Conflicted

I was invited to a party. But I'm not sure I want to go. Hard words for me to say, I usually am always up for a party, especially a girls' night. But the purpose of this one has me conflicted.

The party is to celebrate an event in a friend's life. A "blessed event" you might say. I don't necessarily approve of how she got there, however. And I know it's not my place to approve or dissapprove. She doesn't need my approval, and she doesn't deserve my judgement either. She's a great woman; but I don't agree with some of the choices she's made.

So I am finding it hard to be excited about her party. That's not the kind of friend I should be or that she needs. I should just go to the party and shut up and be happy for her. That's what she needs. She doesn't need someone judging her choices. And let's not forget there's a baby here...who did nothing wrong and isn't deserving of my judgement either.

And who am I to judge anyway? I'm not perfect, I don't even try to be. I've done some stupid and regrettable things. So why can't I find it in my heart to see past a friend's transgressions - which she doesn't see as such anyway - and just pull it out and support her?

Excuse me as I get down off my high horse.

Why do holidays always equal family drama?

Seems like you hear about this every holiday, and I think there have even been numerous movies made about this...why do family holiday gatherings always seem to incite drama? Take this Easter, for instance...

Maybe I was the instigator this time. Subject to interpretation, I guess. Who is the instigator...the person who commits the injustice, or the person who calls them on it? In this case, I was the latter...on the receiving end of yet another self-centered act commited by a family member with a pattern of doing such. The difference this time is that I called her on it. I was mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.

On this particular occasion, we were denied having a family gathering at our house, for reasons that ended up not being true. Then we found out the family who couldn't make it was going to be in Southern Cal anyway for that holiday, not an hour from our house. Tell me how I'm not supposed to take that personally.

When confronted about it, the real reason ends up being (apparently), "I don't want to come to your town." And that is supposed to make me feel better? You mean, when I come to your suburb, you think it's because I like to watch you shuttle your kids to birthday parties and sporting events? I have enough of that on my own, thank you. I come to your neck of the woods because that's where your family lives, and we want to see you. I don't care what town it is or what your per capita income is (something else that seems to matter to the perp). I would expect the same consideration from family.

I take blame for some things here...I have given her too much control. When we had to reschedule our daughter's baptism because she couldn't make it due a planned trip (that she ended up not taking), we should have drawn the line there and not scheduled around her, but we did. We are more considerate that that. When she planned her mom's 60th birthday party (a moveable event) the same weekend as my neice's graduation (a non-moveable) event, we were forced to split the family and tag team events, since that weekend worked best for her and she didn't check it with other people. When she spent the weekend I miscarried my first pregnancy flaunting her own pregnancy, I pretended to be happy for her.

Those things won't happen anymore. I am taking my control back. Her world has (at least) one less citizen.

Shoes

I don't know what it is about me and shoes. Shoes have always had a transformative effect on me. They can create a mood, change an appearance, lift one up or take one down. And, like I always said, no matter how fat I feel, I can always get a great pair of shoes.

They don't have to be fancy or expensive either. I have had times where I've walked into Payless or Target and bought a cute pair of something trendy that I wasn't sure I've wanted to buy, and have it be the most cathartic $15 I've spent all years (right up there with an eyebrow-wax).

When I was in 6th grade, my first year in California, I remember having a dress-up day in my Catholic school. I wore white patent-leather dress shoes. I was teased all day for their "little-girl" appearance. That was not fun. I quickly realized that shoes make quite an impression (and I don't think I would even let my 4-year-old wear a pair of white mary janes now, for fear that she won't look like a big girl).

About 15 years ago, I bought a pair of Doc Martens (blogged about previously). I had recently divorced and I felt incredibly empowered by those shoes. That was not a "dainty" time for me. I wanted to stomp on a lot of things, feelings, people, wanted to be a tough chick. I still have those shoes, and I still feel really strong when I put them on. But I do know better than to wear them with baby-doll dresses like I used to.

Shortly after that, I went through a "career girl" shoe phase. Stacked heel, square-toed loafers or pumps - are they considered pumps if the heel is high? I must have had every career girl color - black, dark brown, navy blue. I must have thought those shoes said, "I am serious." Those are not sexy shoes and they make me look like I have cankles. I do not have any of them anymore.

Maybe six years ago, I realized shoes were fun. I have a pair of red suede loafers that are tremendous fun. How can you not feel fun in red shoes? I also have a pair of purple slingback heels. I'm not sure what I thought I would wear them with when I bought them, but I loved them so much I still plan outfits around them.

I remember when I bought my beloved Isaac Mizrahi slingbacks. Finally, he marriage of "career girl" shoe with a rockin' stiletto heel. I bought them to go with a specific suit. When I got them home, I tried them on with the suit. They didn't go well together. I tried to return them the next day. It was painful -not the shoes, the thought of having to return them! So I didn't. I wore those freakin' shoes till the foundation cracked and the cobbler told me they couldn't be repaired anymore. I miss them. Sniff Sniff.

The high-heel has been a wardrobe staple for me. Don't get me wrong, I love flats too, love the comfort of my running shoes, the freedom of flip-flops, but heels are what make me feel terrific. I remember running from one terminal at San Jose airport clear to the other terminal in heels, with no problem. I recently busted tail over a guy in the airport while I was wearing 3-inch stilettos - he commented that he didn't know how I did it. Practice, my dear.

Last year, I had a little bit of an awakening, where I just kinda took a look at my closet and said, "If it doesn't make me feel good wearing it, I don't want it." I was determined to wear clothes that make me feel good. Shoes too. I happened upon a gift card and bought a pair of silver t-strap sandals with rhinestones. I don't know why I bought them. How frequently do you think I wear those shoes in my life as a suburban working mom (who works from home, BTW, and makes most outings to a park or to a store that involves "aisles")? I don't care. I put those shoes on and I feel GREAT. And I wear them with jeans, to dinner. Probably not what they were intended for, but I don't own a stripper pole.

This weekend, I happened upon another gift card plus an amazing couple of sales. I ended up buying a bunch of clothes for my family...and two pairs of really fun shoes for me!

You Just Can't Be Too Cautious

I worry about my kids. I will always worry about my kids. I always thought my mom worried too much about us, but I get it. I will personally hurt whomever intentionally hurts my child.

I took a class at church this past weekend about creating safe environments for children. I just watched the news this week as a family lost their 17-year-old daughter who never came back from a run. And I was reminded that there is a registered sex offender who lives in my neighborhood. If there is an open house on my street any weekend, cars come whipping around the corner. So forgive me if I don't let my little kids play in front of the house without me or another capable person watching them.

And if you do allow that for your little kids? Well, I just don't get you. If I can't see or at least hear my kids at all times when it's my watch, then I'm not doing my job. I even struggle letting my 6-year-old son use the public men's room by himself (but I do it...if I am standing right outside). And, sorry ladies, he is coming into the public ladies room with me. I don't live in the deep woods, I don't live in the city. Most of my neighbors are good, safe people. But - and I can't believe I am quoting my mother - there are a lot of weirdos out there.

My kids wear helmets when they ride their bikes and scooters. It just takes seeing a cracked bike helmet one time to convince you how worthwhile that is.

So, forgive me if I freak out when my husband tells me that he's agreed to let the 6-year-old go home from school with one of his classmates. I am sure his parents are fine, decent people. But I have never been to their house. I don't know if they have vicious dogs. I don't know if they have guns. I don't know if they have an unsecured pool. I don't know that they don't have a dirty house (and my standards on that are pretty low, but still, don't know!). I had to put my foot down.

Am I over-reacting? Maybe. But if my kids are ever in harm's way in a situation I have allowed, then it's no one's fault but mine. It will be on no one's conscience but my own. I still have nightmares about the time I totalled our car with two kids in it, and I was six months pregnant. I know it was an accident. I tried like hell to avoid it. Maybe I did keep them from getting hurt but it could have been worse and it would have been on my watch.

I do not keep them wrapped in plastic. They get hurt. Two of my three kids have been in the ER for xrays for stupid things that happened right in front of me. I know I can't prevent everything and I have to give them some element of freedom.

I also know it's only gonna get worse as they get older. 10 years from now, they will be doing things I don't know about and not telling me. They willl lie to me about where they've been probably (and the odds of them having as many "broken watches" as I had are pretty low). I can only hope I give them the knowledge to keep themselves safe. It starts with the parents.

Found and Lost

I hope I am not losing a friend.

One of my friends is going through a tough time right now. I assume. She won't really tell us. We're doing a lot of guessing. She's somehow shut down on us. I understand that this is how she deals with things. She just wants to hibernate and figure it out. And when she does that, she shuts us all out. We're not supposed to take it personally - but how can you not?

There's such a delicate line sometimes - when you want to help someone but at the same time you want to give them their space. You surely don't want to offend them by insinuating they need help, yet you want to let them know you care. Women are awful at this, by the way. We always read too much into things. But is it better to just ignore them?

My friend, and maybe a lot of women in general, have trouble letting others in. Afraid to show weakness. Maintaining their independance. Finding it hard to ask for help. It sure would make it a lot easier if she did. Just like a lot of women find it hard to clearly communicate what they want. Why do we do this to eachother?

I don't know if she's going to come out of this. I hope she will. But somehow when she does, I don't think our friendship is going to be the same. I would like it to be, but in her tough time, she's done some hurtful things. Can she go back to how she was? Can I pretend that nothing happened when she shut the door on me?

I'm trying not to make this about me. She is the one having issues. But since I can't control how she feels, and only how I feel, then I guess I can choose to be hurt or not to be. Right now I'm choosing to be patient. I hope she comes around.

The Soundtrack of My Life

I heard a song today that reminded me of my old roommate. Best roommate I ever had (husband not withstanding). He used to be in a garage band, and he sang that song with them and he would rehearse it around the house. It made me happy.

I have always had an emotional connection to music. Maybe it's because I'm somewhat musical myself. I have played, I have sung, I have danced, I have enjoyed. And through music, I have lived. I can remember what song was playing or popular for most of the watershed moments of my life.

I think it started with Springsteen - which makes sense because I'm from New Jersey. My older brother and sister were very into Springsteen and I soooo wanted them to like me, so I idolized him as well. I still know all the words to "Thunder Road." I recall singing that song, with my brother and sister, around the dinner table one night, as a big "FU" to our dad (to whom none of us were very close), when he complained that no one could understand the words to Bruce's songs. There you go, dad.

I remember the song that was ubiquitous on the radio when I was starting college. And fitting too - "Anything, Anything" was just about what I would have done back then. Ready for change, independence, no more uniforms. So what if we never heard from Dramarama again (though ironically, I heard that song today also).

The Grunge era defined an entire period of my life. It was emerging just as my first, brief marriage was failing. All of the angst that bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam were expressing, I was feeling, as two kids were making the decision to stop hurting each other, and grow up - even if we'd have to do it apart. I think that's why I like the Foo Fighters so much. Dave Grohl survived the Grunge era and came out a different person, and so did I. And every so often I will put on my Docs (original, thank you) and think about that music and how it got me past all the damage.

Madonna's "Ray of Light" - the album and the single - also provided a cathartic backdrop. The album came out, and was receiving rave reviews, and I considered buying it. I was reading about it on the porch of the house where my then-boyfriend summarily dumped me the very next day. But I bought it anyway. I played it all the time, with the top down on my convertible all summer, driving by the beach. It was in my car a few months later, the first weekend I spent with my new boyfriend, who turned out the be the love of my life I was waiting for (and he liked it too). We played it at our wedding.

Each of my kids has a theme song too. I had a very hard time getting pregnant with my son, my firstborn. I remember driving home from the fertility clinic, after what I thought was my third unsuccessful treatment, crying all the way. I heard Jimmy Eat World's "The Middle," and prayed the words were true. "It just takes some time, you're in the middle of the ride, and everything will be just fine." And it was. And I was pregnant a month later.

My first daughter required a few treatments too, but it didn't take as long to get pregnant with her, and her delivery was a whirlwind. I was only in the hospital one rainy day with her, and there was nothing on TV except MTV, and Natasha Beddingfield's "Unwritten" was in heavy rotation. She and I must have heard that song 15 times that day. But can you think of a better song to be born to? "Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten."

My third child was a blessing. No treatments, no planning, just Valerie choosing us to be her parents. That's how I know "Valerie Loves Me." And that's her song, the 80s classic by Material Issue. And even though it has some sad parts - it's ultimately about a faded party girl- it's also about the joy she brings to the boy who loves her, and how much she loves to dance. And that's my little girl. When we hear that song in the car, all the kids know it. They wait for the guitar riff, then scream at the top of their lungs, "Valerie Loves Me!" and we all laugh.

There have been lots of other meaningful songs too, but I think the most recent one that stands out for me is "Forever" by Chris Brown. Of course, he's not my favorite person due to recent events, but I loved this song before all that. The first time I heard it was while watching "So You Think You Can Dance," where two hip hop dancers performed it in "their style." They were in their element, they danced with abandon. I heard that song many times since, but it stood out again one night when we went out to a club with some friends to celebrate someone's birthday. I was stressed, needed a night out, but I was little tired and ready to go. My friends convinced me to stay for one more dance, and it ended up being this song, and I enjoyed dancing to it so much. I listened to the words and decided that I needed to really start seizing moments, clearly communicate things I wanted, break some rules, because sometimes you've really only got one chance. Although my friends might say I danced like an idiot, I'd like to think I danced with abandon too. It's only me, you and the dance floor.

I really want to instill this "music as memory" mentality in my kids. My life has been so much richer because of the music that has been its soundtrack. I can already tell they have songs they remember from when they were much smaller. I play music for them all the time; they like to sing and dance. Music can make moments come alive for them. I hope I can pass this on and get all new memories with them.

Wake-up Calls

For some god-awful reason, my kids have decided this week that 5AM was a perfectly good wake-up time. I disagree. "Dark Outside" is never a good wake-up time.

Perhaps their little bodies have accelerated the circadian rhythms - they are ready and waiting for it to be 6AM now instead of a few weeks from now when we change our clocks. Perhaps I should embrace this as an opportunity to spend a little more time with them. But when I hear a DS playing "Star Wars: Battlefront" at 5AM, I am wondering how one can secretly dismantle a DS, not feeling joy at seeing their little faces.

We've always tried to have a rule that they can come into mom and dad's room as soon as it's light out, and I'm the enforcer. Hubby, on the other hand, could care less (if he wakes up for it, that is). It's not that I'm opposed to them crawling into my bed for a snuggle, but that's not what happens. As soon as they are in our room, sleep is over. 6-year-old G brings in his DS and I have to tell him to turn down the volume (why did we get him that?). 4-year-old E will give some good snuggling, but we are struggling with her thumb-sucking and I cannot relax if I am constantly saying, "No thumb." And 2-yead-old V wants to be a mountain climber. She is all over the bed, her newfound voice constantly chattering. Which is cute any other time than 5AM.

So I drag myself out of bed to shuffle them back to their rooms. I show them the window - see? No sun! Back to bed! And as I walk back to my room, I get the dreaded, "I have to go potty" from V. Since this is a new skill for her, she needs a little assistance. Again, the ambivalence. So happy she's out of diapers but wow, a pull-up would have been helpful right about now. By the time we are back in her room, and everyone's back in bed, it's 5:15.

I should be able to go back to sleep but I can hear them talking. Chit chat. Tinkerbell-Star Wars-babydolls-fort building-plotting chatter. I can make them go back to their rooms, but I can't make them go back to sleep. And I can't sleep knowing they are awake. I am plotting - spike tonight's milk with benedryl? Eye shades for toddler? They don't care though...ready to start their day, they are.

Today, I think I was able to grab about 10 extra minutes sleep before I gave up on it. And when I encountered them all for the first time today, I must say...that fort was pretty impressive. Now if only they would sleep in it.