ONE TIME I FELT REALLY PRETTY

I have always wanted to be prettier.  I won't bore you with some of the crazy things I tried (as a young woman and last week) in an effort to look prettier, but let's just say I usually ended up disappointed and frustrated.

AND I never went to the prom!  Nope, not once! 

I hoped to go and would daydream about it but I was never invited.  I don't know why.  Maybe because I was too shy to make eye contact with anyone in high school and tried to be invisible. 

                                                                                                            

My adored big sister Debbi went to all the proms and I loved to watch her get ready.  She usually made her own formals.  And oh, how pretty she looked with her big green eyes, her hair curled on top of her head, wearing long white gloves and floating in Wind Song (the perfume of my era).  Her date (usually Cliff whom she ended up marrying) gazed at her with admiration.  I was very proud of her.

No one guessed it, but inside I was a 100% girlie-girl.  And I wanted to go to the dance.

But I never got asked.  And going to the prom was something that girls in my "60-70s" generation were not supposed to care about, especially if they wore baggy levis, fringe jackets, beads and had hair down to here. 

But it all turned out okay because last year…at the ripe age of 60 …I felt really pretty one day!

My niece, Nikki Jo, had an "Oscar's" party and invited me.  It was "black tie"!  How fun is that?  So I borrowed my friend Elaina's black velvet formal with a slit on the side, sheer sleeves and some bling on the front bodice, got out my sparkly fake diamond earrings, black heels, etc. and got ready to look fancy.

It was a great party!  Nikki had decorated her house very Hollywood-y and she had pictures of film stars and dangly glittery stars, everything black and gold.  She also had a "Hair and Make-Up Booth" in one corner with various assortments of make-up and accessories and my niece Linsey (Nikki's sister) was working it.  When we got there I climbed up on the stool and said "Oh, Linsey, can you make me pretty?"

Well, you have to know Linsey and what a KINDHEART she is; how creative and focused she is, how sweet and willing to do anything asked of her.  She really really wanted me to feel pretty.  So, she spent LOTS of time on me, used lots of different brushes and make-up palettes.  She would apply a little make-up and then step back like an artist reviewing her canvas.  I felt quite pampered.  But I knew that when she finished and I looked in the mirror I would still see the same old, tired me with the "not quite pretty" look.

But, surprise!  She was had magic in her wand and she made me really pretty for one night.  See?

And that was all I needed.  Now I can go back to being Cinderelly pre Fairy Godmother.

I don't know how to crop pictures in a blog :(

HER OWN MIND

Sometimes a mom has to have her eyes opened to her own small-mindedness by her daughter.  Sometimes she cannot see her own prejudice until the light of her life holds it up to her.  

This has happened to me since Natalie could talk.  Usually she is gentle about it, (although notsomuch when she was a teenager).

I don't always like it because I am the mom and I don't want any come-uppins by a child who would not be here but for me (she's 42 now). 

For example, today, in a light-hearted, silly mood I said to Natalie, "Honey, I don't get Bruce Jenner."

Nat:  "You don't get him?"

Me:  "Yes.  Why does he want to dress up like a woman?  It confuses me."

Nat:  "YOU'RE confused?  I think he is confused, Mom."

Me:  (Back-pedaling and mumbling, twirling my hair and biting my lip ) "Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure.  It can't be easy." 

Nat:  "I read an article on transgender personalities and it really opened my eyes to how difficult it is to be transgender.  They have a very high suicide rate."

Me:    "Oh, I'm sure!  I'm sure they didn't wake up one day and decide to be someone that people make fun of." (Yikes.)

Nat: (Sweetly) "Umhummm.  It's very hard for them."

And I hadn't thought of any of this...just that they might be good for a laugh.

I need to point out here that my daughter is one of the least self-righteous people I have ever known.  And she loves me unconditionally.  She would take a bullet for me, I know it.  She's not trying to make me feel uncomfortable.  She's not even trying to change me.  She's just being true.

I like that she tries to understand people's differences rather than judge them.  I'm so glad she's liberal and open-minded and honest and real.  I don't want a Molly Mormon for a daughter.  I just want Natalie, whoever she really is.  Not perfect but usually sensitive and deep and kind and thoughtful.

She's always been her own person.  I've been told she takes after me.  I hope that is true.

FLAT AFFECT AND PAPER DOLL HEADS

FLAT AFFECT AND PAPER DOLL HEADS

My beautiful, smart, funny sisters and I all share two mysterious physiological phenomena that medical science has yet to explain.

1.  FLAT AFFECT

If we are not smiling, all four of us can look:  bored, angry, tired, dull, dead, blank, sad…you get the picture.  We can be feeling joyous, surprised, excited, afraid, serene and content, deep in thought, …it matters not.  Our facial expressions are so bland and scowly and FLAT that people can't help but comment sometimes, "You look so tired!"  "Aren't you feeling well?"  "Is something bothering you?"  "Why are you sad?" 

Even when I think I have a gentle smile on my face, it is not reflected in my expression.   Instead, you will see a cold-hearted Leona Helmsley look-alike where my happy face should be.  (My driver's license looks just like her).

Nothing can be done.  It is a malady we have learned to accept and live with.  But just don't try to interpret our feelings by reading our face.  You will get it wrong every time.  Just assume that we are happy…because we usually are.  (And if we aren't we don't want you to know it.)

2.  PAPER DOLL HEADS

The second curious medical mystery is that the four of us, while having normal-sized faces with all the necessary features such as nose, eyeballs, etc, …well, when we turn to the side you can see that THERE IS NO ACTUAL FORMATION OF HEAD!.  We have FLAT HEADS.    I call this crazy curiosity "Paper Doll heads".  Our heads are nearly one-dimensional! We have to do a lot of fluffing and ratting and spraying to make the backs of our heads look like there is something there.  Also, we don't usually look good in ponytails, etc.  In spite of this oddity (for which there is no known origin or treatment) we have all managed to lead reasonably normal lives.

(I wonder if it's Mom's fault, laying us on our backs as babies too long...that kind of thing.)

By the grace of God, none of our beautiful children show signs of having flat head.

I came across some research recently suggesting that a person with a larger head had a larger brain which resulted (I AM NOT KIDDING) in greater intelligence.

My husband says my head is the size of an orange and I will say no more on this subject.  

MAN OF STEEL

I hate to admit this, but I am weak and pathetic when I am sick.  I like to give Brian minute-by-minute updates of my symptoms which I always find fascinating.  Only Morgan shares this tendency with me.  People are kind but I wonder if they roll their eyes when I'm not watching.  Yikes!  I'm not going to be one of those old ladies, am I?

In contrast, my husband is tough as nails.  He is in so much discomfort most of the time but DOES NOT COMPLAIN.  He has never been a whiner.  Usually I don't even realize he's sick until after he's well again and he tells me about it.  He faced death twice in the hospital and another big scare after we were home but it only deepens his character and broadens his spirituality.  He was up all night a few nights ago, sick as a dog…even called to me for help but I couldn't hear him because he had shut my bedroom door!  (Yes, I had a guilt fest!)  When I woke up at 4:45 to check on him the next morning he was colorless…so sick.  The reasons are complicated and he's better now but he was so humble and brave.  Two days ago his chest tube site started draining; I mean serious, non-stop dripping.  He soaked through FIVE rolled-up bath towels in a matter of hours until it finally stopped.  Not a word of complaint.

And the coughing!  It isn't getting better and it hurts him so much!  Natalie and I watch helplessly as he squeezes his cough bear (Micah) to his chest and hacks painfully.  His face contorts with an expression of near-agony I've never seen before, not in nearly 30 years of marriage.  Then he puts on a big smile and looks at us and says, "DAMN that hurt!"

He hasn't been grumpy and is never demanding.  Always tries to be appreciative of the smallest effort to help.  If trials bring out the true character of a man, I've got myself a gem.

Every day I admire him more and more.  Please, babe, hurry, hurry, hurry and get well so I can be my old crabby self again and make everything about me.  

SPATIAL AWARENESS DEFICIT

If I ever had it, it is long gone.  "Spatial awareness"..the intuitive sensing of solid and immovable objects in one's path.  As a grammatically challenged friend of mine might say, "She don't got it"  (she being me).

Last week .....twice in the same evening (don't judge me), I gave myself two (self-diagnosed) concussions.  The first one occurred when I opened the microwave door smack into my forehead (I saw stars) and the second when I  closed the trunk of my car right on aforementioned forehead creating another goose egg that is still tender as I write this.

Who does that?

Worse is that my very own flesh and blood daughter who I love more than life and is one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet,  thinks there is nothing funnier than watching someone (usually me) get hurt.  She will howl with laughter and be rolling on the floor with uncontrollable chortles, holding her stomach and trying not to let me see the pure enjoyment on her face as I bleed to death from ...oh. say... tripping over my own shoes and falling face first into a pile of rocks.

She says it's the look of confusion and awkwardness on people's faces (usually me) as they try to regain balance and preserve a little dignity that she finds so funny.

Her explanations do not exonerate.  I have practiced my expressions of cold rebuke in the mirror but they do not phase her.

As I get ready for bed at night and examine bruised shoulders ( walking into walls), scraped shins (I still don't know how far to stand back when I open my car door), and sore hip  bones (kitchen counter bumps), I wonder when or if I'll ever get grace back.  But why worry about it if it entertains others so?

One small sacrifice, albeit a painful one, to bring a smile to dear Natalie's face.

The little rat!

DAY 8

8 days post my husband's sternum being sawed wide open, the only heart he has being poked, prodded and"surgeried", the blocked, diseased vessels being bypassed by three healthy ones ...and we are finally home from the hospital and on the road to recovery.

People say I'm stronger than I know but I didn't feel strong this week.  I felt angry, vulnerable, fearful, irritable, faithless and needy.  Also HUNGRY but somehow incapable of feeding myself.

To come home from the hospital when outside it is dark and cold and to find that someone has left me nourishing soup...was the FIRST best thing.

To wake up at 3:00 AM Saturday to the sound of our daughter coming in the house, to see her sweet, calm, and pretty face and know she is the only person in the whole world who loves Brian as much as I do...that was the SECOND best thing.

To see Brian smile and laugh the way he did before they invaded his body, to see him ask for assistance in getting down on the floor so he could be closer to our cat, Bailey, and to see him enjoy food again was the THIRD best thing. And now I am too tired to say anymore.