Saturday, April 30, 2011

The power of words

I love words--written words, spoken words, words are the love of my life.
I revel in the way they feel on my tongue, the way they express my thoughts and feelings, the way people react to them.
I even love the word . . .word. To your mother.
I don't think about my words too carefully before they fall out of my mouth, either landing with a splat at my feet or soaring to the heavens on a particularly brilliant day. And, yes, I do have those days.
For example, comparing an epiphany to a flaming orgasm last week had my coworkers busting their proverbial guts in laughter.
(I'm waiting on the sexual harassment complaint to arrive later this week, BTW.)
Or discussing with my brother and sister in law that I enjoy low fat salami in front of my mother.
(She was so proud of that college education at that moment.)
Anyhow . . .
I find myself lately facing a quandary. While I love words, I find that when thinking about writing them, the words spiraling my in mind become log jammed somewhere between my mind, my mouth, and my fingers and nothing spews forth.
My Old Faithful has become an Old Fizzle.
And while I realized that, in my old age, I might be good for fewer and fewer literary epiphanies, I didn't think it would happen in my thirties.
So my love affair with words is becoming distinctly one sided as, for the moment, I find that they don't love me back.
I am hoping to jump start our relationship once more, to renew it over a weekend of faithful contact, of devoted attention, of loving caresses.
I'm hoping to remind my words what they'll be missing if they stray.
And what is that exactly?
A woman who loves them passionately, blindly.
A woman whose verbal filters are mostly switched off and who will say almost anything without hesitation and without liquid libations assistance.
A woman who, when she dies, hope the afterlife is a enormous library with comfy reading chairs and hot tea at all times.
I am a word slut.
Come and take me baby!

Sunday, April 17, 2011


The Man started a new job this week.
That new job has him home nights, but every other weekend I'm a single parent.
So we're adjusting.
Sort of.
Okay, badly.
Don't get me wrong. I can handle my kids. But since I'm not the fun parent--and my boys will tell you that in a minute--we're all having to adjust to a new way of life.
My children love to be outside. I hate it. Between the sunburn and the dust allergy, I'm miserable.
But I did it yesterday. Until I broke The Man's tractor and decided I was done with Green Acres.
I love quiet afternoons that include naps or at least curling up with a book.
None of that happening here.
I like Wii work outs in solitude.
My audience just wouldn't leave, but they were great cheerleaders.
I love kid kisses, but not the fights and "he's touching me" or "he looked at my apple" that I've been dealing with. (Punk threw an apple at Bug's head for daring just such an offense. Girl has an arm on her!)
I like freshly folded laundry and toys in their bins and chaos at a minimum.
I very rarely get what I like.
And, yes, it is all about me in this house. I like it that way.
So I made a deal. You want something, you're gonna do what I want, with a good attitude.
And it seems to be working.
Okay, it's akin to bribery, but I'm a desperate woman hovering over a fresh made batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and I'm about to jump, damn it.
There are times when its all about survival, baby.
While I am most definitely not a shy, retiring wall flower, I talk to people all day, every day. Most not by choice.
Don't get me wrong. I adore my friends and family and I love a good chat, but on weekends, I could care less if I say two words to anyone.
Weekends are my time to stoop an decompress and regroup before I climb on a building and start shooting people.
Really. If you know me at all, you know how easily that could happen.
But every other weekend I have to step up, parent solo, and pray to the gods that The Man's day ends quickly.
My heathens and I all have our faces pressed to the glass waiting on him.
Because, while my idea of fun is not running outside barefoot, it is the quiet that comes when he takes the heathens outside to run amok and I can close the door and finally breathe.
Sometimes, I even unlock the door and let them come back in.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Chasing the wind

Growing up, I was always told I could be anything I wanted to be.
And I believed it.
I still do.
I still believe it so much I tell my heathens that they can be the president or a doctor or whatever, they just have to find their star and reach for it.
A child needs that damned star, after all.
But, as an adult, while I still know I could be most things I want to be, some things will continue to elude me. I'm pretty sure I'll never be a fashion model or a size two. NASA isn't going to come calling for a new idea on the space shuttles. And I'm probably never going to win a Nobel Prize.
I know now that there is still a star out for me. It's patiently waiting for me. And I know that, while reaching for that star, I got distracted by some lovely leaves blowing in the wind and decided to chase them instead.
Dreams change. I use to dream of publishing books, being rich, and having it all.
Now I dream of happy, healthy kids, writing for pleasure, and having enough.
While I once dreamed of overwhelming happiness, I now find myself happy with being content. Because I know who I am, and she's not the girl I once was, but she's one tough mama whose mostly got her priorities straight.
The other dreams are there, but they know they simply can't shine as bright as my new dreams.
My new dreams are not for myself, but for my babies. My new dreams involve making sure they have what they need and some of what they want. That they know they were wanted, loved, and the best gifts with purchase I could have ever asked or.
I still dream big. And I'm still reaching. But I'm reaching with my arms full of my babies, trying to get them just a few inches closer to their stars.
I love my leaves, so bright and beautiful. And I wouldn't give up chasing them for all the stars in the sky.