What I've Noticed About My Daughter

She's very tall. She has now surpassed me in height and it kind of freaks me out.

She hates injustice.

She NEVER hangs up her towels.

She loves stories.

She thinks I'm nuts.

She's someone that you think isn't paying much attention, but then later, you learn that she was TOTALLY paying attention.

She surprises me with her music choices. In a matter of three months a while back she went from Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift to Muse and Skillet. Not sure how I feel about that...

She does not care if her clothes are wrinkled. I know EXACTLY how I feel about that.

She loves to play Slug Bug. (My arms have bruises.)

She's funny. A very dry sense of humor.

She's argumentative. Drives me crazy sometimes.

She has good instincts. She always has.

She knows her own limits. She always has.

She sleeps a lot.

She's very brave. So very brave. Braver than I ever was as a kid and it truly amazes me.

I love her.

Words That Elude Me

I dream of being a writer. I love words. The idea of stringing a bunch of words together in a particular order of my choosing - and having people respond to those words in a way that's positive for them - would be such an amazing thing to me.

But, aside from a brief post the other day, I have found that I cannot write here lately. I have so much roiling inside of me every second of every day recently, and you would think that this would be a time of great creativity. A great releasing of the words. The feelings. The emotions. Cathartic, right?

Um, yeah...not so much.

I feel like I'm going to explode. It's an actual physical feeling of pressure inside of me that makes me want to open the valve and scream a primal scream so loud that it would make the earth shudder. Spew a million words with my frustration and sadness and fear and anger. Say these words in an order and in a way that would make sense and express all that's happening inside.

But, you see, that's not my style. As my mother said years ago when my sister died and someone made the comment to her that we were "very calm" (this person was wondering why there wasn't a lot of weeping and wailing) - "We're German. We don't do that."

We approach all things with stoic faces, practical attitudes and an infuriating need to stand up straighter and taller in spite of it all.

My daughter has inherited this way of reacting and coping, and I must say, it's the thing that she's inherited from me that makes me the saddest. (Which is really saying something considering that she also got my enormous ears and unfortunate saddle bags.) One of her teachers told me this past year, "Emma is completely and utterly unflappable. I have never known anyone young or old with that kind of unflappability." At first, I was flattered. But upon reflection, it just made me really sad. Appearing unflappable is a rough way to go in life. The calm veneer will serve you well in many ways. But in the end, all of that STUFF is left inside of you and you are alone with it. And it eats away your happiness and backs up on you when you are your weakest.

My sweet girl...I am aching and worrying about her so much these days. She is hurting about so many things and seems completely stuck as to how to talk about any of it. How can I teach my daughter to find the words if I cannnot myself?

I hope I can find the words again soon - and the order they need to be put in to express all that I want to express. I hope my girl is okay. I hope I can stop bawling.

I mean, I am German after all. I need to represent.

Not So Fast

I've learned recently that you don't have the right to say "The past is the past" unless you've learned from the past. Most of the time that people use this handy quote is when they've done something wrong....and it's hurt someone they care about...but they are getting tired of having to deal with the consequences of that wrong action...so they conveniently say, "The past is the past. Why can't we move on?"

Moving on is a luxury only earned by doing whatever you have to do to rectify the wrong you've done and prove that you've truly learned something from it - enough not to do it again.

I'm just sayin'....

ARGH!!

On my eyelid.

At the age of 44.

WTF??

Who gets pimples on their eyelid? Who gets pimples when they're 44?

So ridiculously annoying!!!!

The Fabric of Our Lives?

I've always had issues with my figure. What girl doesn't?? I know I'm fortunate in that I'm fairly tall (5'9") and fairly thin (currently 136), so I try not to complain too much. But my long and lanky figure is also problematic. My inseam is 34 inches so finding pants long enough is a hassle. I'm also very short-waisted so finding shirts short enough is a hassle. My high waist is also very thick and if it weren't for my moderate saddle-bags I wouldn't have any illusion of a waistline at all. I am also lacking in the hips and ass area. And alas, my shoulders, double chin and big ears are also a problem - which basically makes me one big hot mess.

The other day I ran out of my usual underwear. I typically wear Fruit of the Loom cotton bikini undies. Not glamorous but very practical and they do the trick. The trick being to cover my ass and allow me not to feel naked in my clothes - which seems like an oxymoron - but since I said it, it's just MORON.

Anyway, I ran out of my FOTL bikinis because I was lazy and didn't get to the laundry and all I had left were a couple pairs of these lacy satiny jobbers. (Not much occasion for those lately unfortunately. Although...maybe if I WORE them more often, I'd have OCCASION for them more often - IF you know what I mean.) So, I put on a lacy pair, got dressed and then got on with my day. About halfway through that day though I noticed that I kept having to hike up my pants. Step, step, step, tug...step, step, step, tug....and on like that ALL DAY. It was driving me crazy. But then it occurred to me, Hey! Maybe I've lost weight! That MUST be it! That's why these old-jeans-that-used-to-fit-just-right keep falling down! That thought made me happy so I gladly tugged away the rest of the day and was even a little puffed up about the weight I'd lost without even trying. Wasn't I so amazing?! I can lose weight just by merely EXISTING!

The next day, I was down to that last pair of satiny undies (I still hadn't done any laundry) so I put on those bad boys and then put on a pair of black yoga pants over them. (No, I don't do yoga. I just like the pants.) Now, in case you didn't know, yoga pants are made of a stretchy jersey type of fabric that tends to cling to your skin snugly. I was sure that this would solve the I've-lost-so-much-weight-that-I-have-to-tug-up-my-pants-all-day problem. But it wasn't to be. An hour later I noticed that I was still tugging them up every few steps. Step, step, step, tug...

That's when it hit me.

I haven't lost weight. IT'S THE SATIN UNDIES. All of these years, little did I know, that it was my practical cotton undies that had been keeping my pants up. My assless, hipless, waistless figure gave nothing for the pants to hang onto. The friction from the cotton-on-cotton held my pants in place whereas the slippery satin ones just let them slide on down all willy-nilly like.

I was so disappointed. Disillusioned. Distraught.

I had not lost weight. And even worse, I was not cut out for the sexy satin undies. I was doomed to be a cotton undies gal forever and there was nothing I could do about it.

Or so I thought.

When I told my tale to Emma and lamented my boring underwear destiny, she sighed heavily, closed her eyes as if to find her patience somewhere deep inside of her soul, took a deep breath and said, "Why don't you just wear a belt, Mom?"

My Next Husband

I have a new crush. Big time. One that hit me quite suddenly about two weeks ago when he made me laugh.

I hate to admit this but...I'm pretty easy. If you have a nice smile (I have this thing about mouths), pour me a glass of wine and make me laugh, you can be pretty confident that your chances of getting lucky are quite high.

This man has a great smile and I just know that if I asked him really nicely he'd happily pour me a glass of wine. I've known him for a long time - always thought he was cute and extremely talented - but didn't think about him much beyond that. Then I saw him interviewed on television and learned that the. man. is. FUNNY. He had the audience cracking up and me SWOONING. I decided right then and there that I was going to marry him. That he would be my next husband. That I would meet him somehow and that we would get married.

It's good to have goals.

He's currently in a committed relationship. Oh, and so am I. But that's neither here nor there. We will get married. And he will smile at me a lot and pour me lots of wine. He may even sing to me sometimes which would be fan-freaking-tastic. But mostly he'll make me laugh a lot. Then he'll get lucky. Marriage is give and take after all.

So Michael, if you're out there, and you happen to read this, I'm here.....waiting.....waiting to be the next Mrs. Buble. (I even have "Our Song" picked out. You're going to sing it to me at the wedding. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeKtB2EhdaE)

An Old Friend Reaches a Milestone

Happy birthday dear old friend. And even though you're 40 today I don't mean "old" as in OLD. Forty years looks great on you, I'm sure. I miss you and hope you have an amazing celebration. You deserve that.