Skip to main content

Let that be a lesson to you

Dear Self,

Be glad your fiction doesn't have a following. (For the record, I really truly in my heart of hearts wish it had a following. And I wish I made tons of money off of it so I wouldn't have to borrow money or sweat bullets when it's not yet payday. But apparently I don't wish it so much to sit down and force myself to write for an hour a day yet. But it's almost to that point. Almost.)

You will in fact get an eye infection in your other eye if you continue to use old contacts and are frequently too lazy to take them out at night. (Maybe bloodshot eyes will make me look mysterious. Probably more like drugged, but a girl can hope.)

If the dog ran downstairs really fast and didn't come back when you called her, that's probably bad. (And smelly.)

When the spelling word list for the week looks too advanced it probably is. The solution IS NOT to study for it only on the night before, but rather to study all week long. (You know, for the future.)

You're going to feel really goofy when you try Annie's child psychology, and your son (who is 10, not 5 - take note) might get mad at you and think you are making fun of him. But don't despair, eventually you will feel happy and goofy and your son will smile and join in the happy dance. And that does feel better than yelling. Later when he sits on your lap (and crushes you - he's huge!) you can whisper in his ear that you're trying really hard not to yell and you need his help and he'll nod and lace his fingers with yours and let you smother his sweet soft cheek with kisses. (Making the goofiness all worth it.)

Your couch cushion is shreadable, and the dog likes to chew things. (Perhaps it is time to look more seriously into that slipcover.)

Putting off the dreaded homework so that Josh can go out with the neighborhood kids and slide down the little snowy hill on a borrowed sled is totally worth it. (And he'll get most of his homework done on his own as payback.)

Love,
Your Self.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 

Weird.

So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…