by Heather Plett | Jan 21, 2005 | Uncategorized
Yes, sometimes I worry. I try not to, and I’m bound and determined not to be “a worrier”, but I can’t help it. I’m a Mom. It’s like I got new “worry dna” injected into me the moment my first daughter was born. As a matter of fact, it was probably even a little before she was born. I remember trying to jaywalk when I was pregnant with her, and I stopped myself because I had visions of getting hit by a car and harming my unborn child. I USED to be able to jaywalk without it affecting my brain patterns whatsoever. I don’t know what hit me, but it certainly wasn’t a car as I stood safely at the intersection waiting for the little walking man on the sign to show me it was safe.
Today, I find myself worrying about the teen years and all the teenage angst that goes with it. It hit me unsuspectingly as I sat on the bus this morning listening to the conversation of the mother and teenage daughter behind me. It was a pleasant conversation to begin with – they talked about hairstyles and shift work and lots of things in between. Then, out of the blue, the talk turned serious and accusatory. “It sure would have been nice if you’d SHOWED UP this week,” the mother said. “I showed up,” was the retort. “No you didn’t. You haven’t been home since Monday. Where WERE you?” And then the teenager played various avoidance games while the mother continued to ask “Where WERE you?”
And then it got worse… “Why are you bringing your duffel bag to school? Are you planning to run away?” “NO I’m not planning to run away. I wouldn’t BE here on the bus with you if I were planning to run away. My backpack is broken so I’m using my duffel bag.” The line of questioning ended when the daughter said “I’m not talking to you any more. You’re being mean to me.” The manipulative little shit! And it worked – the mother changed the subject and never brought it up again. She never DID find out where her daughter had spent the last three days. And later in the conversation it came out that the daughter was hanging around with some people who hung around another person who’d ended up in jail for murder. Gulp.
This is the mother who works two jobs. I see her most mornings going to work somewhere downtown. And then I see her in the evenings selling my kids Slurpees at 7-11. And in the course of the conversation, I also heard that her kids never see their dad – that he’s nowhere in their picture anymore.
And so, as I climbed off the bus and walked the rest of the way to work, my brain was working overtime, not only processing the heavy load this mother has to bear, but my own worry that there is no way I can protect my children against the stress and the angst and the insecurities of being a teenager. And there is no way I can protect myself against the inevitable time when they push me away and no longer want me to climb into their beds with them on “lie with me night” and talk about their friendships, which boys tick them off at school, what they think about their teachers, and all those other thoughts going through the mind of a preteen girl.
And then, when I got to work, I found this on a blog…
Shelby is entering the dark tunnel of adolescence. And she is asking all the questions that everyone asks when they get sucked into the darkness of this season of life.
“Who am I?”“Where do I fit in?”“Am I okay the way I am?”
Sadly, the answers being traded inside the tunnel are not always the best ones. A lot of good kids get chewed up in there. Some never find good answers and spend their whole lives searching.
I’ve been through the tunnel experience with the first sister, and I will go through it again with the third. There isn’t much I can do but hug her and be waiting when she emerges in a few years, blinking in the bright sunshine.
And I WILL be waiting for you, Shelby. You have always been my string of pearls, and I will be there when you come out and resume your love affair with lemon trees and graveyards. And when you are ready to hear me, I have the answer to your questions. I know the answer because I have journeyed to the secret places of the world and found wisdom.
Here is the answer you seek:
You have always been okay, even from the beginning.
So VERY okay.
It had two effects on me… made me worry even more about “the tunnel” and the kids getting chewed up in there, and gave me comfort because it is all so normal and so many kids before mine have made it safely through the tunnel. And because I remember the tunnel myself, and have little doubt that there is no stress like teenage stress, I hope I can be the wise parent waiting patiently and lovingly on the other side. I hope I don’t push too hard. I hope I value them enough and don’t give them pat answers. I hope they see that I understand, but don’t hear me say “been there, done that, was better at it than you, now get over it”.
I hope they get through it and know that they are beautiful and beloved. I hope that when they get through, my relationship with them will be rich and full and more honest than my own with my mother.
by Heather Plett | Jan 21, 2005 | Uncategorized
Today’s the day for “the talk that will expose me”. It’s time to have the annual “budget talk” with madame finance guru. Yes, I suspect this will be the talk that will expose me as a pathetic fraud, totally and utterly incompetent and incapable of managing an annual budget of nearly $250,000. Why do they TRUST me with so much money? Don’t they KNOW I’m incompetent – especially with money?
Come to think of it, by now – after 7 months in this position – they should have figured out not only my financial incompetence, but the fact that I’m really not as smart as they THINK I am. You can fool SOME of the people SOME of the time, but you can’t fool ALL of the people ALL of the time. When are they going to see the crack in my facade? Or can I keep pulling off enough projects that have shades of brilliance that they will continue to be hoodwinked?
In the meantime, until they figure it out, I’ll carry on along my merry way and keep letting them pay me to have fun and do cool stuff!
by Heather Plett | Jan 21, 2005 | Uncategorized
Dubya’s three day inauguration event is apparently costing a mere 41 million dollars (and that’s not including the cost of security). Huh? I’m not getting something here. FORTY ONE MILLION DOLLARS just to say “Hey – here’s your job for the next 4 years. Hope you don’t blow it.” Yikes!
Of course, most of the money is coming from all his wealthy supporters. Money is power, baby, money is power. For $250,000 you get tickets for all the events, including an “exclusive” lunch with him and Cheney (how exclusive can it be? an intimate lunch with a coupla hundred people?), and tickets to the inaugural ball. For the low, low price of $100,000, you get tickets to most of the events and an elegant candle light dinner with a “special appearance with President Bush”. I guess for THAT price, you can’t expect the president to actually DINE with you! If you just want to go to one of the ball’s (there are NINE after all), and can’t afford all that other stuff, you can get a ticket for a mere $795. All that money, just so you can get close to “The Man”. According to some fundraiser who was asked about the high price, “It’s the cost of playing the game.” Pretty darn expensive game!
Hey, I’m all for a good party, but isn’t this a little ridiculous? And you WONDER why people think you’re a stuck up, arrogant, capitalistic, “my shit don’t stink” nation? (Sorry, I really TRY not to be anti-American, but it slips out now and then.)
by Heather Plett | Jan 19, 2005 | Uncategorized
Yup, it’s official. I’m old. I just got fitted for custom orthotics for my feet. All that’s left is a blue-grey rinse in my hair, kleenex stuffed in my bra (’cause you just never know when you’re gonna need it!), and endless complaints about my arthritis.
Turns out I have a ridiculously high arches. The orthotics specialist (orthotician? dunno) took one look at my arches and said “those babies are HIGH! No wonder your feet hurt!” And then she shook her head sadly as I stepped on the ruler. “I don’t envy YOU when it comes to buying shoes.” There’s almost a whole size difference between my two feet. I liked her – she didn’t have that judgemental tone that some people take on when they examine various parts of your anatomy and find them lacking. (Like some of the nurses who looked at my breasts when it came time for me to start breastfeeding – “Tsk, tsk, you have flat nipples. That baby’s NEVER gonna latch on to THOSE!” As if it were MY fault my nipples were flat! Thankfully, Nikki was brilliant and figured it out right away and the nurses had to eat humble pie!)
Back to my feet… I had to get molds made of my feet. She puts on this cast-like material and you have to lie there until it dries. Fortunately, I LIKE my feet and don’t feel very self-conscious when a stranger is staring at them and manipulating them (unlike the aforementioned portion of my anatomy). And she managed not to tickle me, despite my extreme ticklishness.
Seriously, though, in spite of my cracks about getting old, I am DELIGHTED about getting orthotics! Why didn’t I figure this out years ago and save myself alot of agony and aching feet?
On the way back from my foot appointment, I stopped at the Goodwill store. I thought I’d look for skirts for my African adventure, but ended up finding a couple of sweaters, a blazer, and a shirt instead – all for a mere $13! So it’s true, I AM getting old. Not only do I have to wear orthopedic footwear, I get excited about cheap second-hand clothes. “Eh? Speak up chile’, I can’t hear you! What’s that nonsense yer blubberin’?” Gotta turn up my hearing aid!
by Heather Plett | Jan 18, 2005 | Uncategorized
Yikes! Three weeks from today, I’ll board a plane for Toronto, with the eventual destination (2 days later) of Nairobi, Kenya, AFRICA! I can hardly believe it’s really happening! Somebody pinch me!
And yet, as excited as I am, I can’t help but let some of that good ol’ fashioned Mommy guilt creep in. I’m leaving my children for THREE WEEKS! What kind of Mommy does that? And not only that, but I’m leaving their daddy with three weeks of arguments, poopy panties, homework frustrations, laundry obstacles, bed time squabbles, “but I don’t LIKE this food” complaints, etc., etc. I’m gonna owe him BIG TIME when I get back!
