Why I Am Who I Am

Today, dear, sweet and gentle readers is the anniversary of the birth of my perfect, wonderful, lovely and amazing mother. I would tell you how old she is, but then she'd have to kill me and then I would be dead and she'd be in prison and my children would miss out on the wonder that is her wisdom.

I don't even know how to write about my mom. She is so strong and smart and quick and wonderful that she's very hard to describe. She is tough and sweet in equal measure. She is tequila in a teacup; puffy hearts on a ransom note; petunias on a pistol.

She is my greatest cheerleader and my second biggest critic. In other words, she will always encourage me, but she'll never let me get myself in too deep.

Last week, I had a scare. I thought I was going to lose her. (It turned out okay.) But for a few short terrified moments, I closed my eyes and all I could see was the world without the woman who raised me to be strong, independent, tough, smart and nice if I could manage it. It's a world without romantic comedies and long conversations about absolutely nothing. A world without someone checking on me all the time or calling to tell me it's going to storm. A world without chicken and dumplings and lemon cheesecake. A world without true, unconditional love and I am not ready to live in it.

My mother is my best friend, my oldest friend, and my rock. When I lost my son; when I got divorced, my mother was the one who propped me up and told me that I could survive this. All of this. No matter what this is.

She's always been sure of me. Of who I am and what I'm capable of. She has never let me undervalue myself.

I spent so much of my life, just wanting to be her when I grew up and now that I am (a little) grown up, I'm just glad that I know her. I fall short of her standard, a lot. But she is there - for me, for my girls and forever.

Happy Birthday, Mom. May it be the bestest and the wonderfulest of all birthdays.

Peace and Harmony One Room at a Time

This weekend, among other things, I cleaned my living room. I know that doesn't sound like much, but please refer back to the pages and pages I've been writing about how freaking tired I am.

I cleaned my living room, because:

• someone was going to see it for the first time and I wanted to make a good impression
• I virtually lived there for a week and it was starting to look like it with the tissues and discarded magazines and empty pop cans
• I was sick and tired of feeling this oppressive mess around me all the time
• I felt like I probably could get it done

And I did. I got it done. It's not perfect. I need to wash the windows and mop and I really want to have my furniture professionally cleaned (does that make me a bad person?) and I gave up halfway through dusting. Also, Saturday night I unfolded all the neatly folded blankets and never refolded them. 

But all in all, the transformation to my living room brought me something great that I had forgotten about. The ability to breathe. It's not that I don't ever clean, but like most people, I think (please don't correct me if I'm wrong) I keep things a "modified clean." In other words, it may be mostly clean, but my yarn basket is overflowing and I haven't thrown out those dead flowers because then I'll have to wash the vase, and I haven't sorted through all the bills on the end table and I've got that giant pile of my kids' homework I have to sort through and...

Right now, this second (other than the blankets and the windows and the dust and the mopping) my living room is not modified clean, it's clean-clean. And you know what I feel when I sit down in there? Peace and harmony. My mind is clear. I can read or knit or crochet or make lists or watch TV and not have the voices of my unsorted laundry pressing down on me the whole time. 

Tonight, I've got a thing and I won't get home until late, but you better believe that tomorrow night, I'm going to clean my kitchen and see if I can get it the same level of bliss.

And what exactly does this mean long term?

I don't know. I can't see me ever living the kind of life that allows me to rid myself of the term modified clean. I will always have all that crap and I will never have time to deal with it all. Even now, with my living room clean-clean, that means that my hallway is full of things to be taken to the basement and my bedroom is well, disastrous is probably the word for it.

So an entire house of clean-clean on a continuous basis? Maybe when I'm retired and my kids have moved out and I am rich and have hired a maid.

But for now, I think what it means is that I have remembered something. A clean and tidy environment really does mean less noise in my crazy-ass head. It means more focus and less distraction. It means a little quiet in an otherwise loud world.

Maybe if I can remember that, I can at least get my whole house modified clean and one room clean-clean. That would probably work.

Cop Out Photo Post

I'm tired. Just so you know. I was halfway planning on writing today, but then I got so very, very tired. So I thought, instead, I would show you some pictures of the girls. Because they went and grew up, got incredible haircuts and willingly wore homemade Easter dresses. The milestones are endless.

Are you guys seeing that crazy-cute pixie? Seriously, it cannot be beaten.

Look at them, pretending that they get along.

I love this one. She's looking at me like she doesn't actually trust me to take the picture.

I'm Ba-aack

Hello all, from beyond a sorta major surgery.  A little over a week ago, I had a hysterectomy and bilateral oophorectomy to solve my pain issues; which it turns out, were caused by adenomyosis. If you don't know what half of that crap means, you should feel lucky that you don't have to pronounce it. That is all I have to say about that.

I thought, since I'm trying to get back on the blogging horse, (That would be cool, like Dog with a Blog and Mr. Ed all mixed up.) I would start by giving you a little update of how I spent my last week.

In the form of a bullet list, because seriously? I'm still freaking tired. I may never again not be freaking tired. I feel like my life is a series of freaking tiredness in different places. I may fall asleep typing this crap.

• I slept a lot. See above. Really and truly, I've had very little pain through this recovery. I mean, there's been some, obviously, especially the first few days. And anytime I laugh. Still. But mostly, I'm just exhausted. Walking to the kitchen requires me to stand in front of the sink and take a breather. Which means, that between my morning naps, my afternoon snoozes and my early bedtimes, I've only been conscious about 4 hours a day. This may be a slight exaggeration, but I emphasize the word "slight."
• I've cleaned. My DVR. I've gone from 8% free to 30% free. Okay, so some of that was just deleting things I'm never going to get around to watching, but most of it was actual, honest to goodness watching. I've watched entire seasons this week. Of multiple shows.
• I've made a Netflix list. But only watched two things on said list. One was okay and the other was really weird. I think I need to make a new list.
• I did dishes twice. In a week. And only because I was running out of forks.
• Bonded with my couch. I couldn't stand to sleep in my bed, so I slept on the couch, I watched the DVR on the couch, I ate supper on the couch. Honestly, I'm kinda sick of my couch.

And that just about brings you up to date on me. I'm tired, but I'm getting better. I am sick of feeling bad, but holding on to the hope that this is the last stretch of feeling bad I'm going to have for a while. From here on out, I'm going to feel like a real person. A person who wants to do things. 

Wish me luck with that.

Five Things on Friday: Comfort Movie Edition

I have two types of favorite movies: the best movies ever and the movies that i just want to watch over and over again. The second category are movies that just make me happy, or calm or whatever. They are the macaroni and cheese of movies.

Which isn't to say that they're not good. I have excellent taste in movies. It's just they are not the best movies ever.

Anyway, here we go with my

Five Favorite Comfort Movies

1. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist - There's something very comforting about this sweet and simple love story. It's called Kat Dennings. She is the perfect mixture of sweet and sassy, like fries and a milk shake. Plus, it's really funny. In an awkward sort of way.
Favorite quote: "I am the squire in Caroline's quest for attention."

2. Serenity - You cannot beat cowboys in space, lots of explosions, sleeper assassins and Mr. Universe. I truly love Mr. Universe. This movie was really a love letter to fans of the series Firefly and as fan, I accept, Mr. Whedon.
Favorite quote: "To hell with this, I'm gonna live."

3. John Dies at the End - This movie. I don't even know what to say about this movie, except that it is my favorite thing ever. It makes me furiously happy. The book too. There is no way I could function on a daily basis without this movie being in existence.
Favorite quote: "That's what came next, that Soy Sauce feeling. I wanted to run, to duck, to act. But the body is a slow wet mechanism of muscle and bone that crept, even as my mind flew."

4. Rent - I laugh, I cry, I love Rosario Dawson.
Favorite Quote: "I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine."

5. Steel Magnolias - This is very specifically for the days I need to cry. Because I start crying and I almost never stop. I heave great big ugly sobs while all my make-up washes down my face. My hair goes limp in sympathy for the waterworks going on here.
Favorite Quote: "You know I love you more'n my luggage."

What about you, do you have a comfort movie?