Anne Lamott is a Better Mother Than Me

Yes, yes. Than I. WhatEVER. Yesterday, I read to my son excerpts from an Anne Lamott post on Mother's Day: "I did not raise my son, Sam, to celebrate Mother’s Day. I didn’t want him to feel some obligation to buy me pricey lunches or flowers, some annual display of gratitude that you have to grit your teeth and endure. Perhaps Mother’s Day will come to mean something to me as I grow even dottier in my dotage, and I will find myself bitter and distressed when Sam dutifully ignores the holiday." I shared with my son how I really didn't want him to ever feel guilt-ed into a Mother's Day either. (I remember one year when I had nothing for my mother and she didn't let me off the hook. I felt so awful and went to 7-11 and bought her some book. It wasn't born from within me. Just guilt and obligation). The first painful irony was that literally, as...
Read More

On Throwing Out Things Other People Love

Say your son and husband built a dog house. And you love that they do projects together. Yes, you do. And you think it's charming. And you also wish, right about now, that your husband was a real furniture guy so that they could both enjoy the project time together AND you might have a finished product in your yard that wasn't so heavy it required two grown men to move it. And maybe it would be just a touch more, um, finished around the edges, but you like it enough in a kid-built-sort-of-way. And then there's the seemingly inevitable utility issues, namely, that  the dog door is so small the dog cries for help to get back out. But okay. You're hanging with this cause they've painted it to match the house. And you're not a total asshole. And then they move into phase two of construction--the dog porch. The porch, unlike the house, resembles more of a four-legged...
Read More

Dentist

I was at the dentist's office today. I've been seeing the same "gal" as my Grandmother would say, for years. And each time I am struck by the same problem. We're trying to carry on a conversation as if she's painting my toe nails. She asks a question and I "arsrwflaw----" back and then she pulls the instrument out of my mouth, I thrust my tongue forward and try to get some saliva, so I don't choke on my own dry throat and reply. And then she digs on back into my gumline. How did I know I needed a menopause patch? When does my son finish school? How's Bryan doing? Does he still like teaching? In. Out. In. Out. And then there's this long silence and she really settles into her work, and I kind of zone out and start thinking about how I haven't heard that Carole King "Jazzman" song that's playing in, like, forever, and wonder why...
Read More

Double Duty

Today I lined all the bedroom drawers with gift wrap paper from the Container Store and then covered them with clear plastic shelf liner. They have adorable drawer liner, but it's scented. The unscented liner is white. I wanted adorable. So I did double duty on each drawer. Gift wrap then plastic shelf cover. Dogs in my son's room. Grey dots in ours. A black pattern that matches in the office and a wee little French girl riding bikes and a black chat and un café for the kitchen towels. It was a five hour job. I couldn't stop once I started. My back went into spasm at the end of it. The dishwasher was still full, breakfast dishes were in the sink and I'd had a cereal break for lunch. Yeah, there were no dinner plans in motion. All but two drawers were lined when my family got home. You can't see a thing because they are covered in...
Read More