From the moment someone finds out you’re pregnant to probably the day your child is out of the house (and in some cases after that) you are inundated with unsolicited advice. I can’t stand it. I particularly can’t stand it when its given on really unimportant or marginally relevant issues.

My mother is quick to give advice and what more, I find it unnecessary and damn hypocritical. This morning my son had cereal for breakfast and the “main course” in his lunch was a ham sandwich. So basically I’m a bad mother because ‘I’m home now’. I guess that means I’m supposed to cook steak and homemade mashed potatoes for lunch.

When it comes to food she has this cute little saying that she ‘eats to live’ she doesn’t ‘live to eat.’ Great, why not have that philosophy about my MY son? Instead, she’s ready to shovel anything down his mouth that he so desires. Soldier (my son) is the type of kid that eats and drinks because he sees not because he’s hungry. And I know that the eating habits a child has influences how they are as an adult. I tell her this all the time and I get an “I know” but that doesn’t stop her from questioning WHY I won’t let him eat ice cream after 9pm the day after he had ice cream at a rare mom and me trip to Dairy Queen.

While I was a full-time college student (I recently graduated) I didn’t have the most time with my son (at least thats what I thought) but he and I were together every night and on weekends. My mother is pretty clueless about what she really views as my problems as a mother. Everything she yells at me about when it comes to being frustrated with my son, frustrates the hell out of her. When I mention that I get the ‘I know but..” Ah, no but’s. I don’t want to hear them.

The fact is I’ve spent more time with my son in nine years than she did with my brother and me combined. I’ve never, on a day off, stayed locked up in my bedroom with my live-in boyfriend. She did it all the time. We never spent time together, ever.

On the other hand. My son and I have gone to baseball games, a basketball game, library, park, to Christmas show (the Rockettes), gone to movies, bowling and played tennis together. The most my mother ever did with my brother and I was when she was married to his father. We did the family amusement park vacations and fairs. Once they divorced, she did nothing with us. When we did get to do something she sent us, with the money, to the movies. She stayed home with her boyfriend.

Yes, I get beyond frustrated with my son, who has all the potential in the world, but who is lazy and gets in trouble at school. I’ve been a volunteer, he has countless books and workbooks, I help him with his homework and he’s constantly in trouble. Thursday and Friday he was suspended (I’ll go there later). My mother, again on the other hand, couldn’t tell you anything about my classes let alone my performance in them. She never read to me, never helped me with my homework. Lucky for me, I was self-motivated or I’d be royally screwed (even more than I am now).

So whether its my mother, June Cleaver or the extra annoying childrenless advice givers unless I’m dangling my son from a balcony, driving with him in my lap on a busy freeway (or anywhere for that matter), giving him pot to smoke or showing a general level of neglect (in safety or education) I’d like it kindly if you were to just shut the hell up. He ate cereal instead of bacon, eggs, oatmeal and freshly squeezed orange juice. Take a look around at the conditions some of the world’s children must deal with. He’ll survive.

Beyond the door
There’s peace I’m sure.
And I know there’ll be no more…
Tears in heaven

I talked about my ex’s friend who was on life support after giving birth to a healthy baby. She passed on leaving behind a husband of less than two years and a week old baby who will never feel his mother’s touch.

Life is short. And now the uncertainty of financing grad school seems stupid. The anger over my son’s lousy elementary school and the frustrations due to my Upward Bound students’ laziness all seem like worthless issues to exert so much emotion over today.

Now I feel lucky. Lucky enough to be able to experience those emotions at all. Lucky that I may have touched and motivated the life of at least one of the students I worked with. Lucky that I have a son I’ve watched grow up over the last nine years. Lucky that breath runs through my body which enables me to make mistakes, dream and enjoy.

I can think back and see her laughing, enjoying our day, and talking about the future. We all know our time on Earth is short. But she never knew it would be this short. That day we laughed and laughed and laughed none of us knew her time was winding down.

I am, by no means, a religious person. And maybe that means I don’t have the right to post this but I will because it just rings true to how I feel right now.

we thank you now for all her life,
for every memory of love and joy,
for every good deed done by her
and every sorrow shared with us.
We thank you for her life and for her death,
we thank you for the rest in Christ she now enjoys,
we thank you for giving her to us…

I was set to talk about why my son’s nickname is Soldier but I received a pretty sad phone call that has left me contemplating life. It was a call from an ex-boyfriend; THE ex-boyfriend, the only one that has ever mattered. The only one that made me want to get married.

He called to tell me about his friends; they are married and they had a baby last Thursday. I met her when I went to visit the ex. We shared a girls’ day at the hair salon and then off to get a manicure and pedicure. Later that night the three of us went out for dinner and drinks. I never met her then fiance because he was working overseas during that time. This is their first child together.

The baby is healthy but unfortunately she had a hole in her heart. It filled during the delivery and she has already undergone two heart surgeries. It doesn’t look good and the doctors will attempt to save her again with one more surgery. I only met her that one day but the tears fell in a steady stream down my face. I took to her instantly. She was happy that ‘the boy’ and I were getting married. She and her husband just had a baby. What must he be going through? What about the baby?

And the boy’s muted and spiritless voice speaking to me through the phone did things to me as well. He was beyond sad. She was like his sister. She is like his sister. He is away from family right now. He’s in Asia, not due back until July. He could use a hug, the last one he had, he said, was July 2007 when his parents hugged him good-bye before he left.

I guess the last hug should have been mine but we broke up days before he left. The reasons for the end of the relationship is for a different time but needless to say I did what many people do when tragedy hits – I started thinking about my own relationships. And like I said, as far as I’m concerned I’ve only had one real relationship.

This past year I never stopped thinking about him and I constantly wonder ‘what if’. Was it as bad as I thought it was? Was it something we couldn’t work through? This sad tragedy was proof that life is short and what if my true love is sitting on the phone with me and neither of us can admit it? What if its a sign? Should it be ignored? What if its not a sign but life, and consequently doesn’t require me using it as something that it is not?

I know he wishes we could still be together. I have that dream sometimes as well. But I also know that it takes more than love and lust. My biggest fear in marriage is failure. I never want to get divorced. And maybe thats why I’m a bit of a big commitment phobe. But yesterday all I’ve been thinking about is love, regret, and never finding that special person. But really most times I don’t want to find that special person.

And I definitely don’t know how to handle finding that special someone and then having to deal with the pain should they leave this Earth before me. I don’t know if my heart can take ten minutes of that pain let alone months, years or a lifetime. So I’ll be praying for her until she gets better…because thats my hope that she wakes up and leaves the hospital so she can enjoy her family. I’m not, by any means, a religious person but I won’t lay my head down at night without praying for her.

-INC

“And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.”
James 5:15-16

]]> http://thisainttv.wordpress.com/2008/05/16/when-tragedy-sends-your-mind-racing/feed/ 0 imnoclair http://thisainttv.wordpress.com/2008/05/15/so-im-not-the-only-one/ http://thisainttv.wordpress.com/2008/05/15/so-im-not-the-only-one/#comments Thu, 15 May 2008 15:05:56 +0000 imnoclair http://thisainttv.wordpress.com/?p=10 ]]>

One of the sports writers I’ve always enjoyed was Dan LeBatard of the Miami Herald. He had the right balance of ‘hey superstar athlete you’re a moron’ and ‘hey idiot fan, get off your judgmental high horse’ that suits my own personal take on the world of sports.

Muffy, who is not only wonder woman mommy but sports nut, sent me the link to Dan’s latest article, “Time to open a new chapter in my life“. In it he tells of his need to “concentrate on building the bridge to the second half of my life.” Thats is me. I am currently working towards another part of my life. I have so many dreams, ambitions and interests (as noted in the About page) that I don’t know what to do first or what I really want to do.

I can pretty much trace my indecisiveness about career and job to the Army. Its good for creating a jack of all trades, master of none. I did a little bit of everything. So I could bounce back and forth from different offices whose duties had nothing to do with each other. And I have to say I somewhat liked being a floater, the ringer, the closer. The person who could (learn just enough) to wing it get the job done.

But that also seemed to breed a bit of laziness. I will get excited at the beginning of learning something new. Shallow. But once it requires more effort I get a little skittish. I wonder if I’ll ever have an expertise at anything other than bull$h*&%ing. I’m long on potential and short on accomplishment. (This is where anyone who knows me will say I’ve accomplished a lot and I have unrealistic expectations for myself.) I’m long on ideas and short on follow through. You get the idea.

But back to what originally got me going. Dan’s decision to leave a pretty lucrative and perk-filled career. Do I have the guts to do that? I guess, at some point its less about guts and more about survival. You can’t escape that drowning feeling if you don’t get out of the water. For a long time I’ve felt I’ve done nothing more tread water.

And its not necessarily from laziness, though I have my moments. It has more to do with wanting to do and have it all. I haven’t found my bridge to my next life. Its more like wandering aimlessly through the desert. To say I’m indecisive is an understatement. I want to do almost everything under the sun (except manual labor) and none of them really have any connection to one another.

I ask Soldier (I’ll explain the kid’s nickname tomorrow) all the time what he wants to be when he grows up. Its pretty unfair of me to ask him that at nine. I’m um, considerably older and I’m still clueless as to what I want to do when I grow up. What I need to do is think differently.

Part of me acts like whatever career field I choose at this moment is what I’m supposed to do for the rest of my life. It doesn’t have to be that way. And with my personality it would bore me to tears. I need adventure and change. Funny, I’ve always considered myself someone who was allergic to change. Especially considering the last big change I made resulted in my getting laid of from a pretty nice salaried job and landed me back in mom’s home on receiving an unemployment check and feeling pretty worthless.

But change is good. And today I’m about to put something in the mail that will demand change…and send my life into a whirlwind. But I’m going to relish it. I’m going to take on the challenge and make the most of the opportunities that come my way for the next three years.

To change, challenges, pathways, life, fulfillment and true happiness. I love and embrace you all!

-INC

Yesterday I mentioned that I strive to surround myself with people who are not only what I am but what I aspire to be. I’m a single girl and I have a few “necessities” when it comes to the men I date (and maybe the one I marry should that day happen). Like every girl, the number one trait on my list is a sense of humor. Girls love to laugh huh? He also needs to be motivated and loving. But the trait I’ve realized while talking to a friend (Muffy) is that he has to be smarter than me.

Not as smart as me. Smarter than me. Oh what a boring life, to be the smartest person in the room (or relationship). I want a boy who values my favorite books and authors list. I want a boy who can explain Clausewitz, moles, and be my own personal tour guide around the world. I want someone who stimulates not only my body but my mind.

Let me tell you about Muffy and her boy. They have competitions to see who can complete more of the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. *sigh* She’s been known to cheat google and still lose. I mean, not even close. She described him as being something along the lines of “stupid smart”. Awww.

I’ve been known to be completely enthralled by men speaking about anything under the sun with smarts, confidence and insight. (Note to feminists: Its not that I’m not impressed by intelligent women; I’m just not trying to date you.) Let’s be clear; I don’t sit around rereading that college copy of Crime and Punishment but I like to use my brain here and there. And if a guy doesn’t, then we’re going to run out of things to talk about pretty quick. I’ll become bored and its countdown to breakup time.

I want someone who will push me and motivate me. I want a stupid smart boy!

I’m not for ignoring the elephant in the room. I can appreciate problems and I am willing to address them regardless of embarrassment or the taboo effect. But some people are big time Debbie Downers. For these people the glass will always be half empty and thats a pretty sad, miserable existence.

You can’t even be a positive light in your own life, forget someone else’s or the world, when you’re a pessimist. The key to change is to not walk around acting like the world and everyone in it is hopeless. The key to happiness is realizing as time goes on, someway somehow the present and future will be (can be) better than the past.

What I definitely don’t like is blowing things out of proportion to make the molehill an erupting lava-filled volcano (forget the mountain). I know, I’ve been that way and no one can tell me that attitude is conducive to positive change or a good life.

When I’m having a bad day I always remember: I could complain, but it could be worse. I’m not for keeping my feelings (happy, sad or otherwise) bottled up but I’m not going to use up all my “Cry on my shoulder” passes on the small stuff.

One of the changes I’ve made in my life is to surround myself not solely with people who are like me, but people I aspire to be (and be more like). So being around people who don’t know how to appreciate accomplishments, gains, good events, and worthwhile efforts is not happening.

They are the kind of people who will shove the 2nd place trophy their kid is waving in their face instead of first congratulating them.

I found this great graphic on Google images:

There aren’t many proverbs I tend to disagree with but the ending of this one rubs me the wrong way: “A true friend laughs at your stories even when they’re not so good, and sympathizes with your troubles even when they’re not so bad”

Nah, a true friend tells you to shut that bull$*&# up when your troubles aren’t so bad.

Every rose has its thorn.

After a long and eventful (and wonderful) Mother’s day (for reasons other than Mother’s Day) my little one and I went out to toss the football around. I have to say that my baby has a tight spiral and I love saying it because guess what–he got it from his momma. That’s right. I taught him how to throw a football.

Many times I’ve wallowed in the guilt of single parenthood. And though it may not be the most ideal situation, I know that I am making the best of our two-person family. People say one of the reasons a little boy needs a father around is to play catch, go to games and learn about sports. Well, my little one may need a male role mole but now for that. He has me and my love of sports rivals any man’s.

The little one and I have gone to MLB games, college baseball games, and NBA games. We play video games together and I cheered him on every Saturday at his flag football games. I love sports and he knows he can ask me almost anything and I can tell him. A couple of years ago when I would get home late at night from a class he would put the television on ESPN for me before he went to bed. (Awwww).

Once we move (again) I have to get him in baseball. His dream is to be a baseball player. I’ve expressed the need to get an education just in case but I’m pretty sure he’s not trying to hear that. Though there is no way he doesn’t know how much I value education.

Last week I signed him up for swim lessons. Now that should be interesting.

To all the women out there who work to enrich a child’s life -

Happy Mother’s Day

There are those magical ages in a person’s life. Milestones if you will. 16 – driving. 18- voting and adult status. 21- legal drinking age. 30 – The true change to maturity (if we’re lucky). But there is another age change that happens. And it means nothing when we hit this age but it means everything when our child does. 10.

Seriously?! I have a child with a double-digit age. Seriously?! Well, not quite yet. But I’ve begun to prepare myself for the cold, hard reality. When people ask how old he is I say, “He’ll be ten in July.” Seriously?!

I guess it’s even harder for me to believe since mentally I’m about 17. Its really not my fault. I’ve spent the last two years on a college campus with traditional undergrad-age students sitting in classrooms with 18-22 year olds. That deserves many posts all on their own.

Many people tend to guess my age about seven years younger than I am. A lot of that has to do with being on a college campus, but I do admit I’m lucky with the family genes. So this makes it that much harder to believe I have a 10 year old.

I mean, in eight years (with any luck) he’ll be out of the house and off to college. Eight years and I will have an adult child? The more I type, the more I’m stunned. It just boggles my mind how time flies. You always hear it and you never believe it until you recall ten years ago like it was yesterday.

It doesn’t seem that long ago the little one understood Spanish. Scurrying off after I told him, “Dame los zapatos” (give me your shoes). Like the true slacker I am, I didn’t keep up with it. And at 9 he’s learning Spanish all over again.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago I was bawling my eyes out when he went to kindergarten. I couldn’t understand how a little baby could ride the school bus.

But in less than two months he will be ten. Like older transformations, I wonder if there will be automatic changes at the strike of midnight. Like, will he stop wanting to hold my hand and kiss me in public, not caring who sees or what they think?

And even though I play hard-ass anti-sitcom mom who is not at all big on affection, will it hurt?

-I’m No Clair (INC)

Initially I was all set to become a neurotic mess over not being able to come up with some witty, fabulous, first post title. Then I remembered I go through life half-assing it, so why get all motivated now.

I’m a single mother (get the stones ready) of a little boy (on second thought, lets just burn me alive now). Now this is where I’m supposed to dote on and on and on about how much I love my son, how he’s the center of my universe and I live for nothing more than to hear every word he utters, watch every move he makes, and characterize every badass things he does as cute and precocious.

Well, I can’t. I love him but he drives me crazy. I love him but sometimes “silence is golden” was penned for him. I love him but every single move I make isn’t for his sake or to bring him everlasting joy. I love him but I don’t feel any guilt when I have to leave him for a few hours (and on rare special occasions a couple of days!).

Thats why I named this blog This Ain’t TV. I’m not Clair Huxtable, June Cleaver, Maggie Seaver or any of the other fictional moms on TiVo’s Top 20 TV Moms list. These fictional depictions of mothers and family will drive a woman crazy.

I mean, come on. Clair had five kids, she was a high-powered attorney and her kids were pretty good, the home was always clean, there were nights out with friends, dinners out at a jazz joint, she always looked beautiful, and she always had enough energy to make us think there could easily be a sixth child the next season.

I, on the other hand, have two piles of clothes on the floor. I have boxes that haven’t been unpacked since we moved a year ago and putting on makeup just isn’t happening on a regular basis- this ain’t tv.

I’m not on a sociology or psychology rant of the dangers of sitcom tv (I love those shows) but it took some time for me to realize I’m not a horrible person, undeserving of my uterus, because I don’t want to record the sounds of my child’s cry and because I consider some of those “cute” questions annoying as hell.

This is not going to be some long “getting to know me” post. You’ll be able to put the pieces together as I post more.

So, welcome to my little home. Just step over those shoes in the doorway and ignore those clean dishes that never seem to make it to the cupboards.

-I’m No Clair (INC)