writing

Am I just not a good parent?

/ autumncircles / 4 Comments

I don’t know if it’s the holidays and my uber-high expectations of what they should be for a family, or if it is the impending financial doom my overworked and under nourished brain keep telling me I am headed for each time I swipe my debit card for yet ONE MORE gift.  Or maybe I am just not a nice person to start with and so when this viral negativity scene begins invading my body on a cellular level – how am I supposed to be able to handle two kids under the age of ten who have absolutely no interest in actually choosing gifts for others that I cannot possibly know what the perfect present may be in a cluster-f^@ked crowded store the Sunday before Christmas?

Clearly, I am not thinking clearly.

Does anyone with two kids, a tight family budget, 40-hour a week job that swing shifts on occasion with her spouse’s and little or no outlet for cranial pressure?

I do not want to be a whiner – one of those people who is not grateful for all the freaking blessings they have but there is little doubt that is exactly what I sound like!

I am re-meeting a great number of friends from my wild and theatrical times as well as those dating back to pre-high school and I have begun the ancient human tradition of comparing my life to what I perceive to be theirs.  Some are living fantastically bohemian lives in the greatest city on earth.  Others are taking fabulous trips to far away lands communing with the most awesome of nature’s creatures.  Mostly I am not really seeing anyone else in the death grips of parenting peril that I seem to have cornered myself into.  Even my own spouse and best friend are embarking on new musical journeys that are extremely promising given their individual and combined talents.

And here I sit – a’wallowing in a made-up mire of mayhem and monstrous envy writing a blog after getting so angry at my children’s apparent lack of adulthood that I threatened to return every gift I had purchased for them and email Santa to do the same.  Not exactly Donna Reed or Claire Huxtable, huh?  Probably closer to Joan Crawford or Norman’s mom…

And there are still three shopping days left…(play sound clip now … )

What does “cool” really mean?

/ autumncircles / 1 Comment

I’ve looked it up and it is officially an adjective ranging from the obvious of “moderately cold” to “calm” and “under control” to “disinterested” and “unaffected by emotions”.  It makes a slang reference to meaning being “socially adept” and “highly clever.”

Most of us cannot define cool into words such as these – we just know “cool” when we see “cool.”  For example, Matt Damon in the Bourne movie series, walking around all brooding and mysterious – COOL.  A guy throwing shoes at our President – not cool, even if you didn’t vote for the man or cannot wait until the new President’s inauguration day.  Michael Phelps winning eight gold medals in one Olympics – awesomely cool, whereas the previous record holder, Mark Spitz, not even showing up to congratulate or cheer him on – unequivocally not.   Parachute pants and black checkered vans in 1980ish- very cool.  Try wearing the same thing today and it would very UNcool.  Ed Hardy t-shirts or perfume – cool; Ed Hardy purses – not so much.  Linus’ speech in A Charlie Brown Christmas is sincerely cool in a sentimental way.  TV preachers hacking their wares heavily in order to make their mansions larger off true believers, wretchedly opposite of cool.

I’ve always attributed the word to something deeply existential within that cannot be specifically delineated into a tried and true formula for determination.  It is a either cool or it is not.

As far as my generation is concerned, the word can no longer be classified as slang.  It is part of our vocabulary when describing almost anything or even for simple interactions between folks.

“Wow – that’s a cool car,” the mother of two said as she walked past a Mini Cooper convertible.

“I’m going to order pizza tonight – cool with you?”

“Hey, please don’t take my kid’s bike – that’s uncool!”

The trick tends to be that in most cases, one needs to be cool in order to differentiate cool.

I’ve always wanted to be cool.  I have had times in my life where I think I’ve come to the precipice of cool and almost crossed into it for a time being.  Unfortunately, something usually snaps in my psyche and I lose all ability to allow myself the misconceived honor of being cool.

Believe it or not, I do feel as though I am getting closer to this mercurial veil of comfort in my own skin the older I get.  I am intimidated less, not nearly as afraid as I was even as recently as a few years ago and I find myself worthy to wear a leopard print faux fur coat even if someone laughed at me while I was wearing it.  I don’t care – I find it to be wonderfully cool.  I love writing haikus and know that if Bascho’s spirit is wandering around somewhere, he would declare them ultimately cool concise flashes to whisper inward expressions.

My whole point to today’s blog is that I am still unable, in some areas of my life, to adequately know whether or not I am “cool” or down right “goofy.”  In many cases, I still check with my friend and fashion expert (IMO) on what I can and cannot wear together as an ensemble.  I give my kids’ teachers space so as not to appear like I’m one of “those kinds of parents.”  And I am not able to respond if someone by chance asks me if “I’m cool” with something if the question’s base resides in one of the few remaining areas of anxiety for my brain.  I might be “okay” without reaching the same level of “enthusiasm” that someone else might.  But does that serve as an equal to “being cool?”

This is the question that has haunted me today and nearly brought me to my proverbial knees…fun, huh?

P.S.  Blogging on the human condition with an honest attempt to connect with others and include a bit of humor – hopefully cool.  Unable to answer a simple question without taking the entire day to ponder it and then end up vaguely responding under a pseudonym in a blog read by about three people tops – not necessarily.

ABOMO – Take Two

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Forgive me, Universe.  It’s been many months since my last post.  I lost track.  I got scared.  Who was reading you?  Would they say something to me?  What am I writing about?  Why am I writing?  I know, a cardinal sin for a writer to commit – questioning the purpose of words on a page.

So, I began an affair.  I have been putting parts of myself out onto Facebook where I know there are people who love me.  It’s easier in a comfort zone to be consistent about updates and sound-bites for status. There is a limit to characters on what anyone is doing or feeling or saying.  A false freedom amidst conveniently confined posts.

All the while, backlogs of emotions, tirades, deeper meanings, hidden truths, soap-box rants, totally biased opinions and eviseratingly verbose releases have taken their toll on the previous deconstruction of my impenetrable great wall.  The wall has subtly begun a phoenix-like rise among the disconnected pieces of my life.

This is not to say that my life is going badly or that it sucks.  Quite the contrary – there are more wonderful things today than there ever have been:

  • A loving family with two beautiful, healthy and intelligent children who continue to amaze me everyday.
  • A marriage and relationship that continues to withstand the tests of time, monotony, and the daily grind.
  • A new puppy!
  • Enduring, evolving, reconnecting with old and finding new friendships.
  • A career shift and definable boost in opportunity and growth.
  • The most historical Presidential campaign and election many generations have ever seen!  (Yeah!!)

Exciting stuff, right?!  It is and I am truly more grateful than I have ever been.

Do you hear it?

“And yet…”

Can you decipher the buried grumbling?

“But still…”

It’s not much, but it’s there – aching body parts, restless sleep, disproportionate reactions to relatively insignificant incidents, and selective bouts of the dreaded lack-n-worry combination.

“Will there be enough money for Christmas AND the new air conditioner we need for the house?”

“Why is my body doing that, now, after all I’ve done to try and repair it?”

“When will there ever be time to accomplish everything I am supposedly, supposed to to accomplish in one waking day?  Nurturing and caring for the kids, being present with my husband, focusing on work, cleaning the house, walking the dog, spiritual ritual, give/receive love, dance class, swim practice, washing my car, Christmas shopping, balancing the checkbook, homework upkeep, keeping in touch with my friends and family, volunteering, grocery shopping, cooking, eating, participating in the democratic process, sleeping, exercising my body, resuming my theater career, being brutally honest with the universe, updating Facebook, developing the perfect haiku, and writing my ever existent, constantly neglected blog.”

Are there really, truly, honestly humans out there that actually DO all of these things and check off the day as a success without yelling, crying, screaming and/or whining?  Seriously?!  Where the hell are they?  Can they show me a fool-proof way to get it done that doesn’t involve adding one more $^&@ing thing to the schedule?  NO reading books or attending group therapy?!  Forget the cliches, Nike slogans and fear-mongering!  I won’t take drugs, toast away the blues, or hire a nanny/housekeeper/counselor/accountant/gigolo/spiritual adviser/handy man.

Whew!

Dear Santa – How are you?  I hope you have had a great year with the Mrs. and all your elfin companions.  This is Kathleen.  I am 41 years old this year and, by all accounts, have been very good.  I have been honest and worked hard all year for myself and my family.  I even got a promotion at work!  Sometimes, I forget how great my life is and my feelings get hurt.  And then, sometimes, when my feelings are hurt, I am not very nice to those that I love and cherish.  I wish I didn’t do that.  I wish I was happy all of the time and everyone knew it.  So, this year, all I really want for Christmas is to TRULY BELIEVE I am whole, safe and loved. That is all – Wholeness, Safety and Love.  Thanks, Santa – if anyone can get this for me, I know you can.  ;o)  Love, Kathleen

P.S.  If you happen to have a really cool black leather designer handbag that perfectly fits my style and personality, I’ll take that, too…