We're spending a lot of time and energy on making sure that no one ever gets their feelings hurt, feels left out or feels that their abilities are any less or different than anyone else's.

So, when these kids go out into the real world where there is no mommy and daddy to protect them they are going to be spending a good portion of their income on anti-depressants and psychotherapy while they figure out that the world is not the place they believed it was going to be. If these kids are never forced to face a disppointment in life and deal with it are they not going to be a complete mess when real life slaps them in the face for the first time?

I didn't make grade school cheerleader. I was devastated. Guess what? I learned that you can't always get what you want. (Gives a nod to the Stones) Now, you don't have to be able to make the cut. If mom and dad can pony up the $600 for uniforms, you too can be a cheerleader!! What are we teaching them? That anything worth wanting or doing isn't worth working for, but it's worth paying for?

As for awards/rewards, I always thought that they were intended for the top 3 or4 of a group who excelled in a certain area. Webster's definition is "to confer or bestow as being deserved or merited". If we now give*everyone*an award, doesn't that negate the "merit" portion? I'm also not real thrilled to find out awards like "most thoughtful" are being handed out at some schools simply because things like that boil down to common courtesy and good manners. In our home those things are requirements- basic non-negotiable rules that do not earn rewards. As a matter of fact, if you don't use your good manners you might find yourself losing a privilege.

Once upon a time there were 2 sisters attending a high school. Their mother was at the school constantly arguing for this and arguing for that. The girls are brilliant, so it's not as if she was there protesting a bad grade. She was there making insane demands like changing the prom date becuase it didn't fit in with her daughter's schedule. Administrators would see her coming and dive into their offices and close their doors to avoid her. My point here is that if these girls never had to experience a bad grade, a missed prom or a disappointment of any kind how in the world are they going to make it through life? Eventually they're going to come up against a major disappointment and fall to pieces.

I guess I'm extremely old fashioned in this area, but I trulybelieve that the system that was in place for most of my youth was pretty effective in helping me to be realistic about what life was really going to be like and not leading me to believe I was going to live in some idyllic society where I was always "special" or "important"or any other of a host of adjectives that are now being pasted onto kids to ensure that they live in a constant halo of high self-esteem.

Getting my mojo back

If you will excuse the shameless theft of dialogue from Austin Powers oh never mind- I will just say it. I lost my mojo.

I wrote endlessly as a teen. I wrote poetry, stories, yearbook and school newspaper articles. I even won awards! I was named one of Oklahoma's Top 25 Young Writers in 1987. Yeah, that was a few hundred years ago and I'm still hanging onto it like I had discovered the Holy Grail. Still, when your other greatest achievement is producing nice looking babies you hang on to whatever is close at hand.

So, you're wondering, when did she lose her mojo? Well, that makes two of us. I'm not sure exactly when it left me. Perhaps it was during my failure to attend college on a regular basis because I was plagued by severe panic attacks. I managed to get through Comp I with a "B", but I could have done better and I knew it. Somehow the anxiety numbed the brain cells too.

There were 2 very important women in my life in my late teens and early twenties. My grandmother will always be my greatest hero. She achieved more in the face adversity than most of us could ever hope to.

My aunt was the other person whom I was closest to. She and I were alike in many ways and she probably knew me as well as anyone during that time. Then one day in April 1992 she was gone. In a heartbeat, what can only be called a case of gross medical incompetence pulled her from my world and along with her she took my grandmother. Unable to cope with the loss of her eldest child her condition weakened and 3 months later she, too, was gone from my life.

Looking back on it now I can't believe that I didn't deal with that intense pain by writing through it. I was 23 though and I chose to deal with the pain in other ways which were questionable at best. I probably spent a little too much time drinking margaritas and dancing the night away, but I was alone. At least it felt that way.

My friends had all drifted off to parts unknown and begun their own lives. I lived alone, ate alone and cried alone. I desperately needed to replace the love that I had lost from my aunt and grandma and even that which went with my friends most of whom I had known since I was 6. I looked for love in the eyes of every date I had, but I know now that I never found it. At least I never found what I was really looking for.

There is no replacement for the love of another person. No two people will ever love you the same way. My grandmother was not demonstrative or gushy. She just was. You knew you were loved. My aunt was cynical and sarcastic and she loved fiercely with a protectiveness you could not help but appreciate. No man, woman or child could love in exactly the same way those women did.

So for at least 17 years my mojo has been on hold. It's been gone, but not forgotten. I had thought that it was gone forever, but now I'm not so sure. Sitting at a computer and typing my words out is certainly a different experience than writing every feeling out on paper. Maybe I just got too lazy to write longhand?

Today I feel as if my eyes are finally open again and my words are flowing again. My mojo is on it's way back.

God only knows....

Yes, I believe in God. It would be impossible to look at the absolute perfection of my children and not believe that a higher power had something to do with getting them here. Of course, their perfection is seen through their mother's eyes and can frequently be called into question when, say for instance, one of them is in a fit throwing frenzy.

I remember having them handed over to me at the hospital and studying them carefully. Even through the morphine induced haze I was aware that I had assisted God in the creation of a tiny miracle. Yes, the striking blue eyes and tiny fingers and toes had grown within me, but I was only a part of that great wonder. And certainly my daughter looks like her father and my son more like me so you know that genetics were at play, yet it still doesn't explain the complex miracle that is a new life.

I'm thinking of this now because a baby died yesterday. He was only a few months old and his potential wholly unrealized. I'm sure that other babies died yesterday, but this one belonged to a friend of mine. I wept this morning not only for her family's loss, but for the loss to this world. Sure, he may have been known to only his family and friends, but I believe that every person put on this earth has an impact somehow, maybe not globally or even locally, but within the circle of their world they make their mark on the lives around them. We will never get a chance to know what baby Kris' impact might have been. Perhaps it was just to spend the few months he did with his parents and siblings to let them know love and how precious life is.

So today I will hug my children a little tighter and tonight when I lay down I will pray just a little harder for their continued good health and safety all the time knowing that God has a plan for them that only he knows. I can't change it or will it to be different but I can have faith that they have long and successful lives before them.

Mother of misery

Why is it that even at age 37 my mother still likes to treat me as if I were 5?

I'm preparing for my daughter's birthday later this afternoon and we are having it at my mom's house. She calls me this morning with a list of things I should get like ice cream, plastic cups and utensils. Gee, I would never have thought of that on my own. I'm so glad she called. The "stating the obvious" group is getting together soon to elect her their leader.

I've tried numerous times to explain to her that when she does this stuff to me that it makes me feel like she thinks I'm an incompetent moron. Honestly, she knows I was an honor student. Does she somehow think having book smarts has prevented me from having common sense?

For instance, we are on our way to one of the numerous t-ball/softball games my kids have played in this summer and I get a phone call reminding me that it's over 100 degrees and I should bring water and sunscreen. What? You mean I'm not supposed to let the kids get roasted in the sun and collapse from heat exhaustion? She apparently thinks I skipped that chapter in the parenting handbook.

Appearance is another thing of vital importance to my mom. Don't ever get caught going anywhere with her sans makeup or she will want to know why. She hasn't left the house without lipstick since 1956. She puts "her face" on to go to the YMCA and walk the treadmill. She is constantly nagging my daughter because she won't wear her hair up in a ponytail every day and my mom thinks it looks "scraggly" when it's down. She's 8 and she's going to run snd jump and play. It isn't as if she were competing in the Miss America pageant later in the evening.

My mother has turned "constructive criticism" into an art form. She likes to throw in little catch phrases like "I just want you to be happy" or "I just want it for you soooo much". Somehow this is supposed to make me feel better after she has just told me I need to lose weight or that my house isn't clean enough for her tastes.

In my heart I know she loves me and she really does mean well. She comes from a long line of women who were forced to be tough in the face of adversity and she's learned the cardinal rule that if she can control all situations to her liking then the world will move in a direction that pleases her. I just wish she could do it without making everyone else misearble at the same time.