Monday, May 31, 2010

Some gave all

Memorial Day. A day to honor those who cared enough to protect us, some of them with their lives. My father is one of those people. John Mitchell Dudley Sr. The following is a short story I wrote about my losing my father when I needed to get some of the anger out. So many men, boys really, died for people they never knew to protect a country that forgets them except on holidays.

Thank you Daddy.

My father died when I was three. That’s not exactly true. My father was killed in Vietnam when I was three. There is a big difference between dying and being killed in a war no one wants to talk about. Dying is God’s choice.

I have no real memories of him, only memories of memories. I must have had a memory at one time of the plane that took him away, but apparently not the plane that brought him home. I remember being four, and five and six, possibly as old as seven, playing outside with my brother and sister, and when a plane flew overhead we would jump up and down, wave our arms and scream, “ Daddy, Daddy, jump down Daddy.” I also remember when doing that started making me feel stupid.

I’m sure everyone thought we were too young to be told the truth. Too young to understand, too young to grieve in a way that made sense to the adults in our world. They told each other we would forget, we were so small, only two and three. They simply stopped talking about him, as if he had never existed in the first place.

If we were too young, my parents were too young also. Too young to be married, playing house, trying to raise children when they were just kids themselves. Mostly, my father was too young to die.

I have a copy of the footage of his Marine funeral, a small yellow-orange box, containing a reel for the old reel to reel projectors. Dudley USMC Funeral written on the box in pen. I watched it once, when I was much younger, everyone is stiff and formal,
Marines are so rigid. I hope my father wasn’t like that, I hope he had fun. The only thing that ties this military funeral and these strangers to my life is that my mother is there.

She looks so frightened and alone, in her black dress. A widow’s dress. Burying her husband at twenty-one. Surrounded by men in uniform, following the casket that carried her husband, while in her womb she carried the child he would never meet.

When I was growing up, a father was a check from the government every month. They supported us, kept us fed, clothed and a roof over our heads, the bare necessities. How easy it is to replace a person with a government subsidy, where was the love? I was ashamed; to me it was no different than being on welfare. My father did this to me.

When people ask about my father I usually just say he died and hope they let it go. Sometimes I just talk about my stepfather. I’m tired of the sympathy and the questions.

“I’m so sorry.”
“How old were you when he passed away?”
“Was it sudden?”
Then I say, Vietnam, and I was three, now they really feel sorry for me, and they all want to talk about how hard it must have been to lose a parent at such a young age.

The worst thing about their questions and sympathy is that I feel like an impostor trying to answer them. I don’t know the answers, the correct thing to say, the right amount of sadness to muster up. The older I get the harder it is to believe that he existed at all, how very sad that my father made the ultimate sacrifice for his family, and we don’t honor him in any way.

I like to think the loss was too big for my father’s family, and we were too painful a reminder. They visited us once a year for a few years, but they never talked about him, if we brought him up, they changed the subject. We learned not to talk about him, not at home and not away from home. Eventually those visits stopped, we never knew why, they just stopped.

We tried to figure out why Daddy’s family didn’t love us, was he the black sheep of the family and it was just easier to walk away from his children? Or did they love him so much they couldn’t bear to see him in our faces and not be able to touch him? After all, he wasn’t drafted, he enlisted hoping it would help him grow up so he could be a better husband and father, did that make it our fault? I certainly blamed myself.

All that's left of my father are a few pictures, an obituary and his sweater. Oh, I also have the Purple Heart they gave him for being shot in the line of duty. Just like his youngest daughter, he never saw that either.

I’m older now, with a child of my own. What do I tell her about her grandfather? What can I tell her? I know absolutely nothing, not his favorite food, his favorite color, if he was a sports fan or a bird watcher. There are no amusing stories, no touching moments shared between a father and daughter, just emptiness. My fathers past, as well as his future, was erased the day he died.

I hate him. There, I said it out loud. I hate him for marrying my mother and making her a widow. I hate him for making us live on government money. I hate him for causing us to grow up without our father’s family in our lives. I hate him for abandoning me and making me a fatherless child. Most of all, I hate him for not being real to me.

Even now, when I think about my father, he seems almost like an imaginary friend I had as a child. The only things I know about him are the things I remember making up, with a little girls imagination, dreaming about the day my real father comes to get me and we all live happily ever after.

My daughter is almost an exact replica of her father; she asked me if I look like my Daddy. I tell her that I’m sure I do, I too was a miniature version of my father, but that was forty years ago, and now I am twice as old as he was when he died. I can still see my mothers face in mine, as she looked at my age. Where is my fathers’?

I have been angry for so long, toward a government that created a generation of fatherless children, and sent them a check every month. Who needs a Daddy when you have Uncle Sam? Toward my family, who all seem to live by the motto “ out of sight, out of mind”, regardless of how anyone felt, my siblings and I still needed our father, even if it was just through stories. Also angry at myself, for allowing my fathers absence to make me feel inferior.

Do I miss my father? No. You can’t miss something you never really had. I was too young to have any memory of having a father and no one ever tried to keep him alive for me. What I miss are opportunities, for both of us. We have missed so much, are still missing so much.

I am trying not to hate him, it really wasn’t his fault. He was so young, maybe he was more afraid than I can ever imagine. Married at seventeen, father of two by nineteen fighting in a strange country by twenty. But if I don’t hate him, then I have to hate the people I love for not keeping him alive for me, it’s easier to hate a dead stranger than someone you love.

Maybe he hated me, maybe he regretted everyday the teenage hormones that landed him in the backseat of that car and resulted in my existence. Maybe.
The little girl that still lives deep inside me chooses to believe differently. She believes that for one brief and shining moment she was the apple of her Daddy’s eye.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Sadie Jayne

Once again I got a call from the rescue asking if I could take some 16 week old puppies, and as usual I immediately said sure- bring 'em over! The lady at the rescue laughed and asked how many I wanted, I did have enough sense to say 2 instead of my usual response which is "I'll take all you've got." That's a step in the right direction.

Stacey brings over two of the cutest puppies and I instantly know I'm in trouble. Mo and I wanted a big dog even before the debacle in the front yard and I've been putting it off. As soon as I saw Sadie's face I knew I was done for.

After 24 hours I called the rescue and said, I'm gonna keep this one. She is a sweetheart. Her sister is very cute and well but there is just something about this pup that grabbed my heart and won't let go.

We are suckers for animals. Since before Mo was born her father and I always had a houseful of cats. While I love cats I'm more of a dog person. Mo's allergic to cats and I think I'm allergic to cleaning the litter box so every time I think about bringing home a cute little kitty I recite the follow in list in my head:

1. Mo's allergic.
2. Litter boxes
3. Eating houseplants
4. Climbing Christmas trees
5. Clawing furniture
6. Again with the litter boxes.

It works every time and I'm able to walk away from those cute little balls of fluff. For whatever reason, it doesn't work the same with dogs. I have a list in my head but can usually be distracted from it by puppy kisses.

Sadie is going to be a big girl, the rescue said she is German Shepherd/Golden Retriever/Chow, or in other words a large mutt mix. She is going to destroy my little tiny back yard, she is going to fill my house with muddy paw prints and wet dog smell. There is going to be dog hair everywhere, water dripping from jowls and those god awful dog farts. I'm also sure I"m going to lose more than one shoe to her, but, what I get in return will be more than worth it. No one loves you like your dog does, except maybe your Mom.

So meet Miss Sadie Jayne, the newest member of our all girl family. And as usual, Clementine is not impressed.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Time to get a gun, that's what I'm thinking....

Most of the time I am not afraid living alone. I have always felt safe in Utah and really never give crime a second thought. I’m not naive, just secure I guess. Recently I had reason to question my security and some of my choices. I don’t have a gun and my dog weighs 9 pounds so I don’t have much in the way of home security, we lock the doors and call it good.

A little over a week ago, on a Saturday night, Ivy was here with us, we were all fast asleep and suddenly I hear banging and yelling and someone pounding on the front door. I wake up screaming for Mo, she is sleeping on the couch in the family room and I can’t tell if the noise I hear is coming from inside the house or outside the house. Amazingly, Ivy sleeps on.

I jump out of bed and go running downstairs. There are two things wrong with this particular choice, the first is that I’m blind for the first 5-7 minutes I’m awake, I don’t know why but my eyes seem to still think they are closed, it happens every morning. The second thing is my steps, I love them, they are one of the things that made me fall in love with my house, but they make a sharp turn left and then a sharp turn right. I fall down them when I am wide awake and can see.

So I run screaming………and fall down the steps. I still have no idea what’s going on, I can’t see. I hear yelling to my left, outside, and yelling to my right, Mo and Kenz who are terrified. I still can’t see so I tell Mo to call 911. I think I open the front door for a split second before I regain my senses and slam it closed. I look out the window and see many shapes of what look like people kicking the crap out of someone on the ground. They run away when they realize I’ve seen them, all except the boy who was taking the beating, he is crawling into my bushes.

Mo hands me the phone and my friendly emergency operator asks all the vital information, who am I, what’s my address, what’s going on. I try to tell her as best I can but my vision has only recently returned so all I can say is a bunch of Hispanic guys fighting. Were there weapons? Ummmmmm, I don’t know. Is anyone hurt, again, I know. Do I recognize them? Why yes Miss Operator, my friends always fight in my front yard when I’m asleep. I tell her about the boy who crawled in the bushes, she asks if her is breathing, ummmmm I don’t freaking know. And then she says the thing that makes me think I’m on candid camera- Can you go outside and check? Hello, did you not just hear me say there were eight guys killing each other on my front steps, no I don’t believe I’ll go outside!

Then she got a little bit of an attitude and asked me how she was supposed to know what kind of help to send if I wouldn’t cooperate. I said send whatever you got, I think the Navy might be overkill because we’re in Utah, but send the rest.

Mo was very excited because they sent a fire engine. I’m still not sure why, but hey, maybe the firemen were bored. So on my little street, which is exactly three houses long we had a fire truck, one of the big ones with the ladder, an ambulance and four police cars. The cops trampled my front yard for about 15 minutes and somehow over looked the crack pipe I found when I mowed my lawn in the morning.

So I’m thinking maybe I need a gun,in the words of my Miranda, I could afford one, if I did just a little less drinking, but since I can’t see when I first wake up I’m starting to think that a big dog might be a better option, at least I can’t shoot myself with a dog.

So next post will introduce you to our newest family member, Sadie Jayne. Sometimes answers to wishes really do fall out of the sky.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Does anyone know CPR?

We all have one of those friends. The one who should have been your sister but got dropped off at the wrong house. She is also the one who can talk you into just about anything AND make you think it's a great idea.

That's my Trina. She was the first friend that I made when I moved to Utah. Our kids are six months apart in age, she has a boy, I have a girl, we both have fertility issues that make them our one and only so we thoroughly enjoyed each other's children.

Trina is the friend who let my baby eat a poisonous plant, to be honest, she let her baby eat it too. I am the friend who let my kid bite her kid, over and over and over again, with no idea how to stop it. She loves me still, and so does he!

When something goes wrong, we call each other first, when something goes right, we call each other first. When one of us gets hurt, the other one laughs until she pees her pants and has to change before taking her friend to the emergency room. It works for us.

I think though, that this might be the last straw. Trina called me today, on her way to work, with her next brilliant idea. She wants to train for a marathon and thinks it would be fun, yes FUN!!! if we did it together.

My head is spinning. You may or may not know that I am a cigarette smoking, wine drinking, french fry loving train wreck most of the time, but I've got good genes! I'm blessed with a fast metabolism and a body that is determined not to carry around that Mt. Everest of food I consume on a regular basis.

This does not, however, mean I want to run. No one is chasing me so what's the point? I mean if some guy was after me trying to make me wife number 42 I would run like hell, maybe even jump some hurdles, but just because? Seriously? People do this? Voluntarily? No they don't, they do it because their friend called them at work, on a Wednesday, when they were eyeballs deep in a contract and they couldn't think of a way out.

My only response, Ok, I will, but not like competitively or anything, I mean, I'm not going to run fast, maybe a little jog, but nothing that is going to give me bad knees later. I'm still using those knees occasionally, ok, I'm not, but I'm hopeful!

Anyway, if you don't hear from me, send help, sexy paramedics and some french fries, and whatever happens, remember, it's all Trina's fault.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

My poor neglected blog

Lately I've been, uninspired. Maybe that's the wrong word, I've just been inspired about other things. Unfortunately I'm one of those people who starts the tiniest little project and it turns into a massive, days long, burning up the Home Depot credit card, can't sleep till I get it done.

That's where my blog has gone. I love this time of year because I love to garden. This year I put my garden in too early and everything died, so I had to replant. Not a problem really, but while purchasing replacement plants I decided that I needed a drip system. Which lead me to realize that I needed weed fabric because the weeds in my vegetable garden will be out of control come July. Then of course I needed mulch to hold the weed fabric down. And won't these look lovely in the flower bed in the back yard, and this for the side yard. While I'm here, I really need to find some shade loving plants for the front yard, that bed looks very neglected.

Now I know this does not sound like that much but the weekend I decided to do all this was also the weekend that Mo was in a play with four performances, Ivy Love was coming to spend the weekend with her favorite Auntie and I was having a bbq to bribe men to replace my swamp cooler for me.

Why I can't do one thing at a time, I don't know. I can't, I'm just not built that way. Yesterday was another perfect example of that, I got up, cleaned the house, went on a lunch date, came home and fixed some siding on the house, helped Mo get ready for yet another prom, took pictures for said prom, went to the craft store to get yarn because my friends daughter is having a baby and although I have a quilt that still needs the binding put on it I wanted to make a cute little afghan too. While at the craft store I remembered what I needed for Christmas presents that I want to make this year oh and I need to find something for Mom's birthday. And I had a date last night.

Someone please get the hamster off the wheel. I'm having trouble keeping up!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Join me in a threesome

A blog award threesome that is!

My friend Linda at The Good, The Bad, The Worse gave me not one, but three lovely awards! Linda's comments are one of the reasons I write this blog, she always has something witty to say.

So, here I go following the rules, kind of, in my own meandering way. First I must tell you somethings about myself that you don't already know, that's kind of hard since I overshare with all of you waaaay too much but here are seven little known facts about the bubble bath queen.

1. I can't parallel park.
2. Once I dropped the Christmas ham on the kitchen floor taking it out of the oven. My sister and I rinsed it off and served it anyway.
3. I was my Grandmothers favorite
4. I kill bees with WD40
5. I love ju ju fish.
6. I can knit but don't really like it.
7. I never finish anything, my basement is full of half finished projects. That's also why there are seven things and not ten.

Now, the fun part, giving these away! Again, I choose seven people. First is Little Sara, she is just getting started on her blogging journey but she has amazing insight. I've know this sweet child since she was five and think you will enjoy her innocence and loving way of looking at things as well.

Then there is Deanna at The Unnatural Mother, she captures exactly how incompetent we all feel mothering these little beings, and her kids make me laugh!

And Bubbles, this woman is all heart. She has the most beautiful soul.

I love Jerry at Gently Said, don't worry, his wife knows and she just rolls her eyes at his groupies. Jerry writes in a way that puts you right there, you feel what he felt, you see what he saw. Go visit him, you won't be sorry!

Michael at Everything Else cuts straight to the heart of the matter, his dry humor kills me, and he has a very cool mobile man cave. I dream of running away and traveling the country with him in the mobile man cave.

Kathryn at From The Inside Out. She is the only person I know who has more people living in her head than I do. She always makes me laugh, and between her and Jerry, they've taught me everything I ever need to know about inserting links in posts! She just moved and I've been missing her, go give her some love.

And last but certainly not least Jayaycee Blog, just started following this blog but already I look forward to reading what she writes.

There you have it. Thank you again and again Linda for deeming me worthy. I hope you will all visit the wonderful people I've mentioned her, they have amazing views of the world.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Another one bites the dust.......

How long should you date someone before you decide if there is chemistry or not? Maybe that’s my problem, I need to feel chemistry fairly quickly or I’m outta here!

I had some really nice dates with Randy, he is intelligent, funny, kind, but I just don’t want to get naked with him.

I don’t see a reason to waste someone’s time. I certainly don’t want a man to waste my time, going through the motions until he finds what he is really looking for- we all know who I’m talking about there! It’s hurtful and keeps you from putting yourself out there again to meet the person of your dreams.

So I told him I didn’t feel there was any chemistry between us. Is that rude? What should I say instead? What is the nicest way to let someone down gently.

These are all men who I like as human beings, I’m just not attracted to them. I’ve tried to give myself more time, thinking the attraction would come but it doesn’t.

My friend Joyce says I've become a professional dater. I do date a lot. I really like to meet new people, I like to hear their stories, I'm fascinated by what makes people tick so I like to hear them talk. And then I move on.

I'm starting to see this dating thing almost as a job, I'm in sales, if I want to make money I have to keep feeding my pipeline. That's how I feel about meeting my last love. If I want to find him, I have to keep putting myself out there, date a lot of men, meet a lot of people, feed the pipeline.

So the quest continues. Look out Mr. Right For Me, I’m on my way to find you. I’m finished with Mr. Right Now, and Prince Charming, he really is a fairy tale. As Mo and I say…………..NEXT!

Monday, May 10, 2010

A weekend in paradise

What a wonderful weekend. First, as you know, I'm fabulous, and I have an exciting and wonderful life but sometimes it gets even better.

Friday night we had a girl party, there were purses, candles, jeans and henna tattoos and when that was over the real fun started. After the vendors left the drinking started in earnest. We danced around the kitchen to the songs from Grease, and yes we knew all the dances. We've decided we can't let all this talent go to waste so we are going to get together regularly and drink, I mean practice so at the end of the summer we can perform for the whole world. There may or may not have been large quantities of copper camels involved. I'll never tell.

Also this weekend, I had sausage TWICE! I know, I know. Since I've been sick I can't eat very much but somehow there is always room for sausage. Randy took me to breakfast, no potatoes this time but I did get sausage. I felt bad because I think that's all I ate. Then on Sunday my sisters made a lovely mother's day brunch, with sausage. They know me too well.

But the best thing that're never gonna believe it! Stephen King was here, in my house, reading my writing, telling me I'm talented. I was proud as a peacock, until I got embarrassed because we could hear the people in the apartment upstairs having loud, banging against the wall sex. I tried to talk louder and pretend I didn't hear, then I remembered I don't live in an apartment, so I woke up.

The wind ripped a piece of siding halfway off my house and was rhythmically slamming it into the house. Damn. Now Stephen is gone and I won't get to hear about how he is going to make sure I get published so I can live on the beach and eat bon bons everyday.

I knew I should have stayed in that apartment.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Baby's getting back

I either have to stop dating or start exercising around the clock. All this dating is going to make me fat!

Last weekend I went to brunch at Market Street, ummmm potatoes. I’ve gone out to lunch once this week. Last night I had dinner at Goodwood with Layne, they had sausage, I almost ordered it to make my week complete. You know how I feel about sausage and potatoes.

Tomorrow I’m going to breakfast with Randy ( the R men strike again) and just to keep it interesting, he is taking me to Red Rooster. How many more R’s can we use? I wonder if they have Raspberry Waffles? If they do I am so getting them to keep with the R theme. But I want you to know I draw the line at refried beans on anything, yuck!

I wonder what next week will hold. There are many more letters of the alphabet. I am finding myself more and more open to new people.

The men I have dated recently are not my usual bad boy dates, but you know what? I like them! They are interesting, they have great stories, their life experiences are interesting and not all about what a victim they are, these men are actually excited, motivated and in some strange way, content.

I think it is that contentment that is attracting me more than anything. I’m done with the drama. I am a content in my life, my job, my world, it’s nice to spend time with someone who feels that same.

Layne brought me fresh eggs from his chickens. Randy tells me stories about his grandkids. Rick tells me about his flower garden. These conversations are soothing to my soul after so much franticness. There is no pretense, they are who they are and don’t feel the need to be a bad boy to impress me or anyone else.

I think I’m in love………….not with anyone in particular but with this breed of man that has been there all along but I was always too busy dating bad boys to see.

Maybe I’m finally growing up.

Follow, follow, follow......

Friday Follow

Oh wait, I have no idea where I'm going! So check out my friends at Follow me Friday, they will be so happy you stopped by. Click on the little linky thing and follow the directions, it's easy as pie................speaking of pie, do you have any? I know it's early but doesn't a big slice of apple/blueberry/cherry pie with some ice cream sound good? I'll even sing the pie song- Pie, pie, me oh my, I like pie!
Have a fabulous Friday!

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I'll take Bachelor Number 3

Yesterday at lunch Joyce and I were discussing how difficult it is to meet eligible men, in our age group, who are not insane, are gainfully employed and have no bodies buried in the backyard. And how do you separate them from the herd?

Maybe we’ve forgotten how to flirt. It seems so different now. When men talk to me at the grocery store, home depot, the library or the bookstore, I never know if they are just asking a simple question or if they are trying to pick me up. Immediately my eye heads for their left hand, no ring, but what does that mean anymore? The CEO, COO, etc, of the company I work for are all married men, not a single one of them wears a wedding ring. I don’t want to flirt with someone else’s husband. I don't need that kind of drama.

So we had an idea, kind of like the Training Table for dating. We would have several tables, some for women, some for men. Each chair would have a text number assigned to it and there would be a cell phone at each seat. If you see someone you like, you could simply send him or her a short text with your location and they could text back, or not, and if you were both initially attracted then you could move to a different area that would have couple tables.

There you could have a few drinks, spend some time getting to know each other and at the end decide if you want to exchange numbers. No harm, no foul. Everyone pays their own way so there is not uncomfortableness.

Dating is not that much fun and sometimes it seems that meeting people is impossible. I think this could work. We could have age group nights, 20-30, 30-40- 40-50, etc. It would be kind of like speed dating but with a more relaxed agenda. I think we could be bigger than Eharmony.

Now we just need a name. Joyce didn't like the Sausages R Us.

On a side note, I've started a new blog to bitch about peoples opinions and things that I think are stupid, you know how opinated I am, visit if you would like, but I don't' call it Offending the Masses for nothing.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

I'm on a R-R-R-Rolllll!

Lately every man I’ve met online has an R name! I know there are plenty of Mike's, Dave's, Johns, and Todd's but apparently this is my month for R men.

First there was Roger. He pushed all of my bad boy buttons, fast car, tattoos, slow, sexy smile, but, he wasn’t actually a bad boy. He walks the walk and talks the talk but he is an accountant and a business owner, has a beautiful home, raised his son alone, not at all a bad boy, looks can be so deceiving. I was excited about this, kind of like having my cake and eating it to, one the surface he is a bad boy but at heart, he is a good man. This could go places. Sadly, he overstepped the bounds of this very new dating “relationship” and when I called him on it he broke out the oldest bad boy trick in the world. He tried to use guilt and manipulation to get what he wanted. I don’t freaking think so! Next!

Then there is Russ. Very mysterious, I think he may possibly be married and trying to play both sides of the fence. The inconsistencies and suddenly having to go are a little suspicious. He’s either married has a really bad cell phone plan!

Randy. He took me out to brunch on Sunday. It was very nice, he bought me potatoes, you know, that’s almost a marriage proposal in my world. Had he thrown in sausage, it would have been a done deal. I’m going out with him again so I’ll let you know.

Just last night I got an email from Robert. I’m not complaining about the R men, at least I’m dating and laughing, because I like to laugh more than just about anything, except maybe potatoes and sausage.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Post it note Tuesday

I haven't played along in a while so today seemed like a good day. Go see Supah Mommy and make some new friends!

Where would I be without my friends?

I’m so fortunate to have such wonderful women in my life. The most amazing thing of all is that although sometimes we get busy with life, kids, work, men and don’t speak for a while, as soon as we are together it’s like the time since our last visit was minutes, not months or in some cases years ago.

This weekend I spent time with a friend I have only seen occasionally in the past couple years. Desiree ( sorry girlfriend, I can’t remember the fictitious name we came up with) and I met at a bar for a night out. We both needed it, but more than the night out, we needed the time together.

We talked about what has happened in the last several years, divorces, kids, working out and then we remembered our nights out before.

Early in our friendship I was the only single woman in our friends so lots of times when we girls went out someone would be mad at their husband/boyfriend so we would good naturedly discuss what asses men could be. We finally came to the conclusion that we were going to create a perfect world- Our lesbian love nest- only without sex. Just us women and our children, no men over the age of 18. Once our sons turned 18 they would be required to leave the nest.

How wonderful it would be, just us and our babies, no men to pick up after, we could do or not do whatever we wanted, whenever we needed a little something-something we would leave the nest for a visit with the outside world and once satisfied we could return to our Utopia and live happily ever after.

Of course, we never stopped to consider all those women living and cycling together, all our daughters going through puberty in such close quarters, all our sons going through puberty together, with nothing to stand between our children and teenage craziness but a couple of frazzled moms and lots of wine.

Maybe once the kids are grown, we can get our old lady pants, our purple hats, lots and lots of wine and sit on the porch remembering how sexy we were and what fools our men were to let us get away.

Of course our eyesight will be gone so we will think we are still that sexy and because our hearing went years ago, we’ll just be a bunch of tipsy old ladies yelling at each other.

I can't wait.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Princesses Do Grow Up

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away a Princess was born. The king and queen had waited so very long and patiently for their Princess and they were not disappointed. Princess Mo was the fairest in all the land.

From birth Mo knew she was a princess and had no patience with anyone who treated her as anything less. The beautiful princess grew, she had princess parties and wore princess crowns.

One day, the princess was so grown up and going to the ball with her Prince Charming.

All the princess beauty rituals were attended to, hair, nails, makeup and the beautiful ball gown.

However, just in case you thought she might be Cinderella, check out the shoes. This princess is not losing a glass slipper and control of her destiny.

My beautiful princess, belle of the ball, how quickly you have grown. I love you so.