Monday, May 30, 2011

Six Weeks

Just think, in one eighth of the gestation time it took to build me, I can fall in love with myself. That is what the ad promised me. The course would give me everything I need to create the outcome of loving myself and receive help and guidance from Mother Mary who is channeled by an unknown seeker. By signing up for the course, I would be giving Mother Mary permission to suggest actions to take that would profoundly affect the way I feel about myself. Loving myself, would be the result of taking the actions Mother Mary would recommend each week and help me find my inner compass. I paid $50.00.

Week one: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” I was just about to slice off a second hunk of chocolate peanut butter pie. Enveloped in a moment of clarity, I set the server down.

Week two: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” I was just about to flip off the driver who wheeled into the parking space I had my eye on. Nodding in agreement, I exercised restraint of tongue and finger.

Week three: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” I was considering mentioning to an acquaintance in the nicest way possible that her bracelet, the size of Alaska, was competing with her rocket ship earrings. I suddenly realized the rattling of her baubles were drowning out the negative comments she was sharing about a mutual acquaintance.

Week four: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” I refrained from beating an annoying salesman with a display rack. I took a deep breath, smiled and wished him a nice day.

Week five: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” Instead of yelling at the neighbor’s dog pooping in my yard, I gently picked him up, bagged the poop and set both on their porch. No, I did not light the bag.

Week Six: Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom…”Let it be.” I looked up from my laptop and gazed around at the many writers sitting with their own laptops at the local Starbucks racking their brains to touch their reader’s soul with the perfect product review and ignoring their fellow coffee drinkers. Instead of releasing a primal scream, I asked the woman at the next table if I could get her opinion on her favorite restaurant for an article I was writing.

As I completed this course, I realized that I never need be ambassador of the world, custodian of fashion, minister of the road, or overseer of bad manners again. I need only watch my own side of the street by monitoring my own behavior, my own diet, my own clothes and simply treat others as I wish to be treated.

Who would have thought that this two-thousand-year-old direction would be the very thing to turn a hard-headed, fix-you-upper into a keep her eyes on her own paper kind of woman?

I can’t say I am in love with myself but I did give me a wink as I put on my make-up this morning. I’m toying with the idea of buying me a new outfit and next week I think I’m gonna take me to dinner. I got the skinny on a great restaurant at Starbucks.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day

Good Morning, Joel,

It's been a while since I posted a blog and I remember how much you said you enjoyed reading them. Today is Mother's Day and I felt your presence this morning so this one's for you.

Gabrielle texted me and wanted my recipe for French Toast. She's making a breakfast in bed for her mom. She's grown into such a beautiful young lady. Age ten going on twenty. She's sensitive, loving, talented and extremely bright. You would be so proud of her.

I want you to know how much I miss you and if you were still here, I would remind you of my favorite times of being your mother, like rocking you in our chair until you fell asleep and feeling your heart beat against mine. When you were two, you loved pretending that you were talking on the phone which is why the extension was always off the hook in the master bedroom.

The day you went off to kindergarten and I thought you would be scared but you weren't, you were excited. You didn't cry, I did. You always shared whatever you had, wondered why some people were mean, loved animals and seemed happier when earned something than when it was given to you.

You said lots of things that made me laugh. "I just stuck my tongue out at God." (Age 5) "Was the world in black and white when you were a kid?" (Age 7)You watched too many old movies. "When you turn 40, do you stop having sex and listen to the WAVE?" (Age 9) "Why do they always ask that trick question when you interview for a job? Why do you want to work here?" (Age 16).

I miss taking you to Woodcraft Rangers, to the library to work on the reports you forgot were due the next day, to Disneyland, Magic Mountain, the snow, Reseda park to feed the ducks, the beach, and to play on the metal Robot at Santa Clarita Park. I miss going to 31 flavors and I remember one particular day when you asked why people were laughing at you (age 6). You had vanilla ice cream from ear to ear. I told you not to pay attention, they just didn't know how to eat ice cream. Of course, you always wanted vanilla ice cream no matter what the flavor of the day was. I order it myself now and think of you while I eat it.

I miss the sleep overs with your friends and waking up on Sunday mornings with sleeping bags plopped all over the living room, not even knowing who was in each one. I miss making you cream of wheat and watch you blazing a trail with your spoon so the butter would run down in a spiral. I miss watching you play video games on Saturday morning, skate boarding and riding your bike. I miss scrambling for money because the ice cream man was coming. I miss open house at school and your sixth grade graduation when I embarrassed you by crying so hard that I snorted when your class sang, Wind Beneath My Wings.

I miss hearing you laugh, sing your favorite songs when you thought I wasn't listening and not being embarrassed to be seen with me when you were in your teens. Thanks for taking me to see Ghost among many other movies. I loved it just as you said I would and I loved you more when we ran into some of your friends at the theater. It's not easy for a sixteen year old to tell his friends he wanted his mom to see the movie.

I cried each time you left to go to the prom. Three times! You never believed me when I said you were a hunk. I loved going with you to the tux shop and the time you chose the beige tux with the black lapels and I thought you would get criticized for being odd man out but all your friends were blown away and they loved it. I cried hard at your high school graduation but you were too far away to hear me to get embarrassed.

I was proud that you went to college and graduated with honors while you were working and supporting a wife and baby. I cried again. And again. I was proud each time you told me you were promoted and got a raise. I was happy to see you with your daughter. She's a lot like you.

If you were here today, I would tell you that life is hard, some folks will always be mean, ice cream is better when it's all over your face and there will be times when people let you down although it isn't because they don't love you. I would tell you I love you and never stop. Never stop. Never Stop.

You are always a blessing, never a loss. I thank God for giving me the privilege of being your mother and I am flattered that he trusted me with you. You were loaned to me for a time and I will always treasure that. I know you are really God's kid.

Blessings to you and yours and I look forward to the day when you will escort me into the next dimension.

I love you to the moon and back.