Wednesday, October 17, 2012

A dream is a wish your heart makes. Or something.

Let's talk for a moment about disney princesses, shall we?

I was once a preschool-aged girl myself. And I'm certain that I loved the princess set as is to be expected. In fact, I have a very vivid memory of standing in my grandparent's kitchen and proudly flashing half of my family my brand new Belle underwear. This memory haunted my pre-teen years as being the most mortifying thing I ever brought upon myself. 


I currently have a love/hate relationship with the disney princesses. I'm pretty vocal about the fact I am careful about what Grace watches on TV and how much she watches. Not in a judge-y way, because I am absolutely not above placing her in front of the television during that horrific hour after school and before dinner so I can cook dinner not totally lose my mind. But disney princesses? The messages their fairy tales impart...enchanting, yet terrifying.

In 2010, Disney played a mind trick on me. They released Beauty and the Beast "from the vault". Obviously panic ensued and I rushed out to purchase it BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE (It went back into the vault last April. I'm on to you, Disney). Because Beauty and the Beast is my disney princess kryptonite. 

Cinderella? Glorified maid and full time doormat. Relied on a fairy godmother to fix her problems and then when she lost her shoe (sloppy) just waited around for her prince to find her and put it back on her foot. 

Sleeping Beauty? Literally forced to sleep through her life until her true love "awakened her" at age 16. That's the stuff of all parental nightmares. 

Ariel? Actually changed not only her geographical location but her physical attributes so she could be with her prince. Heidi Montag, I'm guessing The Little Mermaid was totally your favorite. 

Snow White? My mom actually refers to her as a "ho".  Cooked and clean for not ONE but seven little men. 

But Belle, she showed promise. She loved to read (which pleased my nerd girl self). She had goals. Her dad was bat-shit crazy, which is clearly character building. She saw past the superficial stuff and fell in love with a man who was quite literally a beast and always managed to tell the town "hottie" to shove it. 

Now granted, once she realized the Beast was a handsome prince and that giant castle stopped being so doom and gloom and got rid of those walking, talking, singing utensils and household items...she seemed pretty content to embrace that "provincial life". But all and all...Belle is my girl.

Grace also loves Belle. She tells everyone that Belle is her favorite because she reads books. Normally when I hear my words coming out of her mouth, I'm mildly horrified, but that is one statement I whole-heartedly endorse. 

This new adoration of Belle has led to lots of questions. About love. And getting married. We've been to a few weddings lately and the institute of marriage, a mystery to most adults, is an extremely difficult concept to explain to a 3 year old. And it has led me to face the terrifying reality that someday, sooner than I'm ready to admit, my baby is going to want to date. And someone is undoubtedly going to break that little heart that I so laboriously created, crafted to be kind and generous and open. And I'm going to have to resist the urge to break their face. 

I've learned a few lessons about love myself, but honestly, I'm still not 100% clear on the whole thing. My parents, who celebrate their 26th wedding anniversary today have also imported some lessons on me by osmosis. 

So Grace? Take my advice for what it is. Flawed and not foolproof and probably not even something I always take myself. But it comes from a place of love, of wanting the very best for you.  John Steinbeck wrote, in a letter to his teenaged son Thom on the subject of falling in love- "The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it". 

The first time you think you're in love? You probably aren't. But I promise to fluctuate between supporting you and being excited for you and threatening to lock you in your room until you're 30. 

Trust your instincts. There's never been a time that I've had a gut feeling about someone and been super glad I didn't go with it. Treat respect as the minimum, non-negotiable expectation. Everyone that you allow into your life is going to teach you some kind of valuable lesson. Sometimes, it just takes a lot of crying in the shower and Ben and Jerry's to decode it.  Try not to let yourself become too cynical and guarded. You get back what you give out. Not everyone who tells you they love you will mean it- so save it for when it counts, not to make someone feel better or because you feel pressured to do so. When someone loves you, you won't need to hear it because you will feel it, infinitely. Relationships are hard work, but don't confuse hard work with feeling like garbage all the time. 


Steinbeck also wrote "And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens- the main thing is not to worry. Nothing good gets away" Seems to me that guy really knew what he was talking about.

Nurture your passions. Dream so big that it scares you. My life thus far has been relatively happy. I want yours to be exponentially happier. The person you are meant to be with will encourage you, challenge to grow and be there by your side when you need them to be. Love yourself. Love your friends. Love your family. The rest will all fall into place. 

At least, that's what I'm hoping for. 













Wednesday, October 3, 2012

On your birthday...


Dear Mum, 


As a little girl, I was unequivocally a Daddy's girl.  I remember (with some horror now, as a parent myself) having this preference. For that, I am sorry. The fact that you even tolerated me, while working the night shift, is an amazing feat. 

And now?

It is unbelievably cheesy to say, but today you are truly my very best friend. There is a point you reach in adulthood where you begin to see your parents as flawed, actual human beings. What I have learned about you and from you as I have grown into my own adult skin has allowed me to appreciate you even more. 

Today is your 50th birthday. I share the number because it's only that- a number.You are vibrant, enthusiastic and far more fashionable than you were 10, 15, 20 years ago (you're welcome). I hope to be one ounce of the woman you are when I meet the half century mark.

You are absurdly funny (occasionally without meaning to be) and unendingly kind.  

When my friends or former boyfriends have met you, they often told me I suddenly made perfect sense in the context of you. My silly sense of humor, my unexpected and sparing snarkiness, my love of books, my abysmal math skills, my increased tolerance for shopping and finding bargains, my attempts at kindness and compassion- it's all you. Who I am, who I strive to be, as a mother- patience, love, resilience- exists because of who you have been for me. 

You have taught me many things in the last 25 years. 

How to quickly calculate what kind of savings a 20% off sale really means. 

How to be unafraid to dream. Unafraid to challenge myself. At 50, you are working towards your Master's degree. We received our bachelors degrees on the same day, after you had already been a nurse for over 20 years. This summer, the girl who failed gym class (seriously) ran her first 5k. I watch you change and grown and continue to push yourself and it reminds me to not ever become too comfortable.

How to create delicious concoctions out of tequila. You make the best margaritas of anyone I know and I am desperate to learn your secrets. 

How to be a better daughter. You expended endless energy taking care of your family, your parents. It is often thankless and always exhausting. But you do it because it is right. And I promise you, should a day come where you need to be taken care of, I will do the very best job. Because I learned how to do it from you.

That working hard and being kind will grant you the most beautiful and honest of successes.

That failure is relative. 

There are countless lessons you have taught me, things I have learned just by watching you. I find myself typing and the words falling short of the gratitude and love inked into my heart. 

I have written often about how grateful I am that you and Grace have a pure and  amazing bond. You have exploded into your somewhat unexpected role of Mimi. My daughter is unbelievably in love with you and I look forward to watching your relationship shift and stretch and strengthen as time moves on. She is so lucky. 

And I am luckier. 



There is so much strength in you that goes unnoticed. But not by me. 

I am prouder each day to be your daughter than I was the day before. 

Ugga Mugga, Mumma..and Happy Birthday, you old broad

Love, always...

Bean