On Telethons and Sing-Alongs

Well, it's official. I've lost my mind.

Here I am on a Saturday morning, having just received amazingly beautiful flowers from my husband and children. Tonight, my husband is taking me on a date to our favorite restaurant, Enzo. I live in a warm house, have cars that run, we're both employed and have insurance and our kids are remarkably healthy and thriving. In short, we are blessed.

And yet I am convinced that the world is coming to an end at any moment and I don't have enough food storage to outlast the crisis. I'm contemplating a wheat grinder, thinking of putting one of those ginormous blue water barrels in my downstairs bathroom and stalking up on 4 gallons of vinegar to use as a cleaning supply because heaven forbid nuclear holocaust occurs and my plastic food containers aren't stain-free.

I think that the real problem is that I'm one of those all-or-nothing sorts of people. Either I go along my merry way convinced that all is well (hum along with me if you know the tune) or I'm sure that yet another version of "We Are the World" (two is never enough) will have to be done in order to save me and my family from sure demise. (Although could you NOT have Barbra Streisand on my version, cause she just bugs me. For heaven's sake, do something with your nails. Or, for that matter, Li'l Wayne, because he scares me a little.)

Now compare me in my mad state to several friends who are in the process of, or who have recently completed, adopting children. One couple adopted 7 kids from Ethopia, so that they are now parents of 11 beautiful children. Another friend is currently in Ethopia adopting 3 darling toddlers, bringing their kid count to 6. I have friends who, in addition to their own three lovely daughters, adopted three siblings whose mother was an addict and who themselves were born with varying levels of addiction. Add that to my friends who have grundles of college degrees and yet decided to stay home with their varying numbers of children, living on single incomes.

Obviously THEY do not feel that the world will continue to go on without having one single, solitary George Clooney-hosted fundraiser having to be held for them. And obviously THEY are not the doubting menace that I am...and probably never read blogs about having to live off of food storage for two years and doing it with Martha Stewart-like perfection. Or maybe THEY are just better prepared; for all I know, they probably do have wheat grinders and blue water barrels hidden in their perfectly decorated, everything matching homes.

Well, if you'll forgive me, I'll conclude for now. I think I need to go evaluate our backyard for installation of a bomb shelter. Or perhaps I'll just go shopping. I hear vinegar's on sale at Costco.

The Best of Both Worlds

I never thought I'd get to be a mom. After all, I married late when compared to many of my friends and pretty much every single member of my family. But what I think is particularly awesome is that I get to have one "of each". One handsome boy, one darling girl.

I love having a son. Mine loves school. As shy as he is, he absolutely, 100 percent adores learning. Whether it's performing at his reader's theater or just having your typical, average, basic day at school, he's just really happy to be there. He's also generally easygoing. He likes what he likes, and he tolerates the rest. Give him a Spicy Italian sandwich from Subway, and he's kingdingalicious. If he's fed, has a book and can hang out with his dad or play with his best friends he's just dandy. He's also got a funny sense of humor. He gets such a kick out of so many things, and he makes me laugh just because he's having such a good time. As sweet as he is, he's got a smidge of a wicked streak in him (he got it from his father, obviously) that will pop up every now and again and surprise us all.

Best of all, I love that my son is a fabulous big brother. Although he and his sister can fight like cats and dogs, he will pretty much do anything for her. And she follows his lead--luckily, he's a really good kid and a really good example.

I love having a daughter. Mine is all girl. She loves pretty dresses, thinks the world should be made out of shoes and can think of nothing better than a good chat on the telephone. Paint her nails, and you're her friend for life. It's pink and purple and Tinkerbell all day long. Like her brother, she also has a great sense of humor--which includes, obviously, sticking her tongue out at the camera when she's supposed to be smiling and heading out to a snowbank when she's supposed to be looking pretty and dainty in a coat that her great-aunt hand-crocheted for her. In truth, she loves being outside, sun or rain, winter or summer, alone or with her brother...and no, she's never met a pile of snow or a mud puddle that she didn't like.

Best of all, I love that my daughter loves her big brother. She can scream at him until the windows rattle, but there isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't run to him to give him a kiss, or make him laugh or sit with him and giggle. The two of them laughing make my day complete.

In short, I have the best of both worlds. And I couldn't be more grateful.

On Superpowers and Things Learned

I always thought that by the time I was this age (an age which shall not be published here) that I would have long ago grown out of the whole hurt feelings thing. That as an adult I somehow have the superpower of being able to be reasonable rather than emotional, especially when it came to feeling-hurting.

But apparently, I'm not. At least, not today.

It was my fault. This I know. It was the posting of a simple photo--something that made me laugh, and I believed that many would laugh with me. Some did. Others scolded me for being less than kind to myself. But I chuckled and moved on, not really supposing that anyone would actually, truly agree with it.

But then someone did.

And I laughed. And I felt funny inside. And then I cried. In my car, on the drive home, away from where anyone could see or know that it hurt.

I know he meant nothing by it. I know that he believed that I had such a great sense of humor that I could laugh at myself. That I knew all along I didn't really look like the others there.

And now, I guess I do.

Strange the things you learn at this ripe old age. And how they still hurt. Maybe tomorrow that superpower will kick in.

I can only hope.