ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘birthday’

I took that long walk today. The one that starts out on a wide gravel road then it gets smaller and smaller. It becomes nothing more than a space between trees. Dark and foreboding full of imagined snakes and real spiders, vine covered trees, and shadows. All the things that books and movie use to foreshadow doom. I was scared to walk there without you but it didn’t stop me.

I came to the train tracks, then a tunnel entrance covered with years worth of weeds. Honey suckle, poison ivy, and morning glories. Many years ago we decided it might be a metaphor for life. God, we were trashed that day! The vines were dormant and leafless for the winter but I knew they would be back in a few months and I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to cross them when they blossomed. I stood there until I felt I would loose my nerve, then I made myself continue on.

I pushed through brush, ducked under branches and crawled over fallen trees. My walk was coming to an end and each step was just a little slower than the last. Just past the sharp turn. I just had to make it past there.

I closed my eyes and stepped into the clearing. When I opened them it was like I remembered – but different. It wasn’t quite the same. I scanned the large gaping holes where men had gouged the gravel and sand from the earth. When they had taken everything they wanted they left it unattended, ugly and broken, alone to fend for itself. We loved that ugly place. We loved it because it was ours. No one else ever went there.

All these years later and the wounds were starting to heal. Grass and trees have grown. Sharp edges were softer. The water a little less stagnant. The light was filtered by the trees and the harshness was giving way to a aged softness. I wondered for a minute if it was a metaphor for life and I wasn’t even trashed.

No one but you and me would know why I went there. Most days I think we are the only ones that would even understand. Maybe the only people that would even care. I stayed for a long time but the time I spent didn’t make up for the time I had been away. When it was time for me to go I left behind my tears, markings from a paint stick, and a mostly full bottle of strawberry wine.

The walk back was shorter than I’d though it would be.

Wow, what a busy few weeks. My oldest is now less than a year away from being a teenager. Damn, they grow up fast. She is turning into such a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful young lady. I’m so proud of her.

Her dad bought her Green Day concert tickets for her birthday. She started screaming and hopping around. She’s so excited. We haven’t decided who’s going to take her yet. I think I’ll ask her uncle. He seemed as excited as she was about it – without as much hopping. He was more excited when she told him that an old guy liking Green Day didn’t make it any less cool. I had a few reservations about the concert but I guess 12 isn’t too young to get your first contact high. To be honest, I prefer her liking Green Day to some of the racist, misogynistic, redneck, or slutty airhead themed bands that are out there now. “Silence is your enemy” There’s nothing wrong with that message.

Next up MyHusband and I celebrated our Fritos and Mountain Dew anniversary. Damn, we’ve been together a really long time. I still remember the day we met like it was yesterday. I didn’t think we had anything in common and was sure we’d never hit off. Looking back I think that’s why we hit it off. Two very different types of people make for many opportunities to try different things. Plus he’s really awesome. That never hurts.

I spent most of today with Verizon guys in my backyard installing fiber optic cables. I’m use to being the only person, except the drunk old lady a few houses down, to be around during the day. All the excitement kinda aggravated me. Not being able to let the dogs out back aggravated me more. But the guys were very polite and didn’t mess up my trees too much so I shouldn’t complain. At least I managed to channel my aggravation into cleaning up the house so it all worked out.

I’m not sure if you guys are nerdy enough to understand why this is our Frito and Mountain Dew anniversary so I’ll add this video. He’s not a code monkey but this song always reminds me of him and how we met.

So what do you say MyHusband? We might not have everything but we’re doing alright, yes? Happy anniversary. Damn, I’m glad I didn’t fall asleep by 10pm last night like I threatened.

I’m writing another post about a birthday party. I didn’t start this blog to talk about going to birthday parties. But it seems that birthday parties are taking up a good deal of my time right now. Bonne Anniversaire! So be it. Who am I to judge? Yet, judge I will.

I didn’t like him when I saw him but that happens sometimes. Not very often but it does happen. I put a “watch him closely around the kids” note in the back of my head and went on with socializing. The kids and the instructor went into another room to play games and I slipped into the back to watch. I don’t think he knew I was there. It wasn’t long before the incident occurred.

The game was like tag. The instructor had a set of foam noodles like kids use to float in a pool. He chased the kids around. If he hit them with it they were out. Simple enough until one little boy, about 11, walked up to the instructor during a break. The instructor took the noodle and smacked him on the side of his head. It wasn’t a playful smack. The sound echoed off the walls and the little boy started to cry.

“I was trying to hit you on your head, not your face” he said.

I waited for him to ask him if he was okay. I expected him to tell him he was sorry but that didn’t happen. He hovered over the kid like the big tough guy he was and told him to stop being a drama queen. He said he had already told him he was sorry. When the boy didn’t stop crying he made him go sit out on the side. That’s when he noticed me off to the side watching.

I guess he wanted to teach him a lesson, make a man out of him, teach him to respect authority. The emotions and thoughts that went shooting through my brain were not fit for polite society. He was a bully. The worst kind of bully and I despised him. I knew I couldn’t do much harm to him but it didn’t stop me from wanting to. I pursed my lips squinted my eyes and made sure he knew exactly what I was thinking. Every bit of anger and outrage I could gather came shooting out of my eyes at him. He went back to the “game” and I went to the little boy. I don’t think he liked me questioning his authority. I didn’t care.

I knew it was for my benefit when the instructor reminded the boy that he had knocked another child into a heater a few days ago. He mentioned a few more things. They all sounded like normal kid things to me. I knew the instructor wanted me to know that the sweet little boy with dark thoughtful eyes and blond curls that danced on top of his head when he ran was a bad kid. The child deserved it. That was what he was trying to tell me by listing the childs faults in front of the class. I glanced at the instructor then turned my head to dismiss him. There was nothing he could say to make me see things any differently.

I asked the little boy if he was okay and looked at his ear where the bully had hit him. It was red and looked tender. He stopped crying and I asked if he wanted me to get him a tissue. He said no then wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. I leaned in close so no one would hear.

“I don’t care if you knocked someone into a heater. He shouldn’t have hit you like that. He should have said he was sorry. I know you’re a good kid…Aren’t you?” I looked at him quizzically.

He grinned a bad boy grin and nodded his head. I winked at him when the bully called him back over. If I had a son I’d want one just like him I thought. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for those “bad boys”. They’re the best. But I hate bullies. I really, really hate bullies.

“Hi Hon – Man with Jesus shirt and one with huntin’ shirt. I’m a little out of place here.”

I stood between two men. One had a “Jesus is my rock star” shirt and the other had a huntin’ shirt. I was wearing a teal shirt. It was just teal, dark teal, and it looked good with my eyes. I wasn’t advertising anything but pretty eyes. There’s no crime in that.

I backed out slowly and sat down alone. I had placed myself carefully in the back of the room near the door. I felt safe there. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I was in the mood to observe. More realistically, I was in the mood to judge. It didn’t take me long to start. I started with judging them; I ended with judging myself. Then I put Hayes Carll on repeat and texted observations to MyHusband. They weren’t very nice.

I watched as fat people gorged themselves with pizza that was covered in more meat than I’ve eaten in the last year. They offered me a slice. I thanked them, then politely declined. I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t tell them why. I didn’t feel the need to explain myself to a fat man wearing a US flag T-shirt. It was obvious those colors didn’t run, he had sausage grease on his double chin. I started to feel lonely. I started to wish I fit in. I wanted to be able to shove my beliefs away and pretend. Like I use to. I use to pretend all the time. It used to be easy. But now, I look at my children and I can’t. Or maybe, I won’t.

The racist comment came while the kids played musical chairs. I guess hip-hop wasn’t a good choice for music. I stopped myself from suggesting that Jesus loves both gangsters and rock stars. I considered explaining that the devil plays a fiddle when he’s looking for souls to steal. But that kind of talk could have gotten me into some serious trouble. I was in the mood to judge, not cause problems for my daughter. So I judged them silently and I judged them harshly. They deserved it.

I was happy when they ate the cake. Almost giddy as the presents were opened. My patience was wearing thin and my fight or flight response was kicking into overdrive. A woman handed out the goody bags and I was finally free. I had my daughter tell them thank you, and then we left. We walked slowly to the door then our pace picked up. By the time we made it to our car we were running and giggling. “Let’s go listen to some music.” I told her. She cheered.

I took the corner out of the parking lot with the mommy equivalent of “on two wheels” (just a little faster than necessary). Then we raced downtown. I sat down beside MyHusband and propped my feet up on an empty chair. We listened to the blues and we listened to a multi-racial group of teenage boys play “We’re not going to take” on their electric guitars.

“We’re not gonna take it anymooooore” my youngest sang.

“And don’t you forget it” I mouthed to her and smiled. She sat on my lap and she stuck her fist in the air as she sang. We drank some Hi-C punch and ate a few Oreo’s. Everything seemed just a little better. Then I went home and ate bacon. I’m not sure why I did that. Perhaps it was an inappropriate reaction to stress. I may have a bacon related eating disorder. Or maybe being surrounded by archaic belief systems forced me to re-evaluate my own. Either way, it was good. Very very good. I’d do it again, some day. It’s good to break through self-imposed boundaries. If you don’t, you’ll end up like the people you’re trying to get away from. I’ve come too far to end up like them.

I have now officially celebrated my most recent 29th birthday. I must have gotten the mourning over with beforehand because I had a nice day. I made a mix titled ‘I’m getting freakin’ old’ so I could play it over and over on my iPod and commiserate but it didn’t make me sad. It made me thankful that I’ve had so many good memories. I think that is proof that I am getting freakin’ old. There’s no other way to explain it. So here it is. My life in a small selection of song.

This is the first song I ever remember hearing. ‘Looking Out My Back Door’ My mom would play it, (on 8 track through speakers big enough to use as an end table) and we would sing it and dance around the kitchen. It’s the only song I have listened to in every stage of my life and one of the first songs I put on my iPod. This video makes me laugh. The couch, the hair, the posters. So many memories. I wonder if our parents realize how much they warped our minds in the 70’S.

My first record was ‘Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron’. My dad got it from a yard sale and gave it to me. I would play it over and over and shout out the lyrics while my dad pretended he was the Red Baron and I was Snoopy.

Those memories are delicate and come to me in small bits and pieces. Other songs come to mind but they don’t have any substance. Just flashes here and there. That holds true until ‘The Boss’ came on the scene. Born in the USA was released just before my Birthday in 1984 and I bought the cassette with my birthday money. I wore that tape out. I’m not completely sure why that album spoke to me back then, but it still speaks to me know. Except now I know ‘I’m on Fire’ isn’t a sex song. My mix wouldn’t be complete without one of his songs. For this ‘getting old’ mix I chose ‘Dancing in the Dark’

I was listening to ‘Groove Me’ when I got arrested. There were no charges filed against me because it isn’t illegal to drive around in  a car full of drunk teenagers unless you’re not a teenager. I had listened to those MADD people. I was the designated driver! Good thing both the police and my parents had a sense of humor.

There were a bunch of songs from high school and college that remind me of new experiences and crazy carefree nights but none of those belong on this mix. They’re all about being young.

Getting married makes you old and the first time I heard this song ‘If I Had a Million Dollars’ it reminded me of my husband and all the silly things we discuss pretending they are the most important things in the world.

The first time I felt my oldest move, and I was sure it wasn’t gas, was when I was listening to ‘Mars, The Bringer of War’. She would squirm and kick when it got loud. Then I played it over and over because feeling her alive inside me was the most wonderful feeling I had ever had in my life. Afterwards I worried that I had scared her for life, pre-natally. What kind of mom plays her unborn child songs about war? For this mix I selected ‘Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age’.

The girls being babies brings to mind so many conflicting emotions. There were so many changes. Physical, emotional, social, you name it, it changed. Sleepless nights, no money, funerals, hurt feelings, and arguments come to mind. First smiles, birthday cakes, kissing little tiny toes, and Raffi also comes to mind. I’m not sure how I survived. I’m not sure how MyHusband’s and my relationship survived either. But it did. There are probably hundreds of songs that could work for this period of my life but I picked ‘She’s Becoming Gold’.

No one can spend a decade as a stay at home parent and not relate to these two songs at some point. ‘Fifth Wheel’ and ‘What About Everything’. To the best of knowledge neither songwriter is a stay-at home parent but I think that says something about the human heart.

And just as a reminder to not take myself too seriously I have to include this. ‘‘As Good as I Once Was’”

So, tell me about some of the songs that mean something to you!