Friday, February 5, 2010
The Necessary Evil of Rewriting History
Meagan: Mama, how did you meet Daddy? Where were you? Tell me what happened.
Me: [long pause]... Well it happened one day in Albany where Daddy went to college. My friend went there too so I went up to visit her for the weekend. She wanted to take me around to some of her favorite
The next day I flew back to my college in Pennsylvania and I was surprised that Daddy called me he wanted us to get together for a playdate again real soon. This time he would come down to my house in Pennsylvania.
And so we began dating.
Meagan: Oh, what were you studying with Daddy?
Me: Ummm, Anatomy. We were studying anatomy. Yup. Anatomy and Biology.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Heading Down a New Path
Here I am standing at the beginning of a new path. Not sure where it will lead or what lies ahead but stepping onto the path with a bit of blind faith and lots of encouragement from friends.
I have started freelance writing, something I have always wanted to do but never had the courage to make happen. The idea of setting yourself up for rejection wasn't the most appealing thing to me. And there is a lot of rejection.
But there is also that rare instance of acceptance. And that brings an elation so great that it makes the rejection that much easier to take.
It started on New Years Eve. I have submitted to magazines before maybe once or twice. Never tracking what I did. So I was beyond amazed (and taken way by surprise) when I got a call from a magazine that they would be publishing something I wrote. It is about our whole voyage into eliminating artificial food coloring. To get even better, they will be using some of my photos as well.
A few nights later, sitting with my husband I decided to make a goal- a commitment to myself that somehow I would get 4 things published this year. Lofty as it may be, I would work hard for it.
Ironically, the very next day, EverythingMom.com signed me up to write 4 articles for them.
It seemed like this was finally happening.
A dear friend offered me all the encouragement I could get and she gave me that final push I needed to really commit to this new endeavor.
So here I am stepping onto this new path with some trepidation. Hoping it isn't going to turn into some wild haunted Halloween path but remains peaceful and pretty and full of wonderful things.
I have started freelance writing, something I have always wanted to do but never had the courage to make happen. The idea of setting yourself up for rejection wasn't the most appealing thing to me. And there is a lot of rejection.
But there is also that rare instance of acceptance. And that brings an elation so great that it makes the rejection that much easier to take.
It started on New Years Eve. I have submitted to magazines before maybe once or twice. Never tracking what I did. So I was beyond amazed (and taken way by surprise) when I got a call from a magazine that they would be publishing something I wrote. It is about our whole voyage into eliminating artificial food coloring. To get even better, they will be using some of my photos as well.
A few nights later, sitting with my husband I decided to make a goal- a commitment to myself that somehow I would get 4 things published this year. Lofty as it may be, I would work hard for it.
Ironically, the very next day, EverythingMom.com signed me up to write 4 articles for them.
It seemed like this was finally happening.
A dear friend offered me all the encouragement I could get and she gave me that final push I needed to really commit to this new endeavor.
So here I am stepping onto this new path with some trepidation. Hoping it isn't going to turn into some wild haunted Halloween path but remains peaceful and pretty and full of wonderful things.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Its the Little Things
I have this Starbucks coffee mug. It's large and shaped just so that it fits in my hand perfectly. It's made of blue glass and it holds just the right amount of coffee for me. I have had it for almost 7 years. I drink out of it very often-- at least 3 times a week when it isn't waiting patiently for the dishwasher.
This morning I set it down just as I always do while watching the news. The sun was somewhat shining through the clouds- just a bit. And it appeared.
How have I never seen this before in 7 years?
How have I missed this?
What else am I not seeing?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Why My Son is Way Cooler at 6 Than I was at 12
Let me take you back.
1986. A middle school cafeteria. 300 or so 12 year olds danced around in the first real dance. The air hung heavy with Love's Baby Soft and AquaNet Hairspray. Whitney Houstan's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" vibrated through the room.
There I was in a black and white dress, permed hair, and a smidge of makeup. Surrounded by my girl friends I whined and contemplated about how much I wanted to dance with a certain boy. A boy I had a crush on for months. We planned and talked and giggled and ran until one of my friends dragged me out of the girls room and over to him and asked him to dance with me. He did.
We danced for about 3/4 of the song--until he politely said he should return to his date since it was the last song of the night. I think I nodded. The girls and I ran back to the bathroom and you could hear the "oh-my-God-I-cant-believe you danced with him" all the way down the hall.
Yes. Pathetically uncool. That was my first dance.
Oddly enough I would dance with that boy again, as his date to the Junior Prom--but that was a long time away from that night. That night I was so uncool. I was 12.
Flash forward 24 years later.
My son stands in a banquet hall dressed in a shirt and tie. We are there for him to receive an award. He spies a girl out of the corner of his eye that he just adores in his karate class. He says to me--without hesitation or shyness or the patheticness I displayed years earlier--"Mom I going to ask her to dance with me." And he quickly turn and follows after her.
They emerge on the dance floor and dance with wild abandon. Smiles fill the room. There is no hesitation or awkwardness. Just dancing. For 20 minutes.
He accidentally falls- smashing his head on the wooden floor. He starts crying but pulls himself together for a split second to hug her goodbye as we dash out the door. Blood oozing...head swelling.
He ends up in the emergency room with a concussion. But all he can think about is those magical 20 minutes on the dance floor.
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