My Grandma is 29....

When I was little, and I'd ask my Grandma how old she was, she'd always tell me "29".  This is how I learned that women don't always want you to know their age.

My Grandma's birthday is today.  In my mind, she's still 29.  Although, with a 35 year old grand-daughter, this is quite the accomplishment.

My Grandma is one of my special people.  She is one of the people that crosses my mind on a daily basis.  When I received the text this morning reminding me that it was Grandma's birthday and that I should call her, it was like a guilt-dagger to the heart.  I really mean to call my grandparents more often, but I am a terrible grand-daughter.  It's gotten to the point that I use my phone for Facebooking and texting, and not for talking.  But, that really is no excuse.  I need to make more time for my family, and to talk on the phone.  I need to work that into my schedule.

But... I digress.

It's Grandma's birthday today, a day to celebrate this special woman.  My Grandma is the feisty-est, funnest, most opinionated woman I know.  She gets her blood roiling in political debates, or towards you if you try to tell yourself (or her) that there is something in life that you can't do. I love to visit with her, because I have a blast with her.  Talking to her, hanging out with her, hearing her stories, I absolutely L.O.V.E it.  I had the funnest time going through her house last summer, seeing the "things" that she has, and she would tell me the history of all of these "things" from a table, to paintings, to a family tree, to family heirloom dishes.  I had such an amazing time with her, and that was so special to me.

My Grandma has influenced my life in many ways, but I would say one of the most important things that she has taught me was to value myself.  She has taught me that women are special.  Sisters, daughters, mothers, aunts, friends, women are amazing.  She taught me that I was important, that life was what I made of it, and to value myself and to make sure other people value me.  She is now and has been for quite some time a proponent of women's rights.  Rights to work, rights to decisions about our bodies, rights that some of us may forget are hard-won rights.

My Grandma has also shown me that being a mom is hard.  She wrote me a letter a year or so ago, after a post on the blog about my struggles with motherhood.  In this letter, she described a scene for me, where she was alone with 3 small girls, the littlest (my mom), in her first year.  She was describing how she was out on her back porch, crying into her coffee one early morning, because the washer had broken, my grandpa was states away for work for a few weeks, she had no car and was all alone and overwhelmed.  Thinking of this, picturing it, helps me to understand that motherhood is hard, womanhood is hard.  But I'm not the only one that has ever gotten overwhelmed.

My Grandma also has a great laugh.  A great sense of humor.  She has such a love of life, of getting out there, doing everything she can.  Embracing her friends, her family, her life.  I adore my Grandma and hope that one day, I'll be as wonderful of a Grandma as she is.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!  I love you!

P.s. Tony just told me that you are awesome, Grandma! :)

Hair today, gone soon...

So, I've been stressing out some lately.  It's probably the reason that I haven't been writing as much, or at least, one of the many reasons I haven't been writing.

You see, I've always had fine hair.  But, I had lots and lots of fine hair.  I washed my hair everyday, I regularly colored my hair.  I've had perms, I've straightened it.  I've slept in rollers, used velcro rollers, hot rollers, all different sizes of curling iron, crimpers, flat irons, hair dryers, round brushes, flat brushes, you get the idea.

I've had my hair short, I've had it long.  But this past winter, I started noticing that my hair was getting really dried out.  So, I started washing it less.  Every other day instead of every day.  At the same time, I noticed how thin my hair was getting.  How much hair was coming off of me in the shower.  My hair was pretty long, and due for a cut, so in March, we cut a few (3, maybe 4 inches off).

My hair looked better.  But, still, there was that nagging thinness.  Those overwhelming (to my eyes), clumps of hair falling out when I washed.  Not clumps like thick sections from one part of my head, but clumps of hair stuck to my hands.  When I pull it from my hands, it's so much, I can't let it go down the drain.  If I did, I'd have to clean the drain every week.  Ah, who am I kidding? Tony would have to clean the drain weekly, and that's just not right.

So, in typical Tara fashion, I avoid the doctor.  I talk to friends, I talk to my stylist (who pointed out exactly where I need to focus my attention - hello noticeable bald spot).  They suggest a shampoo/conditioner treatment product.  As well as a visit to GNC to get some Biotin.

So, I try it.  For about 2 months.  No change.

I start researching a bit on the internet, talking to other friends.  Maybe my iron is low.  I check my multi-vitamin and find that there is no iron in said vitamin.  So, I switch vitamins and wait.  And wait.  And wait.

No change.

Now, I'm starting to face the hard truth.  I am going to have to suck it up and visit the doctor.  I really dislike visiting doctors.  I feel like they don't listen, want to treat symptoms not problems, and in general, I'm just anxious and terrified that they think I'm some sort of crazy hypochondriac, and so, I avoid the doctor as much as possible.

After waiting some more and trying to get used to the idea of visiting the doctor, I have a couple of incidents that I feel light headed, and finally call the doctor.  I talked to her, talked to the nurse, explain my fears.  They do blood work and tests, and say they'll call with the results.

Last Friday they called.  Absolutely nothing wrong.  My tests came back normal, beautiful thyroid levels, low cholesterol, biotin and iron levels normal.

I said thank you and hung up the phone.  And spent the next 2 hours at work avoiding people and trying not to burst into tears.  How can all the tests be normal, and I'm losing my damn hair and my damn mind to go along with it?  Now, the anxiety is back.  I've got to call the doctor and keep her looking into this.  It's not fair!  I've always had great hair.  I love my hair!  And now, it's leaving me forever and I don't know why.

Now that my hair is wispy, dried out and thin.  It looks like that hair you see hanging from skeletons at Halloween.  I'm so not used to this.  I want to cut it short, mostly because of how dried out it is.  I want that part gone.  I'm a little terrified that there might be other bald spots that I can't see just yet.  And I'm scared that it will be so thin, that it will look terrible that short.

I figure, even if it looks terrible, or I have bald spots, I can invest in hats and scarves, right? 

 Oh my gosh, I really am terrified of this.  It's not right to lose your hair.  I don't believe I have anyone else in my family (female) that lost their hair, but I don't necessarily know.  This is playing on my mind all the time.  It slaps me in the face when I go to look in the mirror.  I'm reminded every time I pull my hair back to go workout, by how thin the ponytail is.  I'm reminded when I twist it into a bun and its so small, I immediately untwist it and hope no one noticed.  I see it when I walk past my reflection in a window and see the thin wispy strands blowing in the wind.

I can't stop thinking about this and need to talk about it.  If I don't, I'm going to stress myself right out of the hair I have left.

Dinner time is special time....

Lately, I've been trying to make dinner a tad more special.  I almost always am cooking up a new recipe, or bringing back an old favorite.  My kids tend to remind me of Garth from Wayne's World.  You remember that part, where Benjamin (Rob Lowe) is trying to talk to Garth about having the sponsor on the show weekly, and Garth (Dana Carvey) has the weird helmet and is working on some sort of mechanical hand?  Just before the hand starts moving, Garth says "Change? We fear change."  

Yeah.

That's pretty much my kids.

Which is why, like a glutton for punishment, I try new recipes 3 to 4 times a week.

In an effort to try to trick them into focusing on something other than the food, I used a gift card and purchased some table clothes, cloth napkins, place mats, plates and pulled out our dusty wine glasses and started setting the table.

It worked. Like twice.

This is a typical dinner scene in my house.

The table is set, looking very nice.  The house smells lovely, like garlic and herbs. Wine glasses are filled with milk, juice or water.

The kids noticed that the camera had come out, so I got some smiling faces prior to dishing out the food.  *Please note, I had already heard from the older one that she "wasn't hungry".  This is code for "I don't like what you are making.  I'm not even going to try it.  Why do you hate me?  I fear change."

 

Then, the food was doled out.

One was adamant about not even trying it.

The other seemed to like it.

Yep.  This is dinner time at my house.

And because I happened to catch an awesome face directed at her sister, I just had to add it.

Social Situations make me nervous...

Last night was Curriculum Night at Mia's preschool.  And, I went.  I don't know why, but I felt like either Tony or I should go.  It's not like we don't know/understand the curricula.  Olivia went to the same preschool.  In fact, Olivia still goes to day care there.

So, why go for Mia's curricula?  I don't know.  It's not like I didn't have 8 million other things to do.  It's not like I didn't just finish a work from home day, that included meetings for 75% of the day.  And my computer didn't crap out on my 4 times - during said meetings, while on the phone through my computer.  It's not like I didn't have to go to pick up the girls, come home, get Mia dressed and immediately run her up to dance class.  After which, I wanted to get to the grocery store, but didn't have time.  It's not like I wasn't able to make the dinner I had planned for lack of time.  The kid ate hot dogs. 

Then I went to curriculum night.

Being one of the 5 parents that showed up for Mia's teachers (2 couples and me), there was definitely a spotlight on the 5 of us.  I couldn't hide in the back, like I would normally love to do.  I wasn't able to observe.  They put me on the spot asking me what goals I have for Mia for preschool.  And what is one unique thing about your child. 

For me, this is just torturous.  I do not do well in social situations, with people I don't know.  I do not do well being put on the spot to come up with some great answer to your questions.  I am awkward.  I over think.  I am nervous.  And now, I think I've frightened my kids preschool teachers.

Here's my goal for Mia - I want you to be able to write an M, every time, no longer mistaking W for M.  Here's Mia's uniqueness - I tell her to keep pedaling her bike, she tells me she knows.  She can't/doesn't do it, but apparently she knows.  My four year old (almost 5) says some of the most grown up things I've ever hear - and usually understands what she is saying.  She's going to have my number as she gets older and has a remark for everything.  She wants to understand everything you tell her.  She wants you to explain everything to her.  She doesn't want to go to sleep because she's afraid she'll miss just one thing.  She tells me she wants to keep me.  She just melts your heart, pretty much every day.

What did I tell the teacher?  Nothing.  I told the teacher that I couldn't think of a unique thing about my child.  Yeah, that made me feel like the mother of the year.  A goal for Mia?  I asked if could bring that back in.  I was absolutely lost.  Then, my mouth started moving, and I don't think my brain had anything to do with the words coming from my mouth.  I said things about how it scares me that my 4yo is over friendly and she has a new best friend every day and how that seems odd that she doesn't understand how long someone should be a best friend.  That really doesn't frighten me.  But I wasn't coming up with the words that truly expressed how I feel.  Or that I know my child at all.

Today, when I picked up Mia, the teacher barely said "Hi" to me, even though I smiled and said Hi to her.  Ugh.

So, yeah.  I'm awkward.  It's one of the reasons that I blog.  It's one of the reasons I was good at radio - I got to talk to you, and never had to see you or get feedback from you.  It's one of the reasons that I don't make new friends.  And it's one of the reasons that I will be a nervous wreck if I ever set up a meeting with an online friend, to meet in real life.

Hi. My name is Tara, and social situations make me nervous.

This kid doesn't make me nervous though.

One day....

My daughter is upstairs right now, attempting to make her bed.  She is super-frustrated, crying, telling us it doesn't work, she can't do it, why does everyone hate her?  We've shown her how to make her bed about 85 times.  We've only helped her make her bed about 273 times.  Now, we're at that point.  The point where she needs to sink or swim on her own.  If we don't she'll rely on us to do this for her for the rest of her life.  And not just making the beds, anything she deems too hard to learn.

Right now, this is my life.  That hard part of growing up where you have to learn to cut the ties for the good of bringing up self-sufficient independent people.  It's hard to do this, mostly because of the severe emotional outbursts from a pre-pubescent little girl that somehow has turned this into all of us disliking her.

Here's my little secret.  The thing that makes me able to walk away while she is tormented and crying.  The thing that I look forward to and even makes me smile.  

One day, she'll have a child.  

Oh.Y.E.S.

One day, she'll learn that she has to cut those ties to teach her child how to figure things out on her own.  One day she'll go through the emotional outbursts and drama.  One day she'll hear all about how everyone hates her child, all because she is making that child make their own bed - without help.

One day, she'll call me and vent about how hard it is.  She'll tell me how she can remember being in that emotional turmoil herself and how happy she is to be a grown up now.  She'll tell me how much it hurts her heart to have to be such a "Mean Mommy."

And I'll listen.  That will be my job, then, so many years from now.  While I sit in my own home, far away from the sounds of angry pre-pubescent children.  In a clean house, drinking coffee, or wine, or margaritas.  On my sun porch, or swing, because I won't have children's toys littering my yard.  And my laundry will be done because, I'll only have mine and my husband's to do.  And I'll listen.  And I'll do my best to console her.

And when I hang up the phone, I'll tell my husband all about her problems.  And we will have a good evil belly laugh! As we sip our drinks, on our quiet porch, watching a sunset, or enjoying a bonfire, we'll laugh, because once upon a time, we were in the same place.