i shouldn't let this get to me, but i do

am i contributing to this horrible trend just
by writing about it? 

i don't give a rat's tush about anyone with the last name of Kardashian. i don't watch the show, i don't even know why they're 'famous,' but i did just hear that Kim is filing for divorce after 72 days of marriage. she and her soon-to-be ex apparently made upwards of $17 million on their wedding—from, i'm assuming, selling the photo rights to People and the broadcast rights to E! the whole event reportedly cost $20 million and was 'free' for the couple.

and now they have 'irreconcilable differences.'

i know this is a pointless rant, but what is wrong with people? does no one have a conscience anymore? i'm so naive, i know, but it really makes my stomach hurt. i don't know if there's been an actual increase in callous, superficial, vapid, narcissistic people in the world, but i do know that now they're all given reality shows, magazine covers and reported on as if they were actual news.

STOP IT! just stop it! stop reading, stop watching, stop caring and they'll all just go away. and, trust me, the world will be a better place for it.

mbm  

five-thing fridays

a really special lady.

five things i'm thankful for this week:

1) um...that it's friday. this week has been weird and extremely long and i'm so very happy that it's over.

2) watching the sunrise. my son thinks i'm nuts, i'm certain, because every morning lately while he's drinking his bottle in his high chair, his mama is out on the balcony in her PJs taking pictures of the sunrise like a madwoman. i've never had the kind of view we have now and i'm a little obsessed. plus, i'm awake every time the sun comes up. it's hard not to gape. (come to think of it, Matty is probably relieved he is no longer the sole subject of his crazy mama's photography.)

3) Modern Family. i'm way behind on episodes this season, but i watched one last night—when Manny has to sell wrapping paper and Claire is trying to get the stop sign and Mitchell conquers his need to clean, much to Cam's dismay—on my iPad after i got into bed. even though i was half-asleep, i couldn't stop laughing. that show is consistently hilarious. 

4)  my gram. she turns eighty-six on Sunday. i've been thinking a lot lately—even more than usual—about how important she's been in my life. she was always there for me when i really needed her (when my mom was in the hospital for brain surgery and when i had a job but no apartment right after college) and she's always made me feel special and so loved. and she always had a box of my favorite Entenmann's donuts when i came to visit. best. Gram. ever.

5) my son. Michael had to work last night from midnight until eight o'clock this morning. i was asleep when he left, but i don't think it was too much later when i heard Matty stirring via the baby monitor. yes! i tiptoed to his room, gently plucked him from his crib and he kept me company the rest of the night. i didn't see him much yesterday; we needed the cuddle time. it was perfection.

happy weekend, friends!

mbm  

peanut butter and red wine

sad little fridge.

that's what i had for dinner tonight. last night it was the stale bits left in a bag of whole grain Stacy's pita chips. why? because that's pretty much all we have in the house. this morning i was starving—likely due to pita crumb dinner of previous night—and made myself a packet of instant oatmeal i found in the cabinet. tasted like cardboard. realized packets were from last winter.

we are hurtin' for groceries and i'm not sure why we don't have them, other than: who has time to shop for groceries? it's on my to-do list for this weekend. still, it's a little ridiculous for two grown adults to live this way, isn't it? are we the only ones who occasionally, seemingly suddenly, find ourselves with nothing edible in the house? (you would think this would propel us to just go and get groceries right now, especially considering we can see the A&P from our window. but...alas. peanut butter and wine.)

for the record, Matty is eating better than any of us. we are all stocked up on his sustenance—jars of Earth's Best baby food and cans of Enfamil Premium. he's set.

come to think of it, i could have opted for a nice pureed pear or apple-apricot blend tonight instead of my Smart Balance Chunky and glass of pinot noir. ah, well. there's always tomorrow....

mbm

i ♥ words

© mbm october 2010

i spent a large amount of time today researching quotes for a project at work and came  across a few too good not to share:

“Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get.”

—H. Jackson Browne, Jr.

“So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.”

—Dr. Seuss

“Give advice; if people don't listen, let adversity teach them.” 

—Ethiopian proverb

“No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater...The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.”

—Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby

“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”

—Toni Morrison

“Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past.”

—Anne Lamott

mbm

the forgotten

at the risk of turning this blog into A) an abridged version of I Don't Know How She Does It; or 2) something all about motherhood, i have to—once again—share a passage from the aforementioned novel. i am not exaggerating when i tell you that whatever is on my brain when i go to sleep at night appears in a chapter or passage i read the next morning on my commute.

for example: last night i was thinking about how no one ever tells me i'm a good mother. it's not that i need or expect to hear it. and i probably wouldn't even notice, but everyone—family, friends, strangers—tells my husband what an amazing dad he is. i happen to agree with them. it's part of the reason i married him—i knew he was cut-out for fatherhood. 

but after a while, a gal—being indisputably new at the mama thing, no matter how natural it feels to her—starts to wonder, well, what about me? you know, me—the one who carried that beautiful, healthy baby in her belly for nine months and endured several hours of brain-numbing, toe-curling, are-you-fucking-kidding-me pain while delivering that precious pumpkin into the world? the one who was solely responsible for feeding the hungry child for the first three months of his life, wincing through cracked nipples and engorged breasts to make sure his belly was full? the one who—just when she had figured out this motherhood thing and was officially, without-a-doubt, ass-over-teakettle in love—had to go back to work, spending approximately eleven hours of every weekday away from her little peanut? the one who, to compensate, gets up early with him every morning, feeds him, changes him, plays with him, gets ready for work while entertaining him—and, at night, gets him ready for bed, sings to him, reads to him, glides with him, and goes to sleep herself only so deeply because every atom in her body is on standby should the smallest peep be heard on the baby monitor....? you know, that tired-looking  creature over there with her underpants on inside out and her hair in a ponytail for the eighty-third day in a row and the smudge of baby poo on her forearm. me. what about me?

lest you come to the conclusion that i'm all sour grapes, i think about this a very small fraction of the time. it feels odd to want appreciation for something that i willingly chose for myself and from which i get such joy. but, i'm human. and last night it was on my mind. so you can imagine, again, my urge to scream, "I KNOW!" at my book on the train this morning when i read this:

"men can only be better fathers than their fathers. simply by knowing how to change a nappy or figuring out which hole you stick the bottle in — these things mark them out as more capable parents than any previous generation. but women can only be worse mothers than our mothers, and this rankles because we are working so very very hard and we are doomed to fail."

mbm

don't do me any favors

i'm sorry for the endless pull-quotes from the book i'm reading now, but so much of it rings true to exactly what and where my life is right now. i recently had to figure out how to attend a rehearsal dinner with my husband next Thursday in Philadelphia (he's in the wedding) while not missing a day of work (i have zero, absolutely zilch, time off left because i was forced to use all of my vacation on my maternity leave and it won't be replenished until our new fiscal year begins in April). it was a bit of a process and now my brain keeps getting stuck on how unfair it is that i started a family—a perfectly normal, commonplace, acceptable thing, no?—and, as a result, are now subject to anxiety attacks about needing a day off just to attend a wedding with my husband because i went ahead and opted to stay home with my newborn for the first precious, delicate three months of his life. to so this quote made me want to scream "YES!" this morning on the PATH when i read it....

"the thing is, kate, they treat us as though they're doing us a great favor by letting us work after we've had a child. and the price we pay for that favor is not making a fuss, not letting on how life can never be the same for us again. but always remember it's us who are doing them a favor. we're perpetuating the human race, and there's nothing more important than that." 

—I Don't Know How She Does It

mbm 

i am...

disaster of a desk

...the first one at the office today. this has not happened since before Matty was born and i just wanted to commemorate the occasion. may not happen again, ever. of course i'm using my 'bonus' time productively, updating my blog. but neveryoumind....


mbm

a different kind of blue

taken an hour ago when i went out to get lunch. not photoshopped. gorgeous day. if any of you are reading this and are not confined to or required to stay in an office, get your butt outside now! enjoy this day for those of us who can't!

mbm 

"when god created mothers" by erma bombeck

just saw this for the first time. i had to post it—for all the mothers i know, and all the people i know who have mothers. 

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts—all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands.... no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

"One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

"God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."

"I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

"But tough!" said God excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure."

"Can it think?"

"Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

"There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."

"It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."

"What's it for?"

"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."

"You are a genius, " said the angel.

The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there.”

mbm

sunday night blues

sometimes it takes all all my willpower not to wake him up.

last night was the first Sunday night in years that i felt blue. i used to get the SNBs maybe nine or 10 years ago when my life was, generally speaking, a disaster. i felt out of place at my job, my boyfriend (now husband) worked hours opposite from mine all week and i was in my mid-twenties. enough said.  

last night the blues hit me as i was putting Matty in his PJs. we'd just gotten home from a fun, busy weekend—part of the time spent at his grammie and grandpa's and part of the time spent visiting family in New Jersey. my parents dropped us off at home and i gave him a bath and as i was putting him in his cozy feetsie pajamas, i found myself not wanting to put him to bed, though the kid was desperate for sleep.

our quality time together goes so quickly. i'm so grateful for the time that we have and i want to cherish every moment of it. (a work friend told me earlier that an acquaintance of hers from back home experienced an unthinkable tragedy over the weekend—this woman and her husband had gone to a wedding and left their two-year-old twin boys with her husband's parents overnight. the parents woke up to find one of the boys was dead, no discernible cause. i can't even. i wanted to throw up when i heard it. i can't accept that these things happen. i'm sorry for sharing, but it's a horrible reminder to treasure the time we do have.)

anyway. i've been thinking a lot about quality time lately. my husband (previously boyfriend) and i still work opposite hours and i'd be lying if i said it wasn't a challenge. it has its benefits (he gets to be with Matty three days a week, whereby alleviating the need for daycare and also providing Matty will precious daddy-time most kids don't get) but we went from oodles of family time (when i was on maternity leave) to hardly any at all. and it sorta hurts. 

i know we're not the only ones. i was at a baby shower yesterday and talking to my cousin's wife—they had a baby five months before Matty was born—about trying to get out the door in the morning (something always goes wrong, we agreed) and how evenings are tough when someone has to work late and that it's not easy trying to navigate the transition from twosome to threesome. a friend of mine is in a similar situation as i am—new baby, short on quality family time, feeling the frustration.

i know the lesson here is to make the most of the time you do have (see above story about that poor little boy) because it does no good to look at what you don't. but that's where i'm stuck right now. it's an ironic sort of feeling—just like the Sunday night blues. you feel sad because something good is ending, rather than happy that you had such a good time.

is that just human nature, or do we all need a swift kick in the pants?

mbm

cheatin' hearts

"any woman with a baby has committed a kind of adultery already, i think. the new love in the nest is so voracious that all the old one can do is wait patiently, hoping for any crumbs the intruder does not consume in its cuckoo greed."

from I Don't Know How She Does It*, by Allison Pearson

*i love this book. i read it several years ago, before i was married with a child. i love it so much more now.

mbm

five-thing fridays

i have a vague recollection of doing this a few years ago; forget how long it lasted or why i stopped. but i'm feeling the urge again to jot down the things i'm thankful for. so, each Friday, i'm going to write about five things i'm thankful for. (full-disclosure—i was going to call this Thankful Thursdays, but i got too busy yesterday and forgot! typical.)

anywho. this week i am thankful for:

1) autumn weather, finally! i love chunky sweaters and down vests and wearing socks and boots and sipping hot apple cider and the way the air smells and waking up before the sun rises and i honestly, truly, for-some-reason-i-don't-understand, fall madly in love all over again with New York City this time of year. there is nothing wrong with autumn. 

2) old friends. the beauty of having long friendships is that you always come back together again. you start out having everything in common and then maybe you drift down opposite forks in the road, maybe it lasts a few months or a few years. but then—wham! you find yourselves having similar issues or similar life changes at exactly the same time and oh—is there anything more comforting than venting to someone who not only knows you, but understands exactly what you're going through? i say: no.

3) Starbucks Salted Caramel Mocha. on the recommendation of a friend from work, i tried this a few weeks ago. it was warm that day, so i went for the Frappucino version. oh. my. god. i have since officially named this my One Weekend Indulgence. i'm looking forward to trying the hot version tomorrow, since the weather will be perfectly cool and autumny and i will likely be in need of a sugar rush something to warm my bones.

4) light bulb moments. i've had a few of those this week. it's just nice to actually get things somteimes. god knows it happens so rarely to me...!

5) my son. (note: he will appear here every week, obvi.) he slept with us last night because his poor gums were hurting and how can you deny the little guy comfort that only comes from cuddling with mama? anyway, he and i woke up this morning and i had him in my arms, en route to the kitchen to warm up his bottle, when i stopped to look in the mirror above my dresser. i was observing my matted hair and the mascara i'd neglected to remove last night, which was now smudged, raccoon-style, beneath my eyes when i noticed Matty's face. he was grinning at my reflection like a Charlie Brown character (you know, mouth in the shape of a "D" on its side?). i wish i could have taken a picture. it was one of the sweetest, funniest sights i've ever seen. talk about ways to get your day off to a great start...

happy weekend, friends!

mbm   

helpless

had a therapy session this week, for the first time in quite a while. of course the ol' brain is going now and i'm thinking... the concept of detaching with love is so hard to master. for me, anyway.

how do you do it? when you care about someone—someone you know is making disastrous choices or is stuck in a rut or not learning lessons from the past—how do you not want to help? i suppose there's not much you can do about wanting to help. that's human nature, for anyone with a pulse (one would hope). detaching with love is more about overcoming the impulse to advise, support, impart wisdom, etc., because most times, the person you care about ain't buyin'. he or she cannot and will not accept anything positive you're offering.

the key is, i guess, to look the other way as they spiral downward, or dig deeper into their hole, or hit rock bottom—to take a deep breath, assume they'll figure it out, remind yourself that you can only control yourself...all the while trying to maintain your own buoyancy.

tricky stuff.

mbm

enough!

i had a mini epiphany this afternoon when i went out to run some errands during my lunch. more about that in a second.

first—i just saw the news that Jessica Simpson is pregnant. that's great, i suppose, it doesn't really matter to me one way or another. but what outraged me (though why am i surprised?) is the cover line on the bottom of the magazine. take a look:

in case you missed it: "Who Else is Pregnant—and Who's Just Fat!" 

WHY?

why are we like this? when did it become cool to be cruel? yes, it's a trashy celeb magazine, but think of all the young girls who will either read this magazine or see the cover in line at the grocery store while shopping with mom and either A) get the idea that judging other girls for their weight is normal or 2) feel ashamed because they believe themselves to be among the 'fat' group?

oh, this just makes me insane. INSANE.

back to my epiphany, which is related to this insanity.

i wore a dress today, instead of my usual jeans, because i had a meeting this morning (which promptly got cancelled when i arrived at the office, per the usual). i wore flats for the commute and put on my heels when i got here. i put the flats back on for my errand-running, since i had to walk more than a few blocks and why chance breaking my ankle when i don't have to, right?

anyway, while out and about, i caught several full-length glimpses of my reflection in various store windows and found myself thinking, "dumb Irish legs!" (wearing flats always accentuates my lack of delicate ankles and the sturdiness of my calves.) but after maybe the second or third time i cursed the sole downside of my heritage, i thought, "wait a second. who gives a shit?"

i realized i tend to judge myself so harshly not because i am really all that unhappy with what i see, but because i assume others are judging me, and if i can judge myself first and with greater intensity, their judgments can't me.

here's my lightbulb moment: if anyone is looking at my legs and thinking "ew" or "poor girl" or "wear pants, woman, for chrissakes!" they really need to get a life. how sad for them if that's where their mental energy is going, you know what i mean? and, on that same note, if they're the kind of individual to engage in such absurd criticism, their opinion is meaningless to me anyway!

my legs are awesome! they've served me well for over three decades. they got me through gymnastic recitals and musical productions and long walks with my dog, through 5K races and crowded city streets and a choreographed first dance at my wedding, they safely carried me through nine months of pregnancy, including blizzards and so many subway staircases,  and they will certainly serve me well once Matty starts trying out his own two legs. 

what is there possibly to hate?!

i can't change the perspective of the shallow jerks who choose story ideas and coverlines for national magazines. and i know i can't tell every young girl in the world not to fall for the petty crap said magazines (and television shows and countless other sources) peddle with seemingly no conscience or concern for society.

but, hey, at least i changed my perspective today. gotta start somewhere.

mbm

both worlds

i went out for drinks (and, inevitably, some awesomely greasy food) with some co-workers last night. i believe this is the first time i have gone out after work with more than one friend since—i don't even know. much longer than six months.

Michael had Matty in Brooklyn, so i knew he was in good hands. and there i was, sitting on a stool at The Smith, sipping delicious Malbec, talking about a variety of funny things with people i see every day but never seem to get sick of, and i felt...giddy. 

more importantly, i felt giddy without feeling guilty. life has been a tad stressful lately, and while i bemoan daily the lack of time i get to spend with my son, i know—especially right now—i need to stay connected to me. i can do that in a variety of ways (writing, a long walk, baking, a long hot bath) and letting my shoulders relax and the Malbec do its thing and laughing for a few hours in the middle of a tough week happens to be one of them.

of course, whereas i used to stay out later than advisable, when i realized last night that it was "already" nine o'clock, my sole mission was to get home. and when i arrived, i was thrilled to find Matty awake in his crib. he smiled when he saw me and i scooped him up and we rocked in the glider until he drifted off to sleep.

that was my Wednesday night. they have a term for it: the best of both worlds.

mbm 

when it don't come easy

this song came on while my iPhone was shuffling during my commute this morning. Patti Griffin. love it, so much. 

i don't know nothing except change will come

year after year what we do is undone

time keeps moving from a crawl to a run

i wonder if we're gonna ever get home

you're out there walking down a highway

and all of the signs got blown away

sometimes you wonder if you're walking in the wrong direction

but if you break down

ill drive out and find you

if you forget my love

i'll try to remind you

and stay by you when it don't come easy...

mbm

what a circus

"we're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! that alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. we are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing."

- Chuck Bukowski, The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors have Taken Over the Ship 

(via a friend's status on facebook) 

mbm

just let it go...

"the angry people are those people who are most afraid."

- dr. robert anthony

mbm

these obstacles were my life

© mbm, october 2, 2010

happiness is a journey, not a destination. for a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. but there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. at last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. this perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. happiness is the way. so treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one. -souza 

mbm

write or wrong?

it's been brought to my attention that writing is perceived as an inferior form of communication—contemptuous, even. i find this both unfair and flat-out wrong.

i read an article in Real Simple Family magazine last month about extroverts versus introverts. contrary to what i (and probably many others) tend to assume, this is not the same thing as comparing outgoing people and shy people. extroverts are simply able to recharge, process things and gather their thoughts best when there are lots of people around. introverts need time alone to accomplish the same. it's true that most extroverts are outgoing and most introverts are shy. but it's more about the inner self than the outer self.

i feel the same way about writers versus talkers. there are some of us out there who are able to express themselves more accurately and gracefully with either a pen and paper or a keyboard and a screen. there are an equal number (or perhaps more) who prefer to talk it out, face to face or on the phone. talkers believe writers are hiding, somehow—or that we think we're superior—but that couldn't be farther from the truth. i know that when i write, i am more honest with my thoughts, and also more sensitive. i can think things through and consider what i want to say, rather than blurting and sputtering things i might regret.

i grew up with no siblings to squabble with, and got along well with my parents, so there wasn't a lot of conflict-resolution necessary. i was an agreeable kid with a natural talent for writing. i kept a diary from a young age, and that's how i worked out my emotions about things. it's still how i work out my emotions about things. perhaps i'm just an old soul. back in Jane Austen's day, everyone communicated via letters. maybe i'm living in the wrong era.

but i still don't think there's anything wrong with doing what works best for me. if it helps me communicate more effectively, why does it matter? i would never force someone who hates writing to write out their thoughts instead of talking. why force someone like me, who—especially in delicate situations—prefers to write, talk instead?    

believe me, there are plenty of times when i wish i was better at talking. my early dating years probably would have been far less traumatic (and more successful) if i was. but i'm not. i've accepted that. and i feel blessed that i love to write, that i'm pretty good at it on most days and that i've been able to make a living from doing it.

it takes all kinds to keep life interesting. if everyone was a writer, the world would be silent. if everyone was a talker, no one would listen. we need each other to keep this planet balanced. so can't we just all get along?

mbm

life is beautiful

especially at seven in the morning in the middle of October, just as the sun is coming up over the Hudson River. 

© mbm, october 18, 2011

mbm

authenticity

where i work, the adjective "authentic" is used a lot—in terms of style, in terms of putting looks together in an organic way. it's just one of our buzz words, and i incorporate it often in my copy. but lately i'm thinking about the word in terms of me. tonight i'm catching up on my Lifeclass episodes from the second half of last week and something Oprah just said struck me:

"it doesn't have to look like what everybody else thinks it should look like. it doesn't have to be what everybody else thinks it should be. it is an exciting notion to be able to change your perception and see things differently so that you begin to see exactly who you really are, not playing the role that the rest of the world requires of you."

i really believe this is something people don't think about enough. are you living authentically? are you living your life in a way that feels true to you, that feels genuine, that really fulfills you? or are you itchy, uncomfortable, unhappy—are you holding your breath?

think about it. we all deserve to live honestly. 

mbm

"words to live by"

sometimes—especially when the chips are down—it's hard to hold onto one's perspective, to avoid getting tangled up in others' negativity and unhappiness. but a friend posted something on my Facebook wall last night that was perfectly timed and much needed. just thought i'd share it here, because who doesn't need to be reminded of this from time to time?

mbm

repugnant

i remember some people tsk-tsking when i was pregnant and espoused the European philosophy about drinking wine (i.e. it's fine, within reason). everyone's entitled to his or her own opinion, but as far as i'm concerned, what baby Lisa's mom did the night she disappeared is far worse. a snippet from her latest revelation:

"I had several glasses of wine," Bradley told PEOPLE. More than five? "Probably." Asked if she was concerned she might be drunk with her infant daughter inside, Bradley replied, "She was sleeping. I don't have a problem with me having adult time."

seriously? adult time? that kind of adult time is fine if your child is being watched by someone else while you drink yourself into a blackout. it's not okay if your child's well-being is solely in your hands.

what makes me the most sick about this latest news is how many couples are out there who want to get pregnant but can't, or who are desperate to be parents but are unable afford the adoption process. meanwhile, people like this, who are lucky enough to become parents, are so thoughtless with their babies. and then so arrogant about their horrible lack of judgment.  

i can't even.

mbm

what do you think it means?

matty and i went to PA this weekend and, en route, not far from my parents', we passed a church with one of those marquee signs out front. it read:

GOD HAS A BIG ERASER.

at first glance it seems like a good thing, right? like you can mess up and god will forgive you.

but it can also be interpreted in a completely different way—as in, god has a big eraser and he's not afraid to use it...on you.

           

struck me as funny; is it reassuring or ominous? but then that ambiguity pretty much sums up organized religion in general, doesn't it?

mbm

if only

"There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you."

                                                                                                                                  — Atticus Finch

mbm

grand

"i have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all i still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing."

—Agatha Christie

mbm

on moving on and letting go...

grrrrrr.

at the risk of sounding like an Oprahphile (though i 'spose we should call a spade a spade, huh?), her show and webcast Tuesday night were awesome. they were all about anger—what causes it, what you think it's about versus what it's really about, how to really access it and, finally, how to let it go. and, of course, the relief that comes from engaging in that process.

it got me thinking about two situations in my life that i could stand to work on letting go.

the first

i've written here before about a friend who, essentially, broke up with me. it's been more than a year now and i'm still not over it. i mean, i'm not upset on a daily basis, and when i really think about it i can't say my life is lacking without the friendship—because it wasn't, as it turned out, a true friendship. it was a conditional friendship, which to me is an oxy moron.

anyway, this person got married last summer, and though we hadn't talked in months, i sent a note letting her know i was thinking about her and wished her well and that i hoped we could, at the very least, stay in touch occasionally. i have a baby now, she has a husband—it's nice to know what's going on in the lives of people you care about, especially at this stage when big changes are pretty common.

she didn't respond; i wasn't really surprised, and i was still glad that i wrote to her. anytime i found myself wondering why things had gone the way they had, or feeling annoyed that she hadn't even bothered to respond with a quick "thanks, how are you?" i reminded myself that the friendship was never what i thought it was, so it wasn't really a loss in the first place.

then, earlier this week, i found out that my mother-in-law ran into this friend on Sunday in Brooklyn. they met during my wedding (this friend was one of my bridesmaids) and it was this friend who yelled, "Maria!" in the restaurant and ran up to my mother-in-law, hugged her, said she'd seen pictures of Matthew on Michael's Facebook page, told her husband, "this is Mike's mom!"

when i heard this, i felt a flash of anger. she can act so chummy with my mother-in-law, as if nothing happened, yet she can't respond to my e-mail, can't send a simple note congratulating me on having a baby? i said as much to Michael and he said, "why would she? it's over."

my immediate response was a huffy, "you're such a guy." 

but i later realized that he's right. this friend and i both said our piece last year, and just because it felt right to me to wish her a happy wedding over the summer, it doesn't mean she 1) feels the same way; or 2) owes me anything in return. it's over. our connection served its purpose, our differences got in the way, and now—time to move on.

the second

the other situation that bugs me more than it should—and this one is, granted, a little embarrassing—concerns another blog. there's a girl, four or five years younger than me, who writes for Parenting.com. she's a single mom and that's her hook. her pregnancy was unplanned, the father skipped town and she's raising her son solo. from this she has blogged—for a paycheck—at both Glamour.com and now at Parenting's website. she also...wrote a book. [deep breath, Megs.]

i first came upon her blog at Glamour and i honestly can't tell you why i've kept reading. she's not a horrible writer, but her blogs often have obvious grammatical mistakes and her topic choices sometimes make me want to bang my head on my desk (like a few weeks ago when she got all pissed off that on Grey's Anatomy, Meredith mentioned wanting to be a stay-at-home-mom and make jam. "Meredith Grey doesn't know what being a single mother is really like!" she wrote "there is no jam-making!" pardon my language here, but: oh come the fuck on.) 

she writes repeatedly about how her now four-year-old child's father chooses not to be in his life and that she does everything alone. it's not an easy job, god knows, and it sucks that the dad is a deadbeat. but dear god. enough is enough. i really want to say, "listen, honey. you chose to have a baby in your twenties. you have a supportive extended family, you have a roof over your head, you get to write blogs for a living and you published a freaking  book! things have turned out okay for you. hand the violin to someone else."

right about now you're thinking, "uh, Megs? maybe you should get a hobby? a life? perhaps stop reading this blog that drives you so batty?" you're exactly right.

the truth is, i'm quite jealous of this person. i get so worked up when people make money off their "tough" life situations, especially when they created the situations themselves and especially when they make money writing about said situations. and if you're lucky enough to get paid to write a blog, can't you at least proofread before you publish? 

(note: i am well aware that my posts are hardly typo-free; but if i were getting paid to write here, you can bet your tush my copy would be scrubbed clean.)

i hit rock bottom a couple days days ago, when her entry had two major errors (she wrote "here's" instead of "hears" and "LSTATs" instead of "LSATs") and i so badly wanted to comment and say something smart-ass. that's when i knew i really needed to stop. i realized that i keep reading this girl's blog just so i can feed my animosity. somehow, picking on her errors and choice of subject matter make me feel "better." but not really.

i'm not into envy. it's a waste of time and energy. the precious minutes i waste thinking, "she can't even spell-check! how does she have a contract?" would be far better spent focusing on my own projects. it's all i have control over anyway.

the end

so. two sources of senseless angst crossed off my List of Things to Worry About. thanks, Oprah. i had to DVR last night's Lifeclass, but look forward to even more enlightenment very soon.

mbm