Happily ever after? Maybe this time...

Call me crazy, since I'm certainly no school girl, but this time of year makes me .... lovesick.  Suddenly I'm more...amorous, I feel more hopeful about life, in general.  I find myself dashing out for the latest "pink" shade of lipstick and a new spring shoe makes me giddy.  This year, as I'm purging clothes & items before moving into our new home here in the Chattanooga mountains, I'm especially giddy. 

Take, for instance, the upcoming royal wedding....I'm absolutely excited  and I'm not even on the guest list!  Not to mention I'm old enough to be the future King of England's ...um...aunt?  :)  I wasn't on the guest list for Charles & Dianna's nuptials, either, but that certainly didn't stop me from throwing a royal-watching party for a few of my closest friends.

It was the summer of 1981, we girls were all abuzz about heading off to college.I had a sleepover so we could all sit up, do all the girly things teens do and then watch the wedding LIVE (there was no DVR back then.)  But as close to the precipice of adulthood as we were, that day, we were all transformed back into 5-year-olds as we watched Lady Di glide up the aisle to meet her prince and live happily ever after. Or so we thought that great day.  History would dictate, otherwise.  But since we were not psychics, we just sat back & dreamed about how lucky Lady Di was.  She was marrying a prince!  And there was a lovely gold & glass carriage and trumpets blaring her procession. I remember how we all sighed in awe of her beauty, her gown, the pomp and pageantry that accompanied that grand day in jolly old England. It was all I could do not to burst!

I smile now when I think about my group of girlfriends and me, all just unmarried gals on the verge of college,watching that wedding, which was soon followed by our own careers, weddings, babies, etc., but that day we were innocent girls who swooned over the notion of love and happily ever after...you know, the way it was read to all of us at story time as we lay in our little beds. 

Flash forward to a hot sunny evening in August, 1997, when I first heard Princess Di was wounded in an automobile accident.  Her boyfriend was already dead and we were all waiting for updates on the princess, herself.  She'll never be the same, I thought.  Her boyfriend died, she was with him, how could she live with that, I remember thinking to myself.  Then came the chilling announcement that Princess Dianna was also gone.  Unthinkable, how such a bright shining star could be snuffed out at once. 

Although 16 years had slipped by between my "wedding-watching" sleepover, I came home the next day to an answering machine jammed with messages from gals I hadn't heard from in years, living all over the state, but all forever linked to me through our mutual admiration of the royals and Princess Di, in particular.

Today, although I am old enough to know that not all fairy-tales have happy endings, I don't know anyone who isn't rooting for William & Kate to make it, long term.  I know I was among those who were most unhappy with Camilla Parker Bowles' part in the whole Charles-Di-Camilla triangle scandal, but there is one thing some might not have stopped to think about...Charles loved Camillia long before he married Dianna.  He simply wasn't ready to marry her before she married her first husband, Anthony and by then, the clock, in royal terms, anyway, was a-ticking.  So he married his princess as was his duty, but his true love for Camilla never stopped, as much as even I  hate to admit this.  So although Dianna's death was a tragic ending, one I'm sure (or at least I hope) Charles never wished for, he did, in the end, get his "happily ever after," despite how many hearts were broken in the process.

So this April 29, as my 6-year-old daughter and I pretend to be proper Brits, sipping tea and eating crumpets (or Oreos) and  watching William and Kate take their vows and ride off into the sunset, I can only hope that because there was no pressure on this young and vibrant couple, who appear to have already sewn their royal oats, and because they waited until they were mature enough to handle the responsiblilites of royal duties (do they really have any, anymore?) maybe this time, there really will be a happily-ever-after storybook ending after all, one in which any little girl can really believe. 

Give me liberty or give me death, just keep my Facebook account!

Anyone from my era well remembers learning the most famous speeches of our founding fathers. Today marks the 236th anniversary of one of those speeches, famously uttered by  five-term governor of Virginia Patrick Henry who ended a speech opposing taxation without representation (Which began with The Stamp Act) by telling fellow colonists to "Give me liberty or give me death."  

Widely known as a symbol of American struggle for liberty, Henry protested British tyranny and served in the Continental Congress. He was the most vocal voice in opposition of The Stamp Act, passed by the British Parliament on March 22, 1765. Don't know about the Stamp Act? Google it and tomorrow, ask any history teacher. Although the actual cost of the Stamp Act was relatively small, Henry and his supporters were most outraged by the standard it appeared to set for future taxation without representation.
My main focus today is not about taxes, but rather, the very last line in Mr. Patrick's speech that has my mind percolating today.  Here was a man who publicy declared that he would rather die than have his liberties taken away. Far too many soldiers or war casualties including uninvolved civilians have already paid the ultimate sacrifice in the name of freedom in this and many other countries.  Ironically, today is also the anniversary of Adolph Hitler coming into power in Germany. How's that for irony?

To boil this down further, I'm thinking about the chains we ALL have, which enslave us to ourselves.  The word "liberty" need not always be associated with national democracy.  It is also a word about those things from which we need to be liberated.  Some are tangible things: fancy homes or cars, a closet full of clothing or a colorful pair of shoes for every outfit. How many of our kids have so many toys we moms can secretly "steal" a few and donate them without our wee ones ever noticing?  How many men have season tickets, X-boxes, gadgets for their Weber grills, the best lawnmowers on the block or golf clubs they polish with pride?

Other attachments are intangible and to me, these are the most dangerous enslavements with which we live.  How many of us have inner demons, such as addictions or anger?  What about our pride?  Our fears?  Our passionate love affairs with someone or with those who choose not to love us back, bringing out yet another fear...loneliness? Our greed or petty jealousies?  Aren't we all really crying out in the depths of our souls to liberate ourselves from SOMETHING?  And in denying ourselves this type of liberty, even if it's not physical death, aren't we spiritually killing our inner psyches?

Right now, as I'm packing for the 2nd move in 6 months, I am in desperate need of my own liberty:  I'm crying out to liberate myself from my sentimental attachment to all things representing my past.  My grandmother's little address book, in which nearly every name is no longer relevant, as these people are long gone.  My mom's old makeup bag, which still carries her scent. My dad's valentine's day card to me from 1973.  My daughter's first drawing.  MY first drawing ( long kept locked away in a hope chest.)

Many people to whom I've whined about how difficult it is for me to prepare for this move have a refreshing way to look at this:  It is a great time to PURGE.  And yet for me, it is hard to pack up and move into new surroundings without bringing my past life along with me. I am chained to my own nostalgic baggage.  Tossing Mom's old makeup bag is, to me, like reliving mom's death, and somehow, losing her all over again.  Purging unearths in me an inner fear that in letting go of these things, I am losing a part of who I used to be.  Perhaps it's a fear that someday I may not remember them at all.  Or maybe I'm fearful that, like some of my dearest friends' parents or grandparents suffering from memory loss or dementia, I may NEED these things to REMIND me of who I was all those years ago. 

For many, having a child later in life is a blessing (it is for me!)  It can also cause us to have a rational fear about how that child might see us in the future.  I have a six year old who someday might not know that her mommy used to do cool things in high school and college because I either won't remember I did them or I won't have anything to prove I actually did them.

I know people who carry grudges with friend or family members.  These grudges go back so far they can't even remember how they started.  Now these people fear it's too late to dredge it all up and  risk their pride to reach out to the people to whom they no longer speak.  So they're attached to fears and pride.  (And to angry grudges that no longer make sense.)

People ask me how I am able to remain friendly with former loves from my past.  Here is where I am blessed.  I do not carry grudges, I do not, nor does my husband, feel I am committing anything wrong by remaining in contact with them because I've evolved from who I was when I was with them, romantically. Here is where I LOVE Facebook.  I do not see it as some vast conspiracy from the government to "know" everything about me.  Newsflash: They already do.  (OK, I'll give my friends and family a moment to flush water on their faces and stand back up after fainting...because YOU KNOW how passionate I am about politics...) 

With Facebook, it not only allows me to stay in touch wth my family and friends on a daily basis from back home in Michigan but I am reconnecting with childhood friends, as well. I've caught up with former teachers I adored while growing up. With former co-workers, college friends and career colleagues. With relatives who aren't even on my Christmas card list because it's been too long to fathom since we've last seen each other.  And yes, I am friends with former boyfriends.  Why not?  I'm not carrying  torches for these men who are now husbands and fathers.  I hope that to them, I am a person who taught them as much about their relationships and interactions as they once taught me.  I have been given the gift from God to see each and every person from my past as someone who was there for a reason or a season (look it up....this is one of my favorite poems.)

Perhaps Facebook is the very vehicle through which I can make it easier to purge some tangible objects.  Just knowing I have "friends" from my past who remember "the me I used to be." I love looking on the pages of other friends who, like me, will copy and download old pictures, poems, drawings, things from their past. You see, I am not alone in my attempt to hang on to my past.  As long as, 25 years from now, I don't wind up looking like Delta Dawn wearing a faded rose from years gone by...it's worth a try.   :)

So today, I challenge you all to liberate yourselves from something...anything you feel is keeping you from being the YOU that you want to be, ultimately.  Take 20 minutes to call or look up someone with whom you've lost contact; donate that designer bag you paid way too much for that no longer goes with anything in your wardrobe -- perhaps another woman who cannot afford such a luxury might be thrilled to find it at a thrift shop.  Give the guy next door pushing a 20-year-old lawnmower some of your "tools" from the garage.  Ask someone for help with an addiction with which you struggle.

Just LIBERATE YOURSELF!  I certainly will be doing my darndest to liberate MY "stuff"  as box up "stuff" from our apartment before moving into our new home and I know for certain that Patrick Henry would be proud, knowing his words were not uttered in vain.

Marly Madness...Happy Birthday Marlena Jane

This month I wish a great big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our darling daughter, Marly, who, after three (3!) days of labor came bouncing into my world on March 5, 2005.  (OK, add those three days to about 20+ years of holding out for the the right man to sweep me off my feet). Marlena Jane's arrival was dramatic, to be sure, with a health scare for me, being a mother of what the doctors thoughtlessly called "advanced maternal age."  But  once the scares were over and I was healthy enough to come home w/my pink bundle of joy, she completely changed this former career-oriented woman who used to complain about other people's kids into a complete mush ball
Even while I was expecting, I worried  that I would resent this little human inside my belly for changing my life from care-free to chained down, for ruining my figure and for intensifying my already impatient nature.  I never imagined I'd swap a great career where I wore designer suits and sat in at meetings for sweats and scrunchies, talk baby-talk & watch Baby Einstein as I chased a crawling toddler. I also used to roll my eyes, never believing those cliches you hear moms say about jumping in front of a train for their child.  Ask me today and I will tell you without hesitation....I WOULD JUMP in front of that train...now I get it!

Marlena was named for my late mother, Mary and my late grandmother, Lena, (Mary+Lena = Marlena.)  Because I have only my dad to ask about my early childhood, and let's face it, dads back then were just not hands-on... you can say I have been basically "winging it" for the past 6 years.  While he remembers the major stuff, there are many developmental things, quirks, etc., which I wish I could ask my mom about.  Did I do some of the things my own child does? How long did I "need" my Teddy Bear?  Was I super-sensitive about certain teachers or kids on the playground?  When did I become a night owl?  Most of my BFFS have kids in college so a lot of these questions I ask are simply forgotten.  I've lucked out & met some amazing moms with kids my daughter's age who are my age or at least close to my age. Actually, one of  those "girls" is one of my best friends from junior high who became a late life mom again as her older daughters were graduating high school, so I'm not completely alone, thankfully!

Quitting work to stay home full-time also taught me something else:  I used to hear women say they "need" work to keep their sanity...and it never made sense to me.  Why would you want to do all that work at the office only to come home and do MORE WORK??  But I can understand that statement, now.  This is THE toughest, most thankless job I've ever had, and anyone who knows me knows that I've had A LOT OF JOBS. The difference is, this one never ends!  If your boss calls you in the middle of the night, and you REALLY don't feel like taking that call, well whoopsie...I must've had to charge my phone, sorry!  If your child is up at night from a bad dream or worse, throwing up all over the bedsheets you JUST CHANGED....you cannot escape it and you certainly do not get a thank you, but rather a "Why didn't you come AS SOON AS I CALLED YOU MOMMY?"   Really, I'm lucky to plop on our leather couch at 10:30 JUST as my hubby is dozing off.... y'see....his job has been over for hours. 

However, I don't look at this as "just" a job.  Motherhood is an investment in not only MY future but society's future.  All children eventually grow up to contribute to society like everyone else...the difference is that in a high-tech world of multi-tasking mommies, the one area where I want to focus 100% is on my daughter.  Will I be bored and/or frustrated at times, stressed that I'll NEVER be able to get my manuscripts published because I'm dog-tired and not feeling creative? Yep. Will my husband drive me crazy when he sees the Visa bill or the checking account?  Will I resent his attitude about those bills, especially after I spent 25 years making my OWN money? Hell yes! But will our child grow up to realize she trumped every other aspect of my life to be number ONE?  Well, I can only pray she will...not so I can guilt her about it, but just because EVERY child deserves to know he or she was number one for at least his or her childhood. 

Life flies by and before we know it, our kids are "folded in" to statistics....I hate to break it to ya, but we all wind up being numbers.  So even if you are a working mommy, especially if you are a single working mommy, (and I give you a HUGE hats off) whether your child is teeny or t'weeny, let that child know he or she IS #1 in your life, and do it today! You won't regret it and I assure you he or she NEVER will, either!

Meanwhile, Happy Birthday to a 6-year-old who is wise beyond her years.  She is an old soul.  She soothes her hyper, hot-headed mommy with a sweet touch of her hand on my arm.  When I'm upset over something...over ANYTHING...she tells me what I really need right now is an afternoon "lovey hug" (I used to give her those after her naps...now she gives them to me.) 

I thank God every day to the child who is forever teaching me what's really most important in life...tea parties, dressing up and watching Ramona & Beezuz for the 17th time.