My daughters are starting Kindergarten in a little over a week and I admit that in addition to the thrills of seeing them enter school (school!!), the prospect of meeting new people and possibly making new friends is exciting as well.
Since my daughters were born I’ve always worked outside the home. I’ve never joined Mommy & Me classes, never attended playdates, never EVER went to Gymboree. I *did* go to a new mother’s group for 2 weeks until my sleep deprivation (and potty mouth) decided it was time to depart for edgier climes. I don’t feel like I fit in to the usual mommy groups… Hence, the joy of meeting and making sweet lady friends on-line… (all of whom are even better in person)
So the possibility that I might actually make a REAL LIFE mommy friend has me endlessly excited and terminally crossing my fingers that somewhere in this school I’ll meet a kindred soul. Maybe someone as cool and funny as her, or her, or even her.
Here is a picture of my dream girl:
1. Swears
2. Drinks
3. Reads
4. Talks about sex
5. Wears cute shoes
6. Whip Smart
7. Sassy, edgy, big-brained, and big hearted.
And my imaginary friend will hardly *ever* talk solely about her kids. Oh and? She would love to sit and giggle over an intimate glass of wine.
And I have a funny feeling she isn’t the type of gal to wear this:
But she might wear this:
****
More fodder for the breast-feeders to hate me today at Babble
CityMama wrote a thoughtful piece the other week about the trouble some of us mamas face: working too hard, and not having enough fun, wanting to recapture some of the joy of youthful carefree days.
At my best, I can find verve and joy and life in pink shoes, laughing with girlfriends, being silly, and acting like the world is my personal oyster full of pearls.
Other times, I bend and reach and find only that I’ve come up short. Terribly short. I’ve been selfish, preoccupied, and completely less than all of the things I so long to be.
I have good vision, but poor execution. And I wonder if I bend more, reach farther, will I reach that point of joy and fulfillment beyond motherhood and work — those two lovely pillars that keep me standing?
*******
I’m having much more fun over at Imperfect Parent contemplating fantasy vacations….
Leaving in four days for another girls-girls-girls vacation. Some of the lovely people I cannot wait to meet include her, her, her, and since I’ll be rooming with her and she promised to show me her own naked self, I think there’s no denying this will be a fabulous trip (despite the fact that she isn’t coming).
Various employers will be hosting evening events that will require dresses and heels. Old and new friends will be chatted, clasped, and grasped.
Meanwhile, those of you not attending need not feel left out. You can attend virtually. Or, lord knows, you can certainly read about it just about anywhere.
***
And this, THIS, is my new favorite read.
I love you so much, BlogRhet, that I dedicate my soon-t0-be-arriving fabulous red shoes to your soul.
I’ll be 39 in a few days. What is there to say about 39 except ‘Thank God it’s not 40.’ How unoriginal. I’m not sure how much Man Candy will be necessary to see me through, but for some reason it does feel better than 35. And if you’re “only as old as the boys that you feel” than I’m not a spit over 35. So THERE.
And turns out since teens today are such chubs, I actually only feel embarrassed sashaying around the pool in my swim gear because of the octogenarian fitness freaks with 6 pack abs.
I think I’ll have some chips.
****
Meanwhile, I made my reservation for Blogher finally and plans are shaping up (I have a roomie and plans for drinks and to reconnect with some grad school pals). You going??
Since we’re about to launch the first annual CrankMama Man Candy Contest, I wanted to make sure the nice ladies didn’t feel neglected. The ladies, after all, are primarily who I love in blogland. Here are some of my absolute favorite reads:
Avery Lane — Because Paige is a sassy writer with a heart of gold
Pundit Mom — Because Joanne is smart and incredibly insightful and also very cute
Redneck Mommy — Because she likes to talk about wild monkey sex and is real pretty
O the Joys — Because when you have a grillion blogs in your feedreader and pack a mean photo-shop while raising 2 kids you’re my kind of girl
Dooce - Because say what you will, this girl is farkin talented and hilariously funny
City Mama — Because Stefania is a great writer, mother, and fun as hell to work with at Babble.
Arkie Mama — Because Bill Clinton isn’t the only good thing to come out of Arkansas
Suburban Turmoil writes a fabulous thought-provoking statement about being a stay-at-home-mom. She states simply that she thinks it’s easier than many many people let on.
And you should just *read* the comments!!
I have decided to take much of the next month off from my nonprofit job to stay home with the kids (esp since the twins are heading to Kindergarten in the Fall) and I’ve attacked our time together like a she-lion attacks a boar hog.. Activities, books, swimming, bicycling, talking, adventures and (yes I’ll admit) some “Blues Clues” thrown in for good measure.
And you know what? I think she’s right. I think staying home and spending time with kids is a hell of a lot easier than trying to also run your ass off at a job and then come home and spend 90 minutes of quality time with them. It’s more exhausting in certain ways, but flowing with the going and everyone flouncing around in ragamuffin wear has a lilt to it.
When I think my life is hard, it is. When I think I am blessed and lucky, I feel so much better. How does one strike the right balance between honesty and destructive negativity?
I think the lovely intermediate place is using generous applications of humor. When I can laugh at the spilled food, the crying and tantrums, I feel like I can handle it.
There are days when staying home with them seems incredibly difficult. What’s your experience of this?
Daughters. Beloved daughters. Even as young as mine are (under 6) do you know they still get more compliments on their clothes than boys of a similar age? Do you know that little girls worry about being fat now more at a younger age than ever before? And if you know either of those facts, you of course know all about the sexualization of little girls. Long long long before they’re mature enough to defend themselves, or carry and operate a can of mace.
So it is with a certain studied pride that I observe my daughters complete lack of concern for any of the following:
1. Personal hygiene - Including but not limited to dirty faces, sticky hands, and rats’ nests in hair
2. Clothing that matches or looks cute and bippy - They have not once (not once I say!) asked to wear either this outfit or that.
3. Clothing gifts - T-shirts and skirts and shirts are passed over with the same glazed expression that I have when someone gives me a vacuum cleaner or kitchen utensil as a gift. When a grandma sings “See? It matches!” she might as well be calling out “fjkdsl;jfdsklfjdskl;j” for all the excitement that is translated to the dim unimpressed eyes of my daughters.
On the other hand, out in the wilds of unstructured hippie child-rearing land (my domain), I sometimes wonder how my little darlings will ever make it in Kindergarten in the Fall (given that when they see me carrying a brush they run away screaming like wild monkeys facing a blowtorch)…? One imagines some sort of Summer Hygiene Training will be necessitated, lest they send the girls home with notes and signs or (worse) some sort of stigma.
I love little girls that are allowed to be little girls. Who run wild and free and dirty and completely carefree for as many years as this weighty world will allow. I wish for my daughters total freedom from cares about body image and beauty and lipstick and heels.
But since I can’t be sure they’ll have that. I can at least encourage their total disregard for looks.
By all accounts, Americans are hungering after bigger and bigger houses, while families are getting smaller and smaller. In 2007, the average home is 4 bedrooms 2.5 baths. And, not surprisingly, even though these newer homes are more energy efficient, their environmental footprint is every bit as dramatic, if not moreso, because of the square footage now required to air condition and heat.
Over a year ago, b and I bought our first new house here in Bellingham. It’s a lovely and has (you guessed it) 4 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms. The yard is relatively low-maintenance and shady and the kids love their colorful bedrooms.
But I miss my sweet little cottage. The small spaces and one-bedroom easy cleaning Willow that I lived in with my girls. In the end, kids with their forts have it right: There is something comforting about small spaces, with low-ceilings, and white appliances. Something sweet and pure and lovely.
When you have kids, or get older, or both, creating and sustaining a home that feels safe, secure, and cozy, seems so much more important. In my 20s, I could move every 6 months just for the fun and sport of it. Now I want to create a home that feels warm when you walk in the door. Meanwhile, my longing for home is channeled into surfing for real estate all the time…
How about you? What’s home to you? Are you a secret real estate hussy like me?
Ok so let’s skip to Saturday. With O the Joys and Avery Lane, how can a girl go wrong? I ask you!
Follow a drunken night of laughing (the kind that makes others leave the restaurant), hugging, and (if you believe Paige) special kinds of attention, then what remains but to have a transformational writing workshop experience that ends up more EST Tom Robbins than Shakespeare or E.B. White.
The whole trip was a fabulous dream. And truly and honestly, Paige is such a lovely kind soul. A truly kindred spirit. I’m honored that she allowed a craven soul like me into her hearth and home.
To find out what others thought of the evening, read O the Joys, who is as bright and clever in person as she is on her blog.
Saturday morning we woke up and played with adorable Avery (ad-or-able) and then headed out to get all fooded and beautied up. In between, we talked about husbands, and kids, and art, and books and boobalicious dresses and the importance of very dark fingernail polish.
Here’s my bitch making me dinner:
Later on, we’re meeting the ladies at the Chocolate Bar for some drinx n’ laffs.
Tomorrow will be the writing class with Hollis Gillespie and finding religion with Sister Louisa and the champagne.
