Tag Archive | celebration

Can We Get Real About Mother’s Day?

I don’t mean to go all Joan Rivers here, but let’s get one thing straight:

Mother’s Day is confusing, commercial and is a gigantic set up for my mommy’s-not-happy face.  My angst stems from the fact that I can’t tell if I am supposed to be actually mothering or if I should be taking a break and “getting away from it all.”

art-motherhood

This isn’t a complaint about my husband either, because he’s willing to celebrate any way I want to.  The real problem is that I don’t know how want to or if I want to join in on Sunday’s festivities.

When asked about my idea vision for the day, here’s the first off-the-cuff answer I gave:

  • Let’s do the breast cancer 5K in the park as a family (start time: 8AM)
  • Grab some breakfast somewhere (as if that’s easy)
  • Naps for everyone (as if my 3.5-year old would tolerate that for a hot second)
  • Mommy gets some alone time to write (read: watch improbable animal videos on the web)
  • Delicious dinner as a family
  • Mad Men viewing

My second answer:

  • You all leave me alone all damn day

I’m not sure how it’s going to go this Sunday.  Hopefully, there will be a mix of mothering and getting a break from mothering, even if it’s just extra long trips to the loo.

For a further analysis of why I hate Mother’s Day, click yourself over to my post at Mom.Me and check out my new post.

What are you doing this Sunday?

 

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From The Not All About Me File: Learning To Celebrate Others’ Successes

This may be embarrassing, but what the heck.

I’m not sure if you have noticed, but I am a little bit competitive. In some contexts, it’s a great asset.  Like if I was on the Hunger Games, I’d probably live longer.  In other contexts, it’s not quite as helpful.

Take friendships.  Not everyone wants a super competitive friend.  I don’t actually want to be a super competitive friend.  As I made friends in the writing and blogging world, I worried that my talented friends would achieve great success and I would act like a sullen, self-pitying bridesmaid who was jealous she wasn’t the bride.

But like all those rabid Cross-fit fans on Facebook who are everyday finding new muscles and deep mental reserves to draw upon to lift high their kettlebells, I am finding new muscles too.

image credit: tonyadampm.com

image credit: tonyadampm.com

At first I didn’t trust my new muscles.  Was I really able to let go of being competitive so I could celebrate others without making every damn thing about me?  I read drafts of friends’ book– that were excellent— and I rejoiced for them without reservation.  I didn’t worry about being “left behind” as they reached milestones that hadn’t materialized for me.  

I genuinely want them to succeed. I visualize their books in the airport, on Oprah’s lists, and featured in the NYT.

Oh, and speaking of the NYT, a little publication that declined the services of one Outlaw Mama (read the rejection post here), one of my favorite friends made it there this week.  From the moment I knew that Carinn Jade of Welcome To The Motherhood was headed for publication with the venerable New York newspaper, I felt unalloyed joy.  (Read Ms. Jade’s riveting piece here.)  I felt the jolt of ohmygodthenewyorktimesthat’samazing when she told me the news, and there was no subsequent crash wherein I wondered if something that great could ever happen to me. 

I watched bloggers I love and follow (and who feel like my friends) all end up together in a fabulous new book that is skyrocketing through Amazon (I Just Want To Pee Alone by Jen of People I Want To Punch In The Throat).  Would I like to be in the book? Sure. But I’m not.  And I love those ladies and their successes are good for the world.  I want them to kick Tina Fey’s ass and knock her book off its spot at #1.

I’ve become a person who can experience and express joy for others without feeling threatened.

Oh thank the good Lord for that because I’ve got some seriously talented friends and if my character development doesn’t keep up, I am going to end up in an emotional ditch somewhere down by the river contaminated with toxic debris consisting of my self-pity, immaturity and small-heartedness.

Yes, I know most of you learned to be good friends to each other and not make stuff all about you years ago.  Late bloomer here.  So as I celebrate my talented friends’ successes and look to the horizon for more and bigger things from them, I also celebrate my own ability to rise up and join these talented ladies in JOY.

Party Planning, Sadie Style

Sadie: Mommy, can we talk about me now?

Me: Sure, Sweetie. Under my breath–I wasn’t aware of talking about anything else these last 35 months.

Me: What would you like to talk about?

Sadie: My birthday.

Me: Great! Let’s plan your third birthday party. Do you want to go to a bounce house?

Sadie: I like chocolate cupcakes.

Me: Ok, but do you want a party?  How about a piñata that you and your friends can assault with a semi-dangerous sawed-off broomstick to make candy rain from the sky?  You can all maim each other trying to grab the candy, and then all the parents will hate me for serving a bunch of candy to newly minted three-year-olds? How’s that sound?

Sadie: I really like chocolate cupcakes.

Me: Cupcakes. Got it. Do you want me to hire an alcoholic clown to come and make lame animal balloons for you and your friends?

Sadie: Can the clown bring cupcakes?

Me: How about we let Daddy make the cupcakes?

Sadie: Chocolate cupcakes.

Me: Duly noted.  Do you want a swimming party?

Sadie: Will you tell Daddy to put chocolate icing on the chocolate cupcakes?

Me:  Sure. Anything else?

Sadie: Yes. Fresh flowers, please.

*Most of this conversation is true. I did not accept any money from alcoholic clowns to make this post.

I respectfully decline the offer for an alcoholic clown to ring in my third year of life.

I respectfully decline the offer for an alcoholic clown to ring in my third year of life.