Damn Questions...

The first day of being co-host at The Classy Closet radio show, Jen asked me some questions so that the regular listeners could get to know me. Sure... why not?

"What was the scariest moment in your life?"

The first and only thing that popped into my head... the one moment that I was so afraid and so panic stricken... the moment that I wake up thinking about more than I care to admit was the day that my estranged daughter walked out of the house as a toddler. She quietly woke up from a nap, and since I was busy doing silly busy work, I hadn't noticed that she had managed to reach and open the front door. When I went to wake her and saw that she was gone... Oh God... I can't describe the tight wrenching feeling in my stomach. I remember the sensation of having tunnel vision... adrenaline? blood rushing and pulsing in survival mode? I don't know, but I couldn't feel myself walking, either, and could barely hear my own voice yelling her name.

That was thirteen... maybe fourteen years ago. It's all so horribly vivid to me. Like a nightmare I can't wake up from. It scares me to this day to think of what could have happened. Then I wonder what was going through her head. Was she looking for me? Was she scared? When we found her across the street in another neighborhood playing with ducks, I was so relieved. I couldn't stop hugging her... soaking her with my tears. Nothing has ever been so scary to me.

At least it ended well that day.

Still, here I am... wondering if this will end well. Wondering when or if I'll ever see her again. When will it be okay to just have lunch together and chat. I feel that tight wrenching in my stomach when I think of the ugly words we've yelled at each other or even further back when I could've been around more... listened more... anything more... I would do anything to change it... all of it...

That's probably why that day so many years ago was the only scary moment I could recall. Maybe because I relive that awful morning every day that we don't speak. Where is she? Where is my daughter? I picture myself running to the neighbors panicking... trying to explain that she's gone... help me, please... I can't find her... and the look on their faces... the judgment... tisk tisk, now you've done it... No, I will never forget that day.

But this... this separation without end... this just might be scarier.

What do you mean they can't read that?

Banning Books from Sugar Jones on Vimeo.

Mean Girls

I'm getting tired of the Mean Girls.

Ask any woman and she can tell you a story about Mean Girls. They were the girls who could make you feel small because you wore the wrong shoes or caught the attention of one of "their" boys. They were the ones that always had angry eyebrows and wicked smiles. They came in little nasty clusters of Mean.

A friend told me of a time that a group of Mean Girls threatened to flush her head down the toilet at school so she hid in fear. Another bubbly friend had a story of having Mean Girls in her college dorm set fire to her door posters. Her room mate told her she had been targeted because the other girls thought she was phony and they were all sick of it. Then there's the girl who had to hide in the library for fear of being beaten up because she had made the mistake of becoming a certain boy's girlfriend.

Some Mean Girls have morphed into Mean Moms... Momzillas.

My Twitter buddy, Morningside Mom was sharing about her experiences with Momzillas. The ones that have to make other moms feel less than good about themselves. The ones that critique you indirectly by one-upping every time you bring anything up. Snacks. Bed times. Schools. Vacations. Good Lord, you just don't want to talk to those ladies! Morningside Mom said she just finds reasons to break up with them like time constraints. But what if that mom is on the other end of the couple? For instance, your husband's friend's wife? Uuughhh... I had to deal with that last weekend. You know what? It sucks! I felt like I was on the defensive from the moment we walked in the door. I answered her questions about homeschool and my long trip and having a twenty-year-old at my age very carefully and politely. She softened up a bit when I over-complimented her kids and old mis-matched furniture... (there, now I feel a little better).

Why did she have to rattle my cage so hard???

Did I tell you about the fur flying after BlogHer? Yeah, I know I was on a cloud when I wrote about it on my return. I sort of hinted to one situation. I peeked in on another. But who knew? Okay, so Dooce... I'm a fan. I've found that y'all fall into two camps: Love Her or Hate Her. So, a couple of weeks after we got back, another gal that I was a fan of wrote about her Dooce experience. Apparently, upon being introduced, she was pretty much blown off by Heather. I remembered my Dooce experience and was like, are we talking about the same Heather? Well the blown off fan made it a really big deal eliciting sympathy-for-her-slams-for-Heather comments. I stayed out of it. I didn't really want to pick sides and decided to remain fans of both. But then, for the last couple of months, I've been reading some more of the blown off blogger's stuff. I started seeing a lot of posts that are really just, well... snarky and mean. Her targets have been unschoolers and stay-at-home-dads as well as a poor "friend" that just isn't that into her anymore. She harshly criticizes moms in her neighborhood and in the public eye while she posts pictures of her kids dressed in undies on her blog. Um... Kettle!

So I had to take her off the list.

If you're going to click out of here, I'd prefer it be to give money to Nie Nie or to read about a rockin' mama or to be delighted by a bubbly mom in a pink feather boa.

Why do you think Mean Girls or Momzillas are the way they are? What do you think? Are they jealous? Insecure? Or just born mean? Did their daddies not love them enough or did they learn this behavior from their Momzillas? How did you (or do you) deal with Mean Girls as kids, teens, or co-workers & moms today.



And even though Heather is an Obama fan, Dooce stays on the Blog Roll.

Happy Birthday, Bug

Seventeen years ago, I was at a little hospital in Laguna Beach with wires and tape and IV drips all around me. I was only twenty-one and just a little scared. The doctor promised me you would be out before his golf game. The delivery proved to be a little more difficult than that.

For the last few years, things have been kinda tough for us. I know I was at fault for a big chunk of how it all started. I was unprepared to be a mom at such a young age. I thought I could handle it all... one day at a time... but you and I know it was a lot more difficult than that.

I was reminded of your sweet Little Girl self so many times earlier this year when we sold the house, packed, and then moved. I walked through every room of that house and pictured all the fun we used to have as a family. I wept for the brokenness of the state of our family and wished for better days. It hurt to know that you never came back to that home... that we couldn't quite make that happen... but then, I thought, maybe in a new environment, maybe some place else, you and I could have a fresh start.

That, too, has proven more difficult than anticipated...

My heart jumped when you wrote to me on my birthday. Your words were so sweet. Thank you. It's been nice communicating with you, at least in some form, however limited. But what I would love more than anything... what I ache for... what I want to do today is to just hug you. To tell you to your face how much I love you and miss you and wish that we had some kind of life together. I wonder how much longer it will be before you and I lay eyes on each other again.

No matter what, please know that I love you and that I wish the best for you every day and send out a prayer for your safety every night.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Happy Birthday, Lori Bug.

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Sixth Grade Promotion, June 2004


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Still foggy in here...

It's been a week since Day One at BlogHer and I am finally back into reality mode. Not an easy thing, let me tell you.

I'm feeling a lot of feelings right now. And since all of my therapy money went to my trip to San Francisco for BlogHer, I'm just laying it all here. You lucky reader, you...

I really wish I would have stayed at the St. Francis. Not because it's such a beautiful hotel or because I wanted to be able to just walk downstairs to the sessions. I wish I wouldn't have spent nearly as much time with my sister as I had... and it was pretty limited time. It was awkward. I realize now that I just can't be around her. It hurts too much. I'm upset that she's the only other kid that lived through life with me and doesn't have any desire to talk about it without being hurtful and sarcastic. I'm also upset with her for her snarky jabs and then getting all exasperated like I'm the one that did something wrong when I finally had to jab her back. Sorry, but stupid questions and being talked down to kinda do that to me! I had to summon all of my decency in order to just give her one of those two-pat-man-hugs at the airport. I couldn't walk away fast enough. Well, I was late for my flight, so I had to walk fast... but you get what I mean, don't you?

While I was up there, my kids were all here. All of them. Even the one that doesn't talk to me. I invited her, but I have a feeling, that was all being planned before my gracious invitation. I'm still trying to get all the stories straight about how my hand-blown glass humingbird feeder met its demise or why my furniture looks like it's sitting on a slant. I also reached for a mug only to find it missing. I already said what I needed to say. I think my words were heard. I'm not sure how they were processed on the other end, but that's not my deal. What happened was that I let them all know that I was disappointed. The reactions were that they didn't think I should be upset. Apparently, the mere fact that they were helping me out means that anything that was broken or missing or misspoken would be forgiven.

Ummm... no.

If I'm watching your cat and it dies because it jumped out a three story window because I let him play there and then I said Ooops, sorry, but don't be mad, cause I was watching your cat for you... is that okay? No. Or how is it that you can wash all of YOUR mugs without breaking them, but come over to my house and all of the sudden you have some crazy, mysterious hand problem that prevents you from holding MY mug without letting it drop? Huh, Mom? Or if you are going to partake in my home and all the amenities, have the decency to respond to an email that asks if you had a nice time and that I hope you were comfortable here... even though you won't visit when I AM here.

I'm also still heaving out the last of the fog trapped in my lungs. I get this weird temporary asthma whenever I breathe in moist air, which is usually daily living so close to the coast. That was part of the reason I moved further inland when the pilot and I sold our house and separated. I need dry, people! DRY! I'm thinking I'm going to take a trip out to the Grand Canyon. It's so beautiful there... so big... so amazing... we went there for lunch last year. Yep. Just for lunch. The life of a pilot's wife is kinda weird like that.

Am I still a pilot's wife? hmmm...

We are "celebrating" our Eight Year Anniversary next week. He'll be in Texas on the actual day. That's another thing I've become accustomed to. Before you feel sorry for me, I have to say that I understand that it's only a date. Some random numbers on a calendar. I'd much rather have our lives be sane and joyful than to celebrate artificially on a specific date. Does that make sense? So, I'm picking him up from the airport two days later. We're going to dinner from there. Downtown San Diego is always a lot of fun, so it should be nice. I'm really looking forward to some time alone with him. But from there, what? We've been talking about moving back in together, but I think we're both a little scared. I know I am. This Texas thing is nice. He's been away for ten days. I've had some fun in The City. But now, we go back to real life.

And it's all still just a little foggy to me...

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