"Red"
Red looks like my father's face when he is angry, disappointed, or ashamed.
Red smells like his worn and tattered work jacket; like mothballs and morning air.
Red feels like the soft interior of his '77 Chevy, restored to perfection in the '80's, now sitting in a junkyard somewhere down south.
Red sounds like the toy fire truck he bought me in my childhood (the one I left at the beach and cried about for days).
Red tastes like a stick of cinnamon gum from his shirt pocket.
Red is a feeling of being home in my father's safe embrace.
If anybody out there wants to try writing their own color poem, here is the format:
TITLE = color of your choice
insert color looks like fill in the blank
insert color smells like fill in the blank
insert color feels like fill in the blank
insert color sounds like fill in the blank
insert color tastes like fill in the blank
insert color is a feeling of fill in the blank
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
curlformers
I have naturally wavy hair, which I usually have to flat iron into submission. If I don't, my hair is just a hot mess of frizz and poof.
I wanted to give my mop a break from all that heat, while emphasizing my God-given waves/curls. I went into Sally's one day to see what they had, and the saleswoman recommended Curlformers. I bought a pack of eight, which cost $13 or $14. I also had to buy the hook, which was about $5. I have fine hair, so I figured one pack would suffice. If you have super thick hair, you would probably need two or three packs.
So, anyhow, after sitting unused in my bathroom drawer for over a month (aside from letting Evan play with them sometimes when I was busy trying to get ready in the morning), I finally decided to give them a try last night.
I wanted to give my mop a break from all that heat, while emphasizing my God-given waves/curls. I went into Sally's one day to see what they had, and the saleswoman recommended Curlformers. I bought a pack of eight, which cost $13 or $14. I also had to buy the hook, which was about $5. I have fine hair, so I figured one pack would suffice. If you have super thick hair, you would probably need two or three packs.
So, anyhow, after sitting unused in my bathroom drawer for over a month (aside from letting Evan play with them sometimes when I was busy trying to get ready in the morning), I finally decided to give them a try last night.
A few strands went through without a problem. Other strands got tangled up a couple times before going through. The whole process only took about 10-15 minutes, but I'm sure it will only get easier with practice. They were a little uncomfortable to sleep on, but it wasn't unbearable. If you want more detailed instructions on how to use them, you would just go to the Curlformers website. They have everything from tutorials to styling ideas there.
So I slept on them overnight and woke up earlier than usual, eager to see the results. Taking them off took less than a minute! The curls were super tight and bouncy, making my hair look significantly shorter than usual. I broke up the curls several times over with my fingers and pulled down on them to stretch them out. I flat ironed my side-swept bangs, but they didn't blend well with the rest of my hair, since they are in dire need of a trim. I am going to buy some clips on the way home so I can clip my bangs up/off to the side tomorrow.
Anyhow, I took this picture on my lunch break. Keep in mind, I think we're at 100% humidity for the day. Also, I didn't add any product this morning, so the curls have lost a bit of definition and aren't as smooth as they were in the AM.
All in all, I am very happy with the end result. Next time I will be sure to add some product after I remove the Curlformers to keep the curls nice and smooth. I also think I'm going to put the Curlformers on a bit lower next time (about halfway down the strands) so just the ends curl.
I've heard these work on short hair, medium hair, long hair, straight hair, wavy hair, ethnic hair - every type of hair! If you're looking for easy, no-heat curls, I highly recommend this product!
Monday, July 16, 2012
so so tired
What a weekend! My half-sister and her boyfriend drove all the way from Massachusetts to visit my husband, son, and me in Illinois.
They arrived on Thursday while I was still at work. My husband met them at the house and took them over to our neighborhood pool for a few hours. After I got home, we all went out to dinner at Emmett’s, one of our favorite local places. After dinner we watched 50/50 and then went to bed.
Unfortunately, I had to work on Friday, but my husband was able to show them around the area. They had sushi for lunch at Matsuri in Geneva and then walked around the downtown for a bit. That night we had a few other people over for apps, hotdogs, and steak, and then we all played Who What Where, a fun drawing game. Of course my sister and her boyfriend came in 1st and 2nd place – they are art majors, after all!
Saturday we woke up bright an early and headed into Chicago for the day. Luckily, my MIL and SIL babysat Evan for us; it would have been a challenge to spend a whole day downtown with a 1 ½ year old!
We parked at the Lincoln Park Zoo. My MIL has a membership, so parking was only $9. We walked all the way to Michigan Ave. from there. We went into the Water Tower Plaza to use the restrooms and check out the Lego store. Then we walked down Michigan Ave. until we got to Millennium Park. We had lunch at Tavern at the Park.
It started raining as soon as we left the restaurant, so we jetted over to the Art Institute and spent a few hours in there. I have to say, I think the Monet exhibit was my favorite. I wasn’t as impressed by Van Gogh, for some reason. I liked all the super old, religious stuff as well. It was creepy yet fantastic.
After the Art Institute, we spent some time in front of “The Bean.” Then we cabbed it over to the Hancock Building to enjoy some dessert and drinks on the 95th floor. I am pretty sure the women’s bathroom on the 95th floor of the Hancock has the best view of the city! It is absolutely stunning! (The men’s room doesn’t even have a window!)
By that point, we were all completely wiped out. We cabbed it back to LPZ and drove home. My sister and her boyfriend went straight to bed when we got back to the house. My hubby and I stayed up for a while, watching House Hunters and chatting. We were in bed by 11:00, though.
We all slept in on Sunday, had a late breakfast, and then went to the Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe. We all got some great photos before having an early dinner at the café. After that we headed back home. My legs were just killing me from all the walking, so I spent the rest of the evening with my feet up.
My sister and her boyfriend took a quick nap and then departed around 10:00. My husband and I watched Friends With Kids and then headed off to bed.
Needless to say, I am exhausted today. We covered a lot of ground in one weekend! Chicago is so massive, you could stay for a month and still not see everything. Next time we definitely want to hit up the theater district and Old Town or Wicker Park with them.
All in all, everyone had a great time. I got a little misty-eyed as we were saying our goodbyes, but she promised they’d be back once baby #2 arrives. I miss them already and can’t wait for next time!
Friday, July 13, 2012
shout out
I would just like to take a moment to acknowledge my first official “follower” for this blog! Her name is Laura, and you can view her writing blog, which I follow, at http://strangerthanwriting.blogspot.com
Thanks for your interest, Laura! I enjoy your blog, and I hope to achieve the same level of success as you with my blog and creative writing endeavors.
Thanks for your interest, Laura! I enjoy your blog, and I hope to achieve the same level of success as you with my blog and creative writing endeavors.
I plan to post a great big shout out to every new follower I get. So…who’s next? :)
Thursday, July 12, 2012
bringing out the dead
Since this blog is technically supposed to be about my writing, I figured I'd share one of my pieces. I wrote this back in college. Reading it now brings back a lot of memories from that time, actually. I love this character; I'm hoping to write a whole novel around her someday. What do you think?
"I Hardly Knew Her"
Shelley Woodruff, Pizzeria Paradiso’s only female employee, leaned over the counter, flashing some skin along with her winning smile. At twenty, she was also the youngest employee. She wore a "Kiss Me" cotton-spandex halter top and a short, frayed jean skirt that hung snugly over a pair of red fishnet stockings. Naturally a brunette, her hair was red this week.
“I’m pierced in twelve places,” Shelley said. She counted off the hoops and studs that adorned her ears, then arched her eyebrows, one of which was pierced. She opened her mouth and flicked her tongue in and out like a lizard. “That makes nine.” Shelley batted her eyelashes playfully. “I bet you can’t guess where the other three are!”
All the men at the bar laughed and let out sounds that betrayed their excitement.
“OK, boys, I’m out,” Shelley informed them, grabbing her coat and purse, tucking one under her arm, slinging the other over her shoulder.
“Hasta mañana, señorita,” Luis hollered from the kitchen.
Shelley walked the streets of Boston, humming to herself. Nearly two years had passed since her move to the city from a small town close to the Massachusetts-Connecticut border.
By day she worked at the pizzeria, by night she dreamed of being a writer. Shelley had postponed college so she could move to the city. Growing up, her big plan for the future had simply been to do the last thing that was expected of her. She was living her dream.
Shelley’s parents called once or twice a week. They never stopped hoping she would change her mind, admit she couldn’t live like this forever. She wanted to prove them wrong. Shelley wondered if her parents would ever respect--or even accept--her desire to do something different with her life.
The walk home was Shelley’s time to unwind. It always went by faster than she’d like. She spent the time absorbed in possible stories that had occurred to her throughout the day. Which would she write about tonight?
As she made her way down the dimly lit hallway toward the front door of her small, two-room apartment, Shelley rummaged for her keys. Frustration slowly mounted as the keys sank deeper and deeper into her purse despite her efforts.
“Gotcha!” She clutched the keys, her hand still buried in her purse.
At that very moment, a hand clamped down on Shelley’s right shoulder, atop her small dragonfly tattoo. Startled, her grip loosened, and the keys fell back into the abyss. She knew who stood behind her; it was Ben Abbott. She smelled his cologne, recognized his touch. Heart pounding, she spun around.
“You never called,” he said. His lips formed a mock frown.
“I know. I didn’t call because I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never done anything like that before,” she lied. She began rummaging through her purse once more, waiting for him to say something.
“Me either,” Ben said. He smiled shyly, running his right hand through his thick, sand-colored hair. He wore a dark blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. He was a college boy through and through. Pre-med. He was everything Shelley wasn’t. She liked him.
“Come in,” Shelley said, turning the key in the lock.
“I like your hair.” Ben gently tugged on a strand of red silk as he followed her into the cramped kitchen/dining /living room combination. “It suits you.”
“Well, then I’ll have to try something else. The whole point is to find something that doesn’t suit me. I want to embrace the abject--” she stopped mid-sentence. She could tell he didn’t understand. No one did, really.
Shelley threw her coat and purse onto the tweed couch to the right of the door, and then flopped down next to the small pile, sinking into the tattered, stained cushions. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs across the white wicker coffee table. She watched Ben, amused, as he paced the room.
“You have a message.” He pointed to her answering machine, which was flashing emphatically.
“First my hair and now this. You’re an observant one. I like that in a boy.” Shelley smiled.
“Boy,” he repeated. “You make me feel like I’m ten or something.”
Shelley laughed.
“Should I push ‘play’--or no?”
Shelley thought he might be testing her. “Sure, go ahead,” she said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
The machine beeped.
“Shelley, it’s Mom. I’ve got some bad news, sweetie. Auntie Annie died early yesterday morning. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you sooner, but I’ve been busy making arrangements. The funeral is Saturday morning. Reception’s at our place. I’ll be expecting you tomorrow night. Drive safe.”
The machine beeped again, quickly fading into silence.
“I’m really sorry,” Ben said. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch. He put his hand on Shelley’s knee. “That’s rough.”
She shrugged. “Don’t feel too bad. She was my great aunt. She lived with me in my parents’ house for a few years. I was pretty young then. I hardly knew her.”
“I’m sure she meant something to you. She must have, or you wouldn’t be going to the funeral.”
“Who said I’m going?” Shelley snapped.
Ben looked shocked.
Shelley smiled. “Ben, I’m okay,” she assured him. “Really.”
Shelley got to her feet and stood in front of Ben, towering over him. She leaned forward to kiss him. Before he could say anything, she was leading him down the dark, narrow hallway to her bedroom.
The ceremony dragged. Sitting in the back row, her gaze slowly drifting across the crowd, Shelley realized she recognized every single person in attendance. It sickened her to think Annie had impacted so few lives. Shelley wasn’t surprised. She thought of her own life and wondered how she would be remembered. Her plan was to leave a large family behind--people who would miss her because she had been loved dearly, not because they felt obliged. Shelley looked around. I definitely don’t want this, she thought, repulsed by what she saw.
Shelley saw her mother and father. She saw aunts, uncles, cousins. A few familiar faces from around town. Annie had no children. No husband. Shelley felt sick to her stomach--a familiar breed of discomfort--hatred rising. She had felt this way before. She had felt this way ever since she was eight, her age when Annie came to stay.
Shelley remembered the wrinkles, the bald spot, the way Annie walked, hunched forward, like a question mark. She remembered refusing to share her home with such a monster.
Over time fear of Annie’s appearance was replaced by contempt for her lifestyle. Shelley had known Annie to be a miserable old woman with no stories to share. She had money but never spent it. She didn’t like to play games. She never smiled. She often complained to Shelley’s parents about their daughter’s noisy, disruptive behavior. Annie preferred the company of the family cats. It was with them, lounging on the couch or out in the sun, that she spent most of her time.
Shelley felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Party’s over.”
She looked up. It was Cara, her oldest cousin.
“Are you okay?”
Shelley nodded. “Sorry, I was just zoning there, I guess.”
“Need a ride back to your place?” Cara asked.
“Sure,” Shelley said. “That sounds great.” She followed her cousin out of the cemetery, fallen leaves crunching beneath her black pumps.
Shelley sat on her front porch, the whitewashed porch of her youth, holding a cigarette in one hand, petting Mr. Tompkins, the family cat, with the other. The front door was open. There was something comforting about the sounds and smells that drifted out onto the porch from the kitchen. Shelley thought of the living room carpet, and smiled knowing her mother would be on her hands and knees scrubbing it the next morning. Shelley sat silently, swinging back and forth, reveling in the familiarity.
Suddenly, Shelley heard a voice she did not recognize. “Got a light?”
The illusion of her childhood was shattered, and Shelley was twenty again. The carpet was gone, replaced by hardwood flooring. Mr. Tompkins had run away years ago. Annie was dead.
“Uh, sure,” Shelley managed, shaken. She reached into her purse and pulled out a Bic lighter. She looked up as she extended her hand. An old woman stood at the end of the swinging bench.
“Thanks, dear,” the woman said. She took the lighter from Shelley. “Mind if I sit here for just a bit?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks, dear,” the woman said again.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
The woman spoke first. “I’m Rose,” she said. “Rose Donnelly.”
“Shelley,” was all Shelley offered.
“Bev and Roger’s daughter?”
Shelley nodded. “That’s me.”
“You were close to Annie then?”
“No.” Shelley remembered the time Annie stood at the edge of the porch, laughing at their obese neighbor as she struggled to make it down the street in time to meet her three small children at the bus stop.
She cringed, disgusted by the memory. “We weren’t close.”
“But you shared a house for six years.”
“We did.” Shelley looked over at Rose. Small and white. Wrinkled but soft. She wore a patterned shirt over black pants. She smelled like moth balls. “You weren’t at the funeral.”
“No.” Rose sighed. “Almost skipped out on the reception, too.”
This intrigued Shelley. “How did you know Annie?” she asked.
“We worked together for many years.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Rose said. “We were both in our early twenties when we met.”
“I didn’t know Annie had friends.”
“She had her share.” The old woman coughed.
Shelley looked at the cigarette in her hand, threw it onto the ground, and smothered it with her right foot.
“Thanks, dear.” Rose paused, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening. “Why does that surprise you?”
“She just never struck me as someone who cared about people too much, I guess.” Shelley knew her words must have sounded cold and callous to someone who didn’t understand.
Rose was silent.
Shelley was embarrassed by her own honesty. She had never spoken of her hatred for Annie before. Just as she had never explained her sudden decision to bypass college to live in the city. No one understood Shelley. No one understood why she still, after all this time, craved adventure and excitement. No one knew the truth.
Shelley lived the way she did to escape ending up old and alone, miserable and boring, unloved and unlovable. Becoming Annie was her greatest fear. And no one knew.
“When Annie moved in with you, she wasn’t the same woman I knew and loved,” Rose said finally. “Maybe she wasn’t kind to you. If she wasn’t, I doubt she was conscious of her behavior. Time plays tricks on the mind, dear. It changes people. I hate to think anyone would judge an old woman based on how she spent her final years. Especially a woman who had her last coherent thought years before you met her.”
Shelley was stunned. It had never occurred to her that maybe Annie had no control over how she lived.
“Your parents were so kind to take her in and care for her.”
“Annie never married. Why? I assumed she chose not to. I assumed she didn’t want a family.” Shelley hoped she hadn’t assumed wrong. It would change everything.
“Annie never married because she couldn’t. Well, she could have married, I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been for love.” Rose faltered. She started to cry. “No one would let her be with me. No one understood.”
Shelley remembered the time she made out with María Fontana in a dark corner at the back of her favorite club. She always thought an extreme lifestyle was the answer. Now she wasn’t so sure. Her compass in life had always pointed to Annie, and she had simply walked in the opposite direction. Shelley had always known exactly who she didn’t want to be. But she had no idea who she was.
Rose dried her eyes and slowly got to her feet. “Give your parents my condolences, dear,” the old woman said. She carefully made her way down the front steps, and then inched toward the quiet street.
She disappeared, swallowed by dusk. Maybe she lived down the street. Maybe she lived on the other side of town. Shelley imagined Rose lived nearby, occupying a small room in some relative’s house, lonely and misunderstood.
Shelley heard a knock on the door. She rushed down the hallway, draped in a blue and white bathrobe. She looked through the peephole to see who it was. All she could see was Ben’s back. She quickly yanked the towel off her head.
He turned when he heard the door creak open. “Brown. I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“I can’t help but think I did something to upset you,” Ben said. “I know you’ve been back for over a week. I really thought you’d call this time.”
“You could have called me, you know,” she said, smiling. “Actually, I’d really like it if you’d call sometime. Maybe we could go see a movie or something.”
Ben looked confused. “We could do that now.”
“We could. But I’m kind of busy.”
“Okay.” He peeked over her shoulder. “I get it.”
Shelley laughed. “I don’t think you do,” she said. “I just want to start over. With you.” Shelley kissed his cheek. “I want to take it slow. I want to do this right.”
Shelley watched Ben walk away. Confident that he would call the next day, she closed the door and sank onto the couch. She opened her laptop and started to type. She was by herself, but she wasn’t lonely. Shelley still didn’t know who she was, but with each word typed, she came closer to finding out.
"I Hardly Knew Her"
Shelley Woodruff, Pizzeria Paradiso’s only female employee, leaned over the counter, flashing some skin along with her winning smile. At twenty, she was also the youngest employee. She wore a "Kiss Me" cotton-spandex halter top and a short, frayed jean skirt that hung snugly over a pair of red fishnet stockings. Naturally a brunette, her hair was red this week.
“I’m pierced in twelve places,” Shelley said. She counted off the hoops and studs that adorned her ears, then arched her eyebrows, one of which was pierced. She opened her mouth and flicked her tongue in and out like a lizard. “That makes nine.” Shelley batted her eyelashes playfully. “I bet you can’t guess where the other three are!”
All the men at the bar laughed and let out sounds that betrayed their excitement.
“OK, boys, I’m out,” Shelley informed them, grabbing her coat and purse, tucking one under her arm, slinging the other over her shoulder.
“Hasta mañana, señorita,” Luis hollered from the kitchen.
Shelley walked the streets of Boston, humming to herself. Nearly two years had passed since her move to the city from a small town close to the Massachusetts-Connecticut border.
By day she worked at the pizzeria, by night she dreamed of being a writer. Shelley had postponed college so she could move to the city. Growing up, her big plan for the future had simply been to do the last thing that was expected of her. She was living her dream.
Shelley’s parents called once or twice a week. They never stopped hoping she would change her mind, admit she couldn’t live like this forever. She wanted to prove them wrong. Shelley wondered if her parents would ever respect--or even accept--her desire to do something different with her life.
The walk home was Shelley’s time to unwind. It always went by faster than she’d like. She spent the time absorbed in possible stories that had occurred to her throughout the day. Which would she write about tonight?
As she made her way down the dimly lit hallway toward the front door of her small, two-room apartment, Shelley rummaged for her keys. Frustration slowly mounted as the keys sank deeper and deeper into her purse despite her efforts.
“Gotcha!” She clutched the keys, her hand still buried in her purse.
At that very moment, a hand clamped down on Shelley’s right shoulder, atop her small dragonfly tattoo. Startled, her grip loosened, and the keys fell back into the abyss. She knew who stood behind her; it was Ben Abbott. She smelled his cologne, recognized his touch. Heart pounding, she spun around.
“You never called,” he said. His lips formed a mock frown.
“I know. I didn’t call because I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never done anything like that before,” she lied. She began rummaging through her purse once more, waiting for him to say something.
“Me either,” Ben said. He smiled shyly, running his right hand through his thick, sand-colored hair. He wore a dark blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. He was a college boy through and through. Pre-med. He was everything Shelley wasn’t. She liked him.
“Come in,” Shelley said, turning the key in the lock.
“I like your hair.” Ben gently tugged on a strand of red silk as he followed her into the cramped kitchen/dining /living room combination. “It suits you.”
“Well, then I’ll have to try something else. The whole point is to find something that doesn’t suit me. I want to embrace the abject--” she stopped mid-sentence. She could tell he didn’t understand. No one did, really.
Shelley threw her coat and purse onto the tweed couch to the right of the door, and then flopped down next to the small pile, sinking into the tattered, stained cushions. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs across the white wicker coffee table. She watched Ben, amused, as he paced the room.
“You have a message.” He pointed to her answering machine, which was flashing emphatically.
“First my hair and now this. You’re an observant one. I like that in a boy.” Shelley smiled.
“Boy,” he repeated. “You make me feel like I’m ten or something.”
Shelley laughed.
“Should I push ‘play’--or no?”
Shelley thought he might be testing her. “Sure, go ahead,” she said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
The machine beeped.
“Shelley, it’s Mom. I’ve got some bad news, sweetie. Auntie Annie died early yesterday morning. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you sooner, but I’ve been busy making arrangements. The funeral is Saturday morning. Reception’s at our place. I’ll be expecting you tomorrow night. Drive safe.”
The machine beeped again, quickly fading into silence.
“I’m really sorry,” Ben said. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch. He put his hand on Shelley’s knee. “That’s rough.”
She shrugged. “Don’t feel too bad. She was my great aunt. She lived with me in my parents’ house for a few years. I was pretty young then. I hardly knew her.”
“I’m sure she meant something to you. She must have, or you wouldn’t be going to the funeral.”
“Who said I’m going?” Shelley snapped.
Ben looked shocked.
Shelley smiled. “Ben, I’m okay,” she assured him. “Really.”
Shelley got to her feet and stood in front of Ben, towering over him. She leaned forward to kiss him. Before he could say anything, she was leading him down the dark, narrow hallway to her bedroom.
The ceremony dragged. Sitting in the back row, her gaze slowly drifting across the crowd, Shelley realized she recognized every single person in attendance. It sickened her to think Annie had impacted so few lives. Shelley wasn’t surprised. She thought of her own life and wondered how she would be remembered. Her plan was to leave a large family behind--people who would miss her because she had been loved dearly, not because they felt obliged. Shelley looked around. I definitely don’t want this, she thought, repulsed by what she saw.
Shelley saw her mother and father. She saw aunts, uncles, cousins. A few familiar faces from around town. Annie had no children. No husband. Shelley felt sick to her stomach--a familiar breed of discomfort--hatred rising. She had felt this way before. She had felt this way ever since she was eight, her age when Annie came to stay.
Shelley remembered the wrinkles, the bald spot, the way Annie walked, hunched forward, like a question mark. She remembered refusing to share her home with such a monster.
Over time fear of Annie’s appearance was replaced by contempt for her lifestyle. Shelley had known Annie to be a miserable old woman with no stories to share. She had money but never spent it. She didn’t like to play games. She never smiled. She often complained to Shelley’s parents about their daughter’s noisy, disruptive behavior. Annie preferred the company of the family cats. It was with them, lounging on the couch or out in the sun, that she spent most of her time.
Shelley felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Party’s over.”
She looked up. It was Cara, her oldest cousin.
“Are you okay?”
Shelley nodded. “Sorry, I was just zoning there, I guess.”
“Need a ride back to your place?” Cara asked.
“Sure,” Shelley said. “That sounds great.” She followed her cousin out of the cemetery, fallen leaves crunching beneath her black pumps.
Shelley sat on her front porch, the whitewashed porch of her youth, holding a cigarette in one hand, petting Mr. Tompkins, the family cat, with the other. The front door was open. There was something comforting about the sounds and smells that drifted out onto the porch from the kitchen. Shelley thought of the living room carpet, and smiled knowing her mother would be on her hands and knees scrubbing it the next morning. Shelley sat silently, swinging back and forth, reveling in the familiarity.
Suddenly, Shelley heard a voice she did not recognize. “Got a light?”
The illusion of her childhood was shattered, and Shelley was twenty again. The carpet was gone, replaced by hardwood flooring. Mr. Tompkins had run away years ago. Annie was dead.
“Uh, sure,” Shelley managed, shaken. She reached into her purse and pulled out a Bic lighter. She looked up as she extended her hand. An old woman stood at the end of the swinging bench.
“Thanks, dear,” the woman said. She took the lighter from Shelley. “Mind if I sit here for just a bit?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks, dear,” the woman said again.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
The woman spoke first. “I’m Rose,” she said. “Rose Donnelly.”
“Shelley,” was all Shelley offered.
“Bev and Roger’s daughter?”
Shelley nodded. “That’s me.”
“You were close to Annie then?”
“No.” Shelley remembered the time Annie stood at the edge of the porch, laughing at their obese neighbor as she struggled to make it down the street in time to meet her three small children at the bus stop.
She cringed, disgusted by the memory. “We weren’t close.”
“But you shared a house for six years.”
“We did.” Shelley looked over at Rose. Small and white. Wrinkled but soft. She wore a patterned shirt over black pants. She smelled like moth balls. “You weren’t at the funeral.”
“No.” Rose sighed. “Almost skipped out on the reception, too.”
This intrigued Shelley. “How did you know Annie?” she asked.
“We worked together for many years.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Rose said. “We were both in our early twenties when we met.”
“I didn’t know Annie had friends.”
“She had her share.” The old woman coughed.
Shelley looked at the cigarette in her hand, threw it onto the ground, and smothered it with her right foot.
“Thanks, dear.” Rose paused, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening. “Why does that surprise you?”
“She just never struck me as someone who cared about people too much, I guess.” Shelley knew her words must have sounded cold and callous to someone who didn’t understand.
Rose was silent.
Shelley was embarrassed by her own honesty. She had never spoken of her hatred for Annie before. Just as she had never explained her sudden decision to bypass college to live in the city. No one understood Shelley. No one understood why she still, after all this time, craved adventure and excitement. No one knew the truth.
Shelley lived the way she did to escape ending up old and alone, miserable and boring, unloved and unlovable. Becoming Annie was her greatest fear. And no one knew.
“When Annie moved in with you, she wasn’t the same woman I knew and loved,” Rose said finally. “Maybe she wasn’t kind to you. If she wasn’t, I doubt she was conscious of her behavior. Time plays tricks on the mind, dear. It changes people. I hate to think anyone would judge an old woman based on how she spent her final years. Especially a woman who had her last coherent thought years before you met her.”
Shelley was stunned. It had never occurred to her that maybe Annie had no control over how she lived.
“Your parents were so kind to take her in and care for her.”
“Annie never married. Why? I assumed she chose not to. I assumed she didn’t want a family.” Shelley hoped she hadn’t assumed wrong. It would change everything.
“Annie never married because she couldn’t. Well, she could have married, I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been for love.” Rose faltered. She started to cry. “No one would let her be with me. No one understood.”
Shelley remembered the time she made out with María Fontana in a dark corner at the back of her favorite club. She always thought an extreme lifestyle was the answer. Now she wasn’t so sure. Her compass in life had always pointed to Annie, and she had simply walked in the opposite direction. Shelley had always known exactly who she didn’t want to be. But she had no idea who she was.
Rose dried her eyes and slowly got to her feet. “Give your parents my condolences, dear,” the old woman said. She carefully made her way down the front steps, and then inched toward the quiet street.
She disappeared, swallowed by dusk. Maybe she lived down the street. Maybe she lived on the other side of town. Shelley imagined Rose lived nearby, occupying a small room in some relative’s house, lonely and misunderstood.
Shelley heard a knock on the door. She rushed down the hallway, draped in a blue and white bathrobe. She looked through the peephole to see who it was. All she could see was Ben’s back. She quickly yanked the towel off her head.
He turned when he heard the door creak open. “Brown. I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“I can’t help but think I did something to upset you,” Ben said. “I know you’ve been back for over a week. I really thought you’d call this time.”
“You could have called me, you know,” she said, smiling. “Actually, I’d really like it if you’d call sometime. Maybe we could go see a movie or something.”
Ben looked confused. “We could do that now.”
“We could. But I’m kind of busy.”
“Okay.” He peeked over her shoulder. “I get it.”
Shelley laughed. “I don’t think you do,” she said. “I just want to start over. With you.” Shelley kissed his cheek. “I want to take it slow. I want to do this right.”
Shelley watched Ben walk away. Confident that he would call the next day, she closed the door and sank onto the couch. She opened her laptop and started to type. She was by herself, but she wasn’t lonely. Shelley still didn’t know who she was, but with each word typed, she came closer to finding out.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
dear dad
My father was a simple man...cereal for breakfast, work before fun, meat and potatoes for supper, the evening news on TV.
He always seemed happy. He worshiped my mother. He never complained, even though he worked construction in the Florida heat day in and day out, making peanuts for money. I don't recall him ever taking a sick day. Every year he spent his Christmas bonus on me.
He couldn't sing...but that didn't stop him; he sang me to sleep and sang me awake. He let me give him a real haircut when I was 8 years old and opened a pretend barber shop in my playroom.
With my dad, what you saw was what you got. He showed me what it means to honor your word. If he said he would, he did. He never let me down.
To me, he was safety and stability. He didn't sugar coat the truth or lie to make the hard times easier (but he did make the hard times easier).
My father wasn't my friend - he was my dad. He was the cornerstone on which my childhood rested.
Now a haircut isn't just a haircut, and the simplest things in life bring me the greatest joy. Thanks, Dad.
He always seemed happy. He worshiped my mother. He never complained, even though he worked construction in the Florida heat day in and day out, making peanuts for money. I don't recall him ever taking a sick day. Every year he spent his Christmas bonus on me.
He couldn't sing...but that didn't stop him; he sang me to sleep and sang me awake. He let me give him a real haircut when I was 8 years old and opened a pretend barber shop in my playroom.
With my dad, what you saw was what you got. He showed me what it means to honor your word. If he said he would, he did. He never let me down.
To me, he was safety and stability. He didn't sugar coat the truth or lie to make the hard times easier (but he did make the hard times easier).
My father wasn't my friend - he was my dad. He was the cornerstone on which my childhood rested.
Now a haircut isn't just a haircut, and the simplest things in life bring me the greatest joy. Thanks, Dad.
stop the insanity
Argh…I had so many random to-do’s swirling around in my brain, I just had to get it all down on paper. Now I’m going to post my thoughts here for safe keeping (the paper copy will be lost and forgotten at the bottom of my purse in no time).
I have a short break coming up from July 30th to August 10th. In that time, there are some projects I want/need to tackle. In no particular order…
-purge guest room (soon-to-be my son’s room) closet
-Magic Eraser wall spots (toddlers are messy!)
-clean between oven and cabinets and fridge and wall (the thought of all the crumbs down there drives me crazy!)
-clean out oven
-design and order photo yearbook (part of anniv gift)
I’m sure I’ll think of more to add to the list!
Our 5th anniversary is coming up on August 4th, and instead of receiving “things” from Matt this year, I’d rather him do some stuff for me around the house. It would be great if he could work on some of these projects, which are beyond the scope of my knowledge and abilities…
-spackle and paint hole/chip in bathroom wall near tub basin
-spackle and paint hole/crack in bedroom door
-steam clean living room carpet and couch
-clear out coat closet/install shelves for storage
Ok, I lied, there are a couple “things” I want as well…
-new bathroom curtain
-new throw pillows for living room couch
Finally, I have a “wish list” for Xmas and my birthday (which isn’t until February of 2013). I always go blank when my hubby asks what I want for either occasion. I figured I should save this list so I’m prepared next time!
-peel and stick tiles for kitchen
-rustoleum kit for kitchen countertops
-new curtains for sliding glass door and windows in kitchen/living room combo (we have boring white curtains right now)
-new lamps for nursery and living room
Ah, I’m experiencing a sense of control now :) Considering I’m more of a planner than a doer, here’s hoping I can actually check some of these items off the list!
I have a short break coming up from July 30th to August 10th. In that time, there are some projects I want/need to tackle. In no particular order…
-purge guest room (soon-to-be my son’s room) closet
-Magic Eraser wall spots (toddlers are messy!)
-clean between oven and cabinets and fridge and wall (the thought of all the crumbs down there drives me crazy!)
-clean out oven
-design and order photo yearbook (part of anniv gift)
I’m sure I’ll think of more to add to the list!
Our 5th anniversary is coming up on August 4th, and instead of receiving “things” from Matt this year, I’d rather him do some stuff for me around the house. It would be great if he could work on some of these projects, which are beyond the scope of my knowledge and abilities…
-spackle and paint hole/chip in bathroom wall near tub basin
-spackle and paint hole/crack in bedroom door
-steam clean living room carpet and couch
-clear out coat closet/install shelves for storage
Ok, I lied, there are a couple “things” I want as well…
-new bathroom curtain
-new throw pillows for living room couch
Finally, I have a “wish list” for Xmas and my birthday (which isn’t until February of 2013). I always go blank when my hubby asks what I want for either occasion. I figured I should save this list so I’m prepared next time!
-peel and stick tiles for kitchen
-rustoleum kit for kitchen countertops
-new curtains for sliding glass door and windows in kitchen/living room combo (we have boring white curtains right now)
-new lamps for nursery and living room
Ah, I’m experiencing a sense of control now :) Considering I’m more of a planner than a doer, here’s hoping I can actually check some of these items off the list!
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
numbers and you
I watched the movie 1408 over the weekend. It wasn’t extraordinary, but it did exceed my expectations. I even shed a tear once or twice throughout the film!
The movie is about an author, who specializes in the paranormal, who decides to stay in a supposedly haunted hotel room for one night so he can write about his experience.
The room, 1408, is on the 13th floor (it’s numbered the 14th floor, but physically it is the 13th floor). Notice that room numbers add up to 13 as well: 1+4+0+8=13.
I won’t spoil the fun, in case you decide to watch the movie. I will say that King’s (the movie is based on a novella by Stephen King) play on numbers got me to thinking about the significance of numbers in our lives. It’s a concept that has been swimming around in my mind a lot lately.
You see, for as long as I can remember, my favorite number has been 22. There is no real reason for this. I’ve just always loved it. My birth date is 2/12/82—lots of 2’s—so maybe that’s why.
Anyhow, my husband’s “favorite/lucky” number has always been 11. My husband was captain of his hockey team in high school, and 11 was his assigned number. Now, get this…22 was his best friend’s jersey number (also my lucky number!). My husband’s best friend committed suicide almost 17 years ago, long before my husband and I met.
Matt, my husband, and I met in a general AOL chat room in 2005. We were living in different states at the time. His AOL account was created on 2/12/2005 (remember, 2/12 is my birthday!). My AOL account was created on 1/11/2004 (remember, his lucky number is 11!)—exactly 1 year, 1 month, 1 day before he created his account. Feeling any goosebumps yet? There’s more.
Matt and I had our first child in 2010. Evan was due in December, but my water broke 10 days early. Evan was born on 11/22/2010. Again, there are those numbers…11 and 22. I am also fairly certain my husband's best friend committed suicide on 11/22 (I still need to confirm that).
What, if anything, does it all mean? I think about it a lot. I feel a deep connection to my husband’s friend, even though we’ve never met and never will meet.
I started to do a little research on ‘psychic numerology’ and I discovered something known as the “life path number.”
You can calculate your LPN by adding your birthday together, until you are left with one [1] number.
For example, my birthdate is 2/12/1982, which adds up like this: 2+1+2+1+9+8+2=25=2+5=7
My number is 7. According to http://www.psychic.com.au/psychic-numerology-master-numbers.htm, here’s what that says about my intrinsic nature/character:
LEARNING. The Life Path of seven [7] is one of gaining and seeking knowledge. You can absorb many things and your quest for knowledge can lead you into some interesting situations. You have strong insight and can use it wisely in times of making decisions. When your interest is held, it may be difficult to drag you away from what you are doing. You are a natural peacemaker, and your skills come in handy when you are dealing with disagreements. Your dreams can give you direction in life, especially if there is some inner guidance to create growth.
KEYWORDS.
Water (I'm an Aquarius-water sign!), direction, decisions, pathways, knowing, learning, seeking, poetry, music, isolation, ancient, thought, technology, imagination, mythology.
Considering I’m an educator and writer and that my whole life revolves around learning, I’d say this description is pretty accurate!
It’s your turn. What is your number? What does that say about you? You can refer to these links to help you out:
http://www.psychic.com.au/psychic-numerology-master-numbers.htm
http://www.astrology-numerology.com/num-lifepath.html/
Do you agree with your LPN? Why or why not?
The movie is about an author, who specializes in the paranormal, who decides to stay in a supposedly haunted hotel room for one night so he can write about his experience.
The room, 1408, is on the 13th floor (it’s numbered the 14th floor, but physically it is the 13th floor). Notice that room numbers add up to 13 as well: 1+4+0+8=13.
I won’t spoil the fun, in case you decide to watch the movie. I will say that King’s (the movie is based on a novella by Stephen King) play on numbers got me to thinking about the significance of numbers in our lives. It’s a concept that has been swimming around in my mind a lot lately.
You see, for as long as I can remember, my favorite number has been 22. There is no real reason for this. I’ve just always loved it. My birth date is 2/12/82—lots of 2’s—so maybe that’s why.
Anyhow, my husband’s “favorite/lucky” number has always been 11. My husband was captain of his hockey team in high school, and 11 was his assigned number. Now, get this…22 was his best friend’s jersey number (also my lucky number!). My husband’s best friend committed suicide almost 17 years ago, long before my husband and I met.
Matt, my husband, and I met in a general AOL chat room in 2005. We were living in different states at the time. His AOL account was created on 2/12/2005 (remember, 2/12 is my birthday!). My AOL account was created on 1/11/2004 (remember, his lucky number is 11!)—exactly 1 year, 1 month, 1 day before he created his account. Feeling any goosebumps yet? There’s more.
Matt and I had our first child in 2010. Evan was due in December, but my water broke 10 days early. Evan was born on 11/22/2010. Again, there are those numbers…11 and 22. I am also fairly certain my husband's best friend committed suicide on 11/22 (I still need to confirm that).
What, if anything, does it all mean? I think about it a lot. I feel a deep connection to my husband’s friend, even though we’ve never met and never will meet.
I started to do a little research on ‘psychic numerology’ and I discovered something known as the “life path number.”
You can calculate your LPN by adding your birthday together, until you are left with one [1] number.
For example, my birthdate is 2/12/1982, which adds up like this: 2+1+2+1+9+8+2=25=2+5=7
My number is 7. According to http://www.psychic.com.au/psychic-numerology-master-numbers.htm, here’s what that says about my intrinsic nature/character:
LEARNING. The Life Path of seven [7] is one of gaining and seeking knowledge. You can absorb many things and your quest for knowledge can lead you into some interesting situations. You have strong insight and can use it wisely in times of making decisions. When your interest is held, it may be difficult to drag you away from what you are doing. You are a natural peacemaker, and your skills come in handy when you are dealing with disagreements. Your dreams can give you direction in life, especially if there is some inner guidance to create growth.
KEYWORDS.
Water (I'm an Aquarius-water sign!), direction, decisions, pathways, knowing, learning, seeking, poetry, music, isolation, ancient, thought, technology, imagination, mythology.
Considering I’m an educator and writer and that my whole life revolves around learning, I’d say this description is pretty accurate!
It’s your turn. What is your number? What does that say about you? You can refer to these links to help you out:
http://www.psychic.com.au/psychic-numerology-master-numbers.htm
http://www.astrology-numerology.com/num-lifepath.html/
Do you agree with your LPN? Why or why not?
26 things
I got this idea from one of the blogs I follow, Carrots 'n' Cake. Here it is...26 things I enjoy in life—from A to Z
A - Arugula. I was afraid to try it at first, but wow...I much prefer it to spring mix!
B - Barnes & Noble. I love sitting in the cafe, just flipping through tabloids and fashion mags.
C - Candy. My current fragrance obsession.
D -David Cook. Check out his pre-Idol, self-recorded album, Analog Heart - AMAZING!
E - Evan. I <3 that little boy!
F - Flatirons. Changed my life.
G - Graham's 318. Favorite coffee shop.
H - Horror movies. Especially cheesy "B movies."
I - Ice hockey. Go Blackhawks!
J - Jukeboxes. They make me giddy.
K - Kisses. My heart melts when Evan leans in for a smooch.
L - Learning. Duh, I'm a teacher :)
M - Matt. My love.
N - Naps. Wish I could take one right now!
O - Oceans. Having grown up in Florida, I miss living near water (Sorry, Lake Michigan just doesn't do it for me).
P - Pedicures. Always in some shade of pink.
Q - Quilts. I wish I knew how to make them!
R - Rings. Favorite type of jewelry.
S - Swimming. I used to swim competitively - it's the best form of exercise!
T - Thrift stores. I got most of my maternity clothing from Goodwill!
U - U2. I just love music, in general - everything from alt rock to country. Especially live music. I'm itching to go to another concert soon.
V - The Vampire Diaries. Read the books in middle school. LOVE the show. Ian Somerhalder is yummy.
W - Wine. The hardest part about being pregnant is not being able to drink.
X - Xmas. yay presents!
Y - Yoga. Looking forward to trying hot yoga when I'm not pregnant anymore.
Z - Zoos. Especially the gorillas - I could watch them all day!
A - Arugula. I was afraid to try it at first, but wow...I much prefer it to spring mix!
B - Barnes & Noble. I love sitting in the cafe, just flipping through tabloids and fashion mags.
C - Candy. My current fragrance obsession.
E - Evan. I <3 that little boy!
G - Graham's 318. Favorite coffee shop.
I - Ice hockey. Go Blackhawks!
J - Jukeboxes. They make me giddy.
K - Kisses. My heart melts when Evan leans in for a smooch.
L - Learning. Duh, I'm a teacher :)
M - Matt. My love.
N - Naps. Wish I could take one right now!
O - Oceans. Having grown up in Florida, I miss living near water (Sorry, Lake Michigan just doesn't do it for me).
Q - Quilts. I wish I knew how to make them!
R - Rings. Favorite type of jewelry.
S - Swimming. I used to swim competitively - it's the best form of exercise!
T - Thrift stores. I got most of my maternity clothing from Goodwill!
U - U2. I just love music, in general - everything from alt rock to country. Especially live music. I'm itching to go to another concert soon.
V - The Vampire Diaries. Read the books in middle school. LOVE the show. Ian Somerhalder is yummy.
W - Wine. The hardest part about being pregnant is not being able to drink.
X - Xmas. yay presents!
Y - Yoga. Looking forward to trying hot yoga when I'm not pregnant anymore.
Z - Zoos. Especially the gorillas - I could watch them all day!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
omg
I seriously just had the best salad of my life! Last night my hubby was getting creative in the kitchen, and he made salad with arugula, watermelon, red onion, and feta. He topped it with a homemade vinaigrette. The finished product looked like this:
To make this yourself, just add those four ingredients (plus the dressing) to your taste. The sweetness of the watermelon tastes AMAZING paired with the spice of the arugula.
Bon appetit!
Friday, July 6, 2012
i can't hear you!!
Sometimes the things people say make me want to hold my hands over my ears and shout, "La, la, la, la...I can't hear you!"
My sister-in-law made just such a comment the other day, and it's still bugging me. She's almost forty, hasn't had a real relationship...well, ever...and somehow thinks she knows everything about marriage and parenting.
According to her, people in relationships shouldn't fight or argue...relationships should always be easy. Parents shouldn't let their toddler cry it out at bedtime...they should just let the kid stay up until he passes out. If a kid doesn't want to eat what's for dinner, the parents should present him with a number of other options that might be more pleasing to his palate...God forbid the kid cry (a.k.a. throw a tantrum) for even five minutes.
Anyhow, I digress. The other day I was standing in front of a restaurant with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. A man walked by us, reprimanding his daughter for something (it sounded like she had been putting her feet up in the restaurant and wouldn't put them back down even when told to do so). He was taking her to the car for a time out. My sister in law said, rather loudly, "Some people just shouldn't be parents."
I asked her what he said that was so offensive, because I hadn't heard it. I was truly baffled and thought I must have missed something. She didn't say anything specific to answer my question...she just said, "People should have to get a license or pass some kind of test to have kids. Some people just shouldn't have kids." After a few minutes (it had been no longer than 3-5 minutes), the man walked by us again with his daughter. As they were heading back into the restaurant, I heard him explaining to her that she shouldn't act like that because it sets a poor example for her little brother, etc.
As they walked by, my sister-in-law made another comment. She said, "There goes father of the year."
I just don't get it. Maybe a kid putting their feet up (I didn't catch exactly where she was putting her feet) in a restaurant is no big deal to my sister-in-law, but I don't see how she thought the father was a bad parent for being strict with his daughter about her behavior. Maybe she was refusing to listen and being really argumentative. Maybe the family just has strict rules about etiquette. Who knows? All I know is I wish more parents would give their kids time outs, actually do some parenting and address inappropriate behavior.
My sister-in-law is judgmental (she is still single and doesn't have very many friends for a reason). It's just how she is, and I know this. However, every time she makes a comment, it affects me deeply. Whenever she's around, I feel like she's judging me as a parent. I fully admit I'm far from a perfect parent (I don't always read to my son at night, I sometimes lose my temper and need to walk away from him, sometimes I just feed him fruit, yogurt, and cereal for dinner, et al.), but I do the best I can. I set limits for my son, and I give him time outs or at least try to talk to him about why something isn't acceptable. He's only nineteen months old, so my tactics don't always make an impact, leaving me scratching my head. Most of the time, I'm not sure if I'm doing something wrong, of if it's just normal toddler behavior. I am sure that my son knows I love him, he knows there are limits, and he knows I'm going to do something about it if he doesn't listen to me. That may not stop him (it usually doesn't), but at least I'm doing something.
I need advice. I just don't know how to deal with her. This isn't the first time she has made comments about other peoples' parenting. She has directed comments at me before, but only once or twice, in regards to not letting my son cry at bedtime. I just feel on edge now when I'm around her. She picks up my son from daycare two nights per week, so she's around a lot. She is hyper-sensitive, so if I say anything to her, she'll twist the whole thing around and I'll come out looking like the bad guy. I don't know how to process this, how to address it, or if I should even bother addressing it.
I wish there was a switch I could flip that would make me not care what she thinks. How do you handle unwanted criticism in your life?
My sister-in-law made just such a comment the other day, and it's still bugging me. She's almost forty, hasn't had a real relationship...well, ever...and somehow thinks she knows everything about marriage and parenting.
According to her, people in relationships shouldn't fight or argue...relationships should always be easy. Parents shouldn't let their toddler cry it out at bedtime...they should just let the kid stay up until he passes out. If a kid doesn't want to eat what's for dinner, the parents should present him with a number of other options that might be more pleasing to his palate...God forbid the kid cry (a.k.a. throw a tantrum) for even five minutes.
Anyhow, I digress. The other day I was standing in front of a restaurant with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. A man walked by us, reprimanding his daughter for something (it sounded like she had been putting her feet up in the restaurant and wouldn't put them back down even when told to do so). He was taking her to the car for a time out. My sister in law said, rather loudly, "Some people just shouldn't be parents."
I asked her what he said that was so offensive, because I hadn't heard it. I was truly baffled and thought I must have missed something. She didn't say anything specific to answer my question...she just said, "People should have to get a license or pass some kind of test to have kids. Some people just shouldn't have kids." After a few minutes (it had been no longer than 3-5 minutes), the man walked by us again with his daughter. As they were heading back into the restaurant, I heard him explaining to her that she shouldn't act like that because it sets a poor example for her little brother, etc.
As they walked by, my sister-in-law made another comment. She said, "There goes father of the year."
I just don't get it. Maybe a kid putting their feet up (I didn't catch exactly where she was putting her feet) in a restaurant is no big deal to my sister-in-law, but I don't see how she thought the father was a bad parent for being strict with his daughter about her behavior. Maybe she was refusing to listen and being really argumentative. Maybe the family just has strict rules about etiquette. Who knows? All I know is I wish more parents would give their kids time outs, actually do some parenting and address inappropriate behavior.
My sister-in-law is judgmental (she is still single and doesn't have very many friends for a reason). It's just how she is, and I know this. However, every time she makes a comment, it affects me deeply. Whenever she's around, I feel like she's judging me as a parent. I fully admit I'm far from a perfect parent (I don't always read to my son at night, I sometimes lose my temper and need to walk away from him, sometimes I just feed him fruit, yogurt, and cereal for dinner, et al.), but I do the best I can. I set limits for my son, and I give him time outs or at least try to talk to him about why something isn't acceptable. He's only nineteen months old, so my tactics don't always make an impact, leaving me scratching my head. Most of the time, I'm not sure if I'm doing something wrong, of if it's just normal toddler behavior. I am sure that my son knows I love him, he knows there are limits, and he knows I'm going to do something about it if he doesn't listen to me. That may not stop him (it usually doesn't), but at least I'm doing something.
I need advice. I just don't know how to deal with her. This isn't the first time she has made comments about other peoples' parenting. She has directed comments at me before, but only once or twice, in regards to not letting my son cry at bedtime. I just feel on edge now when I'm around her. She picks up my son from daycare two nights per week, so she's around a lot. She is hyper-sensitive, so if I say anything to her, she'll twist the whole thing around and I'll come out looking like the bad guy. I don't know how to process this, how to address it, or if I should even bother addressing it.
I wish there was a switch I could flip that would make me not care what she thinks. How do you handle unwanted criticism in your life?
Thursday, July 5, 2012
"words are things"...by maya angelou
Maya Angelou:
“Words are things, I am convinced
You must be careful, careful about the words you use
Or the words you allow to be used in your house
In the Old Testament we are told in Genesis (actually it’s John 1:1)
That in the beginning was the Word
And the Word was God and the Word was with God
That’s in Genesis (John 1:1)
Words are things
You must be careful
Careful about calling people out of their names
Using racial pejoratives and sexual pejoratives
And all that ignorance
Don’t do that
Someday we’ll be able to measure the power of words
I think they are things
I think they get on the walls, they get in your wallpaper, they get in your rugs
In your upholstery, in your clothes and finally…
Into you”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)