Dear Jack

I feel like it's been awhile since I've written one of these. It's not that I've forgotten but mostly it's a lack of words that match what's going on in my head. The dots do not connect, the lines are colored outside of- this seems to be the theme of things lately. We recently celebrated our first Halloween, just you and me. You were Ang from Avatar, which seems to be your favorite show as of late (I miss the Yo Gabba Gabba days. Can we go back to the Yo Gabba Gabba days?). I didn't dress up. It seemed like a challenge to take on another persona when it feels like I have so many to juggle lately. I only wanted to be one thing for the evening anyway- your mother. I've only ever wanted to be your mother, even when I didn't know it.
Things are crazy right now little prince. They are hard and more than anything I want to say "I'm sorry" for all of this. For the split times and different houses. It must all seem weird and I feel it too. I want to give you more and when I'm working with half of more it's difficult to not feel like I made a mistake somewhere. Gambled too hard, leaped before looking. Some would say I've done this before and I have.

And then there was you, and now I gamble in a different way.

I will continue to put it all on the line, fall from heights unknown- for you. And right now even though this all seems like a pain in the ass, fruitless; one day I will be able to look at you and know I did the right thing.

I wish the world was as it was explained to us when I was your age. A tender fairytale where all dragons are slayed and a happily ever after is promised for all. I will be the first to tell you that this is not how it works. It is much more complex, more nuanced, harder to swallow. But in the end real life is better-




Because this is real. And this is worth fighting for, even if the battle is of my own doing.

Eventually little prince, this will all make sense. Eventually you'll know what living true to oneself feels like and I hope you'll understand where I'm coming from.

I love you more than you can fathom.

-Mom



(This song is actually a little piece of why I named you Jack).

Jack and the Beanstalk

My son is growing marigolds...


Sometimes he overpours, flooding the tiny seedlings; creating a pool of drifting dirt, streaking the clay pot with water.

"Careful," I warn "you don't want to over-water them."
"Yeah," he says both concerned and yet unflappable. He knows what he's doing. Even if he doesn't, I must let him figure it out on his own. Let him color outside the lines. Let him spill and fall and piss and yell. Sometimes I have to hold my tongue, watch the dirt float to the top. Try again next time.

My son is growing.


It wasn't so long ago that I was growing a seedling of my own.

I wonder if he bites his tongue for me sometimes. Ignores the fact that I cry so easily, curse a little too much, let my head drift a little too far into the atmosphere because sometimes it's afraid of the cold, hard ground.

"Be careful" he says.

We keep each others dirt tended, cared for. And out of our eyes marigolds grow.

Valentine's Day

I was going to write a legit post on Valentine's Day, relationships, etc, but I quickly realized it was entering territory I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to handle at the moment. When it comes to the oft-debated holiday, I've always been one of those girls who’s a skeptic, I'd even venture to say “pessimist.” I tend to walk around all day in a Janeane Garofalo-esque manner, lamenting the commercialization of love and expectations, while simultaneously falling prey to those of my own. Every year I snicker at ring commercials that promise Undying Love in a princess cut and platinum setting. I point out the fact that flowers are merely plant genitals, and honestly, I've never been a huge fan of chocolate. So Valentine's Day, at least the one made around mall-based jewelry sales and rose-strewn paths, has never been my bag. But love, on the other hand...

Instead of being a hater this year, I'm forcing myself to see the light of this day and what it really means, stripped down to its core. It's OK to love. It's OK to tear down your own walls to let people in.

So this year I'm celebrating in a different way—I'm making everyone my Valentine. I'm making cards for my mother with Jack; looking at pictures of my grandparents when they were young and fearless; watching movies and laughing; and, above all else, letting the world in today. And since this blog—this tiny little section of my brain on display—has been so dear to me, since YOU, yes YOU loyal readers have been so dear to me, I've decided to make you a love-themed music mix.

Because deep down, I really am a hopeless, cheese-ball romantic. In a way all my own.

Oh, and here are some of those pictures of my grandparents that made my heart punch drunk.-



And my own parents back in the 80's, when my mother's hair aspirations were questionable-






Happy Valentine's Day to you all!

The Favorites prt. 2

In my last "Favorites" playlist I was going to explain the meanings (some have more than others, some just have lyrics that resonated) to me behind each song but as you can imagine, it became a bit drawn out. In the end I was kind of bummed that I didn't just go for it, wax nostalgic and bear little pieces of my soul through song, so this time I am! Here's "The Favorites Part 2" (with commentary by yours truly)-

1. "The Sun Was High, So Was I" by Best Coast- I just think this is what a crush sounds like. It is waking up with the sun on your face and going through your day with one person in mind the whole time. It also really makes me want to sit at the beach and breathe in that salty air.
2. "Dry The Rain" by The Beta Band- One day I came home from what I assumed was "the worst day ever" (although I have these about once or twice a month, so take that with a grain of salt) and I was just...done. I threw myself on my bed ready to marathon cry like a champ and when I turned up my c.d. player this song came on. By the time Steve Mason came through with "if there's something inside that you want to say/
Say it out loud/it'll be okay/I will be your light/I will be your light/I will be your light/I will be your light", the tears stopped. I picked myself up off my bed with those lines running on repeat in my head and walked to Eegee's for a sandwich and suddenly the world was back on it's axis. To this day, if I need an instant pick me up I flick on this song.
3."A New England" by Billy Bragg- My dear friend and fellow music junkie/pusher Tyler put this on a mix for me about a year or two back and I've been in love with it ever since. I love the rawness and echo of the guitar and his voice. It sounds like he's playing to an empty auditorium and you're the lucky sucker who just happened to walk by. The lyrics are awesome too- "I saw two shooting stars last night/I wished on them but they were only satellites/ Is it wrong to wish on space hardware/I wish, I wish, I wish you'd care."
4. "At The Bottom Of Everything" by Bright Eyes- I was a Bright Eyes FIEND in high school. I had every c.d., knew every lyric. But this song, I think, can speak to everybody. Conor Oberst still stands out as one of the best songwriters of our generation and I'll forever love him for his words.
5. "Lovers Spit" by Broken Social Scene- Not much to say about this one. It just feels like a wave washing over my body every time I hear it.
6. "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl" by Broken Social Scene- It's all in the title. This song takes all the feelings of a crush, of adolescence and growing up and mixes them into an ear orgasm. When I listened to this song for the first time I went out and bought "The Virgin Suicides" (Jeffrey Eugenides) and read it cover to cover. My heart felt like it was going to break.
7. "Robbers" by Cold War Kids- This reminds me of walking downtown on an empty weekday afternoon for some reason. As a result, I listen to it often.
8. "Bad Girl" by Devendra Banhart- If you've been reading for the last couple months it's no secret that I'm bloody obsessed with this man and the music he makes. The thing that sticks out in this to me is the almost self-mocking "wah wah wah wah". It's totally endearing and heartbreaking in equal measure and the "mama I ain't waiting/I ain't waiting/but I'm still holding on"? My chest almost seizes up every time I hear it. His voice is absolute perfection and he uses it with a beautiful conviction that resonates almost too loudly.
9. "Gloria" by The Doors- If you're a Doors fan you're either damned if you do, damned if you don't when you talk to people about them. We'll I do. Or at least I did. Jim Morrison awakened a sexual energy at 17 that I didn't know I had. He took the wallflower and provoked her enough to be the one who calls the shots. And in this song, well, it's quite obvious that he does the same with others as well. That build up and explode, that was teenage erotica at it's finest.
10. "The Old Days" by Dr. Dog- If those keys at the beginning don't pull you in instantly I don't know you.
11. "Opus 23" by Dustin O'Halloran- The beauty I find in this song is the simplicity. There is no pretense, just a beautiful and haunting piece of music.
12. "Rose Parade" by Elliott Smith- When we were trying to figure out what to name Jack, "Elliott" almost won for his middle name ("Lee" won in the end, it's a tribute to Greg's family, fine by me!). I pretended the idea didn't derive out of my love for Smith and T.S. Eliot...but I'm a damn liar. It totally would have, for good reason.
13. "Orange Blossom Special" by Johnny Cash- Why wouldn't Cash be on here?
14. "It Ain't Me Babe" by Johnny Cash and June Carter- If you don't sing along to the "nah nah no" part you aren't listening to this song properly.
15. "The Rain Song" by Led Zeppelin- Listening to this, on top of a mountain in the rain, on my 18th birthday, was, to put it simply- a moment.


And there you have it. Part 2. I'll be working on these when I can't find anything else to write (sometimes that happens...). Here's hoping you don't get sick of them!

The Kids Might Be Alright

Today my youngest brother and his first real girlfriend broke up. Secretly my jaded old soul was kind of relieved. "They're teenagers," I said with the gruff tone of somebody who thinks she knows better. "They have so much life to live."

I seem to have lost touch with my heart for a moment. Forgotten or shellacked over holes in my plastic armor. I forgot what it feels like to hang up the phone, indefinitely.

It was the first time I felt like a big sister. There are seven years dividing the two of us. I was always doing my own thing as my brothers sort of grew up together in their own world of boyhood. A world more concerned with asserting their own prepubescent testosterone through the jumping off of roofs, the scraping of elbows and jokes that earned punishments instead of laughter. They knew nothing of my birth control or hidden life of secret parental deceiving . My perpetually locked door kept out any inquiries as to what it was like to be a seventeen-year old girl. My turned up speakers leaking out hormonal disenchantment and a heart too blue to be true from under the door acted as a translator for the alien tongues us boys vs. girls spoke. We had nothing in common but the name and blood we shared and the love that punctuated boughts of sibling torture. And before they evolved out of their baby fat I had already moved out.

When he posted heartsick status updates on Facebook tonight I felt a twinge of pain in so many different ways. I felt bad for him sure but I also felt guilty. I felt guilty for not being there enough. For not counseling him more through our parent's divorce because I was too busy running away from them and finding myself.

"But I was alone for everything," I try to justify.

But it isn't about enduring the pain alone that defines oneself is it? It's about what we do for others in THEIR pain, in their time of need.

And so, I ignored the part of myself that plays the wiser when I know I'm not. I'm just another human being. And I commiserated and listened. And I remembered the day I thought I'd never be happy again and all the songs and angry, hurt lashing out that followed. I spoke honestly and I hoped it helped.

I think kids of divorce perceive love differently. For my brother it was tragedy to see something fall apart because he wanted to be different than my parents, wanted to keep believing in love and holding on to it. For me, well, I'm still trying to work on not seeing every relationship as impending heartache, a broken home; restart at thirty-nine with little to nothing but mouths to feed and hearts to mend.

Cynic or believer, we had both had a broken heart. And now we had something in common.

I sent him a text before bed and I reminded him that life goes on. That experiences that he won't even be able to perceive yet will happen. That people are good. That yes, yes, you'll probably be depressed for awhile but one day you won't and things will be different. And that I loved him.

Even if he didn't love anybody, or feel loved, tonight.

"And I will love you to death...

I guess that's what you get..."

We woke up Saturday morning with a relatively calm air around the house, I wouldn't have even thought that in a mere five hours we would be surrounded by our dearest family and friends there to witness our exchange of vows. But looking outside at the 40 white chairs lined perfectly into two sections, and five tables dressed in turquoise linens and flowers it was hard not to feel the meaning of the day dancing around me, making my head spin.
I had finished my vows right before midnight the night before (I had written them about a week prior but a snafu with our Cox internet connection prevented me from emailing them to myself to print out at Greg's parents house). I had everything ready. I was ready.
I took a shower and before long realized people would be showing up in about an hour. Time was tapping me on the shoulder, taunting me. I tried my best to hurry, before- DING DONG!
My mom, aunt, mom's boyfriend and his parents, and my cousins were all filing into the house and heading for my door. I'm not ready. Not by a longshot. I don't like my hair. I don't like my make-up, should I start all over again? Yes. No. No time. Make it work.
Luckily a had a few extra hands to help me, but all the hands in the world wouldn't have been able to catch my brain which was racing along with my nerves. It was all so calm three hours ago. What the hell happened? Quick, I need something to drink!
I quickly learned that one can catch a decent buzz off of two glasses of champagne when they haven't eaten so much as molecules in the air all day. I also learned that while it takes some nerves away, makes it easier to pose for pictures, make small talk, and apply liquid eyeliner, it still doesn't have an effect on the ones that really know what's going on. The ones that realize just how real it all is, right now.
I greet family and watch them fight back tears (of the happy variety), and I greet my father who I knew would walk me down the aisle, yet had never actually visualized it. Now I must live it, and the emotions are too great. I fight back tears.
It quickly becomes time to start the show. I wait in the wings with my dad and my aunt who is also our photographer for the event. We compose ourselves and get ready to take the stroll, and all of a sudden a ball in my throat forms and I stop. I run to the bathroom and kneel in front of the porceline bowl thinking "oh my god, I'm going to throw-up. I'm going to throw-up right before my wedding and..." and nothing. Just dry heaving. Just my body trying to expel all of the frenetic energy in its bones. My aunt tells me to breathe, and I try. But I don't have time.
I take a swig of water and tell my dad and aunt "let's do this."
The music picks up, and my feet carry my body. I try to look at my guests and smile, but I know if I do I'll cry. So I look somewhere just above my feet. Once we reach the trellace, I hug my dad and kiss him on the cheek. I look at Greg and try not to cry.
The music stops and his dad starts the ceremony. I look at my son dressed in his blazer in the front row and clutching his two "security fish" (these two little plastic fish he's recently developed an affinity for), clearly ready to get this thing over with. I find comfort and want to laugh. I feel ya, buddy. This is all so big.
There are some tears, and some vows, and there are a couple more tears, though not nearly as many as I had anticipated. And then it's my turn.

Greg,
I have learned a lot these last three years. I've learned that something as small as a "hello" from a stranger on the internet can change a life, turn two people into a couple.
I've learned that moving in with someone you adore will turn you into a couple of parents, and for the first time 1+1=3.
I've learned that laughing through it all will get you through a whole hell of a lot, and if that doesn't work you can always walk it off
Thank you for laughing with me
I've learned a lot about the human heart. It can palpitate faster when the person you love smiles at you from across the room.
It can stop beating completely when you see the word "pregnant" in front of your baffled face.
It can swell when the almost overwhelming joy of just realizing you became a family fills the house.
Thank you for Jack.
More than anything, I've learned how to truly love- whole-heartedly, honestly and faithfully.
Thank you for loving me.
I promise to keep loving you. Perhaps more of more is possible.
I promise to remain honest and faithful to you and our family
I promis to be the best person I can be for us.
And I'm sure I'll continue learning, as long as we can do it together.

And soon, it's over. Rings are placed and lips are kissed. And suddenly we're married.

The evening commences with enchiladas and music. Margaritas are sipped without reservation. And I feel it all. I grab Greg's hand under the dinner table and squeeze.
"Remember how we felt when we brought Jack home for the first time," I ask, tears again welling.
"Of course."
"Well, I feel like that all over again. Only greater, since he's already here. THIS, this right here, right now, is what heaven is."