Excitement, fear, anticipation, trepidation…

…those are just 4 of the myriad of overwhelming things I felt about the start of school every year.  It was exhausting.

The blog question for today is timely as school starts and as my daughters gear up: How did you feel about the start of the school year growing up?

And here it is almost midnight and I have not gotten my thoughts down…but they exist…in my head…tomorrow.

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It’s tomorrow…late…so glad we only have prompts M-F!!  I can catch up.

My youngest daughter, Small Diva, came in the other night while I was reading to tell me that her stomach was all fluttery.  When I began quizzing her on what she’d eaten and when, she interrupted me to say that it was not a food problem but a “starting school” problem…and I nodded as I remembered that feeling.  Small Diva is so much like me, but even I waited until at least 2 nights before to get nervous, not 6 days before!!!

Like me, she is already prepared with all of her supplies, her wardrobe, her lunchbox, and her lunch menu.  She dragged the Diva Dad out today to finish off the supply list and came home with a few more must haves.  She is on edge and not sleeping well as she runs through all the school room, new teacher, school yard scenarios and the possible outcomes, good and devastating.  She has heard her teacher is tough, so we have discussed the fact that she is a good and respectful student about 15 times since we got her schedule yesterday.  She has started having little conversations with herself, and when she catches herself, I hear huge, deep breaths taken in and blown slowly out.

I am watching myself not only at her age but at every age up to 40.  Even as a very experienced university professor, the 2 days before the semester started were always spent on that highly sensitive, high maintenance, type A plane of extreme, though quiet, angst.

And then I got sick…May 28th, 2000…and when I woke up/became aware again on June 5th, 2000, my life was different.  So much has changed since then, and I am not that person anymore.  Because I am not that same highly sensitive, high maintenance, type A diva (much different sort of DIVA these days), I can see her, feel her, smile about her, and be aware of her in a better way than I would have before getting sick.  I understand feeling the excitement about seeing all of her friends, making new ones.  I remember the trepidation she feels about moving up in her studies and wondering/worrying that it might be too hard.  I remember anticipating learning new and wonderful things because she really does enjoy school.  I remember worrying that there might be people who are mean.  And I remember the fear I see on her face…fear of failure, of not being good enough, not being smart enough…and that kills me.

I know my mother was always there for me and my siblings.  I imagine that she did her best to settle my mind, calm my heart as I try for Small Diva…and I wonder if she knew, as I finally do, that I was just born that way and that even though she would be there walking behind me to keep me safe, I was going to have to find my way through that maze of confusing excitement myself.  Getting sick was certainly not something I planned, but sometimes I am actually grateful, because I have an awareness I might not have ever gained otherwise.  And today I recognize my awareness of my daughter and even my amazing mother.

2 more days to lift off.

Wow…

…I guess it has been awhile since I have been here.  Feeling the need to write again.

Joining a NaBloPoMo for fun, and as a way to write about different things.  For myself, I am going to use the writing prompts to explore the place I find myself in my life now…yeehaw.

The writing prompt for today is: What magical creature would you love to meet?

Did not take me long to figure that one out – a selkie. Wonderful version of the Irish story here: The Selkie 

More in depth info here: Selkie

I did a dance version of this story about 13-14 years ago, and we are re-setting it in Memphis for Project:Motion’s 25th anniversary concert in October (cannot believe it has been 25 years since Judy and I founded the company and even more remarkable that it is still thriving!)  The story spoke to me then…it is even more relevant now.

The Selkie is a magical being that takes the form of a human woman on land and a seal in the sea.  There are several different versions of the story/legend (of course), but what has always spoken to me was the idea that women are driven to find their own skin.  We can shed who we are, our dreams, our strengths, our visions, our selves to do what is expected of us…and it is expected that we will do the shedding willingly and with no complaint.  We are taught that we must do the shedding to be a good mother, a good wife, a good girl…no uppity women allowed!  But when I first read about the selkie when my first 2 daughters were under 6, I understood that my longing for my own identity again was not weird or wrong!  Looking back now, the dance I created was really just about that realization, about acknowledging that the drive was there, but I did not know how find my own skin again.

But now, this past year as I turned 50, I found myself breaking, disintegrating, shifting, re-grouping, and creating a new skin.  My skin.  I am beginning to understand the selkie’s elemental attraction to her skin…it is so powerful she leaves her children to take it on again.  In the stories, sometimes the children are happy for her and wait for her to visit so they can swim in the moonlight together…the thought of leaving my children used to devastate me so I knew I would save my skin for later, but now I see that taking my skin is something my daughters need to see.  I am not really leaving my children, I am coming back to myself so I can be more for them as well as myself.

The selkie legends contain the sadness of the times in which they originated because if a woman refused to be shackled to her husband’s life at the expense of her own voice and skin, she lost it all.  But the selkie’s compulsion to save herself was stronger that her sadness at that prospect.  I have felt that compulsion and thought it meant I would lose it all.  My selkie, however, taught me that choosing myself was the only way to make everything better for everyone, me and my daughters.  We are all stronger now.

I will go to coach the Selkie solo in a few weeks, and the piece will be different this time.  The first selkie was young and rather uncomprehending…this selkie is older, wiser, and more aware.  This shall be interesting.

g-d made MOMS!!!

Ok, if you did not know it already, I am an atheist which is why I could not put that word in the post title in its entirety or in capital letters, but the idea needed to be included because it is part of this thing a friend sent me.  I suppose she is religious, but she sent this as a funny.

GOD MADE MOMS     Answers given by 2nd grade school children to the following questions:     Why did God make mothers? 1.  She’s the only one who knows where the scotch tape is. 2.  Mostly to clean the house. 3.  To help us out of there when we were getting born. How did God make mothers? 1.  He used dirt, just like for the rest of us. 2.  Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring. 3.  God made my mom just the same like he made me.  He just used bigger parts. What ingredients are mothers made of? 1.  God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything  nice in the world and one dab of mean. 2.  They had to get their start from men’s bones.  Then they mostly use string, I think. Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom? 1.  We’re related. 2.  God knew she likes me a lot more than other people’s mom  like me. What kind of a little girl was your mom? 1.  My mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff. 2.  I don’t know because I wasn’t there, but my guess would be  pretty bossy. 3.  They say she used to be nice. What did mom need to know about dad before she married him? 1.  His last name. 2.  She had to know his background..  Like is he a crook?  Does he  get drunk on beer? 3.  Does he make at least $800 a year?  Did he say NO to drugs  and YES to chores? Why did your mom marry your dad? 1.  My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world.  And my mom  eats a lot. 2.  She got too old to do anything else with him. 3.  My grandma says that mom didn’t have her thinking cap on. Who’s the boss at your house? 1.  Mom doesn’t want to be boss, but she has to because dad’s such  a goof ball. 2.  Mom.  You can tell by room inspection.  She sees the stuff under  the bed. 3.  I guess mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad. What’s the difference between moms and dads? 1.  Moms work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work. 2.  Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them. 3.  Dads are taller and stronger, but moms have all the real power ’cause that’s who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friends. 4.  Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine. What does your mom do in her spare time? 1.  Mothers don’t do spare time. 2.  To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long. What would it take to make your mom perfect? 1.  On the inside she’s already perfect.  Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery. 2.  Diet.  You know, her hair.  I’d diet, maybe blue. If you could change one thing about your mom, what  would it be? 1.  She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean.  I’d get  rid of that. 2.  I’d make my mom smarter.  Then she would know it was my sister  who did it not me. 3.  I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.

“On Bonding with a Child”

Grandma J sent this to me from the Washington Post…somebody has been in my head:

On bonding with a child:
In our society, it seems that we should be “doing” things, but what about being with each other? Some of the most magical moments can occur that way. Sit on the couch with a cup of tea and see how he reacts. I find that my son will come up and snuggle with me and tell me some of the silliest jokes, or start to sing a song, or will ask some of the most curious questions.

That often means there are dishes in the sink and the basket of laundry will get folded tomorrow, but that’s okay — we need to create space for that time. Just be with your kids and don’t sweat it too much — you still have a lot of years to go and each one will be different, but always magical. And tell them over and over how much you love them and how much they mean to you — it just feels good.

My house is never neat enough.  I get twitchy about it, especially when the Divas invite friends over.  The other day, though, all 3 of them stood in front of me and made me understand that their friends like to come to our house not because it’s clean but because it feels like “Home.”  We talk, we laugh, we get over arguments fast, we create…we love each other, and the mess is just part of that!  I almost cried.

I love my divas!!

Happy New Year!!!!!

Here’s the cartoon that went with the above excerpt from the Washington Post…it is true in this house!!

You can see the whole article here: Carolyn Hax

Braggin’ on the Young One!

As we moms (and dads) know, the young ones eventually want to be taught how to do the things that we do, especially the things that we seem to enjoy doing.  The divas have all, in their own time, asked me to teach them how to knit or crochet or, big sigh, how to sew.   I am going to be blunt here and say that I hate those moments…ooooooo, BAD MOM ALERT!!!!!!  Yeah, my stomach sinks, my neck tenses, my right eye begins to twitch…erg.

Why do I hate that moment?  Because I now have to gather my strength to try to haul PATIENCE from the chthonic depths of my insanely non-patient soul.  I am a bitch.  A mega-bitch, and now my sweet child is about to meet the Gorgon.

Don’t get me wrong, I try…I TRRRRRYYYYYYY…but I fail every time.  I am so in awe of mothers who can teach their children how to do rather complicated things.  I was ecstatic when Oldest Diva learned how to cook and sew in Home Ec in junior high.  Middle Diva is learning the same thing now and I am equally thrilled because I am now off the hook.  They have all talked me into teaching them to knit and/or crochet at some point, and we all tried, but there comes this point when I hear myself say the SAME freaking thing for the MILLIONTH time and show the SAME thing for the TRILLIONTH time that it occurs to me that I have just illustrated the definition of INSANE!   All concerned then just retreat to separate corners of this domicile to salvage our respective dignity.

The Small Diva is the most tenacious of them all.  She has been bugging me to teach her to sew for 5 years…she is only 9.  We have explored hand sewing, even got a small machine once that did not last long, but she never gives up.  And because she is the most sensitive of the Divas, I try REALLY hard not to get snappish.

I bought her a little Singer Pixie for Christmas.  I know, I set myself up.  I watched her check it out in the fabric store back in October.  She loves going to the fabric store with me.  Fabric and ribbon and lace and thread really turn her crank.  She and I sometimes just wander through the store…she does it because she is fascinated by what she sees, and I do it because I am fascinated by her fascination!

So today we got busy.  And we survived.  It occurred to me watching her that she is like me…kinesthetic things, activities that take coordination and an awareness of small motor movement control are easy for her.  Granted, I cannot handle a videogame control, but she can.  In fact, the smaller the game, the better she is.  She managed this little machine brilliantly.  When she was done, she said, “See, Mama!  I’m like you!”  I love it.

So here is her first little Barbie pillow.  She was so thrilled!

She took a break and then asked if she could make a pillow for herself.  I even taught her to iron for this!!!

Here she is learning to pin things together.

Now for the sewing.  She is so careful!

Turning the pillow right side out.

Sewing the end closed.

Even though I sew over my pins, I taught her to remove them before she goes over them.  Not sure this little machine could withstand an impaled pin through its innards.  Again, Small Diva was very precise and careful.

She is so proud!

And then she ran off to find the fusible applique Colleen sent her, and we attached that.

She is in heaven…and there is another seamstress in this house!

December Blizzard 2009

Unbelievable.  The young one is ecstatic.  These were taken Saturday, late morning after only about 12 hours of falling snowflakes.

This dove sat outside the window for so long that snow collected on his back!

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My neighbor took this pic at 1:30 am last night…that is Santa on our lawn…

…and this is Santa at 10 am…

Diva Dad tried to take the 2 oldest Divas to the Kennedy Center to see “August: Osage County” but they only managed to get about 2 miles from home.  So they went to our little old town, walked around what Diva Dad says is a snowbound ghost town, and then they ended up at the Irish pub.  They called me as they sat in front of the fire, drinking hot chocolate, waiting for lunch.  This play was a birthday present for Middle Diva.

The Kennedy Center should have cancelled all shows today.  They did finally cancel the evening performances, but we have been under a published Blizzard warning since this morning and should have cancelled the afternoon performances as well, but OH NOOO!!!  Can’t lose out on that much money!  I am so irritated and disappointed in them.  Jerks.

Quiet day.  Snow is still falling and is supposed to until tomorrow morning.  I will take more pics.

Later this day:  Oldest Diva took a few pics from the walk in our old town.   Here is the view as they walked down the middle of the road.

Everything was closed, but they met an “old couple” (Middle Diva’s designation) who told them the old Irish pub was open again.  So that is where they went, sat in front of the fireplace had hot chocolate ( I am sure the old man had scotch), and they ate appetizers.  Then the cute waiter brought Middle Diva her birthday cookie with ice cream and a candle:

The waiter said he only had  a “3″ candle, but since he was “SOOOOOOOO” cute that worked.  MD got a special kick out of the reindeer that he made her out of syrup:

She had a good day.

Diva-induced Incontinence (DI)

This pisses me off…reallyreally makes me cranky beyond cranky.  Turns me back into the mega-bitch-from-hell…the sneezing that overtakes me every fall (worse than spring, believe it or not),the sneezing that explodes my brain, my sinuses, my chest…and my-ever-lovin’-freaking BLADDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There I am, working away on one of my never-ending embroidery jobs (which is great and wonderful and amazing, thank you very much!), and I start to sneeze.  Now, as many of us mothers know, after a couple of rugrats, you have to re-strengthen those Kegels and then concentrate really hard on squeezing when you feel a sneeze coming on.  I have worked hard on that, especially after I got sick (woke up from that there coma without a single muscle working), but to this day coughing and sneezing do keep me literally on my toes, and I am good at keeping myself dry….until I am assaulted by a sneezing attack

Sneezing attacks are a punishment from some hell I have never conceived of.

There I was, working carefully to remove basting stitches, stray threads, topper and sticky back, and this sneeze snuck up on me and ALMOST made me put a hole in a clients fabric…but I gathered my strength fast enough to gain control of my ripper-wielding hand and my bladder.

And then there were 5, FIVE, FREAKINGFIVE MORE SNEEZES IN A ROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  That just makes me angry.

The Diva Dad is sitting over there and he of course says, “Bless YOU!!” and then he recoils as I stand up and swear a blue streak!!!!

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

F**K ME!!” I answer.

“Oh, you peed on yourself, eh?”

“F**K YOU!  This is YOUR fault!”

“Yeah…I know.”  I love his humility and his ablity to roll with my punches.

I washed and changed myself…Diva Dad looked at me with sympathy when I came back.  I told him that I didn’t blame him totally…the 3 young Divas also carry some blame…

…and I will make them pay accordingly.

Babysitting, Bitching, and Burning

I hate autumn…no other time screws with me the way fall does.  These migraines make me feel like I have multiple personalities. Diva Dad does not even wake me up in the morning.  He takes Small Diva to the bus, so when I finally wake up, I feel like I forgot to do something…and I have!!!  Small Diva thinks I am so over the top when I have to do all of this hugging and kissing when she gets home.

But finally, after 3+ weeks, I think the migraine has left the building.  2 days ago, I was in the midst of an incredible hyper attack.  I just needed to talk… I called my mother who was not home, my sister was working, Diva Dad could not get out of a meeting…I knew it was a major migraine aura and I needed to talk through it.  No luck.  So I OD’d on the ibuprofen (why I do not take stronger migraine meds is a discourse for another day), drank 2 cups of coffee really fast, and felt the urge to eat multi-grain tortillas with horseradish hummus….and I averted the pain.  Earlier today, I realized it was all gone!!!  Yeehaw!!  Yesterday I was in bed, exhausted, for most of the day, but today I was very productive.  Hoping the corner has been turned.
 
Middle Diva had her first babysitting job 2 nights ago.  Young family across the street.  She feels so grown up.  It killed Small Diva  that she could not simply go over and help.  MD did really well all by herself.  She was surprised how bored she got when the 2 yr-old went to bed.  She said she watched “13 Going on 30″ 3 times!  But she made $40 bucks.  Very proud of herself…I am proud of her, too.  SD dealt with it.  
 
Small Diva is doing some major changing right now.  Middle Diva is, too, but SD’s change seems so abrupt.  As we were picking up today, instead of telling Middle Diva to back up off Small Diva (which is the usual mantra), I had to keep yanking Small Diva off Middle Diva’s proverbial jugular!  It was so weird!  I finally looked at her and said, “Kid!!  You need to get a grip and cut the shit!”
 
“But, Mama!  MD isn’t doing…”
“Are you kidding me!?  I’m here!  I have eyes!  And the only one screwing around is you!”
 
She literally just blinked at me and then harrumphed.  She’s freaking 9!!!!!
 
And then, get this…I am cooking dinner.  Actually cooking…making meat spaghetti sauce.  I set the big pot on the stove to boil the water.  I am feeling so fucking domestic.  MD wanders in, talking on her cell to Adopted Diva #2 (who just moved, and we are very sad )  MD is laughing, and mid-laugh she says, “Mama, the pot is on fire.”
 
Now, in case you do not already know,  this family is sloppy, and since I refuse to play garbage man, I always expect there to be a bit of smoke when the burners are turned on since cleaning those damn burner pans every week is not enough…so I say to Middle Diva, “No worries, just residuals.”
 
MD says, “Uh, no…MAMA…there’s FIRE!!!!”
 
I look and see BLACK SMOKE coating the sides of the pot.  I shift the pot and this wall of flame shoots up 12 inches!!!  I move the pot totally off, and this is a freaking conflagration!!!   I start for the faucet but stop because somewhere in my ancient brain my home economics teacher is strongly EMPHASIZING that one does not throw water on a stove fire…so I start blowing.  I barely make a dent.  I blow bigger…still no luck.  I look around the kitchen for something to throw on it, ya know like flour or baking soda (see, I do know these things), but since I do NOT like to cook and do my damndedest to avoid having to be be creative in the kitchen, there is of course NO flour or baking soda to be found let alone the fire extinguisher which, because I have never had to use it, is in a SAFE place that I cannot remember!!!
 
So, I am, of course, freaking out.  I turn back to the bonfire and start blowing again.  By this time, my bratty daughter has been reduced to hysterical laughter, replete with tears, on the floor, so she is absolutely no help in blowing out this fire.  I yell at her to get a grip and HELP me, so she at least stands up but she is still laughing so hard at me that there is no breath left to blow.  Well, this pisses me off enough that the adrenaline helps me to take in a huge breath and blow once, twice, thrice!!!!  And the freaking fire is out.
 
MD is shocked that I did it…and then she starts laughing again!  When I am scared, I have absolutely no sense of humor, so I tell her she better get out of my kitchen before I learn how to slap and she runs out…still laughing!!  As I stand there staring at the burned drip pan and my big pot, I realize that my home ec teacher was talking about grease fires….so, I could have turned the faucet on it since I turned the burner off immediately and I am quite sure it was pasta under that burner since it is rare that we cook greasy things.  Still…everyone, including the mess-man himself got a lecture about their dangerous, messy ways.
 
They all keep saying that the house smells funny…tough shit.  Payback.  And I hope everyone they encounter tomorrow asks why they smell funny!
 
Yeehaw.

So…

I miss my kid.

It has been way too quiet around here.  Discombobulated.  We are all thrown off.  I am back to being a freaking vampire, meaning I cannot sleep at night.  Messes with my day.  I am beginning to suspect that there is a little, foot-stomping freak in the back of my brain that hates change so much that it gets my attention by fucking with me! If Diva Dad was acting this way, I’d slap him…oh, wait, he is acting this way which is making me even crankier!!! Though, I think I have been rather volatile enough the past week that he decided he would be the saner of us…you know how cats get each other’s heads in their mouths as if they will crush the skull? I think Diva Dad is feeling like that, so he gets wary. Don’t blame him.

Oldest Diva did come home for a visit last weekend, and it was fantastic having her home! Here they are in the Diva Hamster pile:

How about that periwinkle hair on the Middle Diva!!

My sister-in-law and my nieces stopped by that night and it was gloriously noisy!!! In fact, Diva Dad commented to sil that I was obviously happy to have OD home because I was tolerating the noise…I usually hit my limit by 7pm and kick them upstairs, but I did not care!!!

Oldest Diva came crawling into my bed the next morning and snuggled up like she was 2…and burst into tears. She misses us, too. She said she still keeps thinking she will be coming home at the end of every day. I have to admit to feeling a little bit gratified that she misses us so much, but I knew she would. She had no way of knowing that her relationship with her sisters and her parents is as important as it is until she left, right?   I do think there is another component at work there, though, that probably has something to do with my illness since she learned way too early that things can change so fast. OD did a lot of crying last weekend, actually. She spent most of the time physically attached to one or another of us. She needs lots of hugs, and I hope she has huggy friends!

Get this…they have given her a theatre scholarship already!!! She made herself known so quickly as a good student, a prepared actor and someone willing to jump in and get the job done that they came up with money as, I am sure, a way to try to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere else!!! They must recognize her as someone who should be in a conservatory program, so they are working hard to make her happy! She deserves it. Diva Dad and I have been talking about how this kind of school that not only recognizes already what a gem thay have is also the kind of place that will allow her to do whatever she wants. She would be limited and pigeon-holed in a conservatory program. I think she may have ended up in the perfect place.

There was another Diva Hamster pile for an hour or so before Oldest Diva left. The periwinkle hair had been enhanced.

 They look so sad.

 They tried!

I got Oldest Diva’s old laptop fixed so I could have a dedicated computer (embroidery) and so I could be in the kitchen. Loving it. I don’t miss anything now. However, I keep working even longer while life goes on! While I kept working last night, we had a movie theme night…first “The Rocker” which I have never seen and it was rather fun, and then “School of Rock” which we have all seen about 500 times. (Have I ever said that many people think Diva Dad reminds them of Jack Black? One of his friends actually knows Jack Black and thinks the same thing. So weird because I think they are nothing alike. I would kill, murder, assasinate and brutalize Jack Black if he were my husband. No freaking way.)  And then we watched “Rock Star” with Mark Wahlberg because Middle Diva had never seen it, and because, well, I will watch Marky-Mark do anything!  It was a good night.

Gotta pick up this house…and I don’t wannaaaaaaa!!!!!!

Time to start getting it together

Oldest Diva called this morning…we have talked just about every day, and the other night we Skyped!!!  That is so cool!  We got to see her beautiful face along with hearing her voice, and we could all talk at once.  What an amazing thing.  Took me a bit to make it all work…Small Diva has been playing with the camera and making very creative little videos (she figured it all out by herself, of course), so there were all sorts of settings to re-figure and, well, I turned into a cranky Luddite.  Not a pretty sight.  But we finally got it to work and there was the sound of Diva laughter in the kitchen once again.

When OD called this morning, Small Diva stopped as she was walking by with her breakfast of pbj and said, “The missing her is not so bad today.”  Way to make me cry, kid.

OD has already auditioned for 2 shows at school, and got called back for both!!  She was very excited.  She went to the first callback last night, and the 2nd is tonight.  It would be pretty wonderful if she got a role.  Sending good vibes.

I am trying to get my shit together…can’t really believe things are as discombobulated as they are.  Big sigh.  So, I am exploring various ways of kicking myself in the ass and getting organized, but so far, I cannot keep track of my efforts to keep track of what I should be keeping track of!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I have lists everywhere, and they are everywhere because I cannot remember where I put them!  But even when I do come across them, they are never complete so what freaking difference does it make?

Is it too early for a margarita?