The red mother

November 24, 2008 | Filed under: You've Got Guests

I’m still away but I have a little cache of stories almost filled to the brim and almost ready to share with the world. Lot’s of swearing and random flights up and down the Atlantic and a Buddhist funeral and cupcakes! Meanwhile continue to enjoy these lovely ladies and I will be back with really funny stories about how many grey goose martinis is too many grey goose martinis. Hint: When everything is in bokeh. 

Hello, dear readers.  I’m Slynnro, from the delightfully entertaining blog, Slynnro, where I write about my husband, my love of J. Crew, and my disdain for pretty much everything else.  Obviously, that last one is why Heather and I are perfect for each other as friends.  I’ve only written one guest post before, but it seems par for the course is to write some lengthy diatribe on how great the author of the blog for which you are guest posting for is, what a great friend!  What a fantastic writer!  I thought about that for about a half a second or so, and then it occurred to me!  This isn’t my blog!  I can write shit on here I can’t write on my own blog!  And so it came to be that I wrote a post about my mother and my mother in law, and what joys they are in my life.

 

In lieu of gushing about how great Heather is for a full page, I will say this instead- she is a fantastic person to call with your complaints.  I called her several times this past month, prior to the election, to vent about my red state.  Or more particularly, by Red Mother.  The most memorable call to Heather was the one that followed the particular conversation I am about to relay to you.

 

As just a bit of background information, my mother is a lifelong Republican, Rush Limbaugh’s Number One Fan!  A raging Dittohead!  Bill O’Reilly devotee!  You get the idea.

 

On October 30:

 

Mother:  So, I just wanted to call you and talk about something I saw on the news (I think it’s safe to assume it was Fox News).  Have you voted yet?

 

Slynnro:  Yes, I have, so if this is about the election, or Obama or Sarah Palin or John McCain, you can stop.

 

Mother:  Well, there’s something you need to know….(proceeds to tell me something I don’t actually need to know, likely based entirely in mistruths from the mouths of lunatics).

 

Slynnro:  Mom, I’m not voting for McCain.  Or Sarah Palin.  She’s crazy.  And I would never vote for an Evangelical Christian, so drop it.

 

Mother:  But you’d vote for a Muslim?

 

Slynnro:  A:  He’s not a Muslim.  B:  Yes, I would vote for a Muslim.

 

Mother:  But you wouldn’t vote for a Christian?

Slynnro:  Not what I said, EVANGELICAL Christian.  Their religious beliefs affect their policy too much, and I’m pro-choice.  I would befriend an Evangelical.  I would not vote for them.

 

Mother:  Would you vote for an atheist?

Slynnro:  Considering I married one, yes, I would vote for an atheist.

 

Mother:  But without god in their lives, atheists are completely lacking in moral code!  How will they know what to do?  (Interesting point:  My parents have never gone to church.)

 

Slynnro:  So, what you are saying is that my husband doesn’t have a moral code?  He’s likely to maybe go on a killing rampage because WHY THE HELL NOT?

 

Mother:  I just don’t know.  Maybe. 

 

Because marrying her daughter isn’t enough to get my husband the benefit of the doubt about this whole “not being a murderer” thing.  And that is how I learned that apparently my husband has murderous potential and the only reason my mother isn’t a murderer is her divine code of ethics.  Because those are the conclusions her logic lends itself to.

 

And then there is my mother-in-law.  Last year, my husband and myself were planning on spending Thanksgiving day with my family.  This is because we spent a week on vacation with his family during the Christmas prior.  Because our families live miles apart, we were planning on spending the Friday after Turkey Day with his parents.  BUT THAT IS NOT ENOUGH FOR MIL! NO!  SHE MUST HAVE HER PRECIOUS BABY! She decided to take it upon herself to invite my family to her house for Thanksgiving without telling me first, and then proceeded to dis-invite my entire family after I suggested that perhaps in the future she should tell me before doing such a thing.  She took it a bitchy step further by refusing to acknowledge me when we did come over on Friday.  But over the course of the year, while lacking any apologies, the residual anger over the situation seemed to resolve.

 

So, this year, the plan was for us to spend Thanksgiving Day with them and Friday with my parents.  (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT MARRY ANYONE WHO’S PARENTS LIVE WHERE YOUR PARENTS LIVE)  One would think that after the debacle that was Thanksgiving 2007 that everyone would try their hardest to smooth things over. But, au contraire, foolish married couple!  Because the in-laws recently called and told us that they instead got tickets to a football game, so we were out of luck for Thanksgiving dinner and should “probably make other plans.”

 

So between these two things, I am just dying to go home for the holidays.  And how about you?  What is the most ridiculous shit your family has pulled in relation to Turkeys and Baby Jesus?  I am dying for a soul to commiserate with.

 

 

Oh, for the love of guest blogging

November 23, 2008 | Filed under: You've Got Guests

I’m still away but I have a little cache of stories almost filled to the brim and almost ready to share with the world. Lot’s of swearing and random flights up and down the Atlantic and a Buddhist funeral and cupcakes! Meanwhile continue to enjoy these lovely ladies and I will be back with really funny stories about how many grey goose martinis is too many grey goose martinis. Hint: When everything is in bokeh. 

“Is Heather going to make me write that famous quote thing before my guest post? Because I’m pretty sure there has never been anything famous said that can relate to my inane drivel.”  ~Kristin Johnson

Guest posting. I always agree to do it and then want to punch myself in the face after agreeing to be so stupid. HOW CAN I BE SO STUPID, INTERNET? HOW? I have nothing to say on most days. Most days I just talk about wine and Bacon and my cats and unemployment. And then I went and got myself job. So as boring as being unemployed is, at least you can share with the world daily how you are sinking lower and lower on the civilization scale and OHMYGOD! I left the house without pants! (I know you’re just dying to click over to my site. You’d think I worked in marketing or something with these mad pimping skills!)

 

So yeah, every time I’m asked to guest post, I agree. Because I am nice and what an honor, yada, yada, yada and Heather B. is like the most famous person I’ve ever guest posted for! YAY?

 

And let’s be honest, shall we? How many of you read guest posts? I for one, as a person who is perpetually behind on her Google Reader, see a guest post come up and am all “whew, I don’t need to read that.” (I know. I’m an asshole. You’re free to judge.)

 

Sometimes I do read guest posts. One time I read this guest post over at Angella’s site. It was written by some other Canadian named Ali, who had a bunch of kids and clearly needed therapy. I clicked over to her site, on a whim, and she happened to write about her love of the TV show Big Brother and needing a roommate for BlogHer. And my brain is all “YOU TOO!” So I commented on a complete stranger’s blog “ME TOO! I need a roommate too! And Big Brother RULES!”  And ever since then, we’ve become best friends and even shared a bed at BlogHer!

 

Some of my best material has been written in guest posts. I once write a piece about what it would be like if I was a contestant on all the trashy reality shows that I watch. (Think The Bachelor and anything VH1 airs.) It was hilarious! A stroke of genius! And I didn’t even post it on my own site. I AM NOTHING IF NOT A GIVER!

 

Then I wrote what I thought was this hilarious piece on how as a 30-year old person, I had an “accident” when Aunt Flo came to town and don’t you remember those Say Anything letters in YM? Apparently people didn’t think it was as funny as I did. They just thought I was gross. Which, well I am.

 

(This is starting to feel very stream of consciousness-ish. Like I’m just yelling things out about guest blogging like Gilbert Gottfried or something.)

 

And what is the point of this post? There is no point. Except to say that you should all read the guest posts that pop up in your feed reader. Because usually the blogger hand-picks the people they want most to share their voice online. And by hand-pick, I mean draw names out of a hat. WITH THEIR HAND.

 

So read guest posts! And comment! And say nice things. Because you should be nice to guests. My mom said. And that is what I am. I am a guest here in Casa No Pasa Nada, or Casa Claro Que Si or whatever Spanish phrase it is. Do it for Heather, even if she left no wine while she went away. I don’t want her to think I’m a bad blog-guest, what with the wet towels and Kit Kat wrappers strewn about.

Baby boy

November 21, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum

“Babies are such a nice way to start people.”  ~Don Herrold

I took this photo a week ago when I went to see Amy for the first time since Ezra’s birth. I kept looking at her and looking at him and saying, “Dude, you had a BABY” and she said, “Dude, I KNOW”. I spent the rest of the evening being baffled. I’m posting this now because it’s a mediocre photo of a beautiful baby that really doesn’t capture just how lovely he is. I went back and forth between I want one! and My God these fuckers are boring. But they’re the snuggliest little creatures in the world. There’s not much more to say other than there’s really nothing in this world like a fresh person. They’re still young and malleable and god willing, with the proper tutelage, they won’t turn into assholes. But judging by Ezra’s parents, I can assure you that he will not.

Guests in the time of Florida: Sarah Nielson

November 20, 2008 | Filed under: You've Got Guests

I’m currently sitting in a room with a balcony over looking PALM TREES. PALM TREES, people. Not half dead trees with the entire contents of their branches freezing to the ground but trees with leaves and sunshine. Because I am away and enjoying myself/working, I’ve commissioned a few of my favorite ladies to write Odes to Moi for the next few days. Actually I asked them all to guest post, they said yes and I did a fist pump and said “SUCKERS!”. Really, all of the women who will be guest posting for me have brought a little something special to my life. Friends who know that you’re a little bit drunk and a lot a bit crazy 99% of the time are the kind of friends that you want to keep forever. I really adore them and I hope you do too. If not, I’ll be back on Tuesday with a special post with a title in all caps and an explicative.

This first post is from Sarah Nielson. My twin, my buddy, my girl who appreciates Yellow Tail just as much as I do.

“Four be the things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.”  Dorothy Parker

I’m an only girl in a family of boys.  I’m a Democrat in a family of Republicans.  I’m a voracious reader in a family of non-readers.  I’m an avid drinker (read: drunk, also read: lush) in a family who doesn’t drink.

I love and adore my family—especially close to gift giving holidays—but I don’t feel like I fit in.  When I started blogging a few years ago I finally felt like I fit in.  Only the people I fit in with were complete strangers.

Enter Heather B.

The first comment she ever left on my blog was as memorable as she is:

No, I do not know you. But anyone who immediately sheds their pants when entering their home and has a website powered by Yellow Tail Shiraz is someone that I must be friends with. Because that is totally my life right there, in all its drunk and pantsless glory.

After reading her bio I found she, too, is a lover of JD Salinger and wine.  I knew we’d be fantastic friends if we ever met.  Until she left this comment:

I will politely disagree: It is summer, which means that Shiraz is a little too warm for my tastes. A nice Riesling though would do well. Keep that in mind.

It was a rough couple of weeks, but we managed to pull through.  I’m a lucky girl to have Heather B. as an Internet friend, and if I play my cards right she’ll be my real friend soon.  She has promised to visit the land of milk and cookies this winter.  I’m thrilled to finally have a chance to meet my long lost pantless twin.  Though I’d like to make a very public threat that if I don’t meet her this year it’s over between the two of us.

I think the grapes and Salinger will completely understand.

Just People

November 19, 2008 | Filed under: La Madre, Whoa feelings

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”  ~Elizabeth Stone

There are two people in my life who I like to refer to as Dumb and Dumber. For awhile it was Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb until someone pointed out to me that their amount of stupidity, ignorance and overdramatic nature have thrust them into a category of Dumbness never seen before in life. So Dumb and Dumber it is.

The other day Dumb and Dumber pissed me off and became the bane of my existence as they are wont to do. They riled me up and made me feel poorly about myself and current lot in life thus sending me into a tailspin of weepiness and head banging against any and all hard surfaces. When I went to my mother - with a distraught look and furrowed brow and the remnants of tears in my eyes - she shrugged me off. And agreed with the naysayers at a time when I all I wanted was for her to be understanding and pat me on the back and I don’t know BE MATERNAL and she was anything but.

I walked into my office where she followed me and then tried to be maternal and it was too late and so she did the old bait and switch where she turned into my fucking boss then went back to being maternal and tried to tell me that the reason for my woe had something to do with my age and because I’m so YOUNG and so I told her to get out of my office and she tried to back track but I was too busy googling ‘dead bolts’ for my office door therefore distracted from my “boss’” mixed looks of death and remorse.

I was offended and had every right to be. I wanted for my mother to be understanding and helpful and instead of being soothing and drying off my tears (because, I’m 2.5 not 25) she made everything so much more worse. The one time that we’re actually in the office and I need for her to be my mommy she is the opposite. But let’s say if I wasn’t wearing a slip or she didn’t like my hair: FULL ON MOMMY-MODE. And the keeping track is becoming exhausting.

So exhausted was I and full of rage that I decided that since I’d rather have my wisdom teeth taken out without Novocain than spend holidays with coworkers I found less than stellar. I put her on that list and decided that instead of enjoying stuffing with my family I would rather order sushi and reorganize my Netflix Queue.

Petulance! That’ll show her!

I feel like the icing on the cake of punishment for not being maternal was by calling her out on it. And after that brief moment of satisfaction that often comes from being a straight up bitch to someone who is well aware that they were treading water in the deep end of wrong, well it passed.

She sent me a text hours later that said: “Now you know it all: There’s no tooth fairy, Easter bunny or Santa Claus and mothers aren’t perfect but we love you the moon and the stars.”

It erased the satisfaction knowing that my mother was upset for upsetting me when I wanted her to be my mother and she couldn’t be just my mother for five seconds.

On the way home that day, I spoke to my Aunt Rachel who told me a positively comical story of my mother’s reaction when Rachel told her that she had broken up with her long time boyfriend. It was a classic reaction from my mother who doesn’t always say the right thing at the right time and after the anger dissipates you always know that despite her lack of filter that she always means well. Rachel told me that I’m learning a very important lesson that parents aren’t perfect. Imagine that! Mothers who have produced fruit from their womb, who have nursed us back to health, more often than not have the perfect answer to most everything and know what their children want before they ask for it…they aren’t perfect. They make mistakes and piss off their children just as their children have pissed them off. They say the wrong things and make their adult first born child cry and feel shitty and sometimes they don’t think before they speak. They’re just people. The thing is that ‘it’ comes from this deep place of fear and hope and always feeling like their parenting abilities will never be perfect. A well of self doubt and questioning even at a time when one - a non parent of course - would like to believe that their parenting should be over. It never is. It’s that fear that makes me wonder why anyone would want to endure such pain that comes with having children of their own. Possibly because it’s this beautiful mix of the purest forms of joy and pain that anyone can experience but these parents of ours are just people coming face to face with the full force of these emotions reaching the tip of every nerve of their body.

They’re just people. The greatest people. Full of mistakes and never able to be perfect even though that’s always what they will try to do to make their children as happy as they possibly can. It’s moments like this when I wonder if I will ever be able to do it or want to do it. I just don’t know if my being as human and fallible as I am will ever be able to endure such torture. Though I guess, as people, all we can do is try.