The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.~~William Ross Wallace
The Saturday before mother’s day, my girlfriends Heather and Katie and I had a mom’s night out. A local organization called MomsBloom and a local kids and parenting blogger and Facebook friend, Melody of GRKids, joined with our local theater, Celebration Cinemas to host Mom’s Night Out. Our tickets included the movie, a small popcorn, a large soda, and a Mom’s Night Out party with make up application from a local salon, product demonstrations for Things Moms Need. But we’ll get to the movie in a bit.
“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.”~~Gabriel García Márquez
So… apparently, I’m officially over the hill. That’s right. This year, I turn 41. In just a few days. Like…. Tuesday. I guess I missed my birthday last year, because I didn’t know I was 40 until just now.
I know. I have no idea when it happened, either. I mean… just last week I was graduating high school! And earlier this week, I was pregnant with my…. 14-year-old?
So, I was reading this post that Jeanett over at Life Rearranged linked in her Link Love post today. And y’all know how I get. I am moved to comment. And then before I know it, I’ve written a novel. Or at least a blog.
Well, I was reading Glennon’s bloggy birthday gift to her husband. And it moved me. It was the most honest thing I’ve ever read about marriage. And then I got to reading the comments. And they started out innocently enough.. Supportive. Encouraging. And then they changed. They just kind of started ticking me off. Because yeah. That might be her truth… and I’m going to share with you my truth… and it’s not your truth, but that doesn’t mean my truth or her truth is any less truthy. Or that our marriages are any less real because they don’t look like yours.
And I sincerely do not understand these women who are so insistent on making themselves feel better that they must tear down everyone else. That if we don’t all look alike, then those of us who look differently should be squashed like pesky flies. Or put in time out like errant children.
But today she was writing from her own experience how she makes her life work.,.. between being an employee, a blogger, a mommy, a wife… she has a lot on her plate.
Like we all do.
At the end, she asked for our tips… what ways had we found to make our lives *work* for us. As I was reading the comments, some of them felt a little heated whether they were intended that way or not,We’re all just struggling to be heard in this great big world that just keeps getting smaller and smaller. So afraid that we don’t count. Or that we do count, but that we’re wrong! But it made me think. And I got to thinking about what ways I and my family had found to make my life work for me. After writing an obscenely long blog comment over there, I decided it would actually BE a blog it was so long… so wah lah! here it is! My thoughts…..
So y’all will remember, all 12 of you, that I signed up not once, but TWICE for the Covert Robin. Because I didn’t remember signing up at all and had helpfully made myself a reminder so that I wouldn’t forget?
Well, the first of my Covert Robin surprises arrived today!
Supposedly, you squeeze the handle together with some downward pressure and it scrapes something across something else and the flint and it makes a spark and you do all this while holding it near the flowing natural gas to which the Bunsen burner has been attached…. and wah-lah! You have fire. Yeah. Mmhmm. Sure.
When I was in AP Chemistry as a Junior in High School, I was physically incapable of lighting my own Bunsen burner. As a result, I and my lab partner, would hold our Bunsen burners microphone style and sing the Doors song to Eric Whittenburg. Who I had a GINORMOUS crush on. Eric Whittenburg would not know this because the only way I was emotionally capable of expressing this interest in him was by yanking his hairs out one by one from my seat behind him. And playing with his bottom with my feet by tucking them into his chair. If you are friends with Eric Whittenburg, and he has told you stories of this crazy irritating hair plucking girl from Montgomery, AL in the early 90’s… well… *waves* Continue reading “Come on Baby, Light My Fire…. Or Why Melle Also Did Not Learn to Cook, Either…. Part Two”
When I was in seventh grade, I signed myself up for Home Economics. Y’all probably all took home ec. It’s a pretty basic class.
I am bettin’ though that not a single one of you walked up to the door on the first day of the third week and were greeted by the teacher, who barred your entrance. I was, instead, to report to the guidance office where Gozer the Gozerian was waiting. (Ghostbuster had just come out. Her name was Mrs. Goza. I got caught calling her Gozer the Gozerian to her face though…. To say I wasn’t her favorite student would be like saying Titanic was running a little late getting into New York.)
Just kidding! I didn’t win anything… Well. At least I don’t think I did… Publisher’s Clearing House would LIKE me to believe that I actually stand a chance and just in case, I am answering all 75,000 emails a day that they tag as URGENT….
You know… cause some body has to win… Might as well be me!