Buy The Headdress

In all honesty, I've never really seen much of myself in my kids. Drew is a carbon copy of Jason, Reid is another version of Ryan, and Lily has always been just like my mother. I'm familiar with each of these personalities already so there was no adjusting, getting to know or understand them. We just sailed right along. Ryan and Reid had a connection. Reid told Ryan he loved him every hour on the hour and Ryan looked at him and interacted with him like he knew they shared that something. We talked about it several times. It's the way they look out their eyes, it's their bone structure, and facial expressions. It's their light, their energy. I knew from the time Reid was born that Ryan would have something special with him. He loved all my children but he saw himself in Reid and so do we. It was a real connection. He's funny, sparkly, charming, and knows it.

Drew is his daddy from the top of his head to the tip of toes. He looks like him, sounds like him, and has a pompous way of making a point just like his father. It's a very, "You've given your theory and now I'll tell you why you're wrong", type of arrogance. Neither of them could speak a word if you tied their hands behind their backs. Grown folks love Drew as they always did his father when he was that age. He's respectful, well-spoken, and will discuss topics and issues well beyond his years with an astute awareness. He's a history buff, has a million dollar vocabulary, and has taken me to school many times. You have to be on your toes around here with these two. Jason and I have agreed not to inundate our children with our beliefs; who we are took decades to form. My journey is not Drew's journey. I will never tell him who to be and what to think. When and if he asks, I share my take on things but always follow up by reminding him these are simply my findings. I will let him make his own choices and decide what is best for him. I think sometimes parents forget their children's lives are theirs. We can guide them but manipulating them into who you want or expect them to be is unfair. I'll let them find their way and I'll be proud because I'm their mother. End of story. 

Lily has been like raising my own mother. She shares all of her traits to the point my husband calls her "Little Shells". She was an extremely serious baby. She cried constantly and spent the first year of her life on my hip. If I put her down, she went into hysterics. She didn't coo, she didn't smile, and she fussed constantly. The pediatrician noted that she wasn't playful. I had Reid almost exactly two years after Lily. Lily did not talk and was always late on all of her milestones. When I had Reid, she completely regressed. Her doctor watched her closely and I waited for them to tell me she was on the autism spectrum but he never did. I was so scared when she started school. A mother knows and she just wasn't ready. She wasn't speaking like the other kids and her social skills were awkward. She wouldn't approach or engage with the other kids. She had stayed at home with me so I began to think I had hindered her rather than nurtured her at that point. I would talk at length with my mother about it and she assured me she was the same way and she would grow out of it. Lily cried at school a lot. Her teachers have talked to me about it many times and I'm never sure what answer they're looking for from me. She cries easily, that's all. Mom said she cried so much when she was little they just got used to it. Lily finally had a male teacher who wouldn't cater to her tears. She grew a lot that year and the teary episodes began to fade away. She went into speech therapy and began making friends. Her talent began to emerge and Lily has become an amazing artist. It is her passion. Her personality began to blossom and she's super aware of what goes on around her, seriously smart, and goofy. Lily is a goodie two-shoes and that is a bonafide Shelley trait. My mother will follow the rules to the letter. Over Christmas I gave my mom my discount card for Ulta. She presented it to the cashier and said, "This is my daughters and she gave it to me. Is it okay if I use it?" In my mind I was like, "Mother!!!!! HUSH!" GAH! This morning Reid came to me having a meltdown because he couldn't find his super smash brothers game. I saw Lily get up, go off somewhere, and return with it. I asked her where it was. She told me he was getting up in the night to play it so she took it away from him, hid it, and made him go back to bed. I was speechless. Classic, "Little Shells".

Afterwards, I went off to load the dishwasher and was in the middle of thinking about my kid's funny personalities. They're all so different and I know exactly where parts of who they are come from. I was in the middle of thinking how they aren't much like me when Lily came back downstairs in a costume. She had on bunny ears, unicorn stompeez, sparkly wrist cuffs from a previous Cleopatra Halloween costume, and layers of costume jewelry. She sat down and began to draw and I realized…….THAT'S ME! My mother has an entire album of me in the weirdest ensembles you can imagine. I love costumes and will parade around in something just for my own enjoyment even now. Seriously, ask my husband. I've loved it since I was a kid and its never lost its luster for me and I hope it never will. I'm all for a cheap thrill and if it comes in the form of a feather face mask from Earthbound, what's the harm in that? When I'm old and gray and someone out of my mind, I hope my grandkids will being me feathery hats, sparkly costume jewelry, and fuzzy faux stoles. I'll still love it. Age shouldn't have a limit on the silly little things we enjoy. I saw a list yesterday of "100 things I will teach my daughter". My list will be different but it will include, if you like that bizarre headdress and you want it for no reason but to play in it, BUY IT. BUY THE HEADDRESS! She enjoys her little costume and that's me in there. I may be in there in the smallest forms but that's me. I'm weird and I think differently than other people. Sometimes sensible is boring and sometimes fitting in, to me, feels mediocre at best. I let her wear those little consumes out because she's proud of them and its fun. She thinks she looks stunning and to me, she does. I let her wear it because eventually society will tell her she can't anymore. Do it before it stops being cute 'cause if I could still wear get-ups like that and get away with it, I totally would. People and age have a way of killing your spirit, but I love that I see some of mine within her. I'm glad I caught a glimpse of myself. I brought good stuff to the table, too. The love of a good get-up; that's from momma.

It's Not Really About The Food

Growing up, I never thought I would be the type to be a little Suzie homemaker. It took a while to morph into the domestic engineer I’ve become. Sometimes I hate admitting that I’m somewhat of a cliché. The beauty part is, I don’t mind it. Sometimes I’m genuinely the happiest in the simplest moments. I like being in the kitchen, making special goodies for my family. I put love into all of it. Here’s the kicker, I’m a total feminist. My mother never told me to grow up, get married, and bake. She never told me who to be or what she thought would make me the happiest. I think sometimes she waited with bated breath as to who I’d become. I was kind of a wild card. After Jason and I got married, it became pretty clear to me that I wasn’t much of a cook. Before the internet, it took a lot of phone calls home to grannies to get recipes and they NEVER have an exact measurement; it’s pinches of this and dashes of that. Weird things I didn’t even know what they were.  “What the hell is hog jowl?”  As time went on, I developed a passion for it. It makes me feel good when my kids ask for that one special dish or baked good. I love watching Jason chow down and say, “That was good, momma.” He paid his dues. He choked down many a burnt meal without complaint in the beginning.

Today I’ve baked all day. I get the warm and fuzzies when it’s just us here at the house and I take a moment to step back and let my blessings wash over me. The kids laughing and playing, the dogs running through ripping the house apart are all little pieces that make this ours. Life can be brutal. It can chew you up and spit you out. A lot can happen in a year and this year has been brutal. I try to find the joy in the things I always have. It took a while to find that joy again at all and then there’s a weird pang of guilt when I do. Is it okay to laugh? Is it okay to have any Christmas spirit? I admit, I think I over-decorated this year to compensate. I can’t seem to find my happy medium yet. But cooking and baking, I can usually always find joy in. I just focus on what I’m making and know that it’s how I show my family I love them. They can all be holed up in their rooms but once the smell of something baking wafts up their rooms, out they come. Lily loves to help me cook. She asks if I’ll teach her. I absolutely will. I want my kids to look back and remember coming home from school to special treats. I take pride in my home and my family and I’m a lot more of a big dorky square than I ever imagined I’d be. We’re a little unorthodox around here with our sense of humor and shenanigans but we’re fun. We have to keep things fun or else it would be boring as hell. Let’s face it; this whole parent/marriage thing isn’t exactly a riot unless you put some effort into it. You gotta shake it up.

I see moments with my children when I realize I’ve taught them well. I see Drew interact with adults and he’s polite, respectful, and well-spoken. He holds doors and makes eye contact. They’re good kids and we did that. I’ll start work soon but no matter how busy or stressful life gets, I hope I always enjoy making our house a home. Jason’s guy friends tease him that he’s spoiled. He jokes by going to a light switch, turns it on and says, “Look at that! Came right on!” Get it? He paid the light bill? *eye roll* If you didn’t really know him or his sense of humor, one might misconstrue that he’s a misogynistic asshole. He’s just obnoxious, is all.

They are my life. They are my everything. I want their childhood to be filled with happy, warm memories. Some of my most fond memories as a child were not at expensive theme parks or events, they were in my jammies laughing at the weird language mom, Ryan, and I spoke. Every family has their own communication and way of interacting. A lot of it gets passed down to the way you raise your kids. A lot of habits that were acquired growing up, have trickled down with my kids. They are extremely close. I want them that way. They are forever. They will have each other’s backs when no one else does. If I’m lucky enough to go first, they are left to take care of one another. They are the mark I’ve left. I want them to appreciate each other and hopefully appreciate everything I’d tried to do for them. I fail all the time but God I’ve tried to be something for them. Even if it came in the form of cupcakes, movie/snuggle night, too many pets, cleaning up after them, telling them they’re beautiful, and a wicked sense of humor. I hope I’m irreplaceable to them and I hope no one ever makes anything that tastes quite as good as mom’s does. It’s more than cooking or baking. It’s way deeper than that.

It's Just Stuff

So I have this theory, and you may have to bear with me as I get there. I, along with the world, watch every year as Black Friday rolls around. We watch on the news as they give us the horrendous stories of people trampling each other like it’s the running of the bulls to fetch high definition televisions at bargain prices. Our jaws drop as we watch people act like animals and wrestle strangers to ground for the latest gadgets and electronics; all this is done out of the spirit of giving. Keep in mind I never exclude myself from my blogs. This isn’t judgment, its mere observation and something I’ve been thinking about. I’m guilty of overspending on the holidays. I spend to buy my loved ones gifts to bring a smile to their faces for that glimmering moment. I do my shopping at a different time because I’m willing to pay full price to avoid cooling my heels in the clink at Christmas time. I don’t do well in crowded situations. I get volatile. A trip the store puts me at risk for jail time on even the calmest of days.

I wonder why these things, these possessions, got so powerful. When did they get so important that we’re willing to act like heathens to have them? What purpose do they serve? I think they’re filling voids. They filling the spaces of human interaction we’ve lost as technology has advanced. In the place of people, we’ve put in high tech devices that give us entertainment and hold the judgment.

Yesterday, as I snooped through online sites, to find that perfect gift I’d like for myself, I began to wonder why I thought that overpriced pair of Tory Burch slippers was something I really needed. Is some woman going to pass by me and look down to the see the gold emblem on my feet and think, “Wow, she’s somebody. She’s something.”? Or is it to trick myself into thinking that when I look down at my feet? I already have black slippers, I don’t need another pair. What am I trying to accomplish here?

We get these things and we cherish them for a time and before you know it, that bluetooth speaker system we so coveted is something we’ll eventually call a piece of crap when it malfunctions in a way we don’t understand because we’re too lazy to read the instructions. Next year, it’ll need to be bigger and better. Yeah, that’ll fix it. That’ll make everything perfect. “This is too hard. Push two buttons in succession? Can’t they just make something that’ll read my thoughts? Piece o’ crap!”

As technology and these devices we have to have are advancing, our ability for human interaction has been obliterated. Every time I make a trip home, people make false appointments with me. The people who chirp the loudest are the least likely you’ll hear from once you’re there. We don’t want to see people anymore. We don’t want to deal with it. Why when we can be flies on the wall of other’s lives, play video games, or watch our favorite shows in our pjs? We can attend that fabulous party on “Real Housewives” without having to get dressed up or foot the bill. They’re prettier, wealthier, and more glamorous. Why go anywhere when you can snoop through Facebook during the commercials, to boot. It’s a bevy of distraction; distraction with zero effort.

While recently home, I got to see Sasha Loomis. We hadn’t seen each other since high school so there was a lot to catch up on. She told me she wanted to have a marriage like mine. I laughed and told her I hoped I didn’t project the perfect marriage image on Facebook. I hope people realize it’s real and I love him but I do think about smothering him roughly about once a month but there’s no one else whose murder I’d rather plot. She knew me well enough to laugh and not call the police. We all know that Facebook is a world of make-believe; a world where we can alter, revamp, edit, omit the bad, and exaggerate the good. Everyone is operating as their representative and we’re all full of shit. There was once a study done that said that a high percentage of people actually felt more depressed after logging into Facebook. “[So & so] is more traveled, has more friends, blah, blah, blah”. You don’t know what [so & so] deals with that doesn’t get posted but man we sure cling to that device that tells us an edited version or whatever story we’d like to make up to go along with it. Meanwhile we’re sitting at the dinner table with people who we do know their real story, all too happy to ignore them for virtual strangers, acquaintances, and friends we once had until we were given the option to do the bare minimum in the relationship to prevent them from completely abandoning us. We don’t see each other, we don’t call each other, on special occasions we can simply text or write on their walls. It’s a tragedy, really. We’ve completely opted out of social interaction, willingly. Hell, we prefer it. We’re bad friends, we’re bad people. Have you ever known you should’ve given a damn about someone or a situation and you almost did but then your show came on? For that hour it was you, Nene Leakes an’em and nothing else mattered.

We ignore each other and then it just festers. It’s a chain reaction. They ignore, so you ignore, and eventually we’re all just going to be making our lonely, narcissistic, passive-aggressive points from the comfort of our well-stocked pedestals of distraction. We can drift off and fade away in a world of our choosing. We can delete her or him, hide that annoying political poster, and go shopping all without leaving the house. Clothes have gotten completely overrated. I once had a friend who lost a boyfriend to World of Warcraft. It took a mere 6 months for him to become a rumpled pile of laundry sitting in a chair where a guy once was. I’d go to her place and there he’d be in that same chair with his headphones on. He didn’t work, he didn’t socialize, and he barely spoke. Once I thought he’d actually said something to me but I realized he was only speaking into the mic to whatever lifeless opponent was on the other end. I took my friend to lunch and because I loved her, it was time for the “you need to dump him” speech. “Molly, you in danger, girl.” As she explained the game, I realized what it was all about. In this 2D world he could be 7 feet tall, muscular, and king of the monkey people. (Okay so I don’t totally get the game but you can feel what I’m puttin’ down…) Why face his mediocre existence when he can be invincible in another realm? The “other world” had killed him. It was too late for him. He reminded me of that Asian kid I once saw on the news that just dropped dead in front of his screen from a bowel obstruction because he’d been playing his game and hadn’t pooped in weeks. Let that soak in. That’s some heavy shit, total pun intended.

We’re provided a safe distance with technology. We buy crap to fill the void where relationships and support should be. Relationships can come and go but that Netflix series has at least 5 more seasons. It’s like the modern day Stockholm Syndrome. It serves as a filter for which we aren’t seeing things clearly anymore. We’re looking at life through a screen. We have total perception issues. We’re not touching anyone, we’re not seeing anyone. We’re just buying shit and shutting the world out. So it begs the question, did we stop talking to people because Siri started talking to us or did we start talking to Siri because no one else was talking to us? Was it the chicken or the egg? I don’t know.

I guess my whole point in this weird trip through my head is that remember when you’re out buying gifts to remember the people you’re buying them for. Remember the same gift you’re buying them may be the same thing they’ll be engrossed in around the time they stop taking your phone calls. See each other, touch each other… You can’t take the stuff with you. Trust me, I now have a house full of stuff that isn’t mine. Remember to give them a hug and your time along with that pretty box with a bow on it. We worship things now and we’ve lost ourselves to it. We’re like drones in front of our phones and devices. They’re all designed to keep you connected but all they do is disconnect. People have never had to try less to maintain a connection with people and we’re even failing at that. It’s cold out there and I don’t mean the weather. Let’s hope those mega pixel flat screens generate enough heat to keep us warm…