The Fairytale

Have you ever thought your life should end up like a movie? Say Pretty Woman? Well, maybe not Pretty Woman, because how many of us dream of being hookers falling for a rich john (not sure why that happens to be my twisted fairytale, but it seems fitting). OK, substitute some other, more appropriate, hopelessly romantic story where "Prince Charming" swoops in, they fall madly in love with each other, he sweeps her (who is almost always less than perfect in circumstance, but perfect in demeanor) off her feet in the most incredibly romantic way, and saves her from her poor, pathetic life?

So maybe we don't buy this in exactly the same way we did when we were seven, because well, how sad would it be to believe we are not whole or complete alone and that we must be saved by some swooning man in order to be happy? I digress... But do you think deep down some people maintain a belief in fairy tale true love long into adulthood? Do we hope for the perfect courtship and happily ever after? Is this illusion stored in the back of our minds, in our subconscious where we keep all the ideals of our lives, tucked away safely like mementos in a hope chest?

I think I have always believed in this fantasy to some extent. Not completely, but enough that this impractical expectation has colored how successful I believe a relationship is. I can't quite bring myself to part with this, even though over time and circumstance, I've long outgrown such silly ideas. If it isn't "just how it should be", then maybe it isn't the "Fairy Tale", and maybe it isn't meant to be.

The reality is, we end up in relationships where we don't live happily ever after. We work everyday, the effort being harder and more frustrating than digging a hole on the shore while the waves come to undo what we have done again and again. We struggle, we try different solutions, we compromise, we settle and we make deals we thought we'd never make. In attempts to find intimacy we try to work through misunderstandings and being better understood. We try, and we try again, even when we don't find what we are looking for. We seek to comprehend things that are beyond our perception. We give and give and give some more, and what we get in return isn't quit what we hoped for. Sometimes, we even let go of the things we cherish the most in hopes that we will find something better on the other side, only to be disappointed and resentful when we don't get what we need. And sometimes we fail, ultimately just wanting to quit and walk away.

It's not to say that it is all bad, these relationships. Lots of time it is so right and perfect in the moment you can't help but stop and laugh at the little guy on your shoulder who tells you that it shouldn't be this hard and you are making a HUGE mistake to keep trying. Sometime you have that precious feeling of "he gets me". You have that moment of simpatico. Often it is a look, a touch, and things are just good. The arms around you feel so right, the sustenance they provide is comforting right down to your bones. At these times, I just close my eyes and smile. Breathe. Take in the moment. Enjoy. Because unlike the fairy tales, it doesn't end here. Everyone doesn't live happily ever after. Life goes on with more struggles, and more moments of bliss. We just hope that overall the bliss outweighs the struggles.

But is the ideal: Once we conquer the struggle, we should live in eternal bliss, while ever elusive, keeping us from being content and satisfied? That: Prince Charming should be perfect in every way and complete us so entirely, making us wonder if there is someone more fulfilling out there for us? Do we put way too much emphasis on the "fairy tale" romance, therefore never letting ourself believe that things are gratifying, let alone good enough? Do we question a relationship's value by questioning "Should it really be this hard?"

The truth is, as nice as our fantasies can be, nothing of value comes easy. The struggle between good and evil can be equated to the fact that we find greater worth in that which we must fight for. Though it is never perfect, the progress we make helps us to be more satisfied together. There is no dragon to slay (unless you count his stubborn ways), there is no witch to trick (unless you consider my less than nice demeanor) and no one was locked in the attic waiting to be rescued (unless you reflect on the ways we help each other save ourselves time and again). We don't get the fairy tale ending kiss and the happily forever after fading into the sunset. Instead, each day we get to wake up next to each other, and for good and bad, we have been given the promise of one more day together. Because the only part of happy ever I find that works is: the after. That after all is said and done, we continue to come back to each other. Again, hoping to have happiness even after all.

Home and Hearth

Sometimes when I have nothing going on up there in this mind of mine, I imagine what it would be like to win the lottery. First of all the irony here is that in order to win, I must play, which I don't. So what are the chances? Yeah: zero, zip, zilch! But a girl should dream.....

First, I imagine what it would be like to buy any house in any area I want. A house on a lake would be what I really want. Not big, but you know, big enough. I want everyone to have a space they call their very own. I want my OWN studio. A place that is all mine for whatever I am currently into. I want my land to be enough that we can expand (build an additional house someday or ???). The interior (or things) wouldn't be much different than they are now. I don't think I would suddenly change to expensive taste. I guess what is telling here is that I really don't want anything that I can't attain without winning the lottery. Maybe that's why I don't play.

OK, but if I did and I did win. One thing I would do that I really couldn't do unless I won: I would pay off everyone's ( my peeps) mortgage. I want this for everyone around me: A place all theirs that they don't have to report to "The Man" to have.

I'm not sure what else I would so. I think I would travel, not sure if I would quit work, but I would probably make a different choice about what I do and how much I do it. I'm not sure why I even feel compelled to write this except that I think it says something about me that the most important thing to me is home. When I am most happy is when I am nesting.

The Alaskan and I have been working very steadily around the house lately. Just about every day we do something that improves the house or our surroundings. And I LOVE it. Of all the things that happen in a day, it is this that makes me feel like I have accomplished something. And it is very indicative of everything around me. I like to have a steady stream of work that has purpose and direction. If things are hard, we have too many projects going in too many directions, I wonder if we will ever get it all done. Everything feels overwhelming, including the little things. I am liable to pull my hair out and be miserable. And we all know, when I am unhappy, it spreads like the worst plague ever!

And then I breathe. Learning that this house and all it entails is a process and it is never all done, has flowed into other aspects of my life as well. Don't sweat the small stuff, right? You know like the weeds that are growing on the side of the house? Yeah, I'll get to them. And I know when I do that, in time they will grow back and I will have to pull them again. Yes, kind of like real life. Sometimes it can be frustrating to feel like there is just so much to do or to keep doing the same things over and over again. I just breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. and know it won't always feel like this.

I find it helps to have goals and direction. Helps to keep the focus. My goals, my direction, whether I win the lottery or not, I hope someday to sip my coffee from a place that is mine all mine with a view like this:

Shin Splints

I caught a few minutes of this program the Alaskan was watching last night where this guy said (about running this marathon) "I'm not gonna like/enjoy it, but I am gonna like how it feels to push myself and have myself stay committed and keep going." That sums up for me what this feels like. I don't really like this work in the moment, but I like to know that my determination wins the battle of quiting/stopping vs. doing something even when it's hard or hurts.

Speaking of hurt, a week or so ago I mistakenly believed I was ready to "up my running game". yeah can you say cocky? I was feeling really good about my progress thus far, and so I tried to run a bit longer and harder. In the moment, it was fine and I was glad I pushed and kept going. But oh how I paid later: with shin splints. I have battled this malady before, so I laid off for a few days before I tried again. My left is still bugging me a bit even when I do a routine morning. So I am trying to not push so hard so many days a week. Today I walked my whole route. YUCK! Boring and LONG. Yes, my impatience is even present here. I would so rather run and get it over with than walk, which is so slow and long. So, I was feeling a little down by this. What if I don't progress? What will keep me motivated? Because, the truth is, I don't really LIKE to do this. I love to push myself, and I do think this is what keeps me interested. Doing just a little more today than yesterday.

So I'm going to limit the running to 3-4 days, walking the alternate days, and try to only up the amount of running once a week.

Balloons - A Lesson in Letting Go

How do you do it? How did you just let go?

Teach me this lesson.

When the kidlets were young they loved balloons. Anytime they were presented with an opportunity to have one of their own, they eagerly grasped the string in their chubby digits, not letting go for anything. They would drag them home to their rooms to keep. Always these balloons were soon forgotten until, while cleaning, I happened upon the sad deflated carcass behind some piece of furniture, hovering only slightly above the ground, small and wilted, waiting to be popped and thrown away. It seemed hard to believe something once so full and vibrant, joyful, bouncing at the end of its string would become so faded, dusty and even wrinkly to touch.

On one occasion I became determined not to have this big bright ball bouncing off the ceiling of the car on our long trip home. Of course reasoning with DQ that her balloon made it hard for me to see out the back window of the car, was futile, but remembering a book we had read a few nights before, I came up with a quick plan.

"Let's send the balloon up to the baby angels."

She was, of course, reluctant to let go of her balloon.

"Before we take this home, where it will fall, lets let it fly and let the Baby Angels enjoy it too! Image how excited they will be to have this balloon!"

She smiled and I knew I had her.... We counted together and slowly her little fingers opened and the balloon drifted from her hand up into the sky. We watched it until we could no longer make out the dot in the sky.

Sometimes we don't want to let go, but we need to. Our fingers are grasped tightly around the string, afraid to even loosen, fearing it will slip away. Hoping that by holding tight it will be forever ours. But today, I want to remember a light, bright thing that in its moment brought happiness.... not keep it until it becomes sad and wilted, long past it pleasure, and just done being what it once was.

So I am closing my eyes, taking one last look, counting to myself, and against my childish nature of wanting to keep this, I'm gonna let this fly away.

The Price is Right

So this is how it goes.....

Me, "Does this look ok?"
Him, "Yeah... you look good. Why? Who are you trying to impress, some guy at work?"
Me, "No, please.... everyone I work with is OLD!"
Him, "Yeah, well there are plenty of hot grandmothers out there.... I could even fuck a hot gramma... on her plastic couch.... while we watch Price if Right."

Pause..... hmmm... WOW - yeah, I heard him right, he did just say that!

All I can do is laugh.

Halloween

This is perhaps the end of an era. Probably the last year I will be able to talk the kidlets into having some sort of combo costume. (And hopefully the last that I am up for hours and hours hunched over a sewing machine trying to pull it off without REALLY knowing how to sew!) Let's take a moment to pause while I wipe the tears from my eye. Its been a good run. But alas, sad, but true, they are growing up and no longer easily manipulated convinced to do what Mom wants.

So I am taking a walk down memory lane, back to when they were young and cute and had no idea how embarrassing it would be that someday I would be posting these pictures of them on the internet oh so innocent and trusting.

There was the first Halloween I had two. Yeah, DQ had a few cute Halloweens before the arrival of DP Joe. But nothing is more fun than couple costumes!!! I was so EXCITED to have two! But apparently I wasn't quite over the fact that I had a son, not another daughter. D begged me not to emasculate his new son in this way, but I thought it was adorable....



Oh it's gets better! The next year it was even more brilliant! Being 7, DQ wanted to be something much more regal (and worthy of her Queen status). No prob says Mom! I modify someone's old prom dress (Thank you Value Village!) to make her the cutest princess - complete with the garniture and pointy tall hat. Notice how utterly happy she is! DP Joe gets to be the frog with the red lips on his cheek where he's been kissed! tee hee. Notice he looks less thrilled than last year. Yeah, quick learner. He knows now, last year wasn't a fluke, this shit's gonna continue.



Now, year three was by far my personal favorite. I actually sewed both costumes with the MIL's help AND it just so happens that this combo was near and dear to my heart because once upon a LONG time ago, my brother and I were this combo. Raggedy Ann and Andy with Cody being Teddy E. Bear. Come on, let me here you say it, ahhhhh...This picture (of course) does not do justice to DQ's costume with red rick rack and full pantaloons. Other than the fact that most of her friends had NO IDEA what she was, she liked the attention from all of the adults who TOTALLY knew who she was and appropriately ohh'd and ahhh'd. I'm sure I will hear from DP Joe some day, "Mom... A doll? WTF?" Again, deep under that red wig I'm sure he's thinking.... is this mockery ever going to end? Answer: No, probably not. After all, isn't this WHY I had kids?

The Angel vs. the Devil. Ah, how true it is! The truth is these two really should have been reversed! But again, trying not to scar the poor boy for life. Notice the increase in his excitement? He's practically going to burst if he has to be still for one more picture. Yippy, maybe I finally scored with this one! Oh yeah, forgot, it wasn't the costume that had him excited, he was at MIL's and totally hopped up on sugar from all the Halloween candy. Surprised this picture even turned out and he wasn't just a blur in my lens! What you can't see is the awesome red tights with flames he's wearing under his cape! Yeah the debauchery!

But fear not DP Joe, your year is finally here! No longer can Mom assume since you are little you will not understand how sissy her costume picks have been for you. You are now old enough to say, "Not so much." Well the truth is, you learned NO a long time ago, but this year, lucky for you, you perfected the oh so cute and adorable doe eyes look combined with the sweet, sappy, "Please, mom, wouldn't this be so cool?" plea. Yeah that one STILL gets me. Again, quick learner! How could I say no!

And this was the costume of all costumes for him. Complete with the dragon tattoo on the chest. Still the one he remembers the most, the one he goes back to every year and wants to be again. But aside from the fact that EVERYONE is on the pirate bandwagon (or should I say ship.. argg!) these days, I was a little concerned about how he kept veering off to the right, into the street while we were trick-or-treating. Apparently, although the eye patch looks cool, it affects his equilibrium. YEAH! Turns out the patches in the medical supply section of Wally World aren't the best costume accessory for a child who uses BOTH eyes to see! (Don't tell the folks judging the 'Mother of the Year contest!) DQ was his pirate bride. Wasn't too creative in figuring out how to make that obvious. It didn't hurt that just a few weeks prior she was the flower girl in The Gnome's wedding.

So, I had to come up with something cool enough to convince DP Joe to let go of his pirate obsession. (NO REPEATS!) Not easy feat, trust me! Years later he is STILL dressing up in full pirate garb on occasion! This glow in the dark skeleton barely cut it. DQ is wearing a lovely woman's dress shirt which I fixed up with some gauze to be ghoulish. The wig filled with plastic bugs was the capstone and her fav!

But the home made costumes are not quite as cool as the store bought super hero variety...... I knew this day would come.....Finally we move away from Mom's homemade creations to the more main stream cool choices with (GASP!) masks. What you can't see is DP Joe's fake chest muscles and DQ's mini skirt and boots... MEOW! Yeah a little frightening when you darling little girl goes from baggy sweats to knee high boots and a black leather mini skirt... HOLY Kitty Cat Batman!

So that brings us to this year... when amazingly enough I have once again managed to pull this off. The sewing machine was still going Halloween morning as I apparently have yet to understand that I lost the Mother of the Year contest a long time ago fervently finished DQ's costume (yes, I drug my sewing machine to work!) And in the end, as it always manages to do, it came together without a hitch.

Little DQ Riding Hood and the Big Bad Joe!

TGIF