I have a teenager. Biggest is thirteen years old, his voice has gone to that crazy place of deeper valleys and broken crags; his feet seem too large for his body. There is no way I can ignore that he is a teenager very near the cusp of the man he will, one day and all too soon it seems, become. And yesterday, loving him sucked so much.
I suppose I should be more clear – I adore my son. I love him with all my old lady heart. And loving him doesn’t suck. Except when it sucks my old lady heart out and leaves it hurting. Continue reading
I give thanks for many things. Many of them are you.
The girl paused, one hand on her belly, the other holding a can of tuna fish. There was something about her face that caused the old woman to leave her shopping cart and approach her.
“Are you alright my dear?”
“What? Oh, I’m fine. Just feel odd, that’s all. Perhaps if I sit down,” the young woman mumbled, setting the tuna back amongst the tidy rows and then leaning against the shelves. Continue reading
Over the weekend my daughter was invited to attend a birthday party held at the local roller skating rink. I tend to stay at the birthday parties my kids attend, mostly because I know how exhausting it is to be the adult in charge. It is a big old barn of a building and smells a little funny, as if thousands of sweaty folks have encircled its space for the past forty-odd years. Which, we can assume, is exactly what has been happening.
I stood alongside the wall for 2 hours as I watched my daughter stubbornly move around the rink, progressing from that painful mincing shuffle to small glides on her rented skates. It was great to watch her gain confidence and see her smile get bigger and bigger. It was also a 2 hour trip down my own memory lane. Continue reading
I know that according to my bio, I may appear to be one of those creative types, but that appearance is much better on paper than in real life. No whimsical long skirts or beaded necklaces here. No clouds of patchouli or dread locks. Nope, I look like I could be an accountant or maybe a cashier at the grocery store.
What’s more, I never have been a poster child for creativity. I was a serious child who didn’t play like other kids. I didn’t play with dolls much, I didn’t dream about my future husband and plan out my children whom I would name Sebastian and Josephine. I didn’t create play worlds out of my Tinker-Toys and Lego. I was a strange little child, indeed. Continue reading
Some days you wake with the sun shining and nothing short of a tragedy can dampen your good mood. And then there’s the other days. Like the kind of day when you read the news and wish you hadn’t because it’s like a bit of your soul was sucked from your self and flew away, leaving you reaching for it like a toddler’s lost helium balloon. Today, even though the sun is currently shining, it is a day of lost balloons for me.
The news broke today that the religious police of Saudi Arabia have decreed that their Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice will cover any women’s eyes that are deemed “tempting.” “The men of the committee will interfere to force women to cover their eyes, especially the tempting ones” he said. “[We] have the right to do so.” (The Beast, “Saudi Arabia’s Religious Police Outlaw ‘Tempting Eyes'”.)
I am sure there are three reactions to reading that article: horror, agreement, and apathy or dismissiveness. Continue reading
It seems like these days my whole world is hard to decipher. Literally, I can’t hardly make out street signs anymore. I guess it’s time to see the eye doctor again. Of course, as often as my regular doctor dropped some variety of “at your age” I’m not too keen to go see my Doctor Payne. (I’m not making that up, btw.) Last time I was there he brought up “readers” — this aging thing isn’t for sissies, I tell ya.
I’m actually fairly chill about needing reading glasses because it’s just part of life. The other signs that are so hard to read, on the other hand, are making me far from chill.
Here we are, the weekend before we turn the calendar from March to April. I’m sitting in the kitchen typing this post with a cup of coffee and Littlest next to my right elbow. This is a typical Friday morning for me, except for the having Littlest home. Normally he’s at school right now doing all those first grade things he loves so much. But not today.
Because yesterday he started running a temperature. He got off the school bus and went straight to the couch where he lie in a feverish state until he headed to bed. This morning his fever is gone…mostly. Compared to 102.8, his temperature of 99.8 looks pretty good. But because his normal body temp runs in the low to mid 97s, that means whatever germs are playing tag in his body are still running amok.