Two Little Girls In Ponytails

This morning I was delighted to wake up and find I had a long and hilarious message from my sister from another mother.  Poor woman is now the mother of a teenage girl and I think it’s just hitting her exactly what that entails.  In turn, she’s scared the crap out of me with the details.  I’m the mother of a pre-teen boy, who comes with his own set of “perks” and up next for me will be a teen girl.  Her message made me laugh inside at how far we’ve come and how the conversations differ from when we were the same age as her daughter is now.  It still seems like yesterday.  Where did the time go?  We’ve gone through every step in our lives together and our bond and ability to always lean on each other is priceless and as strong as ever.  We’ve known each other since we were babies.  I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on her.  She lived next door and was standing in her yard.  She had on a thick coat, a stocking cap and her hair was completely out of control, (as per usual).  She smiled sweetly and asked, “Do you want to play with me?”  It was love at first sight, lol.  She has the most beautiful, brown skin tone and I once asked her if she tasted like chocolate.  She responded with, “I don’t know…  Do you taste like vanilla?”  We always had chores to be done before we could play and she always had to do dishes.  She took FOREVER so I would come help her complete them so we could play sooner.  She couldn’t and still can’t stomach anything so she always made me fish out the crud that was left at the bottom of the sink drain after the dishes were done.  She frequently asked/made me do things I didn’t want to do.  If I heard, “I’ll be your best friend!” once, I heard it a million times.  We would play for hours and then the time would come when her mom would open the back door and scream, “Ccccrrrryyyssstttaaaaaaaaaaa!!!  Get home now!!!!”  Her mom’s voice carried through every inch of Cedar Terrace.  And POOF!  My friend would hit the ground running.  Mama Cindy wasn’t playing around, either, which is why she would always take off so quickly.

No matter where we’ve gone in life, we have always found our way back to each other.  We’ve laughed together, cried together, snuck out together, GOT PUNISHED together, beat the living hell out of each other and stood next to the other as we became wives and later mothers.  We used to be the ones having the sleepovers and talking about boys into the wee hours of the morning.  Now we talk about our children and wonder when it’s a good time to just turn into our mothers and get it over with.  Not to mention, how do you tell them not to do everything you ever did with a straight face?  In her message she said her daughter is 13 but has the body of a 20 year old.  I find it comical how she forgets we did too at that age.   If I’d have had a more involved father I could have put him in an early grave.

Truth be told, we both admit we still feel like teenagers on an average day.  Some days I wonder if I’m just going through the motions and faking it till I make it.  I think all mothers have those doubts and wonder if you’re doing anything right and how do I go about setting them free into the world.  Am I guiding them correctly, am I giving them the right tools to be successful in life?  For my dear friend and me, we’re lucky to have our oldest kids be close to the same age and of the opposite sex.  This way she can prep me by telling me what to expect when my daughter is that age and I can tell her what’s going to blow her mind when her son is that age.  It’s fun to watch our lives unfold and watch each other conquer motherhood and life in general.  Today I miss being 14.  I’d have her over for a sleepover and we’d talk it all out and the best part is, there would be no children around to bug us. 

This story is far from over, however.  There will be much for us to discuss in the future.  First it was barbies, then boys, then children, someday grandchildren and someday our orthopedic shoes and arthritis.  Here’s to the future and mommyhood and everything that comes along with it, dear Bertha!  We’re in this together forever, Sister.  I love you.  You'll never know how much.

The Ugliness Of Self-Righteousness

This blog was originally going to be filled with a lot of vengeance and rage in regards to a lot of hate that’s been swarming through facebook the past few days, regarding gay people.  After what I read last night, I feel if they can say such horrible things and sleep at night, I have the right to put my two cents in also but do it with some semblance of decorum.  I originally planned to launch into a tirade of quick-witted, clever insults, (and believe me, it was going to be a humdinger), but then the realization set in that this would make me no better than the people ticking me off.  So this is me, being better than that.  What I’ve come to except is that these people absolutely possess the freedom of speech.  Because we possess such freedoms, I also reserve the right to think they’re wrong.  The beauty is; I also have the freedom to decide how I will react to it.  I can stoop to their level and let all the nasty little things I had stocked up rip or I can be a grown up and not allow someone filled with such hate and venom to create the same feelings and reactions in me.  Instead, I will simply pity them, not be mad at or insult them.  I will give them the dignity they refuse others.  I would think it has to be so exhausting waking up every day and having to carry around that much animosity and hatred.  I choose to look past their front and come to the conclusion there’s something deeper going on there.  To be that consumed with one issue, like homosexuality, so much it eats you alive?  I can’t imagine that would be much of an existence so I figure that’s punishment enough.  To spat insults and spread hate in the name of God befuddles me.  Westboro Baptist Church, anyone?  If you are truly a Christian and you feel that being gay is such a perversion and so morally wrong, why not choose to pray about it instead of publically using language and terms I doubt you’ll find in any Bible verse to express how you feel about it?  If you feel this conviction so deeply; get on your knees, (as you tell certain others to do – and not in prayer), and pray.  Try to come to some kind of resolve in a dignified way. I’m not asking anyone to argue with their spiritual beliefs; that’s not my place.   I’m asking for the spreading of hatred and intolerance to stop.  This is why suicide rates of gay teens are skyrocketing. These kids would rather end their lives than spend it being publically judged and ostracized.  Why anyone thinks someone would choose to have this burden of judgment put upon them for a lifetime just for kicks and giggles is beyond me, but that will just take me to a whole different point and I promised myself I wouldn’t go there.  I doubt God would be smiling as someone uses words like ‘fag’ and several other misspelled racial slurs I’ve seen regarding the president to spread his word.  Do they believe Saint Peter opens the gates wider for those who quote scripture in the same breath as filth?  “You got this homosexual teen to blow his head off?  Here’s your shiny gold star!”  I thought the song went, “red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight.  Jesus loves the little children of the world.”  At least that’s the song my sweet, little church choir director taught us in my youth.  Maybe our hymnal was loaded with typos and I’ve had it wrong all along.   People who spout such nonsense need an audience and I refuse to be a part of that audience.  If I continue to stew, I’m giving them exactly what they want. After this blog, I will wrap this little nugget up and never look back.  I’ve “written it in my notebook”, so to speak.  This kind of ignorance will only merit so much of my attention and I’ve just given it enough.  I will only leave you with this; Matthew 7:1 Judge not lest ye be judged.  See… I can quote scripture, too.  I guess that means I’ve been divinely chosen to decide which of us are bound for heaven or hell.  I wish someone would have told me this sooner.  Things would have been a lot different for me.

They Shoot Fat Girls, Don't They?

Yesterday I sat down to fold a mound of clothes and got carried away in a documentary.  It was basically the story of 5 different couples who met online.  There was one particular storyline of a guy who was using chat rooms to meet random girls and hooking up, (for lack of a better way to put it.)  He eventually did find love and settled into a meaningful relationship but that’s not what got me all riled up.  He met the majority of them and went through his “harem”, woman by woman, describing each.  He did point out that he’d chosen to meet these women initially based on their personalities but quickly got into how disappointed he was by their appearances after meeting them in person.  It seemed the reoccurring theme of his problem was the girls were just too heavy.  I guess the thought that he’s unlikely to run across Adriana Lima cruising “Single & Lonely” at 11:00 on a Saturday night never crossed his mind, but I guess we can all suppress a little logic for the sake of what you hope to be true… and because HE'S EQUALLY PATHETIC.  I digress…  He said he just couldn’t get passed the weight issue and found himself embarrassed to be in public with these women.  What I’m failing to mention is the guy in question was short, portly, incredibly hairy and frankly, not that attractive.  I also feel the need to touch on the fact that he cruises for chicks in chat rooms.  I think this speaks volumes but if I’m being at all vague, I’ll be more specific:  If he had any confidence at all, he’d meet women in actual life or cruise the selection at his local meat market bar like the living.  But no, he's safe and confident behind the anonymity of his computer screen, allowing his personality to come through first.  Women seem to be more responsive to this than men, but that’s a whole different blog.  It’s like he knew this and used it to his advantage.  He does this, because in the cool, grey dawn of morning he knows he's no catch, either.

I guess this all got me thinking about how harshly women are scrutinized in our society.  Is this what it’s come to?  Men like this can be finicky?!?!  I think something more disturbing than that is that women seem to have turned on each other in response to this pressure.  If I find her flaws, I’m better and have the right to live.  I’ve noticed some women who would sooner take a beating than dole out a compliment to another woman.  It’s vicious out there, ladies.  Think about it, you sit down and watch the Style Network.  They literally have segments called, “Who Wore It Better?”.  They put women on a split screen and decide who has the right not to hate herself today because she paired the right shoes with the right bag or hid her cellulite better than the other girl.  Do you ever see men on the “Who Wore It Better?” split screen?  I recently discovered Natalie Portman graduated from Harvard.  Who knew?  It seems more relevant to shove the fact that she chose an inappropriate pastel down my throat.  I’m guilty of never wondering if the girl had a brain.  We’re fed that emaciated is beautiful, you shouldn't age and being fat should be punishable by death.  Who cares if she's dumb as a bucket of hammers as long as she looks like what we BELIEVE she should look like.  We’re buying into it and I’m over it.

OOoop!  She’s got a muffin top!  HANG HER!

I guess the whole point of my little harangue here is that I feel like women have lost their dignity and value.  Never devalue yourself or let yourself be judged by someone who doesn’t deserve you.  Be nice to other woman.  Celebrate each other and know you are worthy.  Otherwise, more and more women will end up with guys like the one I mentioned, who think they can do better.  They'll end up with guys like this due to a lack of self esteem from being beaten down from the opposite sex and even worse HER OWN.  There will always be bigger, better, richer women who can afford the plastic surgery.  So while you’re busting your hump doing pilates, she’s got an appointment tomorrow to get the fat sucked right outta those thighs.  There’s always a bigger dog in the fight and it will always tick you off so stop hating yourself.  Sometimes you just have to let go, let God and EAT THE CUPCAKE.  Never compromise and never get down on yourself.  I realize, as women, we’re always going to look down and hate that extra roll or find something about ourselves we can work on but what I’m saying is, we need to take back our dignity.  We live in a world where Perez Hilton can be a judge in the Miss America Pageant.  And honeys, let me tell you something…  I’ve been around gay men all my life.  You think women harshly judge each other’s appearance?  Gay men are 10 times worse and Perez ain’t even a ‘5’ on the gay attractive scale, OOOkay?  So in conclusion, you got a fat ass?  Rock that fat ass because I refuse to live in a world where fat, hairy, dill holes who still live with their parents can judge the beauty of a perfectly good woman. 

                                                                                                                                  

Signed,

Tawanda - The Amazing Amazon Woman

Write it in your notebook.

 I was never a quiet child or well behaved from what I gather.  I never thought I was that bad but I’ve been told differently from several of my elders.  I will give my mom props, though.  My mom was the world’s fastest and most accurate smacker.  If seek and smack were an Olympic sport, she’d win gold.  She could reach you from the driver’s seat, into the back seat at 60 mph, never miss a beat or be bothered to look back.  I don’t care how far you moved back or how quick you dodged.  Don’t be misled, though, a good smack didn’t always deter me.

After I got married, I’d returned home for a family function and ran into a lady who used to be our church’s youth choir director.  I was really happy to see her, as I’d known her and been directed by her my entire life.  I walked towards her and did my best to give her a warm greeting.  I said, “Hi Mrs. ‘so & so’, it’s so nice to see you again!”.  I expected a sweet response but instead this sweet, old lady said, “Well dear, it’s nice to see you too, but you certainly were a very mischievous child.”  She wasn’t kidding or even offering a fake smile and simply walked off.  I happened to be standing next to my brother who was doing his best not to gag on his muffled laughter.   I turned to my brother and asked, “Ryan, was I really THAT bad?”  He said, “Yeah, you were pretty bad...” 

Eating crow  --  it tastes kinda like chicken.

I guess the damage was done with Mrs. ‘so & so’ but my mom did develop a system to keep my mouth shut and her dignity in tact by keeping a notebook and pen in her purse at all times.  She had us in church often and worked 2, sometimes 3 extra jobs.  She often had no choice but to drag me along with her.  Church and her jobs were obviously places I was to be behaved.  She would hand me this notebook and say, “Misty, if you have something ugly to say, you write it in this notebook and we’ll talk about it in the car”.  I always did write it in my notebook and, as promised, we’d discuss it in the car.  I think she even started writing a few things in my notebook after a while and now keeps one of her own.  My notebook became a useful tool.  This inside joke and technique has been passed on to my husband as a means to deal with me and my need to sometimes say ugly things.  To this day, in certain situations, I will hear the words, “Misty, write it in your notebook and we’ll talk about it in the car”.  Only now, these words come from my husband and my notebook is now kept in Iphone notes, but why split hairs?

Family Values

I’m very fortunate to have a family that has preserved our memories for several generations after to enjoy.  My grandmother has written books and there are loads of pictures and information about our family I am able look through any time I want.  I know exactly where and who I come from and this is a privilege.  I realize not many people are so fortunate.  I have a friend who says she has hardly any family photos but would love to have some.  I thought that was really sad and I’m very lucky to have these treasures.  I love to sit and look at these pictures and become consumed with pride for my family.  We are a strong, resilient people and have persevered through adversity, war and loss.  I have pictures of my great-great-great-great grandparents.  I think that’s truly amazing.  I love the pictures of my grandmother and great aunts the most.  They are always dressed in their pretty hats and fancy coats.  It was such a different time and I have so much curiosity about what they were like when they were my age.  

Fortunately, not only pictures have remained.  There are amazing objects that have stood the test of time.  When I was younger I often stayed on my grandparent’s farm in Rea Valley, Arkansas.  It was a kid’s playground.  You could run and play for days and never cover the same ground twice.  I loved the smells and pulling moss off the giant rocks.  Granny would let Ryan and I make teepees and have campfires.  Once, she didn’t have any weenies so she gave us bologna to roast, lol.  Papa would always let us be around the cattle but would always remind me, “Misty you stay back from that bull, Ya hear?”.  It was truly a magical place and very special to me.   If I tired of being outside, I would simply go inside and pilfer in my granny’s stuff because she had really fun stuff to dig through, frankly.  I’d always start with her jewelry, (I have never questioned where my love of sparkly things came from), and then I’d move on to things Papa brought back from the war.  On a particular visit I got ahold of the camera he used while serving in WWII.  My grandfather served in the Japanese Occupation at Hiroshima and took pictures of this epic event in history with that very camera.  Of course we know now that camera was probably loaded with radiation and I shouldn’t have been touching it but what’s done is done.  I was just playing with the camera for something to play with not realizing what an incredible artifact this was.  I somehow managed to get back home with the camera and it was thrown in a toy box never to be seen again. 

The past few days my Aunt has been posting some amazing pictures of our family a few of us have never seen.  I’ve fallen in love with these photos and my grandfather’s military photos have made me start thinking about that camera and have made me so angry at myself for being so careless with such a precious item.  I’ve decided to do a wall collage of all my favorite photos so I went to a craft store this weekend to get supplies.  I ran across glass display boxes that would be perfect and exactly what I would have that camera in and on display if I still had it.  My mom kept both mine and my brother’s toy boxes in her shed.  I thought there might be a chance it could still be in there so I called and asked her to look.  It didn’t take long to get the call back that it wasn’t there.  My heart sank.  Mom told me to call Granny because she might have run across it and put it somewhere safe.  Granny said she thought it might be in a box in my great grandmother’s house on the farm so there is hope still. 

I really hope this camera is found and returned to me and I can treat it in a way I should have before.  Mom studied nuclear medicine in college and says she thinks the radiation should be slim to none by now, lol.   I think value for family heirlooms is something that really only comes along with age and experience.  I’ve started hoarding as many things as I can get my hands on and I will keep them safe and they will then be passed on to my children and grandchildren.  My family has done a great job of keeping the tradition going and who am I to argue with tradition?

                         Cpl Sherman B. Ott 19th Inf. 24th Division

                            My grandfather with the camera.