Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Rules of Engagement..for moms

This week I have come smack dab, face-to-face, up close and personal with the mother's curse.  Oh, you know what that is.  It's when your mother said, "I hope you grow up and have children just like you."  Now, let me preface by saying, I honestly don't remember my mother ever saying those exact words to me, but I am sure in her heart she thought them on various occasions.  For example, when, as a senior in high school, my boyfriend and I announced that we were going to get married.  


Now you must understand that while I wasn't the best or the brightest in my small graduating class, I wasn't exactly stupid either.  I had been heavily recruited by the journalism department at Indiana University and had aspirations of becoming a well respected author.  But somewhere between planning a future as a writer and actually getting to college, I just happened to fall in love.  And as anyone who has ever taken that plunge knows, falling in love has the ability to change the course of history.


So as my boyfriend and I sat in my parent's living room and made our grand announcement, I could not quite understand my mother's cold, if not right down rude, reaction.  She sat in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, face forward, lips pursed...and silent.  She said nothing as we told her and my dad the very loosely constructed wedding plans we had made. She did not share one iota of our enthusiasm, not one ounce of our joy.  She was not happy and made no attempt to hide it.


I remember my father, always the voice of reason, asking her if she was really surprised by all this.  After all, Dan and I had dated since seventh grade and had been completely inseparable for the previous two years.  But still, my mom remained stone cold, not at all interested in sharing in our excitement.


She asked questions like, 'did we have to get married?'...'what was our rush?'...'had we really considered how hard it would be?'...'and what about school?'


As I sat in this very room with my son and his now....fiancee...not much more than a week ago, I experienced a very strange sort of deja vu.  It was the kind where I had lived this moment before...just on the other end of the conversation.  Now I was the one with all the pointed questions...mostly the same ones my mother had asked me oh so many years ago.  Imagine my surprise when my son gave me, almost verbatim, the same answers I had given my mom.  


As I sat there with my head spinning and my heart palpitating, I suddenly could see myself in him...a person so in love and so determined to be with that person that no one or no thing was going to persuade him otherwise.  I could see that fearlessness that comes from being certain you're doing the right thing at the right time with the right person.  That kind of certainty brings a confidence no amount of reason, logic or circumstantial evidence could overcome.  And no amount of parental objection would do it either. 


All he could see was the new plans he and she were making together.  My plans for him were no longer his priority.  At that moment, I knew I had two choices...be on his side...or not.  Because for all my arguments, no matter how sound, no matter how valid, they all were going to fail to change his mind.  He is going to get married.  He is going to pack his things and leave this home and go into the world with her by his side, and they are going to make a life together.  And it's a life I want to be part of.  


So, with tears both of joy and sadness, I told my son he has my blessing.  Joy because he is beginning his life a man.  Sadness because he is leaving behind his life as a child.  


We've raised him well.  We've taught him everything he needs to know. We've equipped him for this moment as best we could.  So as hard as it is for me, I have to take my hands off the wheel because the reality is, he knows how to drive.  And wherever the path takes him, I want him to know we will always love him...and we will love her too.





Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Pinch a penny, squeeze a dime

There's an adage that says, a man will spend $2 on a $1 item he needs, while a woman will spend $1 on a $2 item she doesn't need.  If this is generally the norm, then my husband and I fall into the totally typical category.  


He is, like most men I suppose, a hunter gatherer.  He identifies a target and sets his sights on it.  Whether it's a power tool, a pair of shoes or a pizza, he knows what he wants, and he single mindedly pursues said objective until he acquires it.   With his wallet holstered in his back pocket like a weapon, he enters a store, takes aim at the desired item and wrangles it to the register without being even a little tempted to just look around and see what else he might find. 


There is no such thing as browsing in his world.  Every shopping trip has a defined goal and a direct path.  There is no need to peruse the aisles...no reason to check the clearance racks.  


There is also no need to look for a good deal in his world either.  If he needs something, he doesn't see any real advantage to checking the Sunday ads, waiting for a coupon or sale or shopping around.  He'll just go to the most convenient vendor, pay the asking price, whatever it is, and call it a successful trip.


This method simply does not work for me.  I do not like to pay full price for anything...not food, not clothes, not household goods.  I never consider the 'original price' to be the actual price.  I know there is a deal to be had on almost everything we buy, and I'm willing to work a little and wait a little to get it.  


For me, paying full price feels like a waste.  Everything goes on sale eventually...stores have mark downs...manufacturers offer coupons...even services are offered at discounted rates during certain times of the year.  It's all about planning ahead and having the patience to overcome the instant gratification urges we all have from time to time.  


But I definitely am one who will spend $1 on a $2 item I don't need...or at least don't need at the moment.  Why wait until we're out of peanut butter and then have to pay whatever the asking price may be?  If I can buy it today on sale, with a coupon and keep it on hand for whenever the need does arise, doesn't that make more sense?


My husband thinks it's just a little nutty to have multiple bottles of ketchup, salad dressing and bbq sauce stocked in the pantry.  But he sure has benefited more than once from an extra package of toilet tissue stashed away somewhere or an spare stick of deodorant stockpiled under the sink.  And he certainly appreciates the wide variety of breakfast cereals we always have on hand and the fact that he can always find a quick snack when he rolls in from work at 2a.m.  


I don't want to ever get to the place where my family has to stage a hoarder's intervention, but I do enjoy the feeling of having the fridge full and the shelves well stocked.  Paying only a fraction of the retail price makes that sensation only that much sweeter.  So say what what you will, but I'll just keep squeezing dimes to see if I can get more than ten cents worth of something  to fall out of them.  









Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Fat is NOT a Four Letter Word

I have a friend who absolutely hates it when I refer to myself as fat.  She will give me a stern look and tell me not to say that, as though it's some kind of malicious self-commentary.  But personally, I find nothing offensive about the word fat.  I am, after all, fat.  


Female, brunette, lunch lady...no one would debate I'm all those things, and no one would expect me to take them as slights. I wouldn't be insulted if you called me middle-aged, loud or opinionated.  I don't even mind bossy or controlling.  Those are all adjectives that aptly apply to me, so why take offense?  It is what it is...or rather, I am what I am.  


Now that isn't to say that I wouldn't change some things about myself if it were easy to do...and that goes for my size as well.  If I could snap my fingers and be thin, I'd so do it.  I'd also be 5'7, have straight, gap-less teeth and be able to walk in heels.  But it isn't that easy, and obviously I'm not interested in doing the work required to make the changes the old fashioned way.


Oh I know there are legitimate reasons why I should lose weight.  Health, agility, longevity...all perfectly valid reasons indeed why I should drop fifty or a hundred and fifty pounds.  But honestly, I just haven't come to the place in my own life...in my own body...where I've felt compelled to do what's necessary to get there.   And I don't think that makes me a terrible person.


So no, I don't mind being called fat...when used as a matter of fact.  I'm not expecting to be beaten over the head with the word or have it shouted at me for meanness sake.  But I am, by choice, electing to see myself as I am and accept myself for who I am..of which, my size is, ironically, but a very small component.  


I think in a world where people are stuck with all sorts of labels...some deserved and others purely derogatory...it is wise to honestly evaluate the ones applied to us.  If they're true, why fight it?  If they're true, but we just don't like it, then we should do something to change it or...excuse my brashness...suck it up.


The truth of the matter, as I see it anyway, is that the people who love me will love me at any size and those who don't care for me wouldn't be obliged to if I weighed less.  And the bigger truth is that I am a lot more than simply my size...mostly wonderful things.  I am a Child of God.  I am a great wife and mother.   I am a good daughter, sister, aunt, cousin and friend.  I am smart, hard-working, insightful and personable.  I have a vivid imagination and a way with words.  I am an excellent cook (which certainly contributes to my fat issues).  I could go on, but I wouldn't want to give you the impression I'm full of myself, although some would argue that I am.  :-)  But those things...coupled with or rather counterbalanced by the not so positive aspects of my character...are the things that really make me...me.  If they happen to come in a plus size package, well so be it.