It'd be easier if he was stupid.
>> 17 October 2011
The Man-child is struggling right now. Seriously struggling. I know, I know I'm probably breaking some sort of blogger code right now. One where I'm supposed to hint at having some terrible problem but never actually saying what that problem is... Back of the hand to the forehead, declaring woe is me, exasperating my readers to no end, making you wonder.
Is it the kids, I bet it's the kids. Or work, maybe it's work.
But nope, I'm going to be all wild and crazy and flat out tell you...it's the Man-child. He's struggling. He's struggling big time with just that...becoming a man. Still living in my house and following the rules. But having all these feelings of independence and burgeoning yearnings without any idea of where to channel it. Worse- channeling it in ways that make me want to simultaneously hug him and tazer him.
...and you know what? It's stressing me THE HELL OUT. Sorry, sorry. I know. I'll rein it in. Nothing, and I mean nothing makes you question your effectiveness at being a parent than going through a time such as this. It's gotten to the point I can hardly watch Parenthood anymore because I can't stand to watch what Sara is going through. I'm muttering to the TV. At least your kid has gotten a job. At least she's gotten herself a home. At least she's standing on her own two feet.
Was I too hard on him? Not hard enough. Too pushy, not pushy enough? Am I being too pushy, not pushy enough? Will he one day snap out of it and become a decent human being? Will one day I look back on this time and laugh?
I think this is why I was given two kids- one to remind me I'm not the worst parent in the world.
May come and go but we always have the East Bay
>> 02 October 2011
Work friends are a weird thing. Sure you go to lunch together, you go out to drinks. Dinner occasionally. Maybe a waterpark or two. You share the ins and outs of your lives. Troubles with kids, the spouse. But are you really friends? Like real friends? Like call to pick you up at 2:00 in the morning when you hooked up with the Miller Light guys and aren't quite sure where you are but know that you have to go home to get ready for the 6:00am conference call with Belgium friends?
Or is it some other weird relationship that defies a label. Like trying to determine what to call the man in your life after the age of 35- a boyfriend, man-friend, lover, main squeeze, special friend, partner, hostage???
Work friends are tough to quantify. Mostly because they come and go. Sometimes with little notice. Sure it's a little different with LinkedIn and all the other social networking sites where you collect old colleagues like baseball cards only to fan them out and pull one in times of need...like a job or just someone to meet up with for a beer and to reminisce about the "good ole days." How good we had it, with company picnics and stock options and a living wage. Oh, the good old days.
But are they real friends?
When a work friend leaves suddenly, with seemingly no reason or explanation, it's tough not to feel a little bummed. A little sad. After all how often as an adult do you get to make new friends? Sure you have the couple friends, your kids' friends' parents friends, the book club friends but none of whom do you spend so much time with. None who slog through the thick and thin. None who know without a doubt just how weird that girl from marketing is...you know the one who repeats everything she says but under her breath in a weird sing-song way.
So I guess yeah- they're as real as it gets.
No, No everything is fine.
>> 26 September 2011
So I went to see a movie this week. Because that's what I do. I fill up on real life from dawn to dusk and once a week I sit in a darkened, preferably cool but not too cool room and watch other people's lives. It's my bliss. Sometimes I'm entertained. Sometimes I get to laugh. Sometimes I think well at least my life's not as bad as all that. Sometimes I don't think at all.
This week I saw Sarah Jessica Parker try to juggle everything in the latest chick lit turned chick flick.
In between wincing at all the ways Hollywood screwed up a perfectly good book and laughing as some of the stay-at-home Nazi mother references hit just a little too close to home (why on Earth am I the only person laughing in this theater?) and lamenting because let's face it Sarah Jessica Parker and James Bond are just a little too old to be playing these roles... Really? Really? Are we supposed to believe you were 40 when you had your kids? 45? 50?- I'm reminded of one simple fact...the undeniable truth of I see you/raise you.
For those of you who haven't yet seen it, the premise of aptly named I Don't Know How She Does It? is (wait for it) being a working mom is hard. I'll stop here and give you a minute.
Done slapping yourself in the forehead while simultaneously muttering a resonating DUH? Good, we'll continue.
Yes, yes it is. But I'll see you, raise you...one working mother for a working single mother. Being a working single mother is even harder. Do you know why it's so hard? Because there is no one else to blame if you get it wrong. No blaming Dad. (or Mom *head nod to all the single dad's out there) No blaming anyone else when something goes wrong. That's why it's so damned hard. It's you, you did this. You weren't there enough or too much. You didn't cut the crusts off or you did. You gave them space, too much space. You cared too much, you didn't care enough. You, you, you.
How do you keep everything together without losing it? Even more so what happens when everything spins so out of control together seems like a far star in the distance? Is it as simple as the movie would have us believe? *spoiler alert. Tell your boss your boss NO?
No, no it's not.
As a side note...teenagers are generally assholes. Even when you love and cherish the very ground they walk on. Pure, unadulterated, grade A, prime Assholes. Period.
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