An Open Letter to My Daughter

Dear Meggie,

Today, when you were waving at us across the concourse at your college graduation, I was reminded of the day you were born. Blonde ringlets covered with my warm blood. Your tiny hands balled into fists as you wailed during your first breaths. You were so angry to be removed from the warm nest you’d been residing in for almost 10 months. They placed you on my swollen belly. I counted 10 fingers; 10 toes. Your blue eyes focused on me and I knew right then, the true meaning of unconditional love. I remember during labor, asking your father if he was proud of me. He said, “more than I have ever been in my life.”

After the doctors assessed your health, Daddy pulled you into his arms. I’ve never seen him so happy. He placed a bottle of glucose water to your lips. You pulled at the nipple and ate ravenously. That wasn’t the only day he fed you. Your father was a fantastic baby dad. Hell, he was and continues to be a great father.

When you were a few months old, I’d watch you sleep. Your eyelids were almost translucent, a blue vein displayed prominently across your nose. I’d see the blood course through it, while your lids fluttered during REM sleep. That perfect, tiny mouth of yours would instinctively move in a sucking motion. Sometimes you’d smile or make incoherent sounds. I was mesmerized by those little movements. Your cooing would create this stirring within my body. This primitive need to nurture and protect you, from everything that this big, bad world was going to dish out at you.

Years later when you were a teenager, I’d wander through the horribly litter strewn mess you called a bedroom just to catch a glimpse of you sleeping. The face was that of a young woman, but altogether childlike in slumber. Your eyelids, no longer translucent would still flutter during REM sleep, but there was no more of the prominent vein visible across your nose. Gone were the lips of a baby. They had been replaced with the full and ripe lips of a teenager that had a few years prior tasted her first kiss. No, you didn’t sleep the same as when you were a baby, but I was still mesmerized. Why is it we can watch our sleeping children at any age and still envision them as infants?

Your freshman year of high school was one of transition. I knew you didn’t need me that much anymore. It took awhile for me to realize you had a good head on your shoulders. I watched you interact with boys. Oh, how they adored you. The boy that I saw you with at that time was the handsome Merrill. I caught you sitting on his lap in the choir room. You jumped up, afraid that I would be upset about it. You had little to fear though, I was excited at the prospect of a boy as cute as him liking you. I was a little worried that he was a senior.

There would be many more boys that you liked. Many that would like you. I recall being jealous of your beauty and the ease with which boys gravitated to you. Like bees to honey. Or moths to an open flame. How could someone that looked just like me be so good with boys, when I struggled so? I grappled with that question for a long time. In your senior year, at Matthew’s graduation party you said, “Mom, you have to let go. This is my time now.” You were right, my time had passed. Whatever happened in my teenage years were long gone, and it was time for me to stop dwelling on them.

 So today, as I watched my baby, now 24 years old graduate from college, I realized you still wail, but in a classically trained voice. And in different languages. You still throw those balled fists in the air, but with purpose. With drive. You want to be a choir teacher and change the world one student at a time. All I ask is that you don’t become complacent or jaded. Stay the course, and live to your highest potential. Continue to breathe life into your surroundings. Never stop growing or changing.

I’m so very proud of you my daughter. You are my example of unconditional love. My Meggie, Megabucks, and Diva. You’re my everything.

Go ahead Girl, let that little light of yours shine.

Love,

Your Momma

 

**The quote at the beginning of the video was one that we had posted in our Tecumseh home for many years. Meggie and Adam knew they were brilliant, but they were to be humble in their pursuits.**

Quoteful Thursday-FDR and Fear

I wondered if I was going to be gutsy enough to write about the recent goings on in my life. But I’ve been too afraid. For so many years I’ve been ruled by fear. Fear of what others would think about me. Fear of being alone. Fear of losing my sanity. Fear of not having enough money. Fear of death. Fear of unemployment. Fear of being a drunk. Fear of being fat. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being found out. Fear of leaving my husband and making him sad. Fear of upsetting and hurting my children. Fear of just about every fucking thing you could think of.

Hell, I can’t even grocery shop without feeling the icy cold grip of fear wrapping around my heart. No, I’m not standing in the freezer section with hardened nipples. I’m trying to slow my thought process down and not be ADHD girl. To be fearless and say I can do the simple task of shopping without crying. I’ve always had Roger Darling to rely on, but not anymore. After 24 years I’ve decided to separate from him. I care very deeply for the man and we’ve had a good life, but it’s time for me to move on. I’ve tried for years to change my feelings for him. To try and love him again. There is no solace in knowing that I’ve broken his heart and the hearts of my children. I’ve broken apart my family.

I’m not asking for pity or empathy. The only thing I ask for is understanding. I pray for it everyday.

In a week I will move out of our home and into a little one bedroom apartment. I will leave all that I’ve ever known. I have not lived on my own since 1989. People, it is 2013 and I am 45 years old. I’m scared as fuck but I’m ready.

I have so much shit to pack. All I really want to do is go to sleep, wake up and have it be next week. I’m tired of hurting myself and those around me. I don’t know how it works, this moving on without Roger Darling. This not talking to him everyday. He’s been my confidant, lover, and friend. I want us to continue being friends. To not be the normal ones that go our separate ways. We’ve never been much for normal anyway. Hell, we raised our children to be outspoken, rebellious and fearless. We tried to live our lives that way too. I guess I didn’t comprehend the memo though.

I’m hopeful that in time Roger and I will be able to meet for a cup of coffee and conversation.  I know we’ll talk mostly about our children and what they’re up to. Meggie, the teacher. Adam, the lawyer. Chris, the lumberjack. Claire, the scientist. But I hope we touch on the subject of our past life and how good it was for the most part. I’ll want him to know that although we are no longer together, I’ve never regretted being married to him.

It was my destiny to be Roger’s wife and Meggie and Adam Boy’s mother. Unfortunately, I have to change the end of the story and go it alone.

Tunesday-Tiny Dancer, Adam Boy and Sublime Moments

Thanks La La for your tale of sublimity. I liked it so much I had to share one of mine.

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted about my kids. They’ve been busy. I’ve been busy. This is about my Adam boy, the quiet one. I think this is my favorite photo of him and the  lovely Claire, his girlfriend. She is the daughter of my heart.

I remember a few months back, he participated in a talent contest. There he stood, this stoic but sarcastic young man. A spotlight lit his baby face and the music swelled around him. What emitted from his throat was raw emotion. I thought my Meggie could sing, but damn. His tone was pure. Pitch, perfect. There was no sliding up to the note. He just hit it!  His voice a sweet tenor, with a falsetto that when you hear it, makes the heart soar.

You know, I’m proud of my children. Their talent. Their brains. Their rebelliousness. Hell, just about everything.  That night, I was proud of my son’s ability to lay his heart open and bleed while singing the lyrics of an old Elton John tune. As his falsetto crescendoed, his father and I beamed at each other. I rested my head on Roger Darling’s chest and let tears spill down my cheeks. Our Meggie is classically trained and a talent in her own right. But our Adam Boy, he sings his emotions. They project from his body with every note he sings.

Hold me closer Tiny Dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

Friday Fictioneers-A Winter Wedding on Smathers Beach

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the using my photo. I’m tickled to death about it! It was taken at public beach post 10 on Smathers Beach on the beautiful island of Key West. The bridge served as the wedding aisle for my Meggie and Chris on their big day.

Genre: Memoir

Meggie holds Daddy’s hand. Guitar music floats in the ocean air.  Mom stands at the end of the bridge that serves as the wedding aisle. Dressed in white, daughter smiles at Daddy says, “we better get moving.” He shakes his head and grins. He squeezes her close and starts the short walk to her husband-to-be. Sand in toes; waves lap the shore. Lemon-yellow, morning sun. Chris looks at his bride-to-be with adoration and love. Meggie takes his hand. Pledges of life and love are made. Dad slips his hand in Mom’s and whispers, “this is perfect. Everything is perfect.”

40 Days and WTF Happened to my Ass???

40 days till my Meggie marries the man of her dreams. He looks an awful lot like Eddie Vedder. His name is Chris.  My future son in law couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. If you listen to Eddie though, he sounds like he’s sucking on a few marbles when he sings. Which is just fine with me. I think he’s a golden god! I digress. Now back to Chris. The young man loves my daughter with everything he has, so I gotta love him too. I love him even more, because before he asked Meggie to marry him, he asked her dad.

The wedding plans are coming together. Not much to do. Get the dress there, get the license, and make sure that the bridal party gets off the cruise ship on time. We also need to get to the rented beach bungalow, hair/makeup/clothes, catch a taxi and make our way to where the ceremony will take place. Roger Darling is in charge of getting the wedding guests, family, groom and groomsmen to the beach by 10 am.

Roger sent me a text yesterday that said, I love you Mother of the Bride. I sent him a reply that said Olive u 2 Father of the Bride. We’re a couple of dorks, but we’re fun!

When I got home last night, I realized that Meggie’s dress will have to be cleaned and pressed. Then placed in its own suitcase for the trip. I started freaking the hell out. What if it gets ruined at the cleaners? What if the suitcase it’s in gets lost in transit? What if? What if? What if? Roger looked at me and said, Ah hell we’ll rent her a dress on the ship. I totally forgot we could do that. Phew!

In the last few weeks I’ve tried putting on and zipping up my size 12 pants. Seems I’ve grown out of the fuckers. I’m none too pleased by this development. If you’ve been following me for long you know I’ve gone through a huge weight loss. My body and mind have been transformed. The last two years have been quite the roller coaster. Through writing, I’ve been learning to adjust.

Recently I injured my back, got depressed, started drinking again and well, kinda fell apart. Little by little I’ve healed. I’ve recovered in almost every way. Except I still can’t fit into my fucking pants!

Now it’s back to the gym for Roger Darling and me. Time for us to get addicted to something healthy. And though I’m sore from doing 75 ab crunches and reverse sit ups and my legs feel like jello from learning how to run again, I’m elated. Fucking elated, I tell you!!!! I’ve got my gym clothes in the car and I’ll head there right after work today. It feels good to sweat. It feels good to run. It feels good to hurt from a workout. Fucking A it feels good!

I told Super Therapist today as I opened up my palm and pointed at it, “This right here in the palm of my hand is the world. I can do and be anything that I want.”

He just looked at me, smiled and replied, “Yes Renee, you most certainly can and you will.”

Happy Wednesday my sweets. Happy Wednesday. Go grab life by the balls, will ya?

The Inspiring Blog Award, THANK YOU David!

I’m keeping David’s picture in this post because it is so damn beautiful. I love city life, I really do. The noise, the chaos, the cars and the people out at all hours of the night. The night life is the best in a city. There is ALWAYS something to do. Then you see the first light of day coming up through the high rises. The chaos slows. Then you feel the warmth and promise of a new day. And of course you get your first coffee at Starbucks and all is right with the world. Thank you David Kanigan for the nomination. I know I’m silly, but I tell you every time I get a nomination it makes me giddy. Makes me feel like my words matter, to at least one person. That’s an incredible feeling. It is.

Oh and I LOVED what David said about my blog when he was accepting his nomination, strap in for the ride. (Giggle, snort!)

Just the seven facts, ma’am:

1. I’m extremely impulsive. I’m working on controlling this issue, but you know, I’m impulsive!

2. I’m a HUGE quotes whore. HUGE. Here’s one of my favorites: (“You know, I’m not like a car that you can fix up. I’m never going to run right.” – Bella Swan, New Moon)

3. Love to read. Hate the Kindle. Would rather stand in an old book store all day long and find books to read. I have shelves full of books at home. They’re double stacked. The damn shelves bow they’re so weighed down.

4. Love to swim but fear deep water. The only time I’ve never been afraid was in the Caribbean Sea. I even snorkeled.  Since I could see to the bottom, I had no fear.

5. Want to write a book. Have a chapter finished and the ending. I read the ending a couple of weeks ago and cried. Told Roger Darling it was time to get cracking on it again.

6. My daughter Meggie is getting married to her fiance Chris in 75 days. On a beach in Key West. It’s what she’s always wanted. I want to jump in the ocean after the ceremony but don’t want to ruin my dress for the dinner party that night.

7. I’m really a 24 year old Goth girl. Not a 44 year old Cougar. Shhhhhhh. Don’t tell anyone.

And one more thing. I believe in speaking my mind and telling the truth. Some people don’t like that about me. Some people love it. I hope you love it and stay awhile. There are more rants and short stories to come I’m sure. I’ve been a bit preoccupied with injuries to my body, mind, heart and spirit. I’m resilient though, and the stories will come again. Please do check out the blogs I’ve nominated. They fucking rock! You all know I HAD to say fuck at least once!!!! Oops I said it twice. 🙂

• http://wax-wane.com/ (I love the photography, the stories that coincide with them and the photos of a young Paul Newman. Sigh.)
• http://storiesbywilliams.com/ (I don’t know why, but I love sci-fi and all that good junk. Matt writes so well on the genre. )
• http://help-me-rhonda.com/ (I know she’s been nominated before, but I just love her to pieces)
• http://thoughtsfromtheoutdoors.wordpress.com/ (David’s work is exemplary. Photography is beautiful and his words make me all twitterpated.)
• http://aslongasimsinging.wordpress.com/ (What can I say about t? Except he is me, but a boy I think. Hmmmm, I’m not sure. I sure do love his words though) (Oh yeah, and I’m a total music whore and he posts the best damn music that this former 80’s wild child loves!)
• http://paulaacton.wordpress.com/ (Love this woman!)
• http://catforsley.me/ (I can’t say enough about this sweet woman. Her words are beautiful. She makes me feel like a star. She’s my Punkin and I’m her MM)
• http://youjivinmeturkey.com/ (Bradley inspires me every day when he writes. Whether it’s a post of a famous quote or the telling of a sleepless night, his words move me.)
• http://michellesomer.wordpress.com/ (Michelle moves me with her words, but also with her want to live life. She is dealing with chronic illness, and gets her ass out of bed every day. She finds ways to enjoy life and find comfort. I so admire her for that.)

If you choose to accept the award (absolutely no obligation – just consider this as a thank you for your inspiring posts), the rules are: (1) Link back to the person who nominated you, (2) Post the award image to your page.  (3) Tell seven facts about yourself (4) Nominate 5-10 other blogs, (5) Let them know they are nominated. Congratulations!

Have a great Hump Day… I do plan on doing just that when I get home!!!

I’m Not Sure Where I End and She Begins

Meggie said, “Momma, you’re cray cray.”

I told her, “I know that baby girl, but you are just like me, so watch what you say.”

She smiled and said, “I’m glad I’m like you.”

It’s eerie how alike Meggie and I are. She used to loathe it when friends and family would tell her that. Now she embraces it.

Friday, I got the joy of spending  24 hours with her. We took a road trip to Lansing/Charlotte for  Cato, her Husky pup to compete in his first dog show. We turned on Pandora Radio and sang the whole way there. Sara Barielles radio first and then Garth Brooks’ radio. The first lines of Gravity came on:

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.

Meg and I sing it together while we’re driving down I-96 in the rain. We’re feeding Cato pieces of Twizzlers strawberry licorice. I don’t know why, but the song by Sara Barielles always makes me cry. Meggie tells me I’m a sap, and then we harmonized for the rest of the song. I love singing with her. I miss her, but we get along so much better now that we don’t live together anymore.

She switches to Garth radio and I’m transported back in time to when she was young. Whenever we were on a road trip, didn’t matter the length of time or distance, we always played a Garth cd. The song Unanswered Prayers comes on and she says it reminds her of Daddy. I tell her it does me too, and then I tell her about the time he and I sang it at some bar on karaoke night. She laughed.

Sometimes I thank God, for unanswered prayers
Remember when you’re talkin’ to the man upstairs
That just because he doesn’t answer doesn’t mean he don’t care
Some of God’s greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers.

We talked about life. About her upcoming wedding, school, and work. She also told me that she didn’t want to hear about my writing all the time. She knew it made me happy, that I was good at it, that it was my passion, but it got annoying to hear about it all the time. I said, excuse me? You’re the one that has to tell me all about the stupid raw food diet that you give your dogs. And you have to tell me about how smart your dogs are. And the fact that you’re going to learn everything there is about showing Cato because you want him to be a champion. That’s the thing about us, when we’re passionate about something, we talk about it incessantly. It annoys the fuck out of everyone around us. But we really don’t care.

We grabbed food at the Cracker Barrel before heading to our hotel. We figured what the hell, we might as well eat good food that was bad for us. Take out of course because of Cato Potato. We couldn’t leave him in the car. Meg was like a worried momma, she had to keep looking out the window of the restaurant to make sure he was okay. We had fun shopping while waiting for our food to be prepared. Finally with the food packaged up and paid for we headed to the car. I said look Cato is sitting there being a good boy. As I opened the car door I realized why Cato was being so good. He had opened the bucket of Twizzlers and was chowing down. Meg and I laughed hysterically. It was so fun to be with my girl and laugh about her silly dog.

We didn’t get much sleep because Cato was anxious and wouldn’t settle down. Me being the good momma, got out of bed and took him outside every half hour while Meggie slept. He finally settled and cuddled up with me on my bed. I got about four hours of sleep but figured I’d sleep when I’m dead. It was a big day for Meg and Cato.

She and I got ready without killing each other. It was nothing like when she was a teenager. It’s a wonder we didn’t beat the shit out of each other when she was a kid.

All in all we had a great day. Cato did well and I got to see Megan feeding her passion. She did great and so did he. A friend of mine from high school is mentoring her and teaching everything she knows about showing dogs. I hadn’t seen Linda in 28 years. It was good to reconnect and see her interacting so well with Megan. Linda treated Meg like a daughter. That made me so very proud.

Meg told me thank you for all the help and that she loved me. Said it was so great to spend time with me. She missed her “Mommy” time because now she’s so damn busy. We loaded up the car and the exhausted Cato dog and headed home. We turned on Pandora and listened to Garth radio again. Sang songs all the way home and then laughed our asses off when I picked up my ice tea and proceeded to spill then entire cup into my purse. I spilled it on my pants too. She looked at me, laughed and said I look like peed on myself. I was laughing so hard I told her I might have, but I couldn’t be sure because of all the fucking ice tea everywhere.

Cato slept the whole way back to Livonia, Meggie and I sang and talked. She told me to stop drinking so much coffee because it was going to give me wrinkles, and that I had to re-hydrate my skin every day. I told her to shut the fuck up. She then got on Google found an article about it and gave me hell. I told her I would only drink 40 oz. of coffee a day instead of 80 oz. She just shook her head at me and told me to wear moisturizer. The she said, Mom you’re beautiful and you have no wrinkles, you want to stay wrinkle free for as long as you can. I looked at her and asked, how the hell did you get so smart? She said, Google Mom. Google is Goodle. I told her she was a dork.

We got back to Livonia in record time. Unpacked, hugged, kissed and said our goodbyes. Had to give hugs and kisses to Cato and Delilah the Wonder Huskies too.

After I dropped her off and headed back to Tecumseh I realized that she was one of the best things I’d ever done in my life. I thought back to the day she was born and was laid on my stomach. I was scared to death of what kind of mother I would be, but by God I was going to do my very best to love and raise her up right. I remember the feel of her in my arms that first time I held her. I remember Roger Darling carrying her around the delivery room and calling her his little girl. And then I snapped back to the present and realized that I got my wish. That I did raise her up right. That she may be quite a bit like me but she ultimately is her own woman.

I’m Just a Girl in the World

I’ve had a little No Doubt on the brain this weekend. Just a Girl is one of my favorite songs. Meggie and I have sang it together on more than one occasion. It’s fun to sing and scream and all that good stuff. It’s a girlie anthem, but so much more. We want to be girlie, but we want to be tough too. This song explain that to a T.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been a bit of a cranky cunt this week. Ah well, this feeling will pass. Usually happens once a month. Ha! The tears, the crankiness, the I don’t give a fucks and the absentmindedness. Damn hormones. Sometimes I wish I was a dude.I swear Roger had to tell me 14 times to bring my phone when we were leaving to go to a party yesterday. Of course, we got in the car and I couldn’t find it, because it was in the damn trunk! I swear to you he was going to shoot me. It took us 27 minutes just to get out of Tecumseh. I had to stop to pee too. Hahahahha!

I’m thankful that I have so many women in my life that are more than just girls. We don’t take shit from anyone. We love with everything we have, but we’re tough too. I don’t know many men that would tell us no. That we couldn’t do something. Okay if it was dangerous, maybe they would. I like to think that the men in our lives give us the freedom to be ourselves because they want to see what we’re going to do next. God, I hope that’s true. Maybe they’re just scared. Hell, I don’t know.

I know that’s why Roger Darling let’s me be free. His smile, his encouragement for letting me be me, is really something. I can’t even put it into words what it means to me. I wake every morning knowing that I’m a lucky girl. That I’m more than, just a girl. Hey, maybe I’ll start wearing a bindi. Let’s see if we can bring the style back. Scratch that, I’ll just wear my tiara!