Monday, November 15, 2010

Reflections on life with a mom who's not my mom anymore.

We moved every two years the entire time I was growing up. Sometimes more. My dad was an Air Force officer, and I was an only child.  The constant in both of our lives was my mom.  She made our house(s) a home(s).  She did it all...homemade potpourri, sheets ironed with lavender linen spray, cookies after school.  All.  For us.

When I got a little older, she became my best friend.  It's weird, because...I think she always was my best friend, and I just didn't know.  Not that we had the perfect family.  We didn't.  Now that she's gone, I'm realizing how empty my life is without her.  I was driving my daughter to her other grandmother's house yesterday, and I thought it would be fun to listen to some Christmas music.  She loved it.  I cried.  Buckets.

You might be asking yourself...wait, her mom isn't dead though.  Right?  That's correct.  Her body is alive.  She survived a massive aneurysm in 2009.  So massive that less than 2% of people make it through an event on the scale which she experienced.  I was so naive.  I sat in the waiting room and I prayed to...?  To God?  To some kind of androgenous, politically correct, non-denominational spiritual leader?  I'm still not sure, but I prayed so hard that sometimes I felt like my guts were turning inside out.  I was 6-months pregnant.

I prayed that she would live.  I never thought past that word.  Live.  It seemed like all I needed...a mom who was alive.  I've never put much thought into what makes a life.  Physical being?  Spiritual completeness?  Sense of humor?  Passion?  Love?  And then, much to my surprise after a life replete with many unanswered prayers...she lived.  And we rejoiced.  She made huge steps forward.  She's off the ventilator!!!  They took the feeding tube out!!!  She brushed her own teeth!  No diaper needed today!! 

It's been one and a half years now, and I'm just starting to realize that...my mom isn't coming back.  Not the mom from my childhood.  The mom that made all of my birthday cakes by hand.  The mom that made my daughter the most beautiful handmade quilts - WAY before I even met my husband - she was so excited that I MIGHT have a baby one day.  The mom I shared my life with. 

She's alive.  She's doing great.  She's learning how to do everything again, and physically she's a trouper, like she always was.  But.  She's not my mom.  I mean, she is.  But she's not.  I still love her, but it's so complicated.  I see this woman, and she's trying so hard.  And I love her so much for trying.  But the connection that used to seem unbreakable feels broken.  And I feel broken.  I want to connect with the new her, but I'm not even sure she *can* connect.  Or maybe I'm not sure she can connect like before.  Or maybe I just feel bad that all the things I miss seem so stupid now.  Who cares if she's not Martha Stewart anymore?? 

I guess this all goes to what it is that makes us whole.  What makes us a person? I guess that's what I'm thinking about these days.  Maybe it's what I need to know.  What is a soul?  What is inside a person that makes them...themself?

Sunday, November 14, 2010

I miss it, but I'm too demotivated to bother.

I have so much going on mentally and physically, but I'm just too...demotivated...to even write about it.  Maybe this is the impetus for the book everyone is always telling me to write.  The Boy and Mini-Spatula are both great, so that's good.  The rest of it, I need to figure out how to write about.  Working on it.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Mama drama

Dude - what the HELL is up with women hating on other women for parenting choices.  I mean, not like "I choose to torture my child with electricity and bullwhips," but more like "I'm going to formula feed" or "I choose to go back to work, and I ADMIT I LIKE IT."  There, I said it.  

I think the stay-at-home mom vs. working mom thing is totally ridiculous.  In 2010, don't we all recognize that both are full of challenges and rewards, and both are valid choices that a woman can make?  I mean, there are women who MUST work in order to pay the mortgage and feed the baby (um, hi!), and I suppose there are people who MUST stay home because daycare is too costly or for other reasons.  So, I guess in that sense, there may be a disparity in how much of a "choice" each avenue actually is.  But, c'mon.  I'm not even going to go on about what brought about this little train of thought because it's just so stupid and mundane.  Suffice it to say...ladies gotz to stick together, yo!

Also, if you have a bumper sticker that says "You've never worked full-time until you've been a stay-at-home mom"...I really, really think you suck.  Darn it, I said I wasn't going to talk about how this all came about...but...seriously???  I'm looking into getting a sticker for my car that says "You've never worked full-time until you've WORKED FULL-TIME."  Jesus. 

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Happy Belated Interdependence Day

How is it even possible that it's July?  I'm afraid that I spend so much time on Baby Spatula's little website (NOT a mommy blog...ick), that I really don't visit here anymore.  Besides that, I'm never sure anyone is even reading, and then I feel like I might look like a bit of a crackpot, posting away my innermost thoughts and feelings to an audience of...zero.

The summer here means that everyone (including me) comes out of their caves and then we intermingle for anywhere from 8-12 weeks before we go back into hibernation.  Plus, it's almost Baby Spatula's birthday and now she's walking and basically a much more mobile PITA.  I mean that in the most loving way possible. 

What I'm saying is, shit is crazy all up in here.  Yo.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Be careful what you ask....

Me:  "So, I applied for this job, and you emailed me back that I was unqualified even though I applied for a similar job last month and you said I was one of the most qualified candidates.  Is there some kind of a mistake?"

Nameless Faceless Government Bureaucrat:  "Oh yes, my apologies.  There was a mistake.  I have gone back and reviewed both applications and regret to inform you that you are actually unqualified for both jobs."

Me:  **crickets**

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

Some advice from someone entirely unqualified to give it.

It's kind of weird.  I stopped taking a really active role in this blog a couple of years ago mainly because I'm not sure how to transition a blog about law school into a blog about being a mom and an attorney who doesn't practice and doesn't want to talk about her job and get canned and have to beg on the street...but, I digress.  Anyway, people apparently still google phrases like "law school sucks" and "fuck law school" and "grades don't matter"...and they find my blog.  Weird, I know.  And then, they write me emails asking for advice on how to survive 1L, or getting bad grades (NOOOOOOO...NOT A B-), or not getting a great internship...DOUBLE WEIRD!

I can't believe anyone would ever ask me for advice, about anything.  I've been married three times, my baby eats dirt and worms on a regular basis and spends the better part of her day trying to gnaw through the propane line to the fireplace, and my husband honestly can't believe I've made it this far in life without setting myself on fire or running myself over with a car.  So...yeah.

But, just in case...here's my advice.

It doesn't matter.  I mean, it does matter - but only when it does.  Which is when you're in law school.  People who graduate with BOTTOM 90% GRADES (WHAT???) get jobs every single day.  Good jobs.  If they didn't, then 90% of people who graduate from law school would never get a job and no one would ever take the LSAT again, right?

If you get a B-, no one will kill a kitten, or set an angel on fire, or force you to listen to Justin Bieber on endless replay (unless that's actually something you like, in which case, why are you here?).  I know that because, hey, I got quite a few B-'s.  There, I said it.  I'm in the bottom 90%.

People, the ubiquitous "they," would look askance at my seeming nonchalance over my slightly less than stellar grades.  The thing is, I was bothered.  It's just that I was bothered that anyone thought a grade in a class that had no bearing on my future had anything to with my worth as a person.  I mean, you have to jump through the hoops, and depending on your school, the hoops may be more or less difficult to navigate.  I took Algebra in high school, I respected the fact that it was part of the curriculum, I did my best, I didn't do that great, and I found a way to make a life for myself without Algebra.  The end.

But, ask yourself, does a B- in Corporations matter?  Obviously not, unless you want to be some kind of business attorney, or it's on the bar.  Otherwise...whatever.  And, frankly, if you're into business law, you probably won't get a B- in Corporations anyway.

So.  Relax.  Take a deep breath.  Get a good night's sleep.  Drink a beer...or two...or three.  Take a walk, enjoy time with your friends, study in the way that makes the most sense to you, and remember that approximately three minutes after you graduate, none of it will really matter. Not really.  Being on law review certainly has merit, as does getting fabulous grades, but let's face it...there's the top 10% and the bottom 90%, and so most of us are destined to be at the bottom (BOTTOM 90%...again, WHAT??).

Stand out in the subject that resonates with you.  Find a topic or class that captivates you.  Focus on staying balanced. 

And, really, seriously...have a beer.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

It's, like, whoa.

I'm still taking a writing class.  It's still not that satisfying.  First off, I'm not sure I want to write "fiction" per se.  Secondly, I know I don't want to be the next Agatha Christie or Ayn Rand, or...well, Jane Austen.  Or, whatever.  The point being, if I'm in a room with five people who all belong to Jane Austen book clubs, I'm in a room with five too many people (at least).  I am going to finish the last two weeks.  I am getting some good tips on organizing my writing and things like that, but the other people kind of freak me out.  Not one of them is going to write a book that I ever want to read.  Before you judge, let me just say...yes, I can tell just by looking. 

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

A sketchy character

For my writing class I'm supposed to be developing a character sketch.  The instructor has us filling out this form - sort of like an "interview" of our character, if they were actually a real person.  I'm trying to decide if the difficulty I'm having with this assignment means I should stick to some kind of non-fiction writing.

First of all - I cannot predict what my own friends and family think, or what their "motivations" are, and I am with them 5,000+ hours EVERY SINGLE DAY. What does my character like to eat?  I don't know - ask him! (or her!).

Secondly - Why does my "character", let's call him "Bob" have to have "motivation"?  What if his "motivation" is just the overuse of quote marks?  What if he's lazy?  What if smokes a lot of weed and his motivation involves finding some Doritos because damnitiknowtheyareheresomewhere?

Third - It seems very...I don't know...inorganic (unorganic?) to come up with this character and assign poor Bob a "look" and a "personality" and "other character-y stuff".  Maybe Bob would like to come to me.  What if Bob is shy?  What if Bob likes girls that are a little more subdued?  Well, if that's the case - he's going to hate me anyway, so I might as well make him stupid and take away his Doritos.  How does that feel Bob? 

Anyway, I'm home sick (AGAIN!) due to the fact that I live in baby-germ-warfare-ville, and needless to say, I'm not working on my character, or his motivation, or my own motivation.

Maybe I'll just write a book about my own life, which has lots of "characters", none of whom I understand in the least, but at least they do funny shit.  Or start doing stand-up.  Everyone says I should do stand-up.  I bet you have to find motivation for that too.  Someone please tell me there's a career that does not involve motivation.  

Thursday, April 08, 2010

In sickness and greater sickness

I'm home sick today.  I actually feel a lot better now, but I'm still home because...well...who wants to go to work for just a couple of hours after a day of being sick?  No one, that's who.  Plus, it's raining really hard.  I know it does that here, like, all the time...but I'm ready to see the sun again.  My soul is gloomy.

Things have been very crazy here.  Business trips for both of us, and increasingly mobile baby, stuff with friends and family, etc.  We're working on getting our life (lives?) to be the way we want it (them?) to be...being married is a challenge, as is being a parent, and is being an employee.  As I'm sure you know.  When you add it all up, well, I never was good at the new math.

I'm looking forward to the writing class I'm starting next week.  Something to put my mind into, something to hopefully stir some creativity and help me to work through all the stuff that's going on in my life these day.  I feel like I went to bed and life was fairly simple and I suddenly woke up in the middle of one of those haybale mazes, wrapped in tangled up twine and covered in rubiks cube's.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Do these pants make my asteroid look big?

So, while The Boy is out of town, I've been watching all manner of trash TV.  Right this minute I'm watching Ruby.  Ruby is not on my regular list of trashy reality shows...I am just too busy watching 16 and Pregnant.  Frankly.

So, anyway.  Ruby.  Apparently Ruby is a virgin.  I don't know how old she is, but she's gotta be older than me.  And he "ex" boyfriend is on the show - and there's some kind of weird vibe where he sort of sets off my gaydar, but also he makes a lot of googly eyes at Ruby and talks about getting her to give him some nookie.

But, what I really wanted to discuss is...she doesn't cuss...she substitutes.

Her "butt" is her "bertha".  Her "ass" is her "astronaut".  "Hell" is "helicopter".  I can't even remember the rest.  The whole thing was just so weird.  Not because she doesn't cuss, and not because she's a virgin...but...because she's just so weird and Southern about the whole thing.

There's something about her that really makes me uncomfortable.  I think it's because I have lived so long with the feelings of inadequacy that being overweight can bring, and with the shame that comes with being with guys who only want to be with you in the middle of the night when their friends can't see. 

I don't know.  It's causing me to think.  She's very annoying, but I think there's a universal truth there somewhere about being a woman, and overweight, and ashamed...and still wanting to be sexually desired, whether you can admit it or not.  And, if you can admit it, and you find someone to fill the role, can you ever believe they mean it?  Maybe that's the thing...I cringe for her because I cringe for my past self...I want to scream at the TV "there's no way this is real!  RUN!  he's going to point and laugh and make fun of you and you have to GET. OUT. NOW."

Hmmmm.  Something to ponder.