Tick Tock On The Bio-Clock???

Let me preface this post by saying that I have no intention, I repeat, no intention of having a kid. That being said…

My aunt told me there would come a time when the clock would tick–the bio-clock that is–and it would start small and then get louder and louder until….baby or naugh. I am not sure if it happens after a woman’s children are grown or half way to grown or in her 30’s or mid-30’s, but I am pretty sure mine is ticking just a little bit. On the other hand, it could just be the fact that I am getting older, things are changing and I actually sorta can tolerate children (gasp!).

Quite honestly, I never wanted kids. They are time consuming, body damaging, money hogging, time consuming (not a typo), food gobbling, crudely honest little people. When you have children, you are in charge of a whole person for the rest of your life. Every decision they make essentially comes from how they were raised (this statement excludes people like Hannibal Lecter). You have to worry about them when they are babies and then when they are in grade school and then as teenagers and oh, God, driving and then in college and then after college. It is maddening to think of the responsibility of caring for a tiny person. I never wanted any part in that responsibility. But then….

I am a parent. I would say (aside from their sloppy rooms) I done good. Partially due to the village surrounding The Kids, partially due to values I (ok and The He) were instilled with, and greatly due to God. I (ugh, we) managed to make them okay little people despite my womb’s objections. I should dust off my hands and be done…but…something….tick tick tick….

Babies are popping up everywhere! They are on television. Family members are having them left and right. They are coming into the office. Babies are everywhere and everywhere they are the more I want one to squeeze one and pet one and feed one and name her/him George (yes…Looney Tune ref). I can’t say for certain that is my clock beginning to tick. Perhaps it is. Or perhaps my mind is adjusting to different views of new life. No matter the case for the bio-clock making it’s presence known, it needs to settle down and fast. I can see the finish line. It is right there, just a few miles away…I can’t possibly introduce a new little person into that glorious vision of freedom, clean house, and dinners for one….besides I have no baby daddy potentials. The next baby daddy needs to be pretty freaking awesome both in looks and in bank account. Yea. I said it. And you agreed…a little.   😛

~SM

Living To The Fullest: What Does That Even Mean Anyway???

Young Gun and I were having a conversation about Life. We  converse about Life often, but something he said snapped in my brain. “I just want to enjoy life. Just live it to the fullest…” I have heard that statement a million times, but I never actually asked myself what it really meant. What the heck does it mean anyway???

Emily’s grandmother passed away in her 90’s. I suck with death, especially when the deceased are old. I was sad because she was sad, but I could not quite understand the sadness totally. I sucked with my Granddad’s death. I was not really moved by it–simply because he was old. He had seen his children young, then old. He had seen his grandchildren young, then old. He had seen wars and riots. He had experienced Martin Luther King, Jr. and President Obama. He had even been allowed to see his great grandchildren young and sorta old. At Old, he had seen a lot, but had he lived a lot? When Emily’s grandma passed I wondered that about her too. What had she seen, where had she gone and if she had actually lived.

Does living your life to the fullest mean sky diving and tattooing and partying? Does it mean loving and leaving? Does it mean parenting and grand parenting? Is there some sort of measurement for life-empty, life-half full, life-full? If so….what? Is it safe to say that if you make it to 90-something you’ve lived? And who is the document-er of such things?

I want to see the world. Perhaps not all of it, but most of it. I want to pet a dolphin and snorkel. I want to hang glide and eat an Ostrich egg. I want to feel God in everything and meditate without actually falling asleep. I want to walk into a room and own it and I want to see the kids do great things….just to name a few. If I accomplish those things, will I then be closer to living a full life? Is living a full life based on a person’s beliefs and ideals? Where is the man/woman one can point to and say “He/She is living their life fully!”?

I did not bother to ask Young Gun what he meant. I am not sure it is something that can be put into words. What I do know is that I want to try it–whatever that is. I think I need to. We all need to. Right?

~SM

I Don’t Wanna Grow Up…

I’mma Toys R Us kid… Yea, I knew you were singing that in your head too. If you are anything like me, your head was bopping side to side in tune with the phantom music of the ad/slogan, whatever. You know why that song is still stuck in your head years after outgrowing most of the crap in that store? Because deep down, none of us really want to grow up (true story)

I am uncertain if I am a big baby (The Bestie would be quick to counter that statement), but at the age of almost 36 I do still call my parents Mommy and Daddy. I am still influenced by their opinions and yes, I do still get all butterfly snuggly at the thought of slipping onto my dad’s side of the bed after he’s left for work and snoring my mom awake. No part of me wants to grow up now that I know what grown up looks like. Ewww…I no want it.

The thought of actually being a grown up came while sitting at batting practice, bundled up in a pea coat, doing budget spreadsheets for 2015. The day before I spent the evening finishing up the 2015 vision board and color coding a shiny new 2015 desk calendar. Those are things grown ups do. I spent the morning thinking about the next ten years and where exactly I did not want to be at the end of them and none of those things included coloring books and candy. Ugh.

If I had my way, we would still take naps and wear shoes that light up. PB & J would be a staple and hard plastic lunch boxes with cartoon characters on the front would be the latest accessory. Recess would be a must and Ultimate Frisbee  would be better than football. Forts would be our vacation houses and sour, lip smacking candy would be on deck for breakfast. If I had my way….I would never grow up and I would not insist on others growing with me.

But I suppose it is a little hard to go back to all of that (1) knowing what I know and (2) being as big as I am. Play Place slides and ball pits would not exactly support my size.  At any rate, I am not really in the mood to do the hard stuff, but at this point, I think that is all that is left.

So if you see me swinging on swings or coloring with my tongue poked out or playing on monkey bars or getting vomit-dizzy on the merry-go-round, don’t judge. Just nod and proceed about your grown up life…..or come join me. The more the merrier.

~SM

Steal Away Home

When I decided to leave The He, my first inclination was to go home. Pack our crap and burn up the road. I wanted to take my ball and run home as fast as I could. It is coming up on a year since moving out and the urge to leave is still there, but The Kids…not so much.

My life still feels up for grabs when it comes to leaving Atlanta. I have been here for over 10 years and this was the first year I actually explored and enjoyed the city. I still have so much to see and do here, and there is a growing appreciation for the things it has to offer. When I go home, it feels slow and sleepy. But then if we move home we will also be moving all of our activities with us so would it really feel so slow and sleepy?

Part of me also feels by not moving home I would let down the people who want us to come back. The other part of me feels by moving home I might possibly be leaving behind various possibilities not yet unearthed.

My parents are getting older and so are the children. Luckily for them they have had summers of Carolina livin’ and their relationship with The Grands has not suffered because of distance. But if we stay, what will they miss out on? No one is guaranteed another day…what/who will they miss if we stay here? On the other hand, they have been here all of their lives. We (The He and I) managed to do something for them I was not able to experience as a kid: They stayed put. The Girl and Boy stayed in the same elementary school K – 5. They lived in the same house since they were babies (until recently). They were stable. This past year their stability went out the window. So, in light of Life changing events, do I stand still and hang on to their last little bit of stability? Or do I plan to throw caution to the wind and leave?

Quite honestly, I have 5 years left. The Boy will be off to college in 4, the Girl off in 5. If they want to stay, as their mother, I can sacrifice that small piece of time….right? Home will be there and I suppose if God sees it fit for us to leave, we will. Some days though…just some days when the weather is beautiful and the wind is blowing just right, I want to be home. I want to be in Mommy’s kitchen listening to Daddy mowing the grass, watching the Kids do kid-at-grandmas-house things. I want to have get togethers with the Crew on Friday nights and see the Nephews. Some days I just want to be with family and not so much on my own. This is quite a conundrum to be in. *sigh*

~SM

Big Girls Do Cry…

Especially when they are dressed up sitting in Atlanta traffic making them ridiculously late for the ballet. The ballet they waited months for. The ballet of one of the most treasured love stories of all time. Yup…big girls certainly cry.

They cry behind the wheel of their mini van, make up and all crawling thru the packed interstate on a Saturday afternoon of no particular significance. They cry at the idea of a plan not working even after they rearranged it to begin with. They cry at the mere thought of slipping out of their dress clothes, washing off their make up, rotting on the couch in front of a plethora of Redbox cases for yet another weekend. Yea….big girls cry.

But then they put on their big girl Spanx and have a mediocre carb laden lunch/dinner in a restaurant they have been to a million times (that they can’t quite afford) drowning out the buzz of stranger conversation with D’angelo blaring in their ears.

Things don’t work for a myriad of reasons. We aren’t God so quite honestly there is no way to tell why they don’t. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to be at the ballet. Or perhaps I wasn’t meant to be in the area. Maybe I was meant to be sitting alone in a restaurant full of people guzzling a long island ice tea, writing & listening to music. Maybe in this whole messed up day (gross thick black hair in salad included) there is a lesson. Maybe the lesson is to not let things like Life get to you when Life doesn’t necessarily go your way. Or maybe it’s just a lesson in crying. Everybody needs a good, frustrated cry every now and then….even big girls.

~SM

Coming To Terms: Valentine’s Hater

Yup. I am a Valentine’s Day hater. When I was a youngin and didn’t quite know any better about the ways of the world and love, I was hopelessly in love with anything love related. Love stories. Valentine’s Day. Engagement. Soul Mates. Then there seemed to be something magical about the lot of love stuff….now? Well…

The Girl was buying a Valentine’s gift for a friend and she pulled me into the red/pink/white section of hearts, cards, and ‘I luv u’. Everything in the designated ‘BUY ME NOW! Or else your wife/gf will never let you live this down!’ section made me physically ill. Even the cards made my palms sweat. The scattered shoppers gave me odd looks out of the corner of their eye or snickered at my disgusted grunts and moans. I hate Valentine’s Day.

When The Girl popped her head around the corner of an adjacent isle, she shook her head and stepped out. “Mommy!” she said with a surprised yet enthused look on her face.

“What?” I answered picking up a heart laden gift bag like it was a dirty diaper.

“Do you have to make that face?! It’s not that bad.” She shook her head again and grabbed my hand and pulled me down another isle. “C’mon. I’m almost done.”

There she was, spending her own money on a gift to show someone she cared and there I was ruining the experience. I suppose when your eyes open and perhaps even when you get a little experience under your belt, certain things in the world just have a different feel. Valentine’s Day has a vomity, break out in hives kinda feel for me. But just because I am a VDay hater doesn’t mean I should ruin it for everyone else. I made an attempt to straighten my face and I even made myself buy a card for Young Gun (who also dislikes VDay), but after about 20 minutes of it riding in the car with me, I decided to take it back.

No matter how much you like/love someone friend or otherwise, making an over the top effort to gift on one particular day is asinine. I just can’t. And you know what? I am comfortable in acknowledging my Valentine’s Hatership. It is just a stupid day–what about the other 364? Just sayin’

~SM

Freestyle Friday: Ideas Are Scary

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I had seen this commercial a while ago and intended to write about it then, but light bulb moments are fleeting in my brain on a daily. I usually have trouble figuring out why I walked into the bedroom (to get….what again?) let alone remembering an idea. Anyway, I had to share, and it fit for a Freestyle Friday topic. Go into the weekend being inspired to do something. Even if you end up not doing anything, at least your weekend won’t be a sad countdown to Monday morning 😛

~SM