Category Archives: mother

I Need A Nap

I am a grown up, and yet nothing terrifies me more than when my is mommy mad at me.

We had a rather nasty row today (after the beginning of a very pleasant visit) where she brought up every disappointing thing I have ever done (and let me tell you, the list is endless). She started at the age of four and worked her way up. I was a disaster at five, and by ten I was a little terror. My teens were a mess. My twenties were a complete disappointment. And now there is hardly anything left to say.

Aside from the two beautiful children I have miraculously produced (she refuses to acknowledge where they came from), I have committed a series of atrocities. As a child I was anti social, which arguably hasn’t changed very much, but neglected to mention that she never actually taught me how to properly socialize. In college I chose the wrong major, and on top of that took several years off before pursuing the next degree. I am obviously not getting any younger and I should have had an MA several years ago. In fact, I should have had a doctorate by now, and what was I wasting my time with anyway?

Well, that is all over with, and at least I am on the right path now. Speaking of which, how many failed marriages was I planning on having? (Nevermind how well hers went). And why do my hips look like that? And is there something I can do about it? Maybe I can stand in a certain way at all times.

I should spend more time sleeping, because those circles under my eyes are not helping anyone. And while we are on the subject (whatever subject that may be, because as far as I can tell her next list of complaints were total non sequiturs), why is Ally not yet potty trained? And why can’t anyone figure out what Ducky is saying? Can’t I teach him to speak properly?

After about two hours of this I think I do need a nap. And some wine. And chocolate. And cookies with ice cream. And my favorite Tina Dico CD.

Then I can bake my mom a nice pecan pie and take it over there tomorrow. Because that is what I do when she brings me to tears… I bake her a pie.

Um… Today?

I think my son has a crush on me. I also think that is called “mommy issues.” Ducky, who is one and a half has a vocabulary of about ten words. And two of them are “mommy hot!” I was creeped out and hysterically laughing at the same time. At his age shouldn’t he have a crush on Dora or something? For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it is one of those interactive shows for kids. And I don’t know what is weirder, talking back to the cartoon on TV or the awkward silence as she stares at you waiting for an answer.
“How many keys am I holding?”
I stare at the screen as she stares back at me. I look around the room. I give in.
Followed by my daughter: “Good job mommy!”
I can count to five. I should get a sticker for that. Which is more than I can say for my other counting skills.
I had a birthday outing recently (two months ago), and only two people showed up. Apparently you can only turn thirty so many times before people stop coming.
I guess I should turn 40 soon. I don’t know. I have been lying about my age for so long I am not sure where I am. I looked at my driver’s license to try to figure it out. But I am terrible at math. I came up with 19, and that is probably not right.
I guess I will just be 30 for a few more years. But that is okay. In my family you can say you are thirty until you are in your fifties, and no one notices. I mean, my dad is in his seventies, and women are still saying “OH MY GOD your dad is so hot!!” First of all, don’t ever say that again! Second of all, yeah, OK, maybe.
I still don’t like to admit it. I know my mom thought that at one point. But that is as far as I want to go with that.
As I was driving down PCH today (pictures to follow on Wordless Wednesday), I had my Fleetwood Mac CD on (Rumours). The kids were occupied with toys in the back seat and I was singing along with Gold Dust Woman, Oh, Daddy, and The Chain.
If you are curious (and you should be, because these are amazing songs!):
Gold Dust Woman (one of my all-time favorite songs)
I just found out Fleetwood Mac is coming to the Hollywood Bowl in May. I am very excited because I never thought I would see them. According to my math skills, they were famous many years before I was born. I tried buying tickets tonight but they are not on sale yet. By the way, Tanya, don’t make plans on May 25th. Just in case I manage this.
If not, they will be playing up north in the fall. And I happen to be presenting a paper in the same area in October. So if I could just manage to time these two events properly…Maybe…
Knowing my luck that is never going to happen.
In fact I haven’t even checked because I know that is never going to happen. I have terrible planning skills. At this point I am just concerned with getting myself to Washington in a timely fashion.
Speaking of which, I was totally going to tell you about Malibu. But I won’t because that upset Hubby. He got very mad today because I took the kids to the beach. Apparently I am not allowed. I was unaware of the new “No Beach” rule.
Text message convo:
Hubby: How far away from home are you?
Me: At the beach.
Hubby: You are at the beach again?!
Me: Yes.
Hubby: You didn’t tell me you were going to the beach.
Me: It just happened.
Hubby: It always “just happens.” Your compass points to the beach. If I blindfolded you, you could find your way.
He is right. I am very attracted to large bodies of water surrounded by sand.
I did find a new Starbucks today. That always gets me excited. And the kids. Another one of the ten words Ducky can say is Starbucks. And he says it with enthusiasm. We went to this new Starbucks by the beach and the kids were thrilled. Mommy was caffeinated. Everyone was happy.
Who knew so much could happen in one day.

They Say She Looks Like Me…

I am working on a major project at work, which has drained me and left me looking vacuous on most occasions at best. The other day, after having been at work for over eleven hours without a break, I finally pushed the papers away and sat there for a moment with my eyes closed. A co-worker from a different department walked into my office to see how I was doing. I didn’t hear her (you know I am tired when I start losing my hearing) (I am not even sure that is physically possible).
“Do you have any idea how fabulous you are?” I was too tired to fully understand what she was asking. I mumbled something incoherent, akin to thank you, and do you happen to have any coffee in your purse?
We started talking, and it was so nice to stop focusing on work for a second. She noticed the new pictures I put on my desk (me and Ducky, Munchie and Ducky), and she told me how beautiful my children are. Yes, my Duck is very handsome, and Munchie, albeit only two, is striking in her own way. I have a difficult time picturing what she will look like when she grows up. Some say she looks like me. I haven’t the slightest clue. I don’t see me. I see her. Well, this isn’t exactly true. She is long and lean like me. Both kids have my exact natural hair color. But that is where the similarities stop.
People assume Munchie will be beautiful because they see me as so. But then I think about my own mother. I pale in comparison. For those of you who know me and my family, no, I don’t mean now. I mean across time. When my mother was my age and younger (and even older) she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and most will say that she looked even better in person than in pictures. I don’t think that is possible. Because if she looked any better than in those pictures I am pretty sure people would have gone blind looking at her.
So when people tell me that they hope Munchie grows up to resemble me, I hope she inherits my ambition, drive, strength and will. Physically, I hope she looks like my mother.