Thursday, June 30, 2011

Art camp

My (almost) 15-year-old sister will be venturing to art camp for the month of July where I'm sure she'll impress everyone with her skills and enjoy being away from home for weeks on end, without any parents to bicker or complain.

But man - I'm worried.

Not because I don't trust her judgment or her abilities, but because I don't trust anyone else.

She's the cutest, smartest, cutest, smartest 15-year-old ever.

You know that awkward phase we all go through? Where our bras are like cotton hangers and our complexion is pimpled while greasy bangs fall in our faces?

Yeah. She skipped that phase.

She's tall and lean, smart and witty.

Wishing her well in the coming adventure is a given, but I certainly hope all the stories I've heard about adolescents and summer camp aren't necessarily true.

I cried during her high school play like a 9o-year-old grandma who would never step foot in an auditorium again. I celebrate her birthday with tears while whimpering "when you were little..." far too many times.

So we're just going to file this one under... "Reasons I'm not a mom yet."

Because loving little people hurts.

PHOTO: 2006 - When "Build A Bear "was still cool

Friday, June 24, 2011


I don't think I've had a mushroom in at least three years.

Nope, not one.

Every entree is ordered "without mushrooms" and steaks are served with onions but never the typical squishy counterpart, but not because I don't like mushrooms.

It's because he doesn't.

He doesn't like the thought of them, the look of them, or at worst, the taste of them - at all.

And as someone who has a particular aversion to certain kinds of fish, I can appreciate the idea that some foods just don't do it for us.

But after looking through old photos, I realized my life, when looked at through a particular lens, can be seen as a series of relationships dictating my actions.

Wanting to please, be supportive, remain appreciative, I've let certain aspects of my personality falter, remaining sweet on days when its only venom I seem to taste.

For whatever reason, I fear being "that wife." That wife who bickers and complains about household chores, that wife who rushes from wedding to baby planning, that wife who gives him a hard time about... well... essentially him being him.

And so I wonder why, since I'm so in tune with how HE FEELS, why I don't spend more time being HONEST with how I FEEL.

Because sometimes, dammit, I want mushrooms

Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Now Whats

For much of my past I had a clear goal in mind.

The 5-year-old me wanted to learn to read, the middle-school me wanted to be high-school-me and the high-school-me longed for college.

After a few acceptance letters and a choice, it was then a typical goal: graduation.

Then the job search began. Goal: Journalism industry.

Annnnd. Done.

With the "learning and job" thing under control, I focused on finding a man.

After far too many ups and downs and a slew of losers I'm embarrassed to wave to now, I found that too.

Man. Check.
Marriage. Check.
House. Check.
Job. Check.
Health insurance. Check.

And then came the crushing feeling of wondering... what now?

With my focus no longer on what I could change on the outside to be "happier" I was suddenly left with only me.

Me. Living a life I thought I wanted. A life I worked for. A life "accomplished."

But instead of feeling fulfilled and finally happy, I'm consumed with the urge to push forward, toward something, something more, something different.

The only goal now - is change.