Scared

As he rode his tricycle out of the driveway and into the middle of the cul-de-sac, my heart stopped. He was out of our driveway and in the danger zone. I couldn't protect him out there. But I need to learn to let go. I can't postpone this. I can't just think Oh, well, he'll leave for college/job/world travel in sixteen years. I'll think about letting go then. No. I need to do it in increments. Today? Cul-de-sac. Tomorrow, next street up. Next week? I don't fucking know, we'll think about that when we get there. But right now, I need to get over my fear. It's just a cul-de-sac at 10:30 in the morning. No one is out at this time of day. Everyone in the neighborhood is either at work or at school or hunkered down in their houses, making beds and folding laundry. No one is even thinking about getting in their cars. It's safe. It's OK. I can do this. I can let go. I know he can turn away and forge his own path because there he goes, trucking up the street on his Radio Flyer tricycle like he owns the joint. If he owns this cul-de-sac at 2-1/2, then he'll own the world by the time he's 30. I have to give him those wings. I have to allow him to fly and not hold him back for selfish reasons. I shouldn't keep him in the driveway just because of some hormonal issue causing me to fear a cavernous, empty house in 16 years. Ty-man and I will have plenty to talk about when that time comes. I'm sure we'll be at the Cracker Barrel gabbing away over our low-fat grilled teriyaki chicken. We won't be like those other "empty nesters" who have nothing to say to one another because the only things holding them together were carting the kids to football games, band camp, and chess club.

And then, I thought, Screw it. Three times to the center of the cul-de-sac is enough. That boy has to come back into the driveway. Because every mother has her limits, you know? And that was mine.

Sticks and Stones

Words rule my life, as they do all our lives. We speak to one another, we text, we blog, write, Twitter, all of it. Whether misspelled, misshapen, misspoken, they are there, thrown, hurtled, and passed gently as whispers. They assail me everyday and yet I find that my personal dictionary is dried-up, my larynx closed, my frontal lobe quiet. We're talking parched Earth here, people.

In the past seven months, I've used my words as weapons. Yes, the keyboard is mightier than the sword. Words have been flung at me with the force of a machine gun and I've weathered the assault with biting, cutting verbiage of my own. Oh, yeah, I've driven down that road and left a dusty wake of nastiness behind me and here at the end, I find myself unable to utter a simple declarative sentence.

In the past four years, I've used my words to teach, correct, yell, tell stories, and soothe hurt feelings. My children constantly call for Mama, they jabber about their days and holler when wronged. They expect me to have the answers to all of their questions and I just don't have them right now. It's too much, to be responsible for teaching them everything. I'm wrung out. I don't have it in me to give out one more Say 'Excuse me!' when you burp. or Apologize to your sister. or I love you.

I speak only when spoken to. I don't respond to e-mails or comments. My answers are short and sweet and my questions stay unspoken. I just can't find the words to express how I'm feeling. I read, I absorb, I listen and watch, but my language centers have hit pause and I'm not quite sure how to get back to the beginning when the words flowed without a jumble.

I need quiet, rest, no one depending on me or any decisions I have to make. I dream of being still, of answering to no one. But all of that is impossible.

So I guess I'll just wait for the words to come.

Shine

Your hair is so shiny, she said. Straight hair shines, but curly hair doesn't because light only reflects off of flat surfaces. I wish my hair shined.

Well, Miss Britt, who gives a rat's ass if your hair shines? Because you, you shine plenty. Curly hair or straight. No matter our skin, smiles, hearts, laughs through happiness and pain, our way with words, the never ending kindness, sweetness, or beliefs. We all shine, don't we?

Love all you shimmering, shining ladies.
(Oh, OK. All you happy, sweet, syrupy, shiny, Canadian guys, too.)

(PS My apologies for the commercial. YouTube won't allow embedding of this video so I had to go elsewhere. Grrrrr.)

Shawn Mullins - Shimmer (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: Shawn_Mullins

Marc Singer and the Visitors are My Heroes

Did any of you watch V last night? I didn't. My TiVo did. We were at a concert. Star Wars in Concert, to be exact.* I will be watching it tonight so shut it! I don't want to know!

Way back when this blog started, I wrote a post about the original V series. It was my Kevin Smith-esque rant about the Visitors. I re-post it for you now. I know. You're thrilled beyond words. You're welcome. And, yeah, that's Marc Singer right there. Mouth watering, you say? You're welcome again.

Supposedly, when the Visitors came to Earth, they came in 50 mother ships, each ship carrying about 6,500 aliens. That makes for 325,000 aliens total on Earth, not all of them soldiers. That means, a mere 325,000 aliens versus 6,000,000,000 (that's right, as in b) humans. Hmmmm, I think we could kick their butts in numbers alone. Now, putting those ships together costs money, right? Supposedly their planet and eco-system are dying and they need our natural resources to fix that problem. They're at war with several other alien species and need us for food and cannon fodder. OK, taking into account that these 50 mother ships are each 3.2 km in circumference and 900 feet tall, I would say 50 of those suckers would cost a pretty penny. In addition to that, each ship has three fusion (that right, fusion not fission) nuclear reactors to provide power, propulsion, and a wicked self-destruct mechanism. Again, lots of Benjamins. So, they've taken away 325,000 of their people (people that could have helped to fight their wars) and spent an incalculable amount of money on these 50 ships to get to Earth. Not only is their planet dying, but they've now screwed their economy with all the ship construction going on! Hello! Why not spend the cash on figuring out ways to turn around their eco-system? I mean, come on, it's not like water is some special chemical compound that requires 10 different rare elements. You need hydrogen (the most plentiful element in the universe) and oxygen. That's it! Figure it out!

Also, the Visitors are openly hostile toward Earth scientists. Early in the series, scientists begin to either disappear or become brainwashed, presumably because the Visitors don't want their secret found out by these scientists and then leaked to the public. The secret, of course, is that they're 6-foot tall walking, talking iguanas. This doesn't make sense to me. Wouldn't you rather take out the military arms of each country? I would be more worried about Navy SEALS, the Army Rangers, the "black ops" CIA agents, the Israeli army who uses Krav Maga to kick serious ass, the armed Columbian drug runners, and members of the NRA. Wouldn't you rather get rid of these people instead of going after a bunch of geeky scientist who could beat you at Trivial Pursuit, but not so good at hand-to-hand combat? Just a thought.

* GEEEEEEK!!!!

Dialog, Part 27

Bubba: I love my Scarlet Macaw*! She's such a sweet person!

Me: She is sweet, but she's not a person.

Bubba: ?

Me: Scarlet Macaws are birds. You are a person.

Bubba: No, I Bubba.

Me: Yes, you're Bubba, but you're also a person. Just like I'm a person, Papa is a person, Nana is a person, Grandma is a person.

Bubba: No, I Bubba. I a handsome devil like my Papa**.

Me: Snorting and doubled over Yes, darlin', yes you are!

* It's a resin figurine hanging in the kids' bathroom. It gets kissed and loved on. A lot.
** He has a graphic t-shirt from Old Navy that has that printed on the front. He's quite proud of it. Obviously.

Asshole

I tried so hard to be good. I really did. I spent most of the HOA meeting facing the cynics, thoughtfully telling them what I felt and knew to be true, glancing at the Ty-man for strength, and looking for those few homeowners I knew supported us. Every time the bully said something ridiculous, I would look down at the 2010 budget, clench my fists, look at my husband, and bite the inside of my mouth.

I performed in the drama. I yet again voted no for the volunteer nominee for a fifth director. I listened to detractors make snide comments about Jodi and myself. But we stuck with it. We conducted business, approved the 2010 budget, made valid points, asked thoughtful questions, and conducted ourselves with dignity.

I explained my actions and reasons for voting as I did to the community. Many shook their heads in disbelief. And then I said it.

I think what would be really healthy for this community is if all four board members resigned and a completely new board were to be elected by you.

They applauded. The room erupted. And the bully? Speechless. Especially when Stacey, someone the bully thought to be on his side, agreed with us and presented a paper she had prepared for all of us to sign.

Our property manager is checking with our lawyer as to what our next steps need to be, but by November 15th, I will be off the board, Jodi will be off, Stacey will be gone, and Larry? The bully? History. The crowd, the peer pressure, the number of people in that room, pressing on all of us, forced Larry to begrudgingly agree to sign the resignation paper. It was a moment of sheer triumph, to see the bully get his just desserts.

Then we adjourned to executive session. The crowd was gone. My Ty-man was driving back to the house. And Larry lit into Jodi over some nonsensical piece of business that was serving only to belittle her and make him feel big.

And I lost it.

What came out of my mouth resembled the following (punctuated with jabbing fingers, a backing-up property manager, the gathering of my bags, the slamming of doors, and lots of Jerry Springer-type shouting):

Larry, this is nonsense! ACP is no longer our pool company! Why does any of this matter? No, you shut up! I'm tired of you! I hate you! We had every right to send that e-mail to the residents this morning! We had every right to tell our side of the story! Because you have told horrible lies about Jodi and myself to the community! Yes you have! You're a nasty person and you have said horrible things about me to people I don't even know and you don't even know me! Leave me alone! I can't wait until this is all over! I can't wait to never have to look at your face ever again! I don't ever want to talk to you! Look at you! See your e-mails! Don't talk to me! Don't talk about my family! Don't come to my house! Don't talk about me ever again! This is ridiculous!

By this point, Jodi was up and packing up her things. Our property manager was cowering. And Stacey? No idea. I was halfway to the door when ridiculous! came out of my mouth and Larry said What was that word?

Lost it again.

Ridiculous! I shouted, Here's another word for you, Larry! How about ASSHOLE! Here's another one. SONOFABITCH! BASTARD!!!

Upon the screeching of bastard, I was out the door, shouting at the top of my lungs. Turns out, Larry was baiting me, getting the whole thing on tape. But you know what? Whatever. I'm done. I got what I wanted. He's off the board, he's disgraced, and I called him a few names.

And my fellow residents? They now know not to fuck with me.

God, I'm glad it's over.

Safe, But Not Sound

We're home.

And I'm not pleased.

We had a fabulous time in Orlando. We partied. We spent time with family. We got our geek on.

And the whole time, all I could think was When I get home, I have to face the bully. I have to face neighbors who don't know me but feel free to speak ill of me. I have to sit through an ugly meeting, a nasty situation, and grit my teeth, and act civil, and be nice to these people who have enjoyed the drama of the last month at my expense.

Each time I hugged and laughed with friends, I wished they lived in my community.

Every time I kissed a family member, it was with sadness because they live there while I'm here.

As we got into our car yesterday to leave Florida, all I wanted to do was run to the home of the loved-one closest to me and hide.

Tonight, I'll be clenching my teeth, gripping my seat, and looking at the Ty-man in the back of the room, shivering with nervousness, anger, and adrenaline.

Wishing to be with the people I love.