I've been schooled by a very serious three year old. Her name is Libby and the topic for discussion was MONSTERS. She wanted to be certain I knew what was what. Here's what I didn't know;

There is a GOOP MONSTER!   You will know them by the “curly wiggly things going all around their heads.  If they catch you, they will GOOP you with the wiggly things.”  Lucky for us they can't see through blankets!  So it's best to keep a blanket handy.

And a WALL MONSTER!  The Wall Monster will “stick you up with tape”.  BUT, Wall Monsters CAN see through blankets.   Running as fast as you can and hiding behind the couch is the only to stay safe from them.

And finally – the FAN (ceiling fan) MONSTER! They will “catch you up and stick on the fan.  Once they do you can never come down!”  Fan Monsters are tough.  They can see through blankets and couches.  Your only hope for avoiding capture by one of them is to hide behind a PRETEND bush.  But, it has to be pretend because they can see through real bushes. 

Thanks Libby!! I will keep an eye out.

My two oldest daughters each have a five year old daughter of her own. They are also both single parents, and both working in the lower wage earning echelons of the medical field. Means they have important jobs, work hospital hours, but don’t get the doctor’s bucks. Since they work hospital hours, day-care for their daughters on weekends, after school and in the middle of the night, is basically not available for them. They have combined their formidable, creative forces and arranged schedules so that one sister has the girls while the other sister works and vice versa. From the little girl’s perspectives, the Adult On Board for the day will either be her own Mother, or her Auntie. Thus the term “Mom-tie”. It is appropriate and works no matter which child is using it.

So far, this sounds more glorious and glamorous than it really is. Motherhood at its very best, even with a great co-partner on board, can never be called glorious OR glamorous. The pace and responsibility of Single-Motherhood is exhausting, mind-boggling, overwhelming, and can get downright ugly. There is no harder job on this planet. Having been a single mother myself, I know what these two women are up against. Having raised these two women, and now see their daughters, I know what these two are really up against.

Ever heard of The Mother’s Curse? You know, those words that may have escaped your clenched teeth in moments of your own parenting despair; “someday, I hope you get a child who acts just like you!” Believe in the curse, it works. In this case, that’s the bad news AND the good news. Spirited, sneaky, brains under single management – their own, and FIRE, FIRE, FIRE, are words I would have used to describe these sisters. As well as, fun, energetic, curious, loyal, creative, imaginative, delightful, hearts as big as their spirits and better than gold. The spirit of each girl filled whatever room she entered and made it sparkle with magic. I have also just described their daughters. In truth, my daughters are both raising a miniature version of herself – and her sister. Wait, does that constitute a double curse? Uh-oh, not sure, but maybe. Karma, it can really be a bitch.

Technically the five year olds are cousin’s, but they are all but joined physically at the hip. Same age, same school, same CLASSROOM in school, same family and same care-givers. The mother’s at least have breaks from each other while at work. The girls do not. They are being raised as sisters. Means they are BF’s, thick as thieves - and just as sneaky one minute, and at each other’s throats the next. It’s a love hate relationship which just amps up the good times and moments of exasperation for their Mom’s.  (As well as their school teacher, but that’s for another time, God bless her.)

When my girls were younger, would I have wished this life for them? Did I wish tears, struggles and exhaustion on them? No. I did hope my children would always be close. I wanted for them to have a life of joy. I had hoped their lives would fall nicely and quietly into place for them. I wished for them picture perfect. I hoped for them the greatest of blessings from Heaven.  

Picture perfect is a fantasy. Blessings are real. And these two grown women are blessed and bless each other – and their daughters and nieces. I am not physically within distance to help them and enjoy them and their daughters like I always hoped I would be (one of the greatest sorrows of my life). But these two each have their sister. And that’s solid. How to love each other was never a problem. How to make life beautiful was never a problem. How to fight and disagree without killing each other, now that, has been a problem. For two plus decades. To see these amazing women grow and mature and weather their storms as individuals and as a team is better than perfect. To watch them carve out their lives with their bare hands, to see their strength leaves me in awe. To watch them ride the tides of their own humanity and their own womanhood is thrilling to me as their mother. To know the beauty of each of them through and through, to be deemed Mother and Friend to them, is one of my greatest joys. Their amazing daughters, who are so much like their mothers, are another. These two have shown me The Mother’s Curse can be a blessing. All Hail The Momtie!!!
 
 

There are people who consistently make "the wise decision". Then there are those who KNOW what the wise choice, or action should be, but go right ahead and be a dummy anyway. When you're in that second category, you pay for your stupidity. Usually right away - if not instantly. Rarely do the Gods wait to dish out what's coming to you. They've watched and had a good laugh, now why not the rest of humanity?

The large bandage on my right hand would be clear indicator which of those two groups I fell into yesterday. Did I know I should have walked around the house to the garage to get my leather gloves before I starting digging away at the hard compacted dirt? Yeeees. Did I know that was the SMART thing to do? Yeeees. Did I do that? Nooooooo. Why not? In the infamous words of Bill Cosby, "I dunno!"  Oh alright, maybe I do know - I was being lazy. I can't even say I was being held prisoner by aliens! I was just plain lazy and therefore self-talked my way out of having to be smart.

The result? A giant blister - now popped of course - the size of a nickel in the palm of my right hand. The worst part was, since I had this open wound, Tad and I weren't able to play in the mud like we wanted. That's what breaking up the dirt and getting rid of sharp rocks was all about. We were preparing our mud pit for hours of highly anticipated good 'ol muddy fun. It ended with me on the couch (hey he put me there!), leaning against a pile of soft pillows and covered with Tad's biggest bestest cuddly furry blanket. It was 85 degrees in the house. Penance for ignorance. He also cleaned me up and tended to my wound. His inner, very tender, Florence Nightingale came out and took control. I mean TOOK CONTROL! "This was a really bad owie, now you have to rest".

He cleaned me up, bandaged me excessively and marched me to the couch where he finished his ministrations. He made a giant pile of pillows on the couch using every single pillow in the living room. Ordered me to lay down, took off down the hall and returned with the Mother of all comfortable blankies - took both his hands and all his strength to drag it down the hall. He was so cute I couldn't not comply. After he got me cozy he went off to the kitchen to "do chores". "Do chores," I asked him? "Well yeah, that's what you do when someone gets hurt bad. You take care of them, make 'em rest, then you go do chores." And darned if that little rascal didn't pull up his stairs to the kitchen sink and wash the rest of the dirty dishes!  There weren't many to begin with so he was back at my feet in quick time, dripping wet and cute as hell.

I asked him if I could get up now. He looked at me for a beat then said, "Ya know, next time we dig, you should put your gloves on cuz now we can't play in the mud." Oh God, could I feel any smaller? Nope, not really. I was sufficiently reprimanded by a three year old. A three year old I have a lot of respect for. Enough that from now on, I will be on the wise side of the line. At least when I'm with him. That's the way it is with the good folks I guess. Being around them makes us want to do better. Perhaps that's why kids come as kids first  - and not adults!  

Yes I know I haven’t posted for two weeks. I’ve been being traumatized and recuperating over and over on a daily basis for two weeks. The trauma? My daughter, my Pip, the one taking great strides into adulthood has finally obtained her "Drivers Permit."  This is not her Drivers LICENSE. There’s a difference. This is the piece of paper that declares she knew enough about the rules of the road to pass the DMV exam and is now permitted to LEARN to drive. And here comes the trauma - I am the one teaching her. I swear, if we can survive this and come out still friends on the other end, we should be able to make it through anything! Tensions are high, both nervous systems on full alert, and the blood pumping hard and fast while we’re in the car. Once I reach the safety of my bedroom, my head is spinning, my body vibrating and I’m in need of some serious unwind time.

She’s doing much better lately, but the first day she ran a stop sign, parked us on a sidewalk, drove us into a bush and backed us up onto some guys lawn. Corners where just freakin SCARY! Two wheels Man, she could only keep TWO wheels on the ground!! Or she’d forget to give it gas enough to finish getting around a corner and there we’d be, sitting with other cars coming at us.

She hasn’t worked her way up to freeways yet – which is just fine by me, however, she reached freeway speeds on some of those first hundred corners! We’re still avoiding major three lane streets and parallel parking – that’s how we ended up on the guys lawn. So wish me luck!

What do I have to say about the 49er’s / St. Louis Rams game last night!!!!!!! HOT DAMN, HELLYA AND GOOOOO 49er’s!!!!

By the way, the black lace gloves have been effective for their intended purpose. However, they are no discouragement from cracking knuckles – damn!

GROWING GAINS

Well, my youngest, that would be Piper, has taken yet another step into the world of adulthood - two actually. Last week she had her very first job interview, got the job - no thanks to me - and then she opened her first checking account by herself. Some of you, most probably, may think that at 18, nearly 19 years of age, these are miles stones she should have passed long ago. All I will say about that is, it was necessary to put certain things on hold until after her 18th birthday, when legally she could take things into her own hands. One unfortunate consequence of the waiting has been that she hasn't been able to feel the self-confidence that comes with these rites of passage at an earlier age. Oh, she's more mature than most her age, the unique challenges of her life has shaped her that way. But self-confidence is not the same as maturity. So like I said, she has been in transition this week, and by way of her, so have I. And I'm quite comfortable with both.  What makes me prime candidate for Worst Mother Of The Year Award? I made her a half hour late to her first job interview!!! Accidental of course, I would never do anything purposefully to undermine the success of a child. But still it was very much my fault. In MY eagerness and nervousness (yes I still get nervous for my children even at the ripe old age of 50), I took the wrong exit onto the wrong freeway and off we went out of town. Yeah, great. For certain the air in the car between us was a bit, um, "sparky". In the end Piper handled it well (with grace and silence). She made the calls she needed to make and she was still able to have the interview. Like I said, she got the job. Whewwwwww!!! And I had the opportunity to connect in a learning moment with my oldest three children. I shared my misery at my own blunder.  They were wise and loving, all of them, "she won't hate you forever Mom." She didn't.  The young woman, who only twenty minutes before was trembling with nerves and pale as could be, that got back in the car was her normal, albeit, freshly flustered self. The first thing she said to me was, "Man that guy was cute!" Then she said she'd gotten the job - priorities people, priorities!

Later that day, she announced she didn't think she'd need me after all to help her get her bank account. "I think I can do this myself", she said. YESSSSSSSSS!!!! GOOOOOOO PIPER!!!!!!! And she did.



FORMS

All this week I've been filling out on-line job applications.  The lack of human interaction is so foreign to me, it's quite unnerving and distressing. I have no idea if I'm reaching anyone. Personally I fail to see how this method of screening can be all that efficient.  I expect there to be background checks, no one wants to hire persons with criminal tendencies, but credit checks?! Really?! And yes, on several I had to mark the little box agreeing to a "credit" check as part of a background check. Does having non-favorable credit mean you are non-capable of follow through with a job? Some may say yes. Obviously or there wouldn't be this silly hurdle. However, I beg to differ. There are many reasons why a persons credit situation may be lacking. A single parent, with a vengeful malicious ex. who destroyed your credit to make life miserable for one.

One of favorite places to shop, an arts and crafts store I won't name, besides having the usual background, credit checks, work history and educational history, also has a 12 page personality test! Yes I said TWELVE page PERSONALITY test. All multiple choice questions of course.  Seriously?!  You can interpret my personality by having me answer 12 pages of multiple choice questions without ever shaking my hand or looking in my eyes?  I beg to differ. You can't judge disrespect, maturity and professionalism that way. You can't even tell if there is humor or a light in the eye. Case in point; this particular store, is the place where I experienced the worst treatment and service I've ever endured in a business establishment in my entire life. Their 12 page personality test won't, or didn't, weed out bad attitudes and non-professionalism. Was the person who treated me so rudely - as well her manager I might add - just having a bad day? No. Rolling your eyes, and sighing with displeasure are bad habits, immature and unprofessional. Personality characteristics you don't see on paper, or digital paper.  Am I just old-fashioned? Piper is a bit more accepting of this sort of process than I am. Perhaps she's too young to know and appreciate the subtleties and necessities of human to human contact. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for technological advances in appropriate ways and places. But not when it comes to how we judge or asses each other as humans. Technology cannot, and SHOULD NOT replace intuition.



GOT GLOVES, GOOD TO GO!!!

As I threatened to do in last weeks post, I have indeed purchased a pair of gloves to wear during the San Fransisco 49ers vs the Seattle SeaHawks game today. A nice lovely black lace pair!! Oh yeah, I'm good to go!!!

THE BADDASS – My oldest daughter thinks I am a BADDASS. Why? Because I didn’t kill her when she was a child. 

She called a few days ago to lay this new title on me. Her inspiration for my new title was a particularly trying trip to the grocery store with her own two-year-old daughter. My daughter, Veda, is increasingly aware of the similarities in her personality and that of her own daughter. The more she learns, the more she's impressed she's impressed with me. I'll take it. My daughter had such a strong propensity for dramatic flare that her grandfather nicknamed her “Little Shakespeare” by the time she turned two herself.

Veda shared her ordeal. This is the tale of “The Cookies”, and hearing her       I had to laugh out loud.    Picture this, busy grocery store in the middle of the afternoon, the "I'm a procrastinator, what's for dinner tonight" crowd in force. Here comes a pretty, but tired and somewhat frazzled single mom, just off a long shift and still in her hospital scrubs. Her big brown eyes show weariness and say  . She is anxious to get through this grocery store as quickly, and quietly, as possible and on to the next obligation of the waning day.  Her sweet two year old daughter sits in the front of the basket, bouncy blonde hair, dimples and bright saucy, blue eyes daring anyone to displease her (remember, she is her Mother's child).  Make no mistake, this is an adorable child, face of an Angel. But here's the thing about grocery stores and children if you don't already know it, grocery stores turn children into terrorists. It's true.  Really it is. Avoid mixing the two whenever possible. Cookie aisles are the worst.  Veda looked down her list, the cookie aisle could not be avoided this trip. Her daughter loves cookies of course, again her mother's child. The cookie aisle was next.

My granddaughter is smart - and she has skills. Skills she was born with that cannot be explained. My granddaughter can sniff out a package of Oreo’s if it's buried in the ground. And my granddaughter really likes Oreo's. This child is also smart enough to know that if her mother was going to kill her, it wouldn't be in front of the "what's for dinner crowd." All children it seems are born knowing this. Mom starts the cart down the aisle. Child, even though they are behind her, her spine tingles and can sense the presence of OREO'S. She says she would like some cookies. It's before dinner, my daughter tried to reason with her child but in the end the answer was still no. Know this, you cannot reason with terrorists no matter their age or size. Now the child, realizing the potential for an attentive audience and maximized embarrassment for Mom, begins throwing herself dramatically side to side in the seat of the cart, head flopping, arms flailing. Giant tears, lots of drool, anguished pleas, even outstretched arms, “COOOOOKIES!  Cooooookies!” jerk crash, jerk crash as her little feet kick against the cart. And sure enough, the sound of her anguished cries are distressing enough to draw the attention of every busy body within half a mile - in the grocery store that can be a lot of smart ass busy bodies. Some of the male store patrons slid my daughter a sympathetic eye, but the ladies, oh the ladies - not so sympathetic. When it comes to matters of well-behaved, or NOT well-behaved children, every woman knows what's best. And some women, if you don't know it already, some women WILL tell you what you're doing wrong with your child.   My daughter tried again to reason. Up the volume and intensity of tantrum. Now my daughter decided just to ignore and go along her way.  People were staring, eyes bugged and mouths agape, that's hard to ignore. Especially when you're tired, over worked and already frazzled.

In admittedly, not her best parenting moment, she caved. My daughter caved. She finally reached back, grabbed a bag of goddamn Oreo’s and ripped it open right there in the aisle. Ahhh, silence. It's hard to cry and carry on when your mouth is full of yummy chocolatey Oreo's.  One woman, who had drawn nearer with a nasty eye of harsh and criticizing judgment, continued to stare, mouth agape. My daughter, pushed beyond reason, no more patience, and feeling backed into a corner, turned, faced the woman head-on with all the intensity of emotion that ebbs from you in a moment like this, and stared the woman down.  Both women, eyes locked, mental slashing going on, stared at each other. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 20 seconds, that's it, my daughters hip swings out her head jags to the side, and “yeah, I opened the package – you got a problem with that?!” spewed from her mouth. The older woman, hmphfed, flipped her hair and snorted as she finally sailed under the shade of her own nose. The only victor was my granddaughter (who by the way was quite content at this point).

Story over, trying to stop laughing because now were coming the serious questions. “How did you do it Mom? What did you do?” I was still laughing. Oh, alright, how did I do it? Honestly I can’t remember if I used any secret tricks. I was a single mom too - with FOUR children. When you're single, there’s no one to leave the kids with while you go shopping, you have to take them with you to this terrible place.

I do remember making a list of "Rules for Personal Conduct in Public Places" and posting it on the wall. And before we even got to the store, the kids were informed of what was going to go down and what wasn't. They were informed of the consequences for crossing said lines in advance. I've walked away from a full cart more than once to take an unruly surprised child home. I tried to do our shopping after dinner or after a meal on weekends so they were less vulnerable to the temptations. We also had a “you can only ask once rule” in our family, which carried over to road trip “are we there yet’s” as well as the grocery store. I guess they figured if they only get to ask once you better make sure it’s something you really, really want. Gave them something to think about for a bit anyway.

“Motherhood pushes you to every imaginable limit and beyond,” I told my daughter, “you’ll make some good choices and you'll make some bad choices. Oh and you'll feel guilty all the time for something, that’s part of the package too.” I know my daughter, she’ll shine mostly and some day, someday, her daughter will be calling her to tell her what a BADDASS she was!