IT'S A MIRACLE!
That's right folks, the brown maxi-dress has done it, again. It perpetrated a miraculous return to my closet, where it has been warmly welcomed by it's other bosom friends, a.k.a. the girls of summer.
And, oh yes, it still makes me look like a skinny waif when I put it on.
Welcome back, sweet girl!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Beautiful, Beautiful Boy
I have had a post about taking my then 10-month-old to Scotland all ready to go for over a month now, but when I went in to do some final editing, the thing was gone without a trace, and since my brain has turned to post-partum sludge in the last 1+ years, I couldn't remember a word of it to recreate it. That's too bad, since I have the impression that it was a really sweet post. Oh, well, I guess that's a sign that it wasn't meant to be.
Thinking about him did get me thinking about the valuable lesson I learned the first time I walked into a room with my pregnant belly leading the charge. That belly got attention. For the rest of my life, I would no longer be the most popular kid in the doorway. My baby boy had taken center stage, which, when I reflect on it, I totally get; first he was this hidden miracle of creation that everybody couldn't wait to see in person. After he was born he got even cooler. He became 3-D helpless and adorable, making all these wonderful squeaks, grunts and coos. He was also squishy soft and after a bath, smelled like pure sunshine. And don't get me started about the smell of baby-head. Ann Lamott wrote in her book, Operating Instructions, that her son, Sam, smelled like God. Not like a god, but like the God. Who could compare to that? I'm certainly not stupid enough to try.
Considering how irresistable and popular that boy is, I feel a bit sorry for many of you. I don't write a whole lot about my son on here. That unfortunately means that some of you who may be visiting the site every now and again are not getting what you probably came for. *shrug* No apologies on this end. The interweb is too open for me to like sharing pictures and updates on him, here. Check out FB if you want to catch a glimpse of Sir Yumminess. He's the main event over there. Or come over to my house. He's even better in technicolor.
Until you can hug him in person, I wish you all well and I wish you love.
Thinking about him did get me thinking about the valuable lesson I learned the first time I walked into a room with my pregnant belly leading the charge. That belly got attention. For the rest of my life, I would no longer be the most popular kid in the doorway. My baby boy had taken center stage, which, when I reflect on it, I totally get; first he was this hidden miracle of creation that everybody couldn't wait to see in person. After he was born he got even cooler. He became 3-D helpless and adorable, making all these wonderful squeaks, grunts and coos. He was also squishy soft and after a bath, smelled like pure sunshine. And don't get me started about the smell of baby-head. Ann Lamott wrote in her book, Operating Instructions, that her son, Sam, smelled like God. Not like a god, but like the God. Who could compare to that? I'm certainly not stupid enough to try.
Considering how irresistable and popular that boy is, I feel a bit sorry for many of you. I don't write a whole lot about my son on here. That unfortunately means that some of you who may be visiting the site every now and again are not getting what you probably came for. *shrug* No apologies on this end. The interweb is too open for me to like sharing pictures and updates on him, here. Check out FB if you want to catch a glimpse of Sir Yumminess. He's the main event over there. Or come over to my house. He's even better in technicolor.
Until you can hug him in person, I wish you all well and I wish you love.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Where Did You Go, My Lovely?
I love summer, probably mostly because I love summer clothes. That dress I'm wearing in my profile pic? It's my favorite dress, maybe of all time. I spent entirely too much money on it three years ago and it has been worth every penny. That dress is like a miracle. It is the perfect color (a deep, chocolate brown) against my skin, drapes like a dream and makes me look like a skinny waif. It even regenerates itself. I accidentally put it in the dryer during my first year of ownership, shrinking it from a maxi dress to almost knee length. It was tragic. But since I loved it so, I couldn't bring myself to be selfless and give it to my much shorter friend who I knew would wear it with all the love that I'd ever felt for it. I mourned, hung it in the back of my closet for the winter and swore I'd figure out a way to wear it again, even if it was as a repurposed tank top. Against all hope, I pulled it out to try it on again some months later and THE THING HAD STRETCHED BACK TO IT'S ORIGINAL LENGTH. No lie. Without me having done a single thing to it. The color was still true, it still draped like a dream and hope was reborn in me. There is no doubt in my mind that a wardrobe miracle had occurred. Love this dress.
The last time I put it on was a year ago. I was about 4 weeks post-partum and still managed to look like a skinny waif. Some would argue that was due to the stress of bringing home a 4 lb preemie to raise, but I maintain, it was the dress.
I was so excited when the summer heat really set in this year. I went to my box of goodies to shake out that dress so that I could feel like a skinny waif again. It was gonna be good.
I'm devastated to report that I can't find it anywhere and it's driving. Me. CRAZY. However, I haven't given up hope that another brown-maxi-dress-miracle will occur. I will keep looking. Probably one of my other dresses wanted to look like a skinny waif, too, and is wearing it somewhere in the back of that closet. That's what I would do if I had to stand next to that dress every day.
Wish me luck.
The last time I put it on was a year ago. I was about 4 weeks post-partum and still managed to look like a skinny waif. Some would argue that was due to the stress of bringing home a 4 lb preemie to raise, but I maintain, it was the dress.
I was so excited when the summer heat really set in this year. I went to my box of goodies to shake out that dress so that I could feel like a skinny waif again. It was gonna be good.
I'm devastated to report that I can't find it anywhere and it's driving. Me. CRAZY. However, I haven't given up hope that another brown-maxi-dress-miracle will occur. I will keep looking. Probably one of my other dresses wanted to look like a skinny waif, too, and is wearing it somewhere in the back of that closet. That's what I would do if I had to stand next to that dress every day.
Wish me luck.
Love Stinks, In the Best Possible Way
I've had a problem coming up with a hook for this blog. What can I possibly say that people want to hear, or haven't already heard a million times, in a million different ways? How can I make my blog interesting...creative...relevant?
My first idea? Dating as a single mom. Specifically internet dating as a single mom, which seems to be one of the few ways people like me with limited time and child care can meet other (sometimes) viable heterosexuals, except at church, or unless we live in hippie communes. I'm not knocking church. I love church. I even love a lot of the people I meet at church, but the idea of going there to look for a mate has always rubbed me the wrong way. I heard a pastor say that if you go to church to find God, it's likely that you'll find the other things you might not even have known you were looking for (i.e. community, friendship, a life partner). While that's very encouraging, I'm just gonna be honest and say that what I got out of that was church + God = mate. My over-simplified understanding of that formula has been making me uncomfortable ever since, so as a reaction, I go to church specifically not to find a mate. I don't think I've done a wedding ring check since the day I heard that sermon. I'm also not knocking communes. The idea of living sparingly, off the land, in community with others who share the fruits of our labors and barter for services that we each provide according to our individual talents is actually pretty appealing. Then I think how much I like shaving and wearing bras. And people who bathe, regularly. Maybe there are communes where people do those things, but...*shrug* I'm skeptical.
Eventually, I threw the dating blog idea out. I think they're only interesting to people who don't have to live the daily agony of dating. For the ones in the trenches, reading about other people's relationship hijinks can be like fingernails on a chalkboard. Maybe that's just me, but I still think that most singletons would stand with me when I say dating is a necessary evil that we do in order to get to where we want to be, which is in committed relationships. No one really wants to date forever, for it's own sake, unless they're lying to sound evolved. I'm not evolved. So, I've wracked my brain for a hook and finally accepted that I don't have one. This blog is really nothing more than random, neuronal firings that I occassionally have the energy to put in written form.
Today's firing, while not specifically about dating, is about love. In my 20's, I pretty much avoided it. I've always had lots of people that I care about, but most I kept at arm's length. Romantic love proved elusive, for reasons only my therapist seems to know. It's probably because I've always known on some level that I'm a no-take-backs kind of lover. Try though I might, if I let you into my heart, digging you back out again comes at great personal cost. I'm sure it's that way for everybody, but this is my blog, so it sounds like I'm the first person who's ever loved, I realize that. My point is that for most people, it's a worthwhile risk. For me, it's taken a while to believe that. Instead I pretty much chose a sterile existence--never risk, never lose.
Somewhere in there, though, I got all brave and decided to live the adventure. It has been a mess! You can't believe the mistakes I've made and the starts and misfires I've had. But, in many ways the messes haven't been all bad. I have loved some pretty incredible people, most of whom I still enjoy relationships with to this day. I hope that I'm a composite of all the amazing people who've poured into my life. I've loved true, I've loved hard, I've loved hopelessly, and most recently, since I became a parent, I've learned truly to love selflessly. It's been great, but I haven't known a moment's peace since. Instead of being comfortably insulated the way I used to be, I'm exhilarated, broke, nervous, joyful, heart-broken, concerned, over-worked, sleep-deprived, careful, celebratory, protective, wary, drunk, infatuated and covered in snot. All because I'm hoplessly intertwined in the lives of people who are living lives as risky as I have decided to live. It's a total cluster and I love every second of it. Mostly. ;)
Hope you're living and loving every second of your adventure, today, too.
My first idea? Dating as a single mom. Specifically internet dating as a single mom, which seems to be one of the few ways people like me with limited time and child care can meet other (sometimes) viable heterosexuals, except at church, or unless we live in hippie communes. I'm not knocking church. I love church. I even love a lot of the people I meet at church, but the idea of going there to look for a mate has always rubbed me the wrong way. I heard a pastor say that if you go to church to find God, it's likely that you'll find the other things you might not even have known you were looking for (i.e. community, friendship, a life partner). While that's very encouraging, I'm just gonna be honest and say that what I got out of that was church + God = mate. My over-simplified understanding of that formula has been making me uncomfortable ever since, so as a reaction, I go to church specifically not to find a mate. I don't think I've done a wedding ring check since the day I heard that sermon. I'm also not knocking communes. The idea of living sparingly, off the land, in community with others who share the fruits of our labors and barter for services that we each provide according to our individual talents is actually pretty appealing. Then I think how much I like shaving and wearing bras. And people who bathe, regularly. Maybe there are communes where people do those things, but...*shrug* I'm skeptical.
Eventually, I threw the dating blog idea out. I think they're only interesting to people who don't have to live the daily agony of dating. For the ones in the trenches, reading about other people's relationship hijinks can be like fingernails on a chalkboard. Maybe that's just me, but I still think that most singletons would stand with me when I say dating is a necessary evil that we do in order to get to where we want to be, which is in committed relationships. No one really wants to date forever, for it's own sake, unless they're lying to sound evolved. I'm not evolved. So, I've wracked my brain for a hook and finally accepted that I don't have one. This blog is really nothing more than random, neuronal firings that I occassionally have the energy to put in written form.
Today's firing, while not specifically about dating, is about love. In my 20's, I pretty much avoided it. I've always had lots of people that I care about, but most I kept at arm's length. Romantic love proved elusive, for reasons only my therapist seems to know. It's probably because I've always known on some level that I'm a no-take-backs kind of lover. Try though I might, if I let you into my heart, digging you back out again comes at great personal cost. I'm sure it's that way for everybody, but this is my blog, so it sounds like I'm the first person who's ever loved, I realize that. My point is that for most people, it's a worthwhile risk. For me, it's taken a while to believe that. Instead I pretty much chose a sterile existence--never risk, never lose.
Somewhere in there, though, I got all brave and decided to live the adventure. It has been a mess! You can't believe the mistakes I've made and the starts and misfires I've had. But, in many ways the messes haven't been all bad. I have loved some pretty incredible people, most of whom I still enjoy relationships with to this day. I hope that I'm a composite of all the amazing people who've poured into my life. I've loved true, I've loved hard, I've loved hopelessly, and most recently, since I became a parent, I've learned truly to love selflessly. It's been great, but I haven't known a moment's peace since. Instead of being comfortably insulated the way I used to be, I'm exhilarated, broke, nervous, joyful, heart-broken, concerned, over-worked, sleep-deprived, careful, celebratory, protective, wary, drunk, infatuated and covered in snot. All because I'm hoplessly intertwined in the lives of people who are living lives as risky as I have decided to live. It's a total cluster and I love every second of it. Mostly. ;)
Hope you're living and loving every second of your adventure, today, too.
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