It's hard to describe how difficult it is to parent a teenage girl.
I know I was one, and I know I was a particularly difficult one. And for that, mom, I'm sorry.
My girl isn't difficult (yet) in the way I was. She is not rebellious, she is not a rule-breaker or even a rule-tester, and she talks to me and her dad all the time in great detail. Whereas my parents knew nothing about what was going on in my life or mind, TJK shares everything with us. And that's where my difficulty comes in.
TJK tells me when her feelings get hurt by her friends. The other day, she was with four friends at the fireworks in town. One friend took off as soon as they got there, and then there were 4. Two of the girls were kind of huddled together talking, not including the other two. TJK was one of the ones who was left out (although she was "left out" with one of the other girls, who she was talking to the whole time, so...). She called me, right from the fireworks, because her feelings were hurt. She needed advice so she wanted to talk to me.
Now this is fantastic in so many ways. TJK tends to be shy and doesn't like to start trouble (again, the opposite of me). So in this case, I told her to talk to the other girls and either a) confront them about why they weren't talking to anyone else or b) just start talking to them and make conversation...basically, just include yourself if they weren't going to include you. Or, the third option: just hang out with Girl 4 and have a great time laughing and talking so you aren't missing out on anything - you are creating your own fun. She actually chose option A - I was so proud - and did it in her own, nicer and kinder way. And it worked for her.
So why is this difficult? It all worked out in the end, right? Well, do most kids call their moms from the fireworks, with a group of their friends around, to ask advice and vent? What do her friends think? And why can't she channel me in her mind instead of calling? I mean, she knows what advice I am going to give (be bold, ask questions, confront bad behavior in whatever form, be strong). Am I raising her to be too dependent on me?
When she was little and would have little girl problems, I would tell her there was nothing I couldn't figure out a way to fix. She would tell me her issues and we would talk them through and find solutions. It's what I do best. It's why I'm good at my job and why I'm (mostly) good at life. I think I thought showing her strength and showing her how I came to solutions would help her do the same. But I'm afraid it's just made her dependent on me to solve her problems.
So, what do you do with that when you are talking about a teenage girl? A girl who has a great group of girlfriends, but who is heading into the unknown world of high school? A girl who is spending more and more time with the cute boy in her class? A girl who is now in a punk band that plays in bars and who could easily be put in compromising situations with drinking and drugs and sex? A girl who will get her driver's permit in a year and a half?
Part of me says I have to let her start figuring out her own problems. And the other part says, some of these problems are big and could have life-altering consequences and the fact that she comes to me is a huge plus. I know that the kid she is now would call me if her driver was drinking. I know that the kid she is now would tell me when she finally kisses the cute boy in her class. I know that the kid she is now would share it with me if she was offered drugs or if a boy got "fresh" with her. So is now really the time to cut that cord?
As I'm writing, the solution has perhaps become clearer (which is why I love to write - it clears my head). I need to use these little problems as tests. When she is at the fireworks and two friends make her feel sad, I need to ask her what she thinks she should do. I need to not give her the answers, but help her learn my process for finding solutions. I need to help her find which avenue she should take instead of driving her there myself.
I need to buy her a WWMD bracelet so I'm always in her head when she's making decisions.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Friday, July 06, 2018
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Travel Update - YAY!
While I was super happy to be going to Cuba this year, since it has been on my bucket list for some time and as soon as it becomes just another Caribbean island it will quickly fall off, I wasn't happy that it was so expensive that the rest of my trips this year felt lackluster. I'm obviously a spoiled traveler when 4 trips a year feel like a disappointment, but I couldn't help it. Toronto? Chicago? Grand Rapids? Florida? Blech. I was sacrificing all my travel fun for Cuba and even though it was worth it, I still wasn't thrilled.
About a week ago we got an excellent opportunity to go to Cuba for about 30% of the previous price, and that included my daughter being able to go. We obviously jumped right on that. We won't be in Havana as long, but we will make the most of it and the truth is that for how much we are saving, we can go three times.
The beauty of saving so much money on Cuba is that we are able to replace the Toronto trip with my dream trip to Budapest! We haven't booked anything yet but we are looking at a whirlwind tour to Budapest, Vienna, and Bratislava (Slovakia). I AM SO EXCITED! (My other option is Budapest and Belgrade, Serbia, but hubby isn't feeling Serbia right now.)To be able to do Cuba and Budapest in one year is a dream come true for me.
We will still do our Chicago/Grand Rapids trip in April and I'm totally cool with that. Then we will have Cuba in June, and Budapest in August. And then our big Hawaii trip next year! Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got so lucky - to have such a happy day-to-day life, to drive the car I drive, to have the shoes and purses and clothes I have, to do fun things at every turn, and to be able to travel the world the way I do. I recognize how lucky I am (and how hard I have worked to get here, too) and I just beam with happiness. Life is good.
About a week ago we got an excellent opportunity to go to Cuba for about 30% of the previous price, and that included my daughter being able to go. We obviously jumped right on that. We won't be in Havana as long, but we will make the most of it and the truth is that for how much we are saving, we can go three times.
The beauty of saving so much money on Cuba is that we are able to replace the Toronto trip with my dream trip to Budapest! We haven't booked anything yet but we are looking at a whirlwind tour to Budapest, Vienna, and Bratislava (Slovakia). I AM SO EXCITED! (My other option is Budapest and Belgrade, Serbia, but hubby isn't feeling Serbia right now.)To be able to do Cuba and Budapest in one year is a dream come true for me.
We will still do our Chicago/Grand Rapids trip in April and I'm totally cool with that. Then we will have Cuba in June, and Budapest in August. And then our big Hawaii trip next year! Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got so lucky - to have such a happy day-to-day life, to drive the car I drive, to have the shoes and purses and clothes I have, to do fun things at every turn, and to be able to travel the world the way I do. I recognize how lucky I am (and how hard I have worked to get here, too) and I just beam with happiness. Life is good.
Monday, January 23, 2017
A Whiplash of Feelings Over the Political Weekend
Well, there's a lot on my mind today, following the inauguration of the Cheeto and the magnificence of the Women's Marches. Friday felt like a day of despair, knowing that the Obamas leaving the White House meant yuge changes for our country - changes that even those who supported him do not expect nor want. It felt like such a dark day, like I had to brace myself for the next four years of this man as our leader. It was hard to feel hopeful about the future and I felt myself getting depressed and downright angry about it.
Saturday was a day of resurgence - while I wasn't able to march (it KILLED me that I couldn't!), I watched on tv and social media all day while millions of my sisters marched for the rights of women, the LGBT community, communities of color, and healthcare, and against sexism, racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, and homophobia. It filled me with joy to see all of these human beings joining together to march not only in DC, NYC, and LA, but in tiny towns and medium cities across America and the entire world (including friggin' Antarctica!). While it upset me to see some Facebook friends stating that the march wasn't necessary because they personally are doing just fine (wow, self-centered much?), most of my feed was of friends who had personally attended marches or who were in full support. It felt like a good day filled with hope and promise.
Then on Sunday, I took TJK, who wants to be a rocket scientist, to see Hidden Figures at the movies. It blew my mind how amazing this movie was and how timely its release was. These three brilliant women were held back because of their gender and skin color, held down at every step by the government and the system and their employers and even some of their loved ones...only to triumph monumentally in the end. It was so incredibly inspiring, and following the day of marches on Saturday, it made my heart smile. Hope had returned.
And in my own reality, my Sunday went something like this: hubby, kiddo and I went to the movies; hubby and I went food shopping together; the three of us cooked a big dinner together with all of us prepping, cooking, and cleaning up afterwards; and finally, all three of us watched football together, with my husband and daughter in their Steelers jerseys complaining together about the loss. It made me see that the way my own life has turned out falls right in line with my moral stance on how life should be: we all food shopped, we all cooked; we all cleaned, we all watched football; we are all equals in my house. And that is what I believe should be the norm.
This, to me, is a big part of being a feminist: living your own truth and walking the walk. We don't fall into stereotypical gender roles - we are equals. We help each other. My money is his money, and vice versa. We are a team. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. And my daughter sees that, and she thinks it's odd when she is at a friend's house and the dad sits on the couch watching football while the mom cooks after both have worked all week and could use a rest. As a mother of a daughter, I am so proud of the example we are setting for her.
As Monday wears on and I hear about the anti-abortion orders President Cheeto is signing, I feel the despair start to creep back in. But I won't let it. Good wins in the end. I know it does. And while he and his unseemly minions will certainly win many battles in their positions of power, I know that what's right will win the war.
Saturday was a day of resurgence - while I wasn't able to march (it KILLED me that I couldn't!), I watched on tv and social media all day while millions of my sisters marched for the rights of women, the LGBT community, communities of color, and healthcare, and against sexism, racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, and homophobia. It filled me with joy to see all of these human beings joining together to march not only in DC, NYC, and LA, but in tiny towns and medium cities across America and the entire world (including friggin' Antarctica!). While it upset me to see some Facebook friends stating that the march wasn't necessary because they personally are doing just fine (wow, self-centered much?), most of my feed was of friends who had personally attended marches or who were in full support. It felt like a good day filled with hope and promise.
Then on Sunday, I took TJK, who wants to be a rocket scientist, to see Hidden Figures at the movies. It blew my mind how amazing this movie was and how timely its release was. These three brilliant women were held back because of their gender and skin color, held down at every step by the government and the system and their employers and even some of their loved ones...only to triumph monumentally in the end. It was so incredibly inspiring, and following the day of marches on Saturday, it made my heart smile. Hope had returned.
And in my own reality, my Sunday went something like this: hubby, kiddo and I went to the movies; hubby and I went food shopping together; the three of us cooked a big dinner together with all of us prepping, cooking, and cleaning up afterwards; and finally, all three of us watched football together, with my husband and daughter in their Steelers jerseys complaining together about the loss. It made me see that the way my own life has turned out falls right in line with my moral stance on how life should be: we all food shopped, we all cooked; we all cleaned, we all watched football; we are all equals in my house. And that is what I believe should be the norm.
This, to me, is a big part of being a feminist: living your own truth and walking the walk. We don't fall into stereotypical gender roles - we are equals. We help each other. My money is his money, and vice versa. We are a team. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. And my daughter sees that, and she thinks it's odd when she is at a friend's house and the dad sits on the couch watching football while the mom cooks after both have worked all week and could use a rest. As a mother of a daughter, I am so proud of the example we are setting for her.
As Monday wears on and I hear about the anti-abortion orders President Cheeto is signing, I feel the despair start to creep back in. But I won't let it. Good wins in the end. I know it does. And while he and his unseemly minions will certainly win many battles in their positions of power, I know that what's right will win the war.
Thursday, January 05, 2017
Come at me, 2017
I have to admit that while 2016 was rough on a global-scale (can you say "orange president"?), my 2016 was actually really good personally. I traveled a lot and knocked a few things off my bucket list (Lisbon! Southern Portugal! Honduras! Belize!), while still taking some of my travel time to relax and unwind (instead of always needing a vacation when I come back from my vacation because I've run myself ragged). My daughter is such a superstar, and she had a great year - and when your kids are doing well, you do well. She started middle school, in all very challenging honors classes, without a hitch. She made so many new friends, auditioned for and got a major part in the school play, and has a bright and busy social life. She is happy and that makes me happy. My husband and I are in just such a great place, too. We are enjoying the time we spend together, laughing, having fun, and being best friends. My parents are happy and (mostly) healthy, and we have had some pretty good times with them over the year as well. I have shed some friends who were better left in the past, and made some new ones who brighten my outlook...and have even caused me to leave some of the my cynicism behind.
(Ok, not all of it. I'm still cynical and sarcastic and that won't ever change. But I do realize that the negativity was weighing me down and making me less happy. And I've reduced that, and I feel good about it.)
So, here we are in 2017. I don't really believe in the whole "new year, new you" thing. Like, the change of a calendar doesn't mean a change in you. But I do think the end of another year gives you the opportunity to look at yourself closely and figure out what has been working for you and what hasn't.
What's working for me? My travel goals are nearly perfect. I love how I'm able to travel often and to unique and interesting places. I wish I could travel more, but with 4 weeks of vacation from work, I do the best I can. This year will be a little different because we are going to Cuba, which costs an arm and a leg, so our other trips will have to be scaled back. No Budapest or Scotland or Istanbul, as I had hoped. It looks like it'll be Cuba, Toronto, Captiva Island, and maybe Chicago or Vermont. I hate the idea of only one new place this year, but Cuba will make it all worthwhile. What makes me a little sad is that for 2018, we will be doing a big anniversary trip to Hawaii, so that will make the rest of our trips small again next year. I know, poor me.
What else is working? My approach to motherhood is working. I couldn't have a better, smarter, cooler kid and I know that while some of that is just in her genes, some is my influence. And now that she's 13, my influence may seem to wane as her friends grow in importance...but I know she is still listening. I have to keep on momming the way I am now, because it's working. And I can keep on wife-ing the way I am now, as well...while putting in a little more effort, perhaps. He spoils me so much (not just with material things, but with all the "stuff" he does) and I need to figure out how to spoil him back a little more.
And what isn't working? While I don't set the whole "lose 10 pounds" goals at the beginning of the year, I am setting health goals. I need my ass up off the couch more. I need to fuel my body in healthier ways. And while I love my craft beer more'n my luggage, I need to drink less of it. I want to start hiking again, and maybe kickboxing and yoga. I got so lazy this year, and I miss the endorphins of a good workout and the feelings of strength that follow.
What else isn't working? I want to stop letting negativity influence me. I let that happen too much in 2016. If something is bringing me down, stop doing it. This can apply to my obsession with politics (which has definitely lessened since the election - it is too depressing, so I've minimized my exposure) or to friends who focus on complaining about the bad parts of life, or even to social media (where I have been mostly absent because frankly, I'm bored of it). I want to focus on the fun and joyous parts of life - and truly, I am so lucky to say that my life is full of joy and that I have more fun than should be allowed by law. There is so much good to focus on, and I want to seek out those moments and be present in those moments and simply revel in how good life can be.
Slightly off topic (but not really) - I planned a get-together in NYC for my extended family to meet up with our visiting family from Scotland. A bunch of us went in early - with the "adults" concerned about timing and about how we would fill our time until we had to meet, and with some just sourpussing it through the whole day. We went to see the Rock Center tree (so nice after the holiday crowds have gone!) and then walked to the Plaza, where I had the idea to get some fancy cocktails and pretend to be fancy people for an hour or so. We did just that, and it was such a nice little break in the day - impromptu and totally fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants - and it was fantastic. We then met our Scotland fam (after a small walk across town that left some sourpusses complaining, again), and had an amazing time. Now don't get me wrong - it took a lot of effort to get this whole thing planned, with more pushback than help from the rest of the family. But the effort was so worth it, and it was such a memorable day. This weekend we are headed back to NYC to see an art exhibit and my parents are coming with us. I'm excited about planning a fun day for them and trying some new things while we are there. THAT is what the new year feels like to me - make the effort, take some chances, reap the fun rewards.
In all, 2017 is probably going to globally suck. Our Cheeto President is going to mess up the world and the Republicans will cheer it and the Democrats will do nothing to stop it. But I have realized that there is little I can do about that (yes, I call my representatives to express my concerns, yes, I vote in every single election no matter how small, yes, I stay educated on global and local politics) and I have come to terms with the fact that I am mostly powerless and it is futile to think otherwise). But 2017 for me, personally, has all the potential in the world to be a great year and I am approaching it as such.
(Ok, not all of it. I'm still cynical and sarcastic and that won't ever change. But I do realize that the negativity was weighing me down and making me less happy. And I've reduced that, and I feel good about it.)
So, here we are in 2017. I don't really believe in the whole "new year, new you" thing. Like, the change of a calendar doesn't mean a change in you. But I do think the end of another year gives you the opportunity to look at yourself closely and figure out what has been working for you and what hasn't.
What's working for me? My travel goals are nearly perfect. I love how I'm able to travel often and to unique and interesting places. I wish I could travel more, but with 4 weeks of vacation from work, I do the best I can. This year will be a little different because we are going to Cuba, which costs an arm and a leg, so our other trips will have to be scaled back. No Budapest or Scotland or Istanbul, as I had hoped. It looks like it'll be Cuba, Toronto, Captiva Island, and maybe Chicago or Vermont. I hate the idea of only one new place this year, but Cuba will make it all worthwhile. What makes me a little sad is that for 2018, we will be doing a big anniversary trip to Hawaii, so that will make the rest of our trips small again next year. I know, poor me.
What else is working? My approach to motherhood is working. I couldn't have a better, smarter, cooler kid and I know that while some of that is just in her genes, some is my influence. And now that she's 13, my influence may seem to wane as her friends grow in importance...but I know she is still listening. I have to keep on momming the way I am now, because it's working. And I can keep on wife-ing the way I am now, as well...while putting in a little more effort, perhaps. He spoils me so much (not just with material things, but with all the "stuff" he does) and I need to figure out how to spoil him back a little more.
And what isn't working? While I don't set the whole "lose 10 pounds" goals at the beginning of the year, I am setting health goals. I need my ass up off the couch more. I need to fuel my body in healthier ways. And while I love my craft beer more'n my luggage, I need to drink less of it. I want to start hiking again, and maybe kickboxing and yoga. I got so lazy this year, and I miss the endorphins of a good workout and the feelings of strength that follow.
What else isn't working? I want to stop letting negativity influence me. I let that happen too much in 2016. If something is bringing me down, stop doing it. This can apply to my obsession with politics (which has definitely lessened since the election - it is too depressing, so I've minimized my exposure) or to friends who focus on complaining about the bad parts of life, or even to social media (where I have been mostly absent because frankly, I'm bored of it). I want to focus on the fun and joyous parts of life - and truly, I am so lucky to say that my life is full of joy and that I have more fun than should be allowed by law. There is so much good to focus on, and I want to seek out those moments and be present in those moments and simply revel in how good life can be.
Slightly off topic (but not really) - I planned a get-together in NYC for my extended family to meet up with our visiting family from Scotland. A bunch of us went in early - with the "adults" concerned about timing and about how we would fill our time until we had to meet, and with some just sourpussing it through the whole day. We went to see the Rock Center tree (so nice after the holiday crowds have gone!) and then walked to the Plaza, where I had the idea to get some fancy cocktails and pretend to be fancy people for an hour or so. We did just that, and it was such a nice little break in the day - impromptu and totally fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants - and it was fantastic. We then met our Scotland fam (after a small walk across town that left some sourpusses complaining, again), and had an amazing time. Now don't get me wrong - it took a lot of effort to get this whole thing planned, with more pushback than help from the rest of the family. But the effort was so worth it, and it was such a memorable day. This weekend we are headed back to NYC to see an art exhibit and my parents are coming with us. I'm excited about planning a fun day for them and trying some new things while we are there. THAT is what the new year feels like to me - make the effort, take some chances, reap the fun rewards.
In all, 2017 is probably going to globally suck. Our Cheeto President is going to mess up the world and the Republicans will cheer it and the Democrats will do nothing to stop it. But I have realized that there is little I can do about that (yes, I call my representatives to express my concerns, yes, I vote in every single election no matter how small, yes, I stay educated on global and local politics) and I have come to terms with the fact that I am mostly powerless and it is futile to think otherwise). But 2017 for me, personally, has all the potential in the world to be a great year and I am approaching it as such.
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Ball of Confusion
Its so confusing sometimes. I feel like the world is falling apart in so many ways. Terrorism is on the rise all over the world and it makes life so scary. There are threats to peace and safety at every turn, it seems. Our President-Elect is an insane person who is not qualified to lead this country, and while I have largely tuned out from politics, I am still reading enough to know we are on a bad path as he fills his cabinet with loonies. The environment is in complete peril and a whole segment of the population doesn't even believe it, so how can we begin to consider fixing it? And people are so stressed out and mean and only in it for themselves. The level of entitlement people feel is out of control. Everything seems dark to me right now, like is becoming a world I won't even want to live in within the next several years. I feel despondent and full of dark grey space. I often want to just move to the middle of Montana where there is no crime and no traffic and no one there to even be part of my day-to-day existence.
And yet.
I have my daughter. She is a shining light in the world. She is smart, incredibly kind, loving, and thoughtful. When I think about her, I think about all the wonderful things I know she will accomplish. Right now she legit wants to be a rocket scientist, and she is capable of that. Sometimes I think she will be a lawyer, and sometimes I think she will be a doctor. And sometimes I think she will join the peace corps and help refugees. She has so much in her that is good and wise, especially for a 13-year old, and I can't wait to see what she does with all that goodness when she grows up.
But how do I reconcile those two things? How do I think the world is not even going to make it much longer, and even if it does, it's going to be a horrible, ugly, unpleasant place to live...while contemplating what my child is going to be and how she will contribute positively?
I think it comes from knowing that my kid is a bright sun in a dark world, and that her light will be strong enough to keep at least a teeny part of the world illuminated. It comes from faith in good triumphing over evil, even if the struggle between the two takes a long time. It comes from looking into her face and seeing innocence and wonder, and knowing that there are millions of other kids out there with the same innocence and wonder, and in turn, knowing that those children are the bright lights in their parents' hearts.
Somehow, I still find hope.
And yet.
I have my daughter. She is a shining light in the world. She is smart, incredibly kind, loving, and thoughtful. When I think about her, I think about all the wonderful things I know she will accomplish. Right now she legit wants to be a rocket scientist, and she is capable of that. Sometimes I think she will be a lawyer, and sometimes I think she will be a doctor. And sometimes I think she will join the peace corps and help refugees. She has so much in her that is good and wise, especially for a 13-year old, and I can't wait to see what she does with all that goodness when she grows up.
But how do I reconcile those two things? How do I think the world is not even going to make it much longer, and even if it does, it's going to be a horrible, ugly, unpleasant place to live...while contemplating what my child is going to be and how she will contribute positively?
I think it comes from knowing that my kid is a bright sun in a dark world, and that her light will be strong enough to keep at least a teeny part of the world illuminated. It comes from faith in good triumphing over evil, even if the struggle between the two takes a long time. It comes from looking into her face and seeing innocence and wonder, and knowing that there are millions of other kids out there with the same innocence and wonder, and in turn, knowing that those children are the bright lights in their parents' hearts.
Somehow, I still find hope.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
I Am Angry
I was going to write a long screed on divorce and children from a logical and thoughtful perspective, but I just can't do that today. Maybe on another day, but not today.
Today I am angry. I am angry that one parent can go to court and sully the reputation of the other parent in order to deny him equal custody of their child. I am angry that a schedule that was working so well for the child is now disrupted because of the evilness and vindictiveness of one parent. I am angry that a mother would use her child as a weapon and a pawn. I am angry that one parent would withhold time with the child from the other parent as a punishment. I am angry that a good father is now being denied his due time with his daughter.
As a feminist, I never believed that the system was rigged against fathers. I honestly thought that when mothers got full custody, there were good reasons for it. It wasn't just that women were thought to be caregivers and men weren't - there had to be more to the story that we didn't know about. And now, I can honestly say that that's bullshit. This judge took everything the mother said at face value, no real evidence, no real proof, and took a child from her father. She even said, "you were married for 10 years, the wife would know best."
My heart is breaking for both the dad and the child. He is devastated and doesn't know how he is going to go on. He can't bear to think of seeing his child every other weekend when he had her for a week at a time and got to do homework with her, cook her dinner, put her to bed...all the things a dad wants to be able to do for his daughter. And she is going to miss out on spending all that time with this fun-loving guy who worships the ground his daughter walks on and would do anything for her. As a mom of a daughter (and a daughter of a father), I know just how important fathers are to their daughters. They are the first man we love, and if there is no first man around during your formative years...what do you learn? That men aren't there for you? That men desert you? That men don't care? WHY would any woman want her daughter to have that influence if they didn't have to? WHY would any woman deny her child the right to see her father when he has done nothing to deserve this?
Right now, I am just fucking angry and I have no outlet for my anger. It's so hard to believe that someone you once loved enough to stand up in front of your family and friends and declare that love for could do something so heinous and cruel. I can't help but wonder if the woman is happy. Is she pleased with herself? Does she feel successful? Is she high-fiving her dirtbag lawyer on the way they stole a child from her father today?
Today, I am angry. And I feel helpless that there is nothing I can do to help fix the situation. I am angry at myself for not being even more forceful that he use a serious lawyer on this. I am angry at myself for ever considering this woman a friend and for inviting her into my family and into my circle of friends and into my heart. I am just angry. And I feel like the anger will dissipate with time and just become deep-rooted sadness that will stay with me forever.
Today I am angry. I am angry that one parent can go to court and sully the reputation of the other parent in order to deny him equal custody of their child. I am angry that a schedule that was working so well for the child is now disrupted because of the evilness and vindictiveness of one parent. I am angry that a mother would use her child as a weapon and a pawn. I am angry that one parent would withhold time with the child from the other parent as a punishment. I am angry that a good father is now being denied his due time with his daughter.
As a feminist, I never believed that the system was rigged against fathers. I honestly thought that when mothers got full custody, there were good reasons for it. It wasn't just that women were thought to be caregivers and men weren't - there had to be more to the story that we didn't know about. And now, I can honestly say that that's bullshit. This judge took everything the mother said at face value, no real evidence, no real proof, and took a child from her father. She even said, "you were married for 10 years, the wife would know best."
My heart is breaking for both the dad and the child. He is devastated and doesn't know how he is going to go on. He can't bear to think of seeing his child every other weekend when he had her for a week at a time and got to do homework with her, cook her dinner, put her to bed...all the things a dad wants to be able to do for his daughter. And she is going to miss out on spending all that time with this fun-loving guy who worships the ground his daughter walks on and would do anything for her. As a mom of a daughter (and a daughter of a father), I know just how important fathers are to their daughters. They are the first man we love, and if there is no first man around during your formative years...what do you learn? That men aren't there for you? That men desert you? That men don't care? WHY would any woman want her daughter to have that influence if they didn't have to? WHY would any woman deny her child the right to see her father when he has done nothing to deserve this?
Right now, I am just fucking angry and I have no outlet for my anger. It's so hard to believe that someone you once loved enough to stand up in front of your family and friends and declare that love for could do something so heinous and cruel. I can't help but wonder if the woman is happy. Is she pleased with herself? Does she feel successful? Is she high-fiving her dirtbag lawyer on the way they stole a child from her father today?
Today, I am angry. And I feel helpless that there is nothing I can do to help fix the situation. I am angry at myself for not being even more forceful that he use a serious lawyer on this. I am angry at myself for ever considering this woman a friend and for inviting her into my family and into my circle of friends and into my heart. I am just angry. And I feel like the anger will dissipate with time and just become deep-rooted sadness that will stay with me forever.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Commitments
I think one of the most important things you do as a parent is prepare them for life outside of your home. Real life. Life at work, with friends, with a future partner. Life when it's great and life when it's hard and dark and painful. You teach them their value so they accept no less than the best from their friends and lovers. You teach them respect so they treat others well and expect the same in return. You teach them sticktoittiveness so they learn perseverance and stamina and ability to work through the hard times to get back to the good times.
These are hard lessons to teach kids sometimes. It's so much easier to let them make their every decision in a way that makes them happy at the moment. They don't really understand the hard decisions most of the time, and they think you are being mean by not just letting them get what they want. Instant gratification is okay for tweens, but adults who can't see past the moment at hand are bad employees, selfish friends, and terrible husbands/wives. And the whole job of parenting, in my opinion, is raising solid, happy, productive adults...not overgrown children.
Recently, this has come to a head with one of TJK's friends. It's an ongoing issue and it has come up repeatedly over the years, but now it's becoming a real problem. TJK and her friend are in a 3 week camp together. There was talk of carpooling for drop off and pickup and of all the great aftercare classes offered in this camp.The girls were looking forward to it.
We are now on day four of camp. TJK's friend has not gone to aftercare once, despite her mom telling me that she was going to go every day for at least the first week to see which classes she wanted to take. TJK is disappointed, but she is fine. She has made other friends and is loving aftercare. I am annoyed that I have to do drop off and pick up every day instead of splitting it as I'd hoped, but I'll get over it. No biggie.
The bigger issue to me is the way this kid is allowed to do whatever she wants. She committed to this with my daughter, with me, with her mom - not to mention that her mom paid for it and isn't attending! - and she has been allowed to skip it every day because she feels like it. What lesson is this teaching your child?
A couple of years ago, the girls went to another camp together (again, we were supposed to carpool...). On day one, they walked to a park for lunch and there was a homeless man there, sitting on a park bench. Not for nothing, but this is not unheard of, and if you live in the greater NYC area, it's something you get used to seeing. The man didn't approach or talk to or interact with the kids at all - just sat on the bench. Well, this child was so freaked out on day one that she did not return to camp. At all. Her mother allowed her to bail because she was uncomfortable at a park with a group of 20 kids and several counselors and one homeless man. She allowed her to ditch camp completely, leaving TJK and me in a lurch.
Even this past weekend, we had plans to go away with girl and her mom (we are good friends with them, honestly, and I do love the mom). We bought tickets to an event, made hotel reservations, laid out our plan of attack for the drive and our time away. They did go with us, but at one point the mom said to me, "I was so afraid she was going to get up this morning and say she was too tired to go and we would have to cancel."
WHAT.
If TJK got up and said she was too tired, I would tell her to take a nap in the car because we have plans and money had already been spent. It would never occur to me that I should cancel or rearrange our plans because of what TJK wants or doesn't want at that moment. She is involved in the decision-making process, but once she commits, she is committed.
I get that it's easier to allow your kids to run the show, and that it's not fun when you have to say no and they get mad at you. It's hard to have the center of your universe angry with you and think you are mean and, even worse, not cool. But that's parenting. It's not easy.
I feel badly for TJK, who had these three weeks of camp planned out with her friend and now has to rearrange and reset her expectations. She asked me if she, too, could skip aftercare because her friend was skipping. I told her no. She committed to going and she is going to go. And she was not happy with me and I can live with that. I know that her being miserable today is teaching her something valuable: that you stand by what you say and you do what you said you were going to do. In a few years, I know these lessons will pay off. And I am afraid that her friend will be left expecting the world to curve to her will and not knowing how to cope when it refuses to.
These are hard lessons to teach kids sometimes. It's so much easier to let them make their every decision in a way that makes them happy at the moment. They don't really understand the hard decisions most of the time, and they think you are being mean by not just letting them get what they want. Instant gratification is okay for tweens, but adults who can't see past the moment at hand are bad employees, selfish friends, and terrible husbands/wives. And the whole job of parenting, in my opinion, is raising solid, happy, productive adults...not overgrown children.
Recently, this has come to a head with one of TJK's friends. It's an ongoing issue and it has come up repeatedly over the years, but now it's becoming a real problem. TJK and her friend are in a 3 week camp together. There was talk of carpooling for drop off and pickup and of all the great aftercare classes offered in this camp.The girls were looking forward to it.
We are now on day four of camp. TJK's friend has not gone to aftercare once, despite her mom telling me that she was going to go every day for at least the first week to see which classes she wanted to take. TJK is disappointed, but she is fine. She has made other friends and is loving aftercare. I am annoyed that I have to do drop off and pick up every day instead of splitting it as I'd hoped, but I'll get over it. No biggie.
The bigger issue to me is the way this kid is allowed to do whatever she wants. She committed to this with my daughter, with me, with her mom - not to mention that her mom paid for it and isn't attending! - and she has been allowed to skip it every day because she feels like it. What lesson is this teaching your child?
A couple of years ago, the girls went to another camp together (again, we were supposed to carpool...). On day one, they walked to a park for lunch and there was a homeless man there, sitting on a park bench. Not for nothing, but this is not unheard of, and if you live in the greater NYC area, it's something you get used to seeing. The man didn't approach or talk to or interact with the kids at all - just sat on the bench. Well, this child was so freaked out on day one that she did not return to camp. At all. Her mother allowed her to bail because she was uncomfortable at a park with a group of 20 kids and several counselors and one homeless man. She allowed her to ditch camp completely, leaving TJK and me in a lurch.
Even this past weekend, we had plans to go away with girl and her mom (we are good friends with them, honestly, and I do love the mom). We bought tickets to an event, made hotel reservations, laid out our plan of attack for the drive and our time away. They did go with us, but at one point the mom said to me, "I was so afraid she was going to get up this morning and say she was too tired to go and we would have to cancel."
WHAT.
If TJK got up and said she was too tired, I would tell her to take a nap in the car because we have plans and money had already been spent. It would never occur to me that I should cancel or rearrange our plans because of what TJK wants or doesn't want at that moment. She is involved in the decision-making process, but once she commits, she is committed.
I get that it's easier to allow your kids to run the show, and that it's not fun when you have to say no and they get mad at you. It's hard to have the center of your universe angry with you and think you are mean and, even worse, not cool. But that's parenting. It's not easy.
I feel badly for TJK, who had these three weeks of camp planned out with her friend and now has to rearrange and reset her expectations. She asked me if she, too, could skip aftercare because her friend was skipping. I told her no. She committed to going and she is going to go. And she was not happy with me and I can live with that. I know that her being miserable today is teaching her something valuable: that you stand by what you say and you do what you said you were going to do. In a few years, I know these lessons will pay off. And I am afraid that her friend will be left expecting the world to curve to her will and not knowing how to cope when it refuses to.
Thursday, January 07, 2016
Family
There's something special about my family. I'm sure everyone's family is special in it's own way, but over the past few months/years, I have been appreciating my family more and more and I feel like I need to articulate it. I'm going to use yesterday as a perfect example.
During the day, I skyped with my cousin (let's call him Dblg). He's going through some stuff, and he comes to me for advice and a laugh. I adore the fact that we are more like brother and sister than cousins. We have a fantastic bond and we talk almost every day, and he comes up to visit me more often than he visits his mom. I also texted with my cousin Princsvspa. In my Monumental Closet Purge of 2016, I have come across some shoes I think she'd like so we talked for a while about shoes and makeup and fashion. Like girlfriends do. There was also a group text between three cousins, my husband, and me, which was full of laughs and memes and sarcasm (that's what we do best).
Yesterday evening, I got a text (a longgggg text) from an aunt of mine. She was pretty upset about something and texted me to vent about it. We texted back and forth for a good while, as I would do with my friends. This is the same aunt who I spent a good chunk of time gossiping with on Christmas Day. And finally, when I got home from work there was a package waiting, addressed to TJK from another aunt. TJK opened it, and inside was an autographed book that my aunt thought she would like. TJK called her immediately and it was really just a lovely moment and they had such a fun conversation on the phone. It all fills me with happiness.
For most people I know, their immediate family is their priority and beyond that, it's only holidays for the rest of the fam. Or, their friends outrank all family, all the time. For me, I feel so lucky to have these great people on my side. I mean, my one uncle calls me out of the blue, fairly often, just to say "Hey you, what's going on, I miss you and I love you!" How great does that feel? And I have another uncle who is a little cold and hard to know, but even he has warmed up recently. In a conversation with this uncle and some cousins, Dblg kept using the word "pussy" to refer to someone who was weak. I called him out on it an explained why (feminist shit, right there). This uncle looked me right in the face and said, "Wow, I never considered it that way. I never thought of the meaning of it. You've made me think." And for him to stop and consider what I was saying....this was a huge moment for him, and it meant something to me. He acknowledged me as a person, as an equal, and that made us closer.
Last July when we were in London, two aunts and an uncle were traveling through Scotland and England as well. We made a point to meet up at a pub near Trafalgar Square and spent several hours having drinks and talking and laughing. Then we helped them learn the Tube (took them to the kiosk to buy passes and read the map with them and walked them to their train), and that was an adventure. How awesome to have family members who I'd actually seek out in another country just so we could hang out and talk, the same as we do in the US.
I guess my point is that I feel really lucky to have these people in my life. I don't see them as a burden or an annoyance or as people I "have" to see over the holidays. I see them as friends - nearly every cousin and nearly every aunt and uncle. I feel truly lucky.
During the day, I skyped with my cousin (let's call him Dblg). He's going through some stuff, and he comes to me for advice and a laugh. I adore the fact that we are more like brother and sister than cousins. We have a fantastic bond and we talk almost every day, and he comes up to visit me more often than he visits his mom. I also texted with my cousin Princsvspa. In my Monumental Closet Purge of 2016, I have come across some shoes I think she'd like so we talked for a while about shoes and makeup and fashion. Like girlfriends do. There was also a group text between three cousins, my husband, and me, which was full of laughs and memes and sarcasm (that's what we do best).
Yesterday evening, I got a text (a longgggg text) from an aunt of mine. She was pretty upset about something and texted me to vent about it. We texted back and forth for a good while, as I would do with my friends. This is the same aunt who I spent a good chunk of time gossiping with on Christmas Day. And finally, when I got home from work there was a package waiting, addressed to TJK from another aunt. TJK opened it, and inside was an autographed book that my aunt thought she would like. TJK called her immediately and it was really just a lovely moment and they had such a fun conversation on the phone. It all fills me with happiness.
For most people I know, their immediate family is their priority and beyond that, it's only holidays for the rest of the fam. Or, their friends outrank all family, all the time. For me, I feel so lucky to have these great people on my side. I mean, my one uncle calls me out of the blue, fairly often, just to say "Hey you, what's going on, I miss you and I love you!" How great does that feel? And I have another uncle who is a little cold and hard to know, but even he has warmed up recently. In a conversation with this uncle and some cousins, Dblg kept using the word "pussy" to refer to someone who was weak. I called him out on it an explained why (feminist shit, right there). This uncle looked me right in the face and said, "Wow, I never considered it that way. I never thought of the meaning of it. You've made me think." And for him to stop and consider what I was saying....this was a huge moment for him, and it meant something to me. He acknowledged me as a person, as an equal, and that made us closer.
Last July when we were in London, two aunts and an uncle were traveling through Scotland and England as well. We made a point to meet up at a pub near Trafalgar Square and spent several hours having drinks and talking and laughing. Then we helped them learn the Tube (took them to the kiosk to buy passes and read the map with them and walked them to their train), and that was an adventure. How awesome to have family members who I'd actually seek out in another country just so we could hang out and talk, the same as we do in the US.
I guess my point is that I feel really lucky to have these people in my life. I don't see them as a burden or an annoyance or as people I "have" to see over the holidays. I see them as friends - nearly every cousin and nearly every aunt and uncle. I feel truly lucky.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Holly Jolly Christmas
Another Christmas has passed us by, and it was lovely. On Christmas Eve, we went to dinner with friends and then got into our jammies and played poker till close to midnight. Then our friends went home and Hubby and I opened our gifts to each other (while TJK looked on). Can you say Rebecca Minckoff and jackelopes and jewelry? I sure can :)
On Christmas morning, TJK opened her presents and was in heaven with all the Star Wars and American Girl Doll stuff. There was no hoverboard to be found - I think we will wait till they stop catching on fire and exploding before dipping into that pool. We then went to my parents' house with the aunts and uncles and cousins, and it was really nice. I always feel so lucky when I'm with my family. Not only am I super-close with my cousins of all ages (from the 4 year old to the 25 year old to the ones closer to my age), but I'm also lucky enough to consider my aunts and uncles as my friends, too. I spent about half an hour hanging out with one of my aunts on the porch, just gossiping and talking and having a few drinks. Couldn't love it more.
The day after Christmas, we finally made our way into NYC for the day. We usually go in one Sunday before Christmas to do the traditional holiday stuff, but this year was just too crazy. So we went in afterwards, and saw the tree and the store windows (always love Bergdorf's the best) and had dinner at Lasagna, one of our favorite restaurants. Hubby even bought me a belated gift of jewelry on 5th Ave. The best thing we did, though, was to take a quick detour upon arriving in the city to go down by the World Trade Center. I have yet to go up in the new building - it's still too soon for me, and I know I will just bawl and bawl. But across the street is a mall which had a light installation which was so amazing.
You put both hands on the lighted block and it changes color repeatedly. You make a wish and then let go of the block. The color from the block goes up to the lighted blocks on the ceiling and then your color spreads from where you are standing to the back of the space, as if your wish was spreading from your heart out to the world. TJK and I decided we loved this more than the Rock Center tree and the windows. It was just so beautiful and peaceful and wonderful to watch.
Then, on Sunday, we went down to Manasquan to visit with family again. This time, it was with cousins from Scotland who are here for Christmas and New Year's in NYC. There were probably 20 of us all together in my cousin's beautiful home, and we had such a nice time. The Scotland cousins are so friendly and talkative and interesting. It was cool to hear the stories of my grandparents and great grandparents from back in the day. I learned that my grandmother actually lived in Scotland for about 4 years as a child!
Now, I'm back at work and exhausted as hell. When we have these weekends that are non-stop and sleep-free, I dread them. Then when I'm in it, I love it...because I love to be busy and I love having experiences, whatever they may be. And then the next day, I am tired and have a headache and could fall asleep at my desk, but I don't regret a single moment of it (except maybe the insane stand-still crowd trying to get to the tree in front of Saks. Disastrous.).
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| Besties on Christmas Eve |
On Christmas morning, TJK opened her presents and was in heaven with all the Star Wars and American Girl Doll stuff. There was no hoverboard to be found - I think we will wait till they stop catching on fire and exploding before dipping into that pool. We then went to my parents' house with the aunts and uncles and cousins, and it was really nice. I always feel so lucky when I'm with my family. Not only am I super-close with my cousins of all ages (from the 4 year old to the 25 year old to the ones closer to my age), but I'm also lucky enough to consider my aunts and uncles as my friends, too. I spent about half an hour hanging out with one of my aunts on the porch, just gossiping and talking and having a few drinks. Couldn't love it more.
The day after Christmas, we finally made our way into NYC for the day. We usually go in one Sunday before Christmas to do the traditional holiday stuff, but this year was just too crazy. So we went in afterwards, and saw the tree and the store windows (always love Bergdorf's the best) and had dinner at Lasagna, one of our favorite restaurants. Hubby even bought me a belated gift of jewelry on 5th Ave. The best thing we did, though, was to take a quick detour upon arriving in the city to go down by the World Trade Center. I have yet to go up in the new building - it's still too soon for me, and I know I will just bawl and bawl. But across the street is a mall which had a light installation which was so amazing.
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| Beautiful light installation at Brookfield Place, Battery Park, NYC |
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| My daughter and two goddaughters. |
Now, I'm back at work and exhausted as hell. When we have these weekends that are non-stop and sleep-free, I dread them. Then when I'm in it, I love it...because I love to be busy and I love having experiences, whatever they may be. And then the next day, I am tired and have a headache and could fall asleep at my desk, but I don't regret a single moment of it (except maybe the insane stand-still crowd trying to get to the tree in front of Saks. Disastrous.).
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
A BearWolf Attacked Us in Asheville
I am petrified of nature. Like, I hate and am afraid of 98% of everything the outdoors has to offer. I don't like bugs or wild animals or dirt or walking on dirt with bugs flying at me and the threat of wild animals attacking at every turn. It's just not my thing. I am a city girl through and through. But about a year ago, my husband and I went to Denver and took a side trip to Rocky Mountain National Park. We stayed just outside the park in a lovely little town called Estes Park, in a lovely little cabin surrounded by woods and a creek and real live elk. Of course, the cabin was luxe and had all the amenities I could ever want, but I did enjoy that cabin in the woods. I even enjoyed watching the elk as it was mating season and the dynamics were fascinating. The male was in charge, sure, and he would bellow to keep his harem in line. But then you'd see one female roll her eyes at him and another female would be like, hell yeah, I'm eye rolling too, this guy is just too much. And they would stand up and walk away. He'd yell and yell but they'd just keep walking and there was nothing he could do. I mean, he still had like 50 more ladies in his crew so he wasn't suffering, but it was kind of empowering to see the ladies say, I've had enough of your yelling and I'm out.
When it was time to pick a place to stay in Asheville, we looked in the city itself at some of the more upscale hotels, and we also looked in the mountains for a pretty, remote place to stay. I agreed to stay in the mountains (in a 3 bedroom cabin with a wall of windows overlooking the view, 2 hot tubs, 3 full bathrooms, a flat screen tv over the fireplace, and a game room with a pool table...so trust me, we were not roughing it) because I had a good experience in the Rockies so I was willing to try it again.
To jump to the end of the story - I loved the cabin, I loved the woods, I loved the whole experience of coming back there at night and sitting in front of the fireplace under blankets with my family and watching a movie, and waking up in the morning to a house filled with natural light and a view of utter gorgeousness. It was really delightful. But back to the beginning of the story...
We got to the cabin at about 11pm, and it was dark as hell up there. This cabin was wayyyy up on the mountain, and only part of the road was paved. So for about 25 minutes of the 40 minute drive up, we were on a one lane, unpaved, edge-of-cliff road. In the pitch black dark. This was the route on the GPS, to show you how windy and remote this road was:
We get to the cabin and need a flashlight to get from the car to the front door. It is that dark. I can't see if a bear or deer or mountain lion is about to eat me, and I am petrified. The front door has a light on, which is great, except that since it is the only light for miles, it has attracted every moth in Western North Carolina (WNC, they call it. The people call it that, not the moths. I was too afraid of the moths to ask them what they call it.). We fight the moths off and get into the cabin. Whew, it's really nice and the internet didn't lie when it said this was a great place to stay. We check out all the rooms, and I check every pocket of space for squatters who could be holed up there for the winter and find none, so I'm happy. Yep, I'm that brand of crazy.
I go into the bedroom to change into my jammies and I hear Hubby and TJK's voices raise a bit. I listen carefully through the wall and hear them talking about some kind of bug in the kitchen. I try not to freak out - I mean, we have bugs in NJ too and you can just throw your shoe at them and it's all good. Or you can be like TJK and usher them gently out the window or door so they can go haunt someone else's life. Anyway, I start to come out of the bedroom and TJK comes running in and tells me not to come out.
"You don't want to see what's out there, Mommy. You won't like it."
"What is it? What kind of bug?"
"It's a spider but not the normal kind, it's like the kind you see in books."
"How big is it? Like scary big?"
She nods. "Yeah, its like this big," and she puts her forefingers and thumbs together to make the biggest circle I've ever seen.
"You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not. I came in here to stop you from seeing it because I know you will freak out, but if you don't believe me, go look for yourself."
"No thank you, I have chosen to believe you and will stay in this room. Is Daddy killing it?"
"Daddy says it's too big to smoosh and he doesn't know what to do with it. If he tries to hit it and misses it might jump on him and bite him and he'll die of poisoning. So he is going to trap it under something and then figure it out. I need to go help him, bye," and with that she left me alone to imagine myself covered in bugs and scratching myself like crazy,
So eventually, they got the thing under a glass, onto a plate, and flung him off the deck into the woods. Of course, I couldn't sleep all night because I was sure he was angry and had made his way back into the house to eat my face while I was sleeping. Thankfully this did not happen and I still have my face.
The next morning, the cabin was filled with light and the view was stunning. We could see the mountains in the distance, the changing leaves on the trees, and no one else around for miles. As long as I didn't remind myself that if I was murdered up there, no one would hear me scream or find my body, I was truly in heaven. TJK and I went out on the deck and just stood in awe of the beauty of the scenery, and then talked about whether we could live in a place like this if hand-sized spiders didn't exist.
All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I see a huge beast making its way towards us. It wasn't lumbering, as you would have expected of a bear that was going to eat you, but it was more barreling towards us like a big fuzzy freight train with an appetite for human flesh. We both screamed bloody murder and I grabbed her and ran into the house, trying to shut the door before the animal could make a solid breakfast out of us. Then I see Hubby's face - rolling his eyes and laughing at us from inside the glass doors, and I can't imagine why he thinks it is funny that we just barely escaped being murdered.
TJK and I turn back to see the beast we have just escaped, only to find that it was not a bear at all, but a big, fluffy dog that has now rolled over on her back so we can rub her belly. My heart is still racing and I start laughing, and TJK yells at the mutt, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE A WOLF! THAT WAS MEAN!"
We pet the dog for some time and fell in love with her. We found out from her tags that her name was, in fact, Bear. So I was kind of right that a Bear tried to eat us except that instead of "eating us" she "forced us to pet her by being cute." Same, same. And also, she has one brown eye and one light blue eye, which means she was really part wolf or at least part Siberian Husky so TJK says, same, same.
We didn't see any wildlife after that - not a squirrel, nor a chipmunk, nor bear nor wolf nor tarantula. The only wildlife we saw were birds, and me drinking a lot of beer and dancing a bit. Which is the only kind of wildlife I really like: myself.
All in all, I did love the cabin and I loved Bear and I loved the mountain and I did not love the spider but I got over it mostly. And I can't wait to go back.
When it was time to pick a place to stay in Asheville, we looked in the city itself at some of the more upscale hotels, and we also looked in the mountains for a pretty, remote place to stay. I agreed to stay in the mountains (in a 3 bedroom cabin with a wall of windows overlooking the view, 2 hot tubs, 3 full bathrooms, a flat screen tv over the fireplace, and a game room with a pool table...so trust me, we were not roughing it) because I had a good experience in the Rockies so I was willing to try it again.
To jump to the end of the story - I loved the cabin, I loved the woods, I loved the whole experience of coming back there at night and sitting in front of the fireplace under blankets with my family and watching a movie, and waking up in the morning to a house filled with natural light and a view of utter gorgeousness. It was really delightful. But back to the beginning of the story...
We got to the cabin at about 11pm, and it was dark as hell up there. This cabin was wayyyy up on the mountain, and only part of the road was paved. So for about 25 minutes of the 40 minute drive up, we were on a one lane, unpaved, edge-of-cliff road. In the pitch black dark. This was the route on the GPS, to show you how windy and remote this road was:
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| Who creates roads that curves and twist and jackknife like this? Mountain people, that's who, to torture city folk. |
I go into the bedroom to change into my jammies and I hear Hubby and TJK's voices raise a bit. I listen carefully through the wall and hear them talking about some kind of bug in the kitchen. I try not to freak out - I mean, we have bugs in NJ too and you can just throw your shoe at them and it's all good. Or you can be like TJK and usher them gently out the window or door so they can go haunt someone else's life. Anyway, I start to come out of the bedroom and TJK comes running in and tells me not to come out.
"You don't want to see what's out there, Mommy. You won't like it."
"What is it? What kind of bug?"
"It's a spider but not the normal kind, it's like the kind you see in books."
"How big is it? Like scary big?"
She nods. "Yeah, its like this big," and she puts her forefingers and thumbs together to make the biggest circle I've ever seen.
"You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not. I came in here to stop you from seeing it because I know you will freak out, but if you don't believe me, go look for yourself."
"No thank you, I have chosen to believe you and will stay in this room. Is Daddy killing it?"
"Daddy says it's too big to smoosh and he doesn't know what to do with it. If he tries to hit it and misses it might jump on him and bite him and he'll die of poisoning. So he is going to trap it under something and then figure it out. I need to go help him, bye," and with that she left me alone to imagine myself covered in bugs and scratching myself like crazy,
So eventually, they got the thing under a glass, onto a plate, and flung him off the deck into the woods. Of course, I couldn't sleep all night because I was sure he was angry and had made his way back into the house to eat my face while I was sleeping. Thankfully this did not happen and I still have my face.
The next morning, the cabin was filled with light and the view was stunning. We could see the mountains in the distance, the changing leaves on the trees, and no one else around for miles. As long as I didn't remind myself that if I was murdered up there, no one would hear me scream or find my body, I was truly in heaven. TJK and I went out on the deck and just stood in awe of the beauty of the scenery, and then talked about whether we could live in a place like this if hand-sized spiders didn't exist.
All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I see a huge beast making its way towards us. It wasn't lumbering, as you would have expected of a bear that was going to eat you, but it was more barreling towards us like a big fuzzy freight train with an appetite for human flesh. We both screamed bloody murder and I grabbed her and ran into the house, trying to shut the door before the animal could make a solid breakfast out of us. Then I see Hubby's face - rolling his eyes and laughing at us from inside the glass doors, and I can't imagine why he thinks it is funny that we just barely escaped being murdered.
TJK and I turn back to see the beast we have just escaped, only to find that it was not a bear at all, but a big, fluffy dog that has now rolled over on her back so we can rub her belly. My heart is still racing and I start laughing, and TJK yells at the mutt, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE A WOLF! THAT WAS MEAN!"
 |
| The picture is facing this way because she was legit just laying on her back the whole time begging to be massaged. She looks like neither bear nor wolf, in reality. |
We didn't see any wildlife after that - not a squirrel, nor a chipmunk, nor bear nor wolf nor tarantula. The only wildlife we saw were birds, and me drinking a lot of beer and dancing a bit. Which is the only kind of wildlife I really like: myself.
All in all, I did love the cabin and I loved Bear and I loved the mountain and I did not love the spider but I got over it mostly. And I can't wait to go back.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
A PostScript to Yesterday's Post
It's become even clearer to me that my kid takes after me.
Without going into all the details, she sucks at homework. She is smart as a whip and tests way above her grade level (she tests at the high school level in math and english) but can't seem to get her homework or projects done. THIS IS ME, 100%.
I was forever getting the comment "does not work up to her potential" on my report cards, because while they knew I was smart, school was not my priority. My friends were. Boys were. Music and good times were. It's the same with TJK. So smart but doesn't care all that much about the work. She wants good grades, but I think that's more to please us than herself. Grammar School TJK is Grammar School TJG.
I don't get the comparisons with my sister, who was very focused on her grades, always did her assignments, always studied, always did well. And I think that's what annoys me. My parents see my kid as smart so she's like my sister. Can they not see that it might be offensive to me that they attribute my kid's smarts to her aunt instead of her mom?
Next time this comes up, I'm addressing it. Because obviously, it's bothering me more than it should.
Without going into all the details, she sucks at homework. She is smart as a whip and tests way above her grade level (she tests at the high school level in math and english) but can't seem to get her homework or projects done. THIS IS ME, 100%.
I was forever getting the comment "does not work up to her potential" on my report cards, because while they knew I was smart, school was not my priority. My friends were. Boys were. Music and good times were. It's the same with TJK. So smart but doesn't care all that much about the work. She wants good grades, but I think that's more to please us than herself. Grammar School TJK is Grammar School TJG.
I don't get the comparisons with my sister, who was very focused on her grades, always did her assignments, always studied, always did well. And I think that's what annoys me. My parents see my kid as smart so she's like my sister. Can they not see that it might be offensive to me that they attribute my kid's smarts to her aunt instead of her mom?
Next time this comes up, I'm addressing it. Because obviously, it's bothering me more than it should.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Pretty Smart
I'm pretty much using this as a place to vent about things that annoy me, so here's the next one on my list.
My kid is really awesome. Everyone says so, and not just the people who *have* to say so. She happens to be really, really smart and impresses us regularly with her intelligence.
I happen to be pretty smart as well. I didn't get good grades in high school because A) I was lazy about school work and B) boys. But I was always smart, and when I went to college, I got great grades. I've proven my intelligence through my career and through the fact that I can have an intelligent conversation about just about anything.
Anyway, every time my daughter shows her smarts (getting good grades, making a logical point, fashioning an advanced argument for her position on something), my parents say "Oh, you take after Aunt K!" as if none of her intelligence could have possibly come from me.
This all goes pretty deep. Growing up, K was the smart one and I was the pretty one...even though I was smart too, and K was pretty, too. It did some damage to my sister and me - although I think more to her than to me - and my parents are aware that they screwed up by categorizing us this way. So now, to hear my parents comment on my daughter's intelligence and still make it a compliment on my sister's intelligence...it's really annoying.
I wonder if, as my niece grows up and is beautiful (which, of course she will!), will they say "Oh, she takes after her Aunt TJG!"???
My kid is really awesome. Everyone says so, and not just the people who *have* to say so. She happens to be really, really smart and impresses us regularly with her intelligence.
I happen to be pretty smart as well. I didn't get good grades in high school because A) I was lazy about school work and B) boys. But I was always smart, and when I went to college, I got great grades. I've proven my intelligence through my career and through the fact that I can have an intelligent conversation about just about anything.
Anyway, every time my daughter shows her smarts (getting good grades, making a logical point, fashioning an advanced argument for her position on something), my parents say "Oh, you take after Aunt K!" as if none of her intelligence could have possibly come from me.
This all goes pretty deep. Growing up, K was the smart one and I was the pretty one...even though I was smart too, and K was pretty, too. It did some damage to my sister and me - although I think more to her than to me - and my parents are aware that they screwed up by categorizing us this way. So now, to hear my parents comment on my daughter's intelligence and still make it a compliment on my sister's intelligence...it's really annoying.
I wonder if, as my niece grows up and is beautiful (which, of course she will!), will they say "Oh, she takes after her Aunt TJG!"???
Monday, October 19, 2015
Divorce's Casualties
Spent a great weekend with my cousin and his daughter. We went apple picking and to wineries for hard cider and to beer gardens and brewpubs and just all over upstate NY, wherever good times were to be had. I love weekends like this, out in the cool, crisp fall air, wearing my finest autumn clothes (camel-colored sweater with like-colored tall leather boots and, of course, a badass cape).
My cousin is divorced from his wife, with whom I used to be pretty close. We've traveled all over Europe together and also to the Dominican Republic, and I felt like we had a kinship. I felt like she was a long lost sister of mine, really.
I don't know what went wrong in their marriage, but when their relationship soured, so did mine and hers. I don't dislike her; I have no ill feelings towards her at all, really. Things didn't work out for them for whatever reason and that's too bad, but it happens.
The thing about me is that when something bad happens to someone I love, I close ranks. My cousin was very surprised and hurt by her instigation of the divorce, so I am all in for him. Ride or die. I only know his side of the story, and I'm well aware that she probably has a good reason for her actions. But she never reached out to me to talk or to explain or to get advice, and I didn't reach out to see how she was doing or what she felt or if she needed my shoulder. I guess that's what divorce breeds when it comes to families.
On weekends like this, I feel bad for her. I'm out with her daughter, watching her bond like crazy with my daughter, watching them develop what appears to be a lifelong friendship, and she is missing that. They smile and laugh and sing and run around together and it's just about the most precious thing I've ever seen.
My cousin and I both post the pictures on Facebook and I know she sees (we are still FB friends, although I'm not sure why). I put myself in her place, and I know I would just be overcome with the sadness of missing out on so much. And truth be told - I wish she were there. I wish it could be the 6 of us - two couples and our kids - out having a fun time together. In fact, my cousin was telling me how she told her mother "You should meet Sizzle and TrueJerseyGirl, they are so much fun!" and his wife had to say, "Yes, I know them, honey." More evidence that her kid is having all these good times and making memories without her. I don't know how you deal with that.
Divorce ends so many things, not just the marriage. It ends friendships, too. And that's really sad for all involved.
My cousin is divorced from his wife, with whom I used to be pretty close. We've traveled all over Europe together and also to the Dominican Republic, and I felt like we had a kinship. I felt like she was a long lost sister of mine, really.
I don't know what went wrong in their marriage, but when their relationship soured, so did mine and hers. I don't dislike her; I have no ill feelings towards her at all, really. Things didn't work out for them for whatever reason and that's too bad, but it happens.
The thing about me is that when something bad happens to someone I love, I close ranks. My cousin was very surprised and hurt by her instigation of the divorce, so I am all in for him. Ride or die. I only know his side of the story, and I'm well aware that she probably has a good reason for her actions. But she never reached out to me to talk or to explain or to get advice, and I didn't reach out to see how she was doing or what she felt or if she needed my shoulder. I guess that's what divorce breeds when it comes to families.
On weekends like this, I feel bad for her. I'm out with her daughter, watching her bond like crazy with my daughter, watching them develop what appears to be a lifelong friendship, and she is missing that. They smile and laugh and sing and run around together and it's just about the most precious thing I've ever seen.
 |
| Cousins/Godsisters under a perfect autumn sky. |
Divorce ends so many things, not just the marriage. It ends friendships, too. And that's really sad for all involved.
Friday, September 04, 2015
The Long Tale of Sir Street Gypsy Louis of Newark
I am having such a hard time.
Most of the day and night, I'm okay. I am a really busy person, so my mind doesn't get caught up in tangles of thought when I need to get stuff done. But I keep having these bursts of remembrance and it is just. so. hard.
People without pets just don't get it. Your dog dies and you move on. You just get another dog. It's not a person dying, after all.
But this was my baby.
--------------------------------
This was the puppy who, almost 16 years ago, I picked out from the Newark Shelter. The weekend after we closed on our house, I NEEDED A DOG. We went to a few places to look at rescues and finally ended up in Newark. Not a pleasant place, and definitely a kill-shelter. When we got there, they were bringing in a passel of pit bulls, one pregnant, and the woman at the desk gave the people holding the leashes the signal - hand across the throat. Put them down.
So when we walked among the cages, with the roar of cooped-up dogs surrounding us, I was looking for someone to save. My first love at the shelter was a 6-week-old German Shepherd. It was tiny and adorable and sick. But it couldn't be adopted for a few more weeks and I couldn't wait. So we kept looking.
We came upon a cage filled with 4 dogs. Three of them were big, and they were aggressively trying to get our attention. The fourth was under the mass of the other dogs, trying to check us out but getting nipped and pushed back at every turn. I made eye contact with the little guy, and that was that. He was mine. We had him taken out of the cage and he was shy and sweet and nervous. He was also full of scars from who-knows-what and he had gum stuck in his matted fur. He was my boy.
The tag on the cage said that he was a "Black Lab Mix" - which, I didn't realize, was code for a pit bull mutt. I just saw his sweet face and kind demeanor and I had to take him home.
My husband was not so sure. He did not grow up with a dog and thought we should get settled in the house for more than 2 days before bringing a dog home. I would hear nothing of it. We took him home that day, after a stop at Petco to have him groomed (he stank) and at my parents's house to show him off. My mom freaked out that I was bringing a pit bull into my house (and, despite her being totally in love with him, she still, to the end, had a hard time telling people he was a pittie).
We name him Gypsy, as we will not conform to your gendered name expectations. Boys are gypsies too, was my answer when people questioned his moniker. He was manly enough to deal with a girly name anyway, haters.
--------------------------------
Day one, day two, day three...all is well. He is not quite as manly as we had expected. He is sweet and all that, but he does not bark. He chirps. Like a bird. Our friends mock us for having the one and only chirping pit bull in the world. I street-fight them to defend Gypsy's honor.
Suddenly, he starts getting mean. I think he got comfortable. He realized he now has a nice house and all the food and treats and toys he can handle. He is not living on the rough and tumble Newark streets any longer. He comes out of his shell, and he is kind of a dick.
But he is only mean to me. Me, the one who saved him from sure death. Me, the one who catered to his every whim. Me, the one who took him running in the park. This dog was trying to eat my face. I didn't know what to do. My mom was in a panic - "you need to get rid of him! He is going to murder you in your sleep!" No. He is my baby and I said I was going to save him and that's exactly what I am going to do, whether I have a face left or not.
I got scared though. This was one strong dog. He was hard to fight off. I counted the minutes till my husband got home so he could control this dogmonster. Finally, I got a trainer, who taught me in 3.5 minutes that it was all my fault and that this was not an evil dog; I was just a bad human.
Dogs are pack animals, and Gypsy thought I was beneath him in the pack. I was basically too nice to him. When he wanted to sit on the couch, I'd move so he could have my spot. When he wanted a treat, I gave him 10. Once I stopped being a dog's doormat, my sweet puppy was back and he never left me after that.
Oh, and she also tried to teach him to walk on the leash, proclaiming it to be a simple thing. He never did learn that trick - he was always just so happy to be outside going for a walk that he didn't care if he walked in circles. He just wanted to be out there.
---------------------------------
For the next 15-and-some-odd years, he was my loyal companion. He was waiting at the window when I pulled up to the house. He sat outside the bathroom door and waited for me every time I peed. He curled up on the couch next to me and chilled. Now don't get me wrong. This was not a lovey-dovey kind of dog. He didn't cuddle. But he was a sweetheart and he loved us.
When True Jersey Kid was born, we were nervous about how he would be with her. I mean, he was a pit bull and they eat babies, right? My mom, in particular, was sure we were going to have to get rid of Gypsy because he was going to murder the baby's face. Well, TJK was born, we brought her home, Gypsy sniffed her and then went and laid down. Did not care about this alien in his house. And the truth was: When people told me that my dog might not get along with my baby, my answer was always that the baby would have to be the one to go because I knew and loved my puppy and this baby was a stranger. Luckily, that decision never had to be made.
---------------------------------
Gypsy loved to go the park and was horrendous on the leash. He would pull me around the park like I was a rag doll, and he would have that pit bull smile on while he did it. This terrified people and when they saw us coming, they would hide their little chi-chi dogs while he dragged me past them. He wouldn't have hurt a fly though. He truly just wanted to play with everyone - dog, cat, bird, human, whatever - and was very exuberant about it. His exuberance came off as aggression, which was really okay with me because no one messed with me when I was with him. His playful craziness came off as homicidal, and that kept me safe. So while he wasn't a protective dog, per se, he did protect me in his own way.
---------------------------------
I was walking Gypsy around the neighborhood when he was maybe 8 months old, just taking a stroll around my development. This man is sitting in his driveway on a lawn chair (do people do that everywhere or just the Italians in Jersey?) and he saw me coming and basically freaked out. Ran at me. Got on the ground. Had my dog all up on him and did not care. Then finally talked to me: Can you wait here a minute? I have to get my wife, she will love this dog so much. He looks like our dog who just passed away.
So this guy runs in the house and he and his wife bolt back out. She ignores me and rolls around on the sidewalk with Gyspy, who is totally cool with it. They tell me all about their dog, with tears in their eyes, and we kind of become besties. Then, a few weeks later, they come to a BBQ at my house. The guy pulls me aside and offers me $1000 for my dog. I look at him like he's insane, for several reasons:
---------------------------------
I am very protective of my dog, and I will not have him disparaged in any way.
So we start hanging out with Diddy, who is a co-worker of my husband's and also Patsy Darling's boyfriend. He is annoying when he drinks and we fight all the time (not any more, but we did back then).
I'm pouring tequila shots for us all and as we are doing the shots, of course Gypsy is right underfoot. Some tequila gets spilled on him. Diddy starts yelling that my dog is 50 Cent. He is all shot up.
I get furious because in my drunken state, I am assuming that because my dog is black and is from Newark, Diddy is calling him a thug. This becomes an ongoing joke, and Gypsy comes upon another of his nicknames: 50 Cent.
------------------------------------
We go to CT every year for Thanksgiving and 4th of July. In 2004, TJK was going up to CT for her first Thanksgiving. She was 11 months old. We leave Gypsy home, with a friend of ours staying at the house to watch him.
We get home on Sunday and of course, Gypsy bounds for the door when we get there and greets us as his long lost family (which we are). As soon as she sees him, TJK says her very first word: Gypsy. She pronounces it "Gypy" which becomes another of his nicknames.
My kid did not say Mama or Dada or No for her first word. She called her dog. For some strange reason, this was always a source of pride for me.
---------------------------------
There are a thousand stories I could tell about Gypsy Lou, and I may come back at times to add them when they come to mind.
This is a dog who was so loved. So loved that for the past 2+ years, he has been peeing in the house due to kidney disease, and we just cleaned up after him every day, sometimes multiple times a day. So loved that again due to kidney disease, he got up 2-3 times a night for the past several years and we had to get up with him and let him out (okay, so Hubby did most of that). So loved that even though he had been sick for a couple of years and wasn't himself and walked sideways and had several strokes...I couldn't let him go. I still saw a spark in him, that spark of a puppy who still wants to run and greet you even though his legs won't take him any more.
I can't talk yet about the whole process of saying good bye. I'm going to leave this here and just say that every word has been typed with tears in my eyes.
Miss and love you, LouLou.
Most of the day and night, I'm okay. I am a really busy person, so my mind doesn't get caught up in tangles of thought when I need to get stuff done. But I keep having these bursts of remembrance and it is just. so. hard.
People without pets just don't get it. Your dog dies and you move on. You just get another dog. It's not a person dying, after all.
But this was my baby.
--------------------------------
This was the puppy who, almost 16 years ago, I picked out from the Newark Shelter. The weekend after we closed on our house, I NEEDED A DOG. We went to a few places to look at rescues and finally ended up in Newark. Not a pleasant place, and definitely a kill-shelter. When we got there, they were bringing in a passel of pit bulls, one pregnant, and the woman at the desk gave the people holding the leashes the signal - hand across the throat. Put them down.
So when we walked among the cages, with the roar of cooped-up dogs surrounding us, I was looking for someone to save. My first love at the shelter was a 6-week-old German Shepherd. It was tiny and adorable and sick. But it couldn't be adopted for a few more weeks and I couldn't wait. So we kept looking.
We came upon a cage filled with 4 dogs. Three of them were big, and they were aggressively trying to get our attention. The fourth was under the mass of the other dogs, trying to check us out but getting nipped and pushed back at every turn. I made eye contact with the little guy, and that was that. He was mine. We had him taken out of the cage and he was shy and sweet and nervous. He was also full of scars from who-knows-what and he had gum stuck in his matted fur. He was my boy.
The tag on the cage said that he was a "Black Lab Mix" - which, I didn't realize, was code for a pit bull mutt. I just saw his sweet face and kind demeanor and I had to take him home.
My husband was not so sure. He did not grow up with a dog and thought we should get settled in the house for more than 2 days before bringing a dog home. I would hear nothing of it. We took him home that day, after a stop at Petco to have him groomed (he stank) and at my parents's house to show him off. My mom freaked out that I was bringing a pit bull into my house (and, despite her being totally in love with him, she still, to the end, had a hard time telling people he was a pittie).
We name him Gypsy, as we will not conform to your gendered name expectations. Boys are gypsies too, was my answer when people questioned his moniker. He was manly enough to deal with a girly name anyway, haters.
--------------------------------
Day one, day two, day three...all is well. He is not quite as manly as we had expected. He is sweet and all that, but he does not bark. He chirps. Like a bird. Our friends mock us for having the one and only chirping pit bull in the world. I street-fight them to defend Gypsy's honor.
Suddenly, he starts getting mean. I think he got comfortable. He realized he now has a nice house and all the food and treats and toys he can handle. He is not living on the rough and tumble Newark streets any longer. He comes out of his shell, and he is kind of a dick.
But he is only mean to me. Me, the one who saved him from sure death. Me, the one who catered to his every whim. Me, the one who took him running in the park. This dog was trying to eat my face. I didn't know what to do. My mom was in a panic - "you need to get rid of him! He is going to murder you in your sleep!" No. He is my baby and I said I was going to save him and that's exactly what I am going to do, whether I have a face left or not.
I got scared though. This was one strong dog. He was hard to fight off. I counted the minutes till my husband got home so he could control this dogmonster. Finally, I got a trainer, who taught me in 3.5 minutes that it was all my fault and that this was not an evil dog; I was just a bad human.
Dogs are pack animals, and Gypsy thought I was beneath him in the pack. I was basically too nice to him. When he wanted to sit on the couch, I'd move so he could have my spot. When he wanted a treat, I gave him 10. Once I stopped being a dog's doormat, my sweet puppy was back and he never left me after that.
Oh, and she also tried to teach him to walk on the leash, proclaiming it to be a simple thing. He never did learn that trick - he was always just so happy to be outside going for a walk that he didn't care if he walked in circles. He just wanted to be out there.
---------------------------------
For the next 15-and-some-odd years, he was my loyal companion. He was waiting at the window when I pulled up to the house. He sat outside the bathroom door and waited for me every time I peed. He curled up on the couch next to me and chilled. Now don't get me wrong. This was not a lovey-dovey kind of dog. He didn't cuddle. But he was a sweetheart and he loved us.
When True Jersey Kid was born, we were nervous about how he would be with her. I mean, he was a pit bull and they eat babies, right? My mom, in particular, was sure we were going to have to get rid of Gypsy because he was going to murder the baby's face. Well, TJK was born, we brought her home, Gypsy sniffed her and then went and laid down. Did not care about this alien in his house. And the truth was: When people told me that my dog might not get along with my baby, my answer was always that the baby would have to be the one to go because I knew and loved my puppy and this baby was a stranger. Luckily, that decision never had to be made.
---------------------------------
Gypsy loved to go the park and was horrendous on the leash. He would pull me around the park like I was a rag doll, and he would have that pit bull smile on while he did it. This terrified people and when they saw us coming, they would hide their little chi-chi dogs while he dragged me past them. He wouldn't have hurt a fly though. He truly just wanted to play with everyone - dog, cat, bird, human, whatever - and was very exuberant about it. His exuberance came off as aggression, which was really okay with me because no one messed with me when I was with him. His playful craziness came off as homicidal, and that kept me safe. So while he wasn't a protective dog, per se, he did protect me in his own way.
---------------------------------
I was walking Gypsy around the neighborhood when he was maybe 8 months old, just taking a stroll around my development. This man is sitting in his driveway on a lawn chair (do people do that everywhere or just the Italians in Jersey?) and he saw me coming and basically freaked out. Ran at me. Got on the ground. Had my dog all up on him and did not care. Then finally talked to me: Can you wait here a minute? I have to get my wife, she will love this dog so much. He looks like our dog who just passed away.
So this guy runs in the house and he and his wife bolt back out. She ignores me and rolls around on the sidewalk with Gyspy, who is totally cool with it. They tell me all about their dog, with tears in their eyes, and we kind of become besties. Then, a few weeks later, they come to a BBQ at my house. The guy pulls me aside and offers me $1000 for my dog. I look at him like he's insane, for several reasons:
- I paid $100 for this dog and got $50 back when I had him fixed. So this is a $50 street dog.
- You can go to the shelter on any given day and get a pit bull for $100 with a $50 rebate for fixing; why do you want to pay $1000 for mine?
- Um, you freak, this is my baby and you know that and do you think for one minute I would sell him to you for any amount?
---------------------------------
I am very protective of my dog, and I will not have him disparaged in any way.
So we start hanging out with Diddy, who is a co-worker of my husband's and also Patsy Darling's boyfriend. He is annoying when he drinks and we fight all the time (not any more, but we did back then).
I'm pouring tequila shots for us all and as we are doing the shots, of course Gypsy is right underfoot. Some tequila gets spilled on him. Diddy starts yelling that my dog is 50 Cent. He is all shot up.
I get furious because in my drunken state, I am assuming that because my dog is black and is from Newark, Diddy is calling him a thug. This becomes an ongoing joke, and Gypsy comes upon another of his nicknames: 50 Cent.
------------------------------------
We go to CT every year for Thanksgiving and 4th of July. In 2004, TJK was going up to CT for her first Thanksgiving. She was 11 months old. We leave Gypsy home, with a friend of ours staying at the house to watch him.
We get home on Sunday and of course, Gypsy bounds for the door when we get there and greets us as his long lost family (which we are). As soon as she sees him, TJK says her very first word: Gypsy. She pronounces it "Gypy" which becomes another of his nicknames.
My kid did not say Mama or Dada or No for her first word. She called her dog. For some strange reason, this was always a source of pride for me.
---------------------------------
There are a thousand stories I could tell about Gypsy Lou, and I may come back at times to add them when they come to mind.
This is a dog who was so loved. So loved that for the past 2+ years, he has been peeing in the house due to kidney disease, and we just cleaned up after him every day, sometimes multiple times a day. So loved that again due to kidney disease, he got up 2-3 times a night for the past several years and we had to get up with him and let him out (okay, so Hubby did most of that). So loved that even though he had been sick for a couple of years and wasn't himself and walked sideways and had several strokes...I couldn't let him go. I still saw a spark in him, that spark of a puppy who still wants to run and greet you even though his legs won't take him any more.
I can't talk yet about the whole process of saying good bye. I'm going to leave this here and just say that every word has been typed with tears in my eyes.
Miss and love you, LouLou.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Random Stuff in My Head
I leave for London a week from today and I feel so unprepared. I mostly have to figure out dogsitting for my beloved elderly pitbull and pack my suitcase. Packing is always dreadful for me because I have a system and I follow it, and then I throw everything else I own in the suitcase just in case. I literally plan out each outfit I'm going to wear, for day and evening, with shoes and jewelry and whatever other crazy accessories I conjure up. I make a spreadsheet. I try all the outfits on with their corresponding accessories and shoes. I go through them multiple times, counting the days and the events I'll be attending (sightseeing at Tower of London? check! An evening at the theater? check!) and reviewing each outfit for comfort and packability and appropriateness. I get them all into my suitcase, with room to spare! And I feel great about it! But then, the panic enters. What if I spill something on a shirt? What if my pants rip? What if I am suddenly summoned to see the Queen? OH MY GOD PUT EVERYTHING IN THE SUITCASE AS A PRECAUTION! DEAR GOD, DO IT NOW! And that is how I pack.
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A friend of mine is moving to Colorado in a few weeks. We became friends because our daughters were friends, but then our daughters started actively disliking each other. But we are still friends.
We could not be more opposite. We call that out in ourselves all the time. She is the yoga-loving hippie and I am the rocker girl. Because of our core differences, we have had issues with each other in the past. It's bound to happen. But nothing insurmountable, and I will miss them being around.
She and her husband (a cool guy who I consider a friend as well) had a party last weekend to see us all before they move. And they are just so zen about moving. So happy to be going to a place with a big sky and lots of open land. So at peace with leaving the hubbub of NJ/NY behind them. And it made me think about the prospect of moving. With TJK being the kind of kid she is (very traditional, very close with her friends, very close with my parents, in love with our house and neighborhood) I would never uproot her like that. I couldn't do it. But if I had my druthers, would I move?
I've always said no. I am a True Jersey Girl, after all. I couldn't live anywhere else. But lately as I have traveled, I've looked with new eyes. I've come to appreciate a slightly slower pace, as well as slightly more space. I love where I live because I'm 10 miles from NYC, an hour-ish from Philly, a half hour from the beach and a half hour from skiing. Everything you could want is less than a day trip away. Looking for high end stores? They are here. Target? Here. A gas station? Right on the corner around the block. Nothing is far. But maybe that's not such a good thing all the time. What would it be like to live with a little bit of peace? Some quiet, even?
I don't know if I will ever find out, but it has made me think and consider. I'll have to live through R&J in the meantime...but maybe someday, the world will have to get ready for True ??? Girl, on the hunt for a new stomping ground.
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A friend of mine is moving to Colorado in a few weeks. We became friends because our daughters were friends, but then our daughters started actively disliking each other. But we are still friends.
We could not be more opposite. We call that out in ourselves all the time. She is the yoga-loving hippie and I am the rocker girl. Because of our core differences, we have had issues with each other in the past. It's bound to happen. But nothing insurmountable, and I will miss them being around.
She and her husband (a cool guy who I consider a friend as well) had a party last weekend to see us all before they move. And they are just so zen about moving. So happy to be going to a place with a big sky and lots of open land. So at peace with leaving the hubbub of NJ/NY behind them. And it made me think about the prospect of moving. With TJK being the kind of kid she is (very traditional, very close with her friends, very close with my parents, in love with our house and neighborhood) I would never uproot her like that. I couldn't do it. But if I had my druthers, would I move?
I've always said no. I am a True Jersey Girl, after all. I couldn't live anywhere else. But lately as I have traveled, I've looked with new eyes. I've come to appreciate a slightly slower pace, as well as slightly more space. I love where I live because I'm 10 miles from NYC, an hour-ish from Philly, a half hour from the beach and a half hour from skiing. Everything you could want is less than a day trip away. Looking for high end stores? They are here. Target? Here. A gas station? Right on the corner around the block. Nothing is far. But maybe that's not such a good thing all the time. What would it be like to live with a little bit of peace? Some quiet, even?
I don't know if I will ever find out, but it has made me think and consider. I'll have to live through R&J in the meantime...but maybe someday, the world will have to get ready for True ??? Girl, on the hunt for a new stomping ground.
Tuesday, June 09, 2015
Tweenager Aboard
[I never use my daughter's real name online, and since the early days of my blog (when people read it and it wasn't just for me to vent), I called her Princess. But then when I switched over to twitter, I started calling her True Jersey Kid (TJK for short) so I guess I'll keep using TJK for her because it seems to suit her well.]
Eleven is a strange age. TJK is basically 2 completely different people at this stage of the game - a mature young woman who wants to spend all her time with her friends and focuses all of her energy on having fun and hanging out, and a little girl who still desperately needs her mommy and wants to be involved in everything I do. And these two people can switch out at any given moment with no notice at all.
Example: TJK and I have been watching Pretty Little Liars together. Binge-ing it, really. Her friend and her friend's mom watch it as well, and we are all trying to get to the same point so we can finish the catching up together and then hopefully catch some episodes as they air live. So when TJK is home in the evenings, we watch. However, I am now just as invested in this show as she is. And I want to see what happens next!
TJK, most days, goes to a friend's house after school. She does not think twice about me, does not think about Pretty Little Liars, does not even really care which friend's house she goes to - she just wants to go. And I am fine with it because she has a good group of friends, they do their homework before they play, and I know how important friendships are to her. Not to mention the fact that I get a little bit of downtime alone after work, which is a plus. But keep in mind, this is nearly every day, which then limits my PLL viewing to almost nil.
Last week, on Thursday (which made it her 4th night in a row away from home), I decided to settle in with an adult beverage and some PLL. When TJK came home and found out, she cried. Literal tears. She was so upset and felt that this was a personal attack on her. Why would I watch without her? How could I do this to her? This was OUR THING that we do TOGETHER and I had broken that sacred bond.
My response: Well, we need to get through this episodes if you want to watch with our friends, so we need to get on this. You have not spent any time at home in weeks, and I have been ok with it, but I want to watch this show. You can catch up when you are home or else I can just tell you what you missed. MORE TEARS. I did not understand. She curled up in my lap and cried on my shoulder while I held her tight and promised that no, I will not watch any more episodes without her.
One minute- out and about, doesn't want to come home, wants only to be with her friends. Next minute: curled in a call on my lap like a baby crying because she wanted to do this thing with me. It's hard to parent a child when you don't know which personality you have to deal with in that moment.
And I know it only gets worse from here. We are still in the tween years...which means that she loves me, thinks I'm really cool, likes spending time with me, doesn't mind when I sing and dance and act crazy in front of her friends...and we all know that goes away in a year or two. So even though I never know which kid I'm dealing with....I'm trying to enjoy every moment of it.
Eleven is a strange age. TJK is basically 2 completely different people at this stage of the game - a mature young woman who wants to spend all her time with her friends and focuses all of her energy on having fun and hanging out, and a little girl who still desperately needs her mommy and wants to be involved in everything I do. And these two people can switch out at any given moment with no notice at all.
Example: TJK and I have been watching Pretty Little Liars together. Binge-ing it, really. Her friend and her friend's mom watch it as well, and we are all trying to get to the same point so we can finish the catching up together and then hopefully catch some episodes as they air live. So when TJK is home in the evenings, we watch. However, I am now just as invested in this show as she is. And I want to see what happens next!
TJK, most days, goes to a friend's house after school. She does not think twice about me, does not think about Pretty Little Liars, does not even really care which friend's house she goes to - she just wants to go. And I am fine with it because she has a good group of friends, they do their homework before they play, and I know how important friendships are to her. Not to mention the fact that I get a little bit of downtime alone after work, which is a plus. But keep in mind, this is nearly every day, which then limits my PLL viewing to almost nil.
Last week, on Thursday (which made it her 4th night in a row away from home), I decided to settle in with an adult beverage and some PLL. When TJK came home and found out, she cried. Literal tears. She was so upset and felt that this was a personal attack on her. Why would I watch without her? How could I do this to her? This was OUR THING that we do TOGETHER and I had broken that sacred bond.
My response: Well, we need to get through this episodes if you want to watch with our friends, so we need to get on this. You have not spent any time at home in weeks, and I have been ok with it, but I want to watch this show. You can catch up when you are home or else I can just tell you what you missed. MORE TEARS. I did not understand. She curled up in my lap and cried on my shoulder while I held her tight and promised that no, I will not watch any more episodes without her.
One minute- out and about, doesn't want to come home, wants only to be with her friends. Next minute: curled in a call on my lap like a baby crying because she wanted to do this thing with me. It's hard to parent a child when you don't know which personality you have to deal with in that moment.
And I know it only gets worse from here. We are still in the tween years...which means that she loves me, thinks I'm really cool, likes spending time with me, doesn't mind when I sing and dance and act crazy in front of her friends...and we all know that goes away in a year or two. So even though I never know which kid I'm dealing with....I'm trying to enjoy every moment of it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Recording History
So the truth is that I live a really great life. I have a job that I don't hate (most days), a brilliant and smart and gorgeous daughter, a husband who is so wonderful that all my girlfriends want to find a man like him, a beautiful house that's fully paid off, a convertible BMW, and all the purses and shoes a label whore could possibly want. And on top of that, I have so much fun. We just do fun things together and make every bit of life an adventure on our own terms. So what that means is that no, we are not jumping out of planes. But we are hopping in the car on a moment's notice to go to the racetrack and then to wander the boardwalk and then find some new place to eat. Or that we are hearing about that new brewery and popping in on day one to celebrate with the owners and letting them know that we will be back often. Or going to see an old punk band at a theater an hour away and seeking out a new joint in that neighborhood for dinner and cocktails. So it's not that we are adventurous, per se. It's more that we just decide to do stuff and then we do it.
Most people I know have calmed down a lot. They have kids, some of them. And they just don't want to be tired all the time. And I get that, because I am fucking tired all.the.time. But my motto since high school has been "I'll sleep when I'm dead" and I still adhere to that. We generally do something at least one weeknight per week, and then Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. We just like to go. We like to explore. We like to be together as a family, bonding over visiting our favorite places again and again or finding a brand new favorite.
I decided that I wanted to document our summer in some way, and a scrapbook seemed to be my best bet. I'm forever picking up postcards or business cards and taking pictures of every little thing...why not put all that to use? But yo, I'm not that kind of girl. I am not the picture of a scrapbooker. So I'm going to make my own way of it - modern scrapbooking? cool scrapbooking? urban scrapbooking? punkbooking? I have no bloody idea. But I want to be able to have a way to show my daughter, when she gets older, here is what we did when you were 11, before you were a teenager and potentially shunned us from your life. Here's all the fun we had. Here are all the cool places we went and all the awesome things we did. Here's you, here's me, here's Daddy, here are Grammy and Pop, here are your friends...and here's how we all spent our summer.
So off I go...starting my documentation of the Summer of 2015, which starts with Memorial Day weekend. So far, we have 2 breweries, mini golf, a diner visit, a trip to Asbury Park to the boardwalk and Johnny Mac's and dinner, a visit to the racetrack for food truck day, dinners out, a concert by TJK herself where she dressed as Dolley Madison...and that is just the past 4 days.
This is going to be one full scrapbook.
Most people I know have calmed down a lot. They have kids, some of them. And they just don't want to be tired all the time. And I get that, because I am fucking tired all.the.time. But my motto since high school has been "I'll sleep when I'm dead" and I still adhere to that. We generally do something at least one weeknight per week, and then Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. We just like to go. We like to explore. We like to be together as a family, bonding over visiting our favorite places again and again or finding a brand new favorite.
I decided that I wanted to document our summer in some way, and a scrapbook seemed to be my best bet. I'm forever picking up postcards or business cards and taking pictures of every little thing...why not put all that to use? But yo, I'm not that kind of girl. I am not the picture of a scrapbooker. So I'm going to make my own way of it - modern scrapbooking? cool scrapbooking? urban scrapbooking? punkbooking? I have no bloody idea. But I want to be able to have a way to show my daughter, when she gets older, here is what we did when you were 11, before you were a teenager and potentially shunned us from your life. Here's all the fun we had. Here are all the cool places we went and all the awesome things we did. Here's you, here's me, here's Daddy, here are Grammy and Pop, here are your friends...and here's how we all spent our summer.
So off I go...starting my documentation of the Summer of 2015, which starts with Memorial Day weekend. So far, we have 2 breweries, mini golf, a diner visit, a trip to Asbury Park to the boardwalk and Johnny Mac's and dinner, a visit to the racetrack for food truck day, dinners out, a concert by TJK herself where she dressed as Dolley Madison...and that is just the past 4 days.
This is going to be one full scrapbook.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Talkin' Bout Good Times
Another crazy weekend for your friend True. On Saturday night, we went to see Papa Roach in concert. There were 3 opening bands, two of which sucked (It Dies Today and Trim) and the other was good (Kill Hannah). After the show I met the lead singer of Kill Hannah which was cool. So last weekend I touched Evan Dando of the Lemonheads, and this week I touched some guy whose name I do not know from Kill Hannah. Touching famous people rules. Papa Roach was great in concert. I am not a huge fan or anything, but this is still the third time I have seen them in the last 5 months and they put on an awesome show. (That's Papa Roach in the pic.)
Then, we came back to my house for the "after party." My cousin babysat for Princess while we were at the show, so when we got home she stayed and hung out with us. It was good times. She is such a cool kid (she might be just a little under 21 years old so I am not going to give too many details. I don't want you calling Child Services on me). We all stayed up till about 6:30am talking and arguing and laughing hysterically. I was telling her, I so wish she was a little older so she could hang out with the cousins when we go out, and so she could come to New Orleans with us. I love that kid, she rocks. And here's the thing. Everyone says that our little group of friends is really hard to infiltrate. We are like a group of mean girls (even though there are boys in the group) and we don't really like new people. So sometimes when new people try to hang with us, they just can't. We are all sarcastic and we say what we think and don't care much if you get hurt by it. Its kinda like getting jumped into a gang. So here comes my cousin, a young girl of slightly less than 21, and she fit in like she had been hanging with us forever. Of course I have known her for her whole life, but she has never hung out with my friends before. She rocks, seriously.
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