Posts tagged ‘mothers’

August 18th, 2010

Getting back to “Me”

To be honest, and I’m all about brutal honesty behind the comforting veil of this blog, I am in a rut. Since returning from Europe I’ve felt displaced and out of sync; I am floundering and undirected. So here, now, for every-one’s eyes, is a list (a l…o…n…g list) of things I need to get back to Me:

I need more yoga. I need to stretch, breathe, bend and focus.

I need to write more, blog more, read more.

I need to find the eloquence of Earnest Girl, the honesty of Her Bad Mother, the commitment of PhD in Parenting and the moxy of the Yummy Mummy Club.

I need my husband to come home from his business trip. Things are better with him by my side.

I need to move. My place of residence and my body.

I need more tea, less coffee.

I need to watch less TV, eat more fibre, get more sleep.

I need to have a long, leisurely lunch with my girl-friends.

I need a FAB new pair of shoes. Something with heels. Something impractical. Something red.

I need my new 10-week-old kitten to overcome the retrovirus ravaging his body.

I need to judge less, embrace more and just say, “Yes.” What I need is an attitude adjustment.

I need to learn a craft, something right-brain oriented and therapeutic in nature: sewing, knitting, perhaps découpage?

I need rain. Not just any rain, but a heavy, cleansing, deluge from the skies to wash away the malaise and make everything new again.

I need fresh flowers on my table.

I need to de-clutter. My house. My closet. My mind.

I need a glass of fine red wine. Blasted Church vineyard’s Nothing Sacred would do very nicely.

I need fruit, organically grown and fresh from the trees of the interior of B.C. No hot house fruits need apply.

I need to do better. Just two weeks back into a ‘Regular Schedule,’ and this is what I have fed Little Miss over the past 36 hours: Take-out Chinese food for dinner last night (including deep-fried chili chicken wings, which, I suspect, are not really Chinese); a Starbucks ham-and-cheese breakfast sandwich and chai tea latte for breakfast this morning; topped off with a left-over dry ginger beef and Chow Mein (veggie Chow Mein, mind you, my one saving grace) for lunch today. I am contemplating pancakes for dinner tonight. I need to be less lazy. I need my “Good Mom” badge revoked.

I need to express patience when I don’t have it, gratitude for all of my blessings and to exude pure joy at the many, many little things that make me happy everyday. I need to remember these.

But mostly, I need to be myself. I need to let that be enough.

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Anyone else out there stuck in an emotional rut? Tell me what you need to get back to You.

June 10th, 2010

Starbucks Should Be Licensed

Please enjoy this short little piece, posted today, June 10, 2010, on the Sweet Mama Guest Blogger web site.

“I’m gonna need a more complicated drink,” exclaims my 12-year-old daughter, her Grande, non-fat, Chai-tea latte with just a hint of cinnamon clasped carefully in both hands. I look sheepishly at my own Grande dark roast, black, clearly far too simplistic to meet her standards, and wonder what the heck she means.

Sensing my consternation, she sighs heavily in the manner instinctive to pre-teens who are just now realizing, to their dismay, that their parents don’t know everything, and she attempts to clear the fog.

“You know, for when I’m an adult.”

No, I don’t know, but my interest is certainly piqued.

A combination double-sigh-with-an-eye-roll follows, a move she has just recently mastered and which deserves a perfect ten, both technically and artistically. Exasperated, she continues: “For when I’m one of those ladies dressed in a nice, black trench-coat, with big, Jackie-O sunglasses, good hair and great shoes, always sipping from a Starbucks cup. I’m gonna need a fancier drink.”

In an instant, her vision of her future is clear. She sees herself out in the world, a successful, confident, stylish woman, with my penchant for shoes and a potentially hazardous addiction to caffeine. She already has the glasses. But I am not ready. I have not allowed myself to look that far ahead.

And so, with the April sunshine casting a golden halo around the face of the daughter I have spent the last twelve years adoring, I am forced to see her changing before my eyes. Until now, I have chosen to see what has come before. The hours of story telling and handholding, school concerts and field trips, birthday parties and bedtime cuddles. But with a moustache of cappuccino-coloured foam settled on her upper lip, I cosmic zoom fifteen years into the future and come face-to-face with her adult avatar. She is growing up. Her childhood is slipping away. It’s going take something a lot stronger than Starbucks to get me through this.

May 28th, 2010

The Things My Mother Told Me

In the time since I began writing, I haven’t once yet written about my mother. My mom is a private person; part of me wanted to respect that. But another part of me, the writer part, simply felt overwhelmed by the prospect. How do you summarize a mother in brief essay format? I let Mother’s Day slip by this year without one written word, choosing to let others more brave than I take up the mantle, and I wish that I hadn’t. It was this post, http://www.themomoirproject.com/?p=992, by Danielle Christopher, that inspired me to follow the Nike creed and Just Do It. I don’t want to wait until my mom is gone to say what should be said.

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The Things My Mother Told Me

My mother always told me, “Christie, be a lady.” My mother always asked, “Christie, is your room tidy?” And, when feeling a little over-taxed by the non-stop demands of her three busy children, my mother could occasionally be heard to exclaim, “Why don’t you stick a broom up my butt and I’ll sweep the floor while I’m at it!”

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