I don’t know what other Mothers and Daughters discuss between themselves while eating lunch at Disneyland, but our conversation went something like.
“Which evil character do you think you most resemble?”
“Evil Character?”
“Yea. Lady Tremaine, Cinderella’s wicked Stepmother, Snow White’s step mother the Queen, Cruelladevil, My personal favorite, Maleficent from sleeping beauty…”
“Are you serious? Yours is Maleficent?”
“Definitely.”
“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever considered that question. I always recognized the similarities, either imagined or wished for toward the heroine, I never considered the similarities toward the antagonist.”
“So, which one?”
“Let me give it some thought.”
“O.K…. I need a Peter Pan hat.”
“Of course you do.”
And off we flew to Never Land to discover that the evil one had stolen, purchased or hid them all from every corner, every store, every booth, every location we could find in both parks.
But alas, we remembered the land of cyberspace where all things can be purchased and delivered to your tree house, castle, stump or wooded hideaway.
I started a tradition and didn’t even know it. I started taking my daughters on “mommy trips”. Just the two of us. Last year I took Ciera to Oregon and Northern California. We rented a car and went wherever we felt like going. One day we sat in an amusement park arguing. But at the end we reached a new understanding and not necessarily about the other person.
This week Wistie and I are going to Newport Beach. Just the two of us. Sort of.
Again I rented a car and we will go wherever we want. I hope we don’t argue in the amusement park, but if we do I know it’ll end up alright.
This isn’t a time when I give sage advice, because frankly I don’t have any. I don’t think I talk too much about me or my life, unless they ask and really want to know. I try really hard not to “interview” them on these trips, but sometimes being me gets in the way of us.
I know I will always be “the mom”, but I am discovering that the relationship I developed with them as children has evolved into a wonderful relationship as adults. I still remind them that “I am the Mom!” and I tell them I am not their friend and they don’t have to like me, but the truth for me is they are my bestest friends.
This week we went to a business breakfast meeting. It is held weekly with other business people who work together to promote each other’s work. It is like having 27 other people networking for you. It is a very good idea, don’t you think?
I had all these grandiose ideas on how I’d promote my writing, my production work, my marketing knowledge, my web site development experience, my constant contact know how. I wanted to show them how I could help them promote their own companies or products. I wanted to remind them that 50% of their business is from former clients and they need to reach out to them and remind them of what they can do for them. I wanted to share the benefits of effective and efficient advertizing or just suggest ways to utilize technology for their business and their personal lives. I wanted to spin it from a business investment to a personal perspective and tell them about producing their own family movies or documenting their own memorable moments. I had 60 seconds to give my spiel…. I failed.
Chris and I walked in. He was promoting his business and I was promoting mine. We were greeted by most everyone. They asked questions. They wanted to know what we do, all except the head huncho woman who walks up, shakes Chris’ hand, asks about his business and doesn’t even acknowledge me at all. What is up with that? A few minutes later she comes up to me and asks for Chris’ business card.
“I don’ t have his, but I have mine.”
“OH! You work? You have your own business? What do you do?”
I smile, hand her my card and I so want to be brilliant and clever in my response, but I bite my tongue.
“I’m a writer/producer”
“Really. Well, isn’t that interesting.”
And away she walks.
I’m really not good at this promoting myself stuff and even worse at being nice to %^&**()& . I need someone who can sell me.
Today I walked into my employer’s office. He was in a discussion with another attorney. I handed him identical letters to sign. Both needed to be mailed, one certified and the other standard mail.
He needed to sign both. No copies allowed.
“How did you know that Pam?”
“She’s such a smart girl!”
“Wow.”
“You’re such a smart girl!”
I almost felt like rolling over and playing dead.
Let’s be clear here. I am older then both of these “smart lawyers.” I would like to smack them around to shake off their arrogance and condescending attitudes, but frankly, this woman doesn’t care what they think of her. She also understands that they don’t really believe she is smart. After all, she is 53 and is working for them. How smart can she be?
After the ambulance ride, after the air-vac, after the surgery, after the discovery of his broken back, after his brace fitting, before he recouped In our home, before getting the first of many bills and just as reality of this life altering experience began to penetrate our daily moments, she called.
A friend who loves my son, who helped raise him, who values him. She called to ask about him. And she called to ask about me.
I haven’t stopped blogging.
I write.
I read.
I delete.
Its therapeutic.
I can paraphrase.
Yea…. Deleted again.
I am thinking of creating a blog where no one knows it’s me and I can say whatever I want and not feel bad or wrong or worried about being bad or wrong or worried.
- “Do you want to go? Really?”
- “No. I feel like I need to.”
- “Maybe you could start doing what you really want to do.”
- “If everyone did what they wanted to do, nothing would ever get done.”
Really.
I think Thomas Edison would disagree.
“I never did a days work in my life. It was all fun.” Thomas Edison
Are there pictures of me canoeing 4 miles up river while herding 45 teen-agers in 22 canoes? Nope. But I have sun burned knees and a very shiny red nose! Use your imagination.
Are there pictures of all of us hauling said canoes half a mile up a steep mountain on our shoulders while walking a mountain trail for the width of one? Nope! But again my red knees buckled and my shoulders screamed and my arms don’t flap as much in the wind! (Trying to find the positive side!)
Are there pictures of hiking five miles (after unloading the canoes up said mountain!) to camp and arriving third to last just prior to the sun setting? The heck with herding those youthful souls! They bounced toward camp like Tigger!. I wanted to cry, but could not risk wasting WATER.
I did not feel any sense of accomplishment in this feat. I did not gain a higher respect for finishing the race. I did not gain more confidence in overcoming these obstacles. I went to bed with Motrin PM, hot chocolate and a dirty face. So glad Chris insisted on a mattress for my Tahoe! There was never a more comfortable bed then the one I crawled into that night.
The next day began with preparing breakfast then more activities, preparing lunch, then more activities, serving dinner with little enthusiasm, because I knew I had another 5 hours of youthful exuberance and activities before I could swallow that Motrin PM with my cocoa.
The next morning more activities, breakfast, breaking camp and a long drive home. My passengers were laughing telling me about all their fun adventures. They retold all the funny and tender moments they experienced and I wondered where I had been to miss those memories. I stopped for a DR and M&M’s because I was fading fast. Forgot about the driving part home all exhausted, stinky and anxious knowing in a few short hours we were hosting Ciera’s 16th birthday party. Tomorrow I will get to sleep. Tomorrow. I dream of tomorrow.
When did I get so old?
( I will post pictures if anyone took any…. maybe.)
‘One day, a dowager of the breed that mistake impertinence for wit took a swipe at him.’ Victor Hugo from Les Misérables
I love that line. ‘of the breed that mistake impertinence for wit’.
Who hasn’t been of that breed at one youthful or drunken or weak moment in their life? (Not the Dowager part, but the impertinence part.)
I have provided a list of books I want in my library. Every year for mother’s day Ciera buys me a book off my list. This year she chose Les Misérables.
So at night I read a little chapter in this great book and every night I go to bed with a new thought to ponder.
I am looking forward to using that line, but whenever I have the opportunity I always forget the word impertinence. I come home and look in the book and reread it, committing it to memory for the moment.
I will use it or more likely have it used on me! I know I deserve it. The impertinence part, not the dowager part!
“Which evil character do you think you most resemble?”
