[Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered]
If one or both of my daughters are gay, then you can be darn tootin’ sure that if I have anything to say about it, they will be able to marry whosoever they damn well want to.
And, I’ll add that if one or both of my daughters marries a member of the same gender as themselves, my straight marriage to my husband won’t be threatened or endangered by their actions.
Our family will be just fine, thank you very much.
My husband and I decided to take our girls to Disneyland before we move to Philadelphia. In spite of the economy, we decided to go ahead and splurge. None of the amusement parks near Philadelphia is like Disneyland, and we have no idea when we’ll get to Florida, though we would love to get there to check out The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at some point after it opens in 2010.
But it’s a small fortune to take a family of four to Disneyland, and we don’t have any of our birthdays coming up in time so that one of us can go in for free in order to save at least a little money.
So, we decided that we would sell some things on Craigslist and that we’d put the proceeds toward our Disneyland trip. We are also on the prowl for boxes and a couple of other things that we want to buy on Craigslist.
Easier said than done. Craigslist is unpredictable, to say the least.
Here is a little list of my Craigslist lessons:
*Mostly, the e-mails I send for items I would like to buy go unanswered. Why do people put ads up and then not answer their e-mails? I don’t get it. Ditto for the e-mails I send in response to e-mails I get for the ads I’ve placed. People express avid interest in an item, and then when I respond, then they can’t take a minute to say they’ve found something else or that they’ve lost interest? I’m not sure what the lesson is, except to not count on anyone to get back to you.
*I placed an ad for these super heavy carved stone lamps I got from my step-father years ago when he first moved in with my mother. There was a flurry of e-mails, and they all said they were very serious about the stone lamps, but I felt obliged to respond to them in a first come, first served fashion. But every time I exchanged e-mails with the first woman who had responded, she said she was serious, but then she had more questions, like, “Are the lamps more yellow or more white? The pictures you sent don’t really show the color too well.” Suffice it to say, the lamps were yellowish white, and the pictures showed that just fine. I did my best to answer all her questions, and finally I was able to set up a time for this woman to come all the way down from Ventura to see the stinking lamps. In the meantime, I had to put two other serious buyers on hold, just because I wanted to stick to my original plan of first come, first served. Well, to my amazement, the Ventura woman actually stood us up and never bothered to call to cancel her appointment with us. My husband waited all afternoon for this lady. Nevermind that we weren’t sure if she was OK, if she got lost on the way to our home, or what. Finally, I just decided that she was a flake, and I called the next woman on my list. She came right over and was so excited to get the lamps because they went perfectly with her decor. I had wanted to sell to this woman all along because she was so upbeat and charming in her e-mails, so I’m glad she got the lamps in the end. My lesson was that next time I’ll go with my gut instead of worrying about first come, first served.
* I wanted to replace a missing hubcap on my Matrix, and I found a scratched up one for $10 on Craigslist. Perfect! I figured that the others are scratched up, so they might as well have a scratched up friend to match. So, I set up a time to meet the hubcap owner in her town, which was kind of far from mine. Later in the day, she kindly contacted me to let me know that she had decided to spend the night with a friend in a town closer to mine and that I could pick up the hubcap there. That was nice, I thought. And so I headed out the next morning, as agreed, and knocked on her friend’s door at 9:30 a.m. There was no answer. I waited a couple of minutes and heard stirring inside the apartment. A young woman stuck her head out the door, and it was clear I had woken her up. I apologized and said that I had come for the hubcap. From inside the apartment, I heard more stirring, and then a sleepy voice that said, “Oh, the Craigslist person. Right, sorry. Let me put on some pants.” So I lingered outside of the apartment, trying to look casual, and then another young woman came out of the apartment in a t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. She was carrying some car keys. I realized that she must have left the hubcap in her car. As we walked to the car, we chatted, and I thanked her for bringing the hubcap to a town closer to mine. She said it was no problem and then explained that she and her friend had gone to a birthday party the night before and that it had gotten a little wild. Then I noticed that there was something red smeared on one of her feet. I thought of the party and thought, Is that ketchup? Had they been dancing in ketchup? But what it really looked like was blood. I was freaked out but determined to get the bargain hubcap, which I did. And it looks perfect. The Craigslist lesson? Beats me. Don’t dance in ketchup, I guess.
*Another hubcap story. I was looking for hubcaps for my Corolla too. I sent an e-mail to someone in South Pasadena because that is a town very near to my workplace. Of all crazy things, the person who answered my e-mail was one of the teachers at my school! This cracked both of us up, of course. He brought the hubcaps to work, but they didn’t fit my car. No lesson here, except that you never know who you’re gonna meet on Craigslist.
And that’s it for now. Through Craigslist we have made a little money towards our Disneyland trip, and we’ve met a few nice people who have made our moving load a little lighter.
For the second time in my life as a mom, my little girls have asked for me to let them put themselves to sleep like big girls.
So I read to them, got out of bed, turned off the light, turned on some lullabies, kissed them, told them I love them, tucked them in and slipped out of the room.
For the second night in a row, they feel asleep almost immediately.
Now I’m blogging, but just before that, I was just sitting here, staring into space. I should be grateful that I have the night to myself, but I am in shock and not sure what to do with my time. I should probably be going through files or packing boxes, but I feel disoriented.
We have always put our girls to sleep by reading them a story and then cuddling with them until they fall asleep. Only then do we sneak out. Lots of times, doing this makes me so tired that I end up just going to bed.
Sometimes, it made me crazed that I almost never had the evenings to myself. My husband offered to put the girls to bed, but since I work out of the home full time, I really like bedtime so that I can spend time with the girls and read them stories. I just wished that I had the energy after that to stay up and hang out with my husband and do other stuff, but so often I just don’t.
But then my friend Sandy told me to enjoy the bedtimes, that soon enough they would be a thing of the past. So, I made peace with the fact that I just wouldn’t have the nights to myself for a while.
And now, here I am with a night to myself, and I just don’t know what to do with it. I just want to snuggle with my girls, but at the same time I am so proud of them for wanting — and asking for — some independence.
I honestly can’t believe how fast they’re growing up.
We are moving across the country at the end of June.
When we were 30, my husband and I came out to California for an adventure. After 12 years, we’re heading back to Philly. We’re packing up the apartment we’ve lived in those 12 years, and then we’ll drive two cars and two cute twins and head back to where we left from.
I think my husband and I have always known we would move back East to raise our girls near family. As we were struggling with my cancer last year, I think the timetable just moved up. And it’s for the best, I think. My daughters are in Kindergarten, and it’s got to be better to make this move now rather than when they’re older and really rooted here.
We actually found a home to rent on my sister’s street, 150 footsteps from her house, to be exact. Cup-of-sugar borrowing distance. My girls will walk to the bus stop with their big cousin, my sweet nephew. It’s a great street where there are block parties and the kids all play together. I can teach my sis to knit, and maybe she can show me how to sew a skirt.
I have a new job at a terrific school, and there are some interesting opportunities opening up for my husband. We’ll be able to regularly visit lots of relatives and friends that we haven’t seen much over the last 12 years, including my 91-year-old grandfather and my mom. We’ll get to see my husband’s family, too, both in Philly and at the Jersey Shore. We’ll be able to spend time in the Catskills, too, and in our family’s cottage in Maine.
But, we’re leaving our amazing community in So. Cal. where:
-we have warm, lovely, thoughtful friends we’ve known for the years we’ve been here. These friends have clapped, cheered and prayed for us as we got married, had kids, made big career changes, fought cancer and then decided to return home. My girls call my women friends “Auntie,” and one of them, “Auntie Lisa” has been like an aunt to them. She listens to their secrets and understands them and has watched them grow up. Lisa supported me through my whole cancer journey, from freak-outs in her office when I was sure I was going to die, to hanging out with me during what I call the “blue meany” days of chemo. I have lots of other stories about things big and small that my California friends have done through the years, good times we’ve had.
-we have made brand new friends with two special families, just within the last few months. One is a family we met through my daughters’ Kindergarten friend and the mom and I bonded over Obama, knitting, Harry Potter and more; and the other is a family we met when the mom picked me up in a Trader Joe’s when she saw me there last spring, wearing a bandanna over my bald chemo head. With both of these families, we have all had fun hanging out together, and it’s crazy to think that we’ve found families where our kids are the same age and where we all have fun together, and now we’re moving.
-I have met some amazing, strong women who have fought breast cancer. These women have helped me through by sharing their intimate stories, by e-mailing, spending time together and much more. One of them is a special friend at work who was the first one who told me that I’d make it through to the other side. She leaves me cards during the hard days and made me care packages during my year of treatment.
-my father lives only about an hour away. I’ve had a complicated time with him in the last three years, but we’re finding our way to some peace again. And, I recently was able to reconnect with my step-brothers, too, so it’s hard to leave now because of that. And seriously, I am so grateful for Facebook, because I know I’ll be able to keep in touch with my step-brothers (and lots of other folks, too) that way.
-I fought breast cancer with the help of terrific doctors and nurses.
-we love our daughters’ school and our town.
-I have an interesting job and also journalism contacts. My husband’s career blossomed here, and he’ll be leaving all the people he’s met along the way, people who gave him opportunities, encouraged him and championed him.
-we’re leaving the sunshine and the broad, open light, palm trees and flowers year-round.
It’s a hard transition, bittersweet in so many ways. What gets me through is knowing that we’ll be closer to so many people we’ve missed for so long and that my daughters will grow up knowing these people, too, in addition to the wonderful people we’re leaving behind in California.
They say you can’t go home again. We’ll have to see about that.
Last time this year, I was undergoing chemotherapy, so I’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing lately now that my hair is growing back, all fluffy.
I’ve also been reminiscing about my breast cancer surgery last August.
My mother came to town for the surgery and was an incredible help and support. She took care of two pretty frustrated twins, took them to swim lessons, tried to play with them, and endured some nasty behavior and nasty comments from them. [Note to self: two pre-schoolers whose mommy is in the hospital undergoing a radical surgery for cancer can have some POWerful emotions. And they will act accordingly.]
My mom cooked for us, cleaned up, took care of me, gave pep talks, whatever was required. She got us through the worst two weeks of my recovery. I’m not sure what we would have done without her.
After my mom left, my wonderful friend Lisa stepped in and coordinated a week of dinners for us because even though I was up and around, I was still pretty much useless as far as cooking or housework. Six people from my work (including Lisa) volunteered to bring dinner that third week post-surgery.
Each day, these generous and lovely women came to our home and delivered incredible, thoughtful, delicious dinners. And each dinner revolved around some form of chicken.
Every day, around the time that our friends were due to arrive, my husband and I wondered whether we’d be having chicken for dinner. Sure enough, the chicken would arrive.
In addition to receiving delicious chicken, each person would stay and visit for awhile. This was my favorite part of the whole week. One of the days, my friend Danäe brought Thai food, and we ate all together in front of the television watching something historic: Barack Obama received and accepted the nomination of his party to run for the presidency.
I have come to call this special week the “for six days, we eat chicken; on the seventh, we rest” week. I am overwhelmed with warm feelings and gratitude every time I think of that week and of the two weeks that preceded it, when my mom was here.