I turned 33 years old on Wednesday. Yes, double threes! I just can't accept it. But, I've done the math, there is no changing it. You take a 50 year old woman and subtract 17 years and you get me. No matter how many times I try to take the year 2010 and deduct 1977 from it, I still end up with the same result. I am a 33 year old woman. Holy Sh*t.. HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?
There is no denying it, I am in my thirties. My thirties!! That's, like, my parents age! Oh, wait a minute..not any more it isn't. That's how old they were when I was ten. And when I was ten, I thought 33 was ancient. Seriously though, aren't people in their thirties supposed to wear chinos and pastel colored polo shirts, drink sparkling water and discuss their 401k's? Aren't thirty three year old women supposed to spend their afternoons plucking gray hairs and chatting with their doctors about their fiber intake? Aren't thirty somethings supposed to be lame??
I don't feel lame. Heck, I don't even feel like a grown up yet. When's that whole part kick in? I mean, technically, I'm a full fledged grown up. I've got the paperwork to prove it. So, why is it that I still feel the need to hide the fact that I occasionally enjoy an alcoholic beverage from my mom? Why do I still find myself laughing uncontrollably at fart jokes? Why do I still prefer Lucky Charms for breakfast instead of Grape Nuts? How come I still can't quite figure out the exact amount of time to cook popcorn in the microwave without it catching fire? Why am I still planning things to do "when I grow up"?
I realize that 33 is not "OLD"... but, it's older than I feel. I still wonder what happened to my twenties! I should have paid more attention! Why didn't I spend more time learning how to properly fold a fitted sheet? Shouldn't I know how to use the barbecue grill by now? Why am I still petrified of the lawnmower? Thunderstorms still scare the bejesus out of me. And don't you dare ask me how to cook a turkey, because I still have to call my mom and ask her every time I try.
I don't know why, but being 33 bothers me. I don't like it. The other night we were at a restaurant with our friends. They told the waiter it was my birthday. He said "Hey! 21 again, huh?" The bastard. How dare he? That's the same joke people used to say to my mom when she was....well, when she was in her thirties. Everyone laughed to be polite to the overly friendly and uber-touchy douchebag waiter. Meanwhile, I was fuming. That son of a bitch. Is he saying I can't pass for 21 anymore? I can totally pass for 21, right? RIGHT? I mean, it was dark in there.. He totally could not see the 14 gray hairs I had been hiding amongst my curls. And I was relatively positive he could not get a good view of my granny panties considering I was trying really hard to keep my bunion affected feet under the table. Maybe he heard me moaning about my "aching back" as I attempted to reach down in my purse for some Gas-X. I mean, really, the guy was just way too presumptuous. I'm sure there are plenty of 21 year olds who fall asleep at the table because they only got one nap that day. It's not uncommon. Young and feisty ladies totally get tired too, ya know.
Urgh, who am I kidding? I guess it's time I faced the facts. I am a grown up. I'm officially well into adulthood. Actually, I am pretty sure I hit the whole "adulthood" milestone a while back. I just never noticed. Maybe that's what's different this birthday. I'm actually paying attention. Crap, I'm pretty sure that's another sign I'm getting older. Dang, there really is no denying it, huh? I'm gonna go drown my sorrows in ice cream. (and then some Pepto Bismol because I just can't handle dairy like I used to)
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Mom of the Year
Mom of the Year. It’s a phrase we’ve all heard. Moms tend to throw around this expression. Usually, it’s a sarcastic comment. You feed your kids cereal for dinner and say “Well, I guess I won’t be getting the Mom of The Year award”. Your son shoves a marble up his nose and you're muttering to yourself on the way to the ER, “There goes Mom of the Year again”. I have yet to see anyone actually declare themselves the Genuine Mom of the Year. We moms are way too self critical to ever claim that distinction. There is always someone else out there doing better, accomplishing more and flat out making us all feel insignificant.
With that said though, I don’t think I am a bad mom. Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty dang good at it. My daughter is socially accepted, well fed, happy and an all around great kid. I am quite proud of the work I’ve done so far. However, there are many, many moments that I question my abilities. There have been several times when I have hung my head in shame because I have failed. Luckily for me, those big mistakes are few and far between. It’s the small blunders that are way too common in my life. And lucky for me, we can usually find the humor in them. I want to share with you some of those moments, when I knew I was out of the running for that Mom of the Year contest, but still found myself laughing.
*When Roslyn was about three years old, she used to go to work with me. Occasionally we would get stuck in traffic. I am not the most patient driver. I learned that I was raising a rather inpatient back seat driver when I heard Roslyn say, “What the heck is this? An idiot parade?”
*I used to babysit occasionally for a friend of mine. She had a daughter named Mikayla. Our girls were the same age, about 2 years old. Roslyn used to call her “Mack”. For months we thought that Roslyn had made up a cute nickname for her friend. It was so adorable! One day, I said something to that effect to Roslyn. She said “No! She’s Mack! Cause I want to MACK her”.. she then went up to Mikayla and smacked her in the face.
*Roslyn can recite this entire scene from the movie Tommy Boy...
*Roslyn was about 4 and half years old. She was playing at a local park. She and a few other girls were bouncing up and down on a suspension bridge thing. All the girls were singing songs like "I'm a Little Teapot" and "The Wheels on the Bus". There was a long moment of silence while the girls were trying to think of another song to sing. My child happily starts bouncing again and starts to sing at the top of her lungs, "THE FREAKS COME OUT AT NIGHT! THE FREAKS COME OUT AT NIIIIIGHT! FREAKS COME OUT AT NIGHT (the freaks come out!)" I could literally feel the heat of the other playground moms staring at me.
So, I will not be Mother of the Year this year or in any year to come. I'm doing a good job and so is my husband. But the fact is, we mess up. She hears things we don't want her to hear. She occasionally sees things she probably should not. She has her Momma's temper. I am not a perfect mother. I'm a work in progress, just like my daughter. We are extremely lucky that things are not worse. I mean really, she could have been singing "Superfreak". That would have just been scandalous.
With that said though, I don’t think I am a bad mom. Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty dang good at it. My daughter is socially accepted, well fed, happy and an all around great kid. I am quite proud of the work I’ve done so far. However, there are many, many moments that I question my abilities. There have been several times when I have hung my head in shame because I have failed. Luckily for me, those big mistakes are few and far between. It’s the small blunders that are way too common in my life. And lucky for me, we can usually find the humor in them. I want to share with you some of those moments, when I knew I was out of the running for that Mom of the Year contest, but still found myself laughing.
*When Roslyn was about three years old, she used to go to work with me. Occasionally we would get stuck in traffic. I am not the most patient driver. I learned that I was raising a rather inpatient back seat driver when I heard Roslyn say, “What the heck is this? An idiot parade?”
*I used to babysit occasionally for a friend of mine. She had a daughter named Mikayla. Our girls were the same age, about 2 years old. Roslyn used to call her “Mack”. For months we thought that Roslyn had made up a cute nickname for her friend. It was so adorable! One day, I said something to that effect to Roslyn. She said “No! She’s Mack! Cause I want to MACK her”.. she then went up to Mikayla and smacked her in the face.
*Roslyn can recite this entire scene from the movie Tommy Boy...
*Roslyn was about 4 and half years old. She was playing at a local park. She and a few other girls were bouncing up and down on a suspension bridge thing. All the girls were singing songs like "I'm a Little Teapot" and "The Wheels on the Bus". There was a long moment of silence while the girls were trying to think of another song to sing. My child happily starts bouncing again and starts to sing at the top of her lungs, "THE FREAKS COME OUT AT NIGHT! THE FREAKS COME OUT AT NIIIIIGHT! FREAKS COME OUT AT NIGHT (the freaks come out!)" I could literally feel the heat of the other playground moms staring at me.
So, I will not be Mother of the Year this year or in any year to come. I'm doing a good job and so is my husband. But the fact is, we mess up. She hears things we don't want her to hear. She occasionally sees things she probably should not. She has her Momma's temper. I am not a perfect mother. I'm a work in progress, just like my daughter. We are extremely lucky that things are not worse. I mean really, she could have been singing "Superfreak". That would have just been scandalous.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Target Practice With My Foot
I am the Queen of Procrastination. I am the Empress of Postponement. I am the all powerful Master of Dilly-Dallying. You need something done, you let me know. I’ll get it done. By “get it done” I mean I will add it to my trusty to-do list and then promptly ignore it for 3 years.
I don’t know why I’m this way, I just am. My therapist (yes, I see a therapist.. don’t you judge me) says that it’s a method of self destruction. I know, it sounds crazy serious, right? But basically what he is saying that I have expert aim at shooting myself in the foot. When I really think about it, I guess he’s right. Now I have to just figure out why I'm loading the gun in the first place.
I have good intentions. I really do. My never ending inventory of unreached goals is chock full of great ideas. I want to volunteer at a the SPCA. I love animals. I hate to see them in pain. I would get such fulfillment out of helping them find happy homes. So, what’s the deal? Why don’t I just do it? Well, duh... I’m too busy. I am just so amazingly over scheduled that I just can’t manage a few hours a week to help care for these precious creatures. I couldn’t possibly miss an episode of Glee or a read a few less chapters a week in exchange for helping some sweet, lovable dog find a family! I need my “me time”!
Of course, you all know I want to go back to school. So what’s the deal there? Why don’t I just do it? I could squeeze in at least a class a semester. I could go online. Seriously, what would it take? A few hours a week? I could stay up later. I could wake up an hour earlier each day. What’s my excuse this time? Money, of course! We never have enough. I’d rather spend the money on groceries or to pay the electric bill. You would think this could be solved with low rate student loans. Not the case. I hate debt. You see? I have an excuse for everything.
I wish I knew why I was this way. I wish I knew why I feel the need to set myself up for disappointment. Maybe I am scared I will actually succeed at something. Maybe I fear the responsibilities that come along with success. Maybe I just don’t want to put forth the effort. It’s possible, of course, that I am just plain lazy. I hope that’s not the case, but it’s kind of hard to ignore the fact that all these goals are easily within my reach. All I have to do is make a good grab for them.
So why are my arms still lying motionless at my sides?
I know I'm not alone in this situation, I know there are others out there like me. So tell me, what are you avoiding? Why are you putting it off? And most of all, what's it gonna take to make you actually go for it?
As for me, I am trying. I want to change this. I want to succeed at something. Anything. I need to have that "something" that I can point to and say "Hey! I did that!" . It's time to stop playing target practice with my feet and aim for something higher.
I don’t know why I’m this way, I just am. My therapist (yes, I see a therapist.. don’t you judge me) says that it’s a method of self destruction. I know, it sounds crazy serious, right? But basically what he is saying that I have expert aim at shooting myself in the foot. When I really think about it, I guess he’s right. Now I have to just figure out why I'm loading the gun in the first place.
I have good intentions. I really do. My never ending inventory of unreached goals is chock full of great ideas. I want to volunteer at a the SPCA. I love animals. I hate to see them in pain. I would get such fulfillment out of helping them find happy homes. So, what’s the deal? Why don’t I just do it? Well, duh... I’m too busy. I am just so amazingly over scheduled that I just can’t manage a few hours a week to help care for these precious creatures. I couldn’t possibly miss an episode of Glee or a read a few less chapters a week in exchange for helping some sweet, lovable dog find a family! I need my “me time”!
Of course, you all know I want to go back to school. So what’s the deal there? Why don’t I just do it? I could squeeze in at least a class a semester. I could go online. Seriously, what would it take? A few hours a week? I could stay up later. I could wake up an hour earlier each day. What’s my excuse this time? Money, of course! We never have enough. I’d rather spend the money on groceries or to pay the electric bill. You would think this could be solved with low rate student loans. Not the case. I hate debt. You see? I have an excuse for everything.
I wish I knew why I was this way. I wish I knew why I feel the need to set myself up for disappointment. Maybe I am scared I will actually succeed at something. Maybe I fear the responsibilities that come along with success. Maybe I just don’t want to put forth the effort. It’s possible, of course, that I am just plain lazy. I hope that’s not the case, but it’s kind of hard to ignore the fact that all these goals are easily within my reach. All I have to do is make a good grab for them.
So why are my arms still lying motionless at my sides?
I know I'm not alone in this situation, I know there are others out there like me. So tell me, what are you avoiding? Why are you putting it off? And most of all, what's it gonna take to make you actually go for it?
As for me, I am trying. I want to change this. I want to succeed at something. Anything. I need to have that "something" that I can point to and say "Hey! I did that!" . It's time to stop playing target practice with my feet and aim for something higher.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Book Review : Dracula In Love
This book is dark. It’s mysterious. It’s sensual. This is a real gothic novel, the way they are supposed to be written. You want to go wandering through mist filled, centuries old cemeteries in the dead of night? How does a visit to a Victorian “insane” asylum sound? Dracula in Love has it all, and then some.
Karen Essex has taken the characters from Bram Stoker’s classic novel and given them quite an imaginative back story. In the original, Mina Murray is an innocent bystander in an act of revenge between the count and his lawyer, Jonathan Harker. But in Essex’s retelling of the tale, Mina may not be such a innocent victim. She is something else entirely, something she herself has tried to ignore her entire life .As a child, she learned to hide her strange abilities and talents in exchange for a calm, normal life. She dreamed of a beautiful wedding, a doting husband and house full of children. However, nightly visions, sometimes horrific and other times extremely erotic, have her confused and scared. Who is this creature she encounters in her dreams? She finds herself drawn to him in ways she has never experienced, or at least, in ways she cannot fully explain. Yet, he appears to posses knowledge of her every thought, her every desire. The two souls are somehow connected in a way mere mortals could never fully comprehend.
I enjoyed this novel so much. Essex is an amazingly talented author, giving new life to these classic characters. She deftly intertwines the histories of Mina and the Count into the original story without missing a beat. The blending is flawless. In some instances, when an author attempts to retell a classic tale one of two things tend to happen. One, the older story becomes somewhat forgotten, it’s charm is lost when it’s replaced with a shinier new version. Two, the new version tends to feel, for lack of a better word, stolen. You find yourself wondering why the author even attempted to make these characters her own. They are someone else’s imaginings and they just don’t come to life in the hands of another writer. However, Dracula in Love did not leave me feeling as if Mina Murray was simply a borrowed character. I felt as if she blossomed beautifully under Essex’s care. I also do not feel as if Stoker’s original story is overshadowed by this new novel. I actually find myself tempted to read it again!
Dracula in Love is a beautifully writtten and wildly addictive novel. I suggest it to anyone, whether you prefer your vampires sparkly and melodramatic or dark and wildly sensuous. But really, when you look at it that way , is there really a choice?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Stuff That Made Me Laugh This Week...
Some of you may find it surprising to learn that I have a very immature sense of humor. Yea, I know it's pretty shocking, considering all the seriously compelling posts and articles that I usually grace this blog with. However, today is different. Today I will take a break from the serious and businesslike tone that I normally bestow upon you, my beloved internet companions. Today, I will simply pass along a few things that I found myself giggling about this week. I want you to start the weekend with laughter, dear readers. I want to make you happy. This is about you.
Ok, fine. You got me. I've got nothing to post about today and I like the funny.
This video reminds of every fight that I have ever had with my husband. Can you guess which character I identify with the most?
Pugs.. oh how I love you...
Swear Jar!
There ya go, my little foray into the silliness. I will now resume perusing the internet for quantum physics formulas and researching cures for athlete's foot and global warming. Either that, or I'll be watching sneezing panda videos and eating cheetos. Same difference.
Ok, fine. You got me. I've got nothing to post about today and I like the funny.
This video reminds of every fight that I have ever had with my husband. Can you guess which character I identify with the most?
Pugs.. oh how I love you...
Swear Jar!
Swear Jar--Funniest Commercial Ever! - watch more funny videos
There ya go, my little foray into the silliness. I will now resume perusing the internet for quantum physics formulas and researching cures for athlete's foot and global warming. Either that, or I'll be watching sneezing panda videos and eating cheetos. Same difference.
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