It’s Okay to Cry

I have cried, I think, once a day for the last seven days. That’s unusual for me…now. In my 20s and 30s, I am pretty sure I cried every day. I remember one of my close guy friends told me he hadn’t cried in several years, and I was befuddled. I was like, ‘HUH!? You must be so repressed! What is happening!?”

So I used to cry about big life things, such as, “I am never going to find ‘the one,'” and ‘Why can’t I figure out what I want to do with my life?” Ya know, your basic lame, white girl problems when you’re still on the dole of your Dad.

I know I’m 28, but can you send me my rent?

Now, I cry about things like when my son and I were walking the dogs last night, and he told me that my ex-husband probably married me for my looks, but “those have lowered.” Or, when I miss my long-distance boyfriend, and it hurts. Or, that I don’t always fit in.

I am not sad, really, no. I am just in-tune with my emotions, I guess?

I cried, too, this week when I saw my daughter sleeping next to me, as she does every night, and she’s so big now. She’s almost 8. I know, I know; she should sleep in her own bed. But, I’m alone, and I like to touch her ankles with my cold feet, and to hear her breathing, as I did when she was an infant and wouldn’t nap unless I lay down with her. I cried, because I remembered how tiny she was, in her zebra, zip-up, onesie, and how she smelled of powder and cornsilk on her fine hair. And how, at that time, things were so different, and I didn’t envision co-parenting and sleeping alone on Wednesdays.

The point I guess I’m trying to make is, it’s okay to cry, even if you’re happy. The tears stream down, cleanse you of those thoughts, and you can move on. People seem so concerned with appearing happy. I guess I’m just here to say, well, it’s okay to cry…

My Daughter told me to Chill

IMG_7059

 

“Mom, I know you want to hang out with me, but I’m actually kind of popular? So you might have to chill, because I have to call my friends.”

This is what my 8-year-old said to me. 

I almost died laughing. But, then, I got scared that she will not want to play with me anymore!  The saying “they grow up so fast, in the blink of an eye” never resonated with me–until now. I used to balk when people would say that to me in the grocery store, as my two kids dangled off the cart. I’d reply, “Really? ‘Cause this ‘aint so fun right now, and time’s moving awfully slowly.”

I kind of had that feeling again this year when I had to do remote homeschool and work full-time. I was exasperated and couldn’t wait till 5:00. When the kids were babies, 5:00 marked the time I could feed them and then put them to bed expeditiously so I could relax with a TV show and a glass of wine. Now, they are up till I go to sleep. 

It’s funny, because parents wait for this time, a time when they can be at home together as a family and not actually have to play! And, now, I see a baby and think, “Wait, am I too old? I want one! They smell so good!”( Er, yeah…I know I’m too old…)

I look in my daughter’s room, and she has her perfume bottles lined up just-so, and her hair things and jewelry.

IMG_2620

The wooden crib of stuffed animals hasn’t been touched in some time. “Where is Penny?” I asked the other day, referring to the beanie baby she used to adore that we’d create funny stories about. “I can’t find her,” she said.

I feel like Penny.

IMG_2621
This is what Penny looks like

I shouldn’t say woe is me, because the upside is I have time for myself now (i.e. time to clean). And, this is a very nice thing.

We played Old Maid the other night. My son is afraid of the Old Maid, so much so that he doesn’t want to play. Wait, as an aside, how rude is it that the loser is someone stuck with the Old Maid? First off, I could use an Old Maid to clean my house. Secondly, an Old Maid could also just be some fun party chick, who never got married or had kids, and she’s a blast to hang with. No? I’m voting for the Old Maid. Anyway, I digress. It was so fun to play cards with them, laughing and screeching when the maid was passed about! I wanted to play again and again.

I certainly don’t long to revert to those days in the grocery store when I’d be told I had my hands full, but I sure do miss my children scurrying about in their jammies, and me being her number one friend.

IMG_2115.JPG

To Homeschool or Not to Homeschool? That is the Question.

Who here is struggling with whether or not to homeschool in the fall? I am raising my hand virtually, because I can’t decide! I mean, on the one hand, I am totally in fear of the fact that I will have to be their teacher again, and I’m gonna be honest…I wasn’t that great at it! Not only did I lack some real patience, but I also let them have recess too long, and I skimmed over some stuff, and I totally let them take advantage of me, like we used to do when we told the substitute we were never given homework on Tuesdays.

On the other hand, I don’t want to send them to school and worry each day that they’re carrier monkeys who didn’t wear their masks, or didn’t wash their hands, and did not keep their distance at recess. I can say now from my observations this summer, that when kids get together, the distance seems to go out the window. So then, I think, “Okay, let’s just bite the bullet, and I will step up and be a good teacher. I will have a curriculum, and I will stick to a schedule and I will forgo my life for the school year, even more so.”

Then…I sit on the couch and stare out the window, frozen, and think about making a run to the liquor store.

images
Fact: I didn’t look like this. I was not smiling, and my hair isn’t that short.

So maybe I won’t make a decision. Isn’t that a decision? I just want people to decide for me. I remember going to therapy, and I’d ask the therapist, “Can’t you just tell me what to do?” And she’d be all, “No, that’s not my job! You have to figure that out for yourself. I can lead you in that direction, but I can’t make a decision for you.” Well that made my decision: not to go to therapy anymore…

Also, don’t our decisions constantly change? Or is that just me? For example, today, I implored my children to go to the beach with me. See how messed up that sounds? Like, I have to beg someone to go to the BEACH? How ’bout y’all get a job, and then we can talk about how painful the beach is… Anyway, so my daughter says to me, “No! I’m not going so you can sit on your can in the sun and not swim!”

SIT ON MY CAN!

imgres
What I sit on

Can you believe she said that to me? First off, where’d she get that expression (#guilty?). Second, I had to not laugh (even though it was kinda hysterical) and tell her that she better shape up and stop disrespecting me.

images-1.jpg

So we decided not to go to the beach and instead to go to the Vineyard on the ferry boat. Good plan? Okay, maybe. So I go get dressed, walk the dogs, get ready to roll, and the kids are not moving. They’re now settled in with their devices, playing Adopt Me and Shark Hunt, and now I’m pacing back and forth like a rabid hyena telling them we “NEED TO GO!” so we can find parking and get on the hot, COVID ferry only to ride over and be hot in a mask. They didn’t respond.

So I decided not to go to the Vineyard.

Now I am doing this.

See? I can’t make a decision. Can you? Homeschool or no? 

IMG_3711

 

 

 

Vexed and Confused!

Why? Why does this happen JUST TO ME (it feels like) that I finally order this gadget called a Gizmo from Verizon to be able to text/talk and locate my child, and it DOES NOT WORK! Here’s the sitch: I splurge and buy this $175 Gizmo gadget thing that a lot of the children we know have. My child has been imploring me for two months to ascertain this. I decide to give in. It may be great, I think, and probably a good idea! So I finally pull the trigger, and we wait for its arrival. My daughter runs to the mailbox each day, opening it with closed eyes, wishing for the box to be there. Finally, it arrives! We jump up and down in front of the mailbox, together holding the Amazon box, chanting, “Gizmo, Gizmo, Gizmo!” Then, we get inside, I charge the sucker, turn it on and set up the account, and BAM! It gets stuck on this home screen of a scan code, and I’m out, done, it’s over! Total deflation! The bar code screen is permanently frozen! I can’t get past this screen! So I call tech support at Verizon, and they tell me that they can’t help me out, and that I have to go to Amazon to get a replacement. That it’s just BROKEN. I mean, really? It feels to me so unfair! I asked my friends if this happened to them, and, no, of course it did not! ARRGH!  I feel like this crap always happens to me!

IMG_2318
Frozen 3

Okay, so I’m being a baby. Like, put me in a crib, white noise, mobile, I’m out. I need some formula and a pacifier because COVID is going on, and obviously that is way more important–not to mention all the other ailments and problems in the world. Gizmo? Not so important. But, I needed to vent. So here I am…venting!

Okay, so what else can I vent about, cause I’m kind of on a tear, and I’m not sure why. Oh! My taxes! So I thought I was all 2020 (not that that is a good thing, since this year uber- blows), and I used Turbo Tax for the first time to do my taxes. In the past, I had used H&R Block, but it’s kinda pricey at $220 if you only have one W-2. Am I right? So I do Turbo, and I’m all fired up that I’m filing electronically, and my State taxes get freaking rejected, for some unbeknownst reason, and I have to mail them in. MAIL! I mean, for reals? Like, I am on this site so I can file ELECTRONICALLY! So I pay to e-file, and now I have to staple forms, and find an envelope and some, like stamps?? And actually go to the post office to postmark it?  Who even does that anymore?

IMG_2319
I am annoying! Mail me! Snail Mail only!!

I am, however, getting a refund. So that’s kinda sweet. If I hadn’t quit my job, I might use it to go on vacation, but (A) I did quit my job, so I need it to pay for wine and the mortgage; and (B) there is nowhere to go in this pandemic. My son said he knew what he would spend it on: a Louis Vuitton prism bag and a Burberry oxford shirt. Good to know those cost the same as like two months of my bills. Yeah, so not happenin’, Son!

Anyway…what else can I complain about? HA! Sorry. Okay, I’ll stop. This is it. But, feel free to vent to me in the comments.

xo

When You Quit in a Pandemic, and Hit your Head.

Did you hear the one about the woman who quit her job during a pandemic?! You didn’t? Well, now you have: it’s me! Yeah, no joke, actually. But you know what? Before you go on chastising me and asking me how the hell I will support myself, don’t fret–I got this covered. Momma has been saving, and there’s a reason I’ve been buying Route 66 brand gear at Walmart for a couple years, so now I can take my time to pivot into my next move. And, I will spend the summer finishing my second book about three women living on Cape Cod who end up dating the same man! (Stay tuned)

I know, it’s crazy, right??? Well, I invite you to join me on my journey. The journey has started somewhat roughly, as I hit my forehead on the corner of my car door the other night when I was buying candy for the kids after the beach. Here is what I looked like.

image4

Oh, and, yes, those are tears in my eyes, because it hurt…like, a lot. I’ve been applying copious amounts of Vaseline and Vitamin E on it, so I won’t look like Rocky Dennis in Mask (’80s movie with Cher. So good). I mean, my face is my money-maker, so I have to protect it. Wait, what? Er…but, no, seriously, I asked my son if I looked bad or heinous with this cut on my forehead, and you know what he said? He said, “I can’t tell the difference between that cut and the other lines on your forehead.”

And…fade to black. Drop the mic.

I also had the unfortunate experience of having to scold my daughter for being rude to me this morning.  And I say rude in quotes, because she was like an alien creature that hatched from the lower depths. See, she couldn’t find a card she had made for her dad for Father’s Day, and so she tore her room apart, screaming, pulling drawers of clothes out of her dresser, and eventually accusing me of tossing it out.

“You throw out everything!” she screamed in the spawn of the Devil’s voice from upstairs.

I went up, tried to calmly help her look through her FOUL room that literally had a candy toilet plunger stuck to the nice wood bookcase, and we didn’t find it. In the interim, I cleaned her room and, yes, threw a lot of stuff out. Ya’ know what? You don’t play with it for six months? It’s gone. Ya’ done. Pare down. So, eventually, after I yelled at her, and called in support from her dad, she wrote me this apology note. Oh, and she calls me “Moo,” as in moo cow. I mean, wait, should I be offended by that?

image6

Anyway….that’s the start to my new life. A little rough, but kinda excited.