Searching for Mrs. Welby

In Your Face Book

So I joined Facebook this spring after everyone at my high school reunion told me to. The reunion of the high school I graduated from.

If you count high school as 4 years, I went to 3 schools. My junior high was grades 7 through 9. This was a great thing. Instead of being the lowly freshman, you were queen of the school! So then I went to boarding school. Up North. Waayyy up North.

For many reasons, I left that school after one shitty 10th grade year. I never looked back.

Until the In Your Face Book thing caught up to me.

Someone I was friends with way back in 10th grade has found me. And reached out. I really liked her. Her profile on Facebook makes her seem like I someone I would like today. She ended up going to Vassar which is very cool and makes her a smarty pants :).

So it's like a huge mirror shoved in front: "See yourself? Are you grown up? Does 10th grade matter anymore? What have you learned? Who are you? Where have you been? Where are you going?"

I promise my kids I will try to remember how hard high school can be. Try to embrace them through every stage. Giving them confidence to change and grow. Give them support to make hard decisions and to take chances.

What is funny is that the me from 10th grade is a part of me I'd like to get back a little bit. But it kind of bit me in the ass 22 years ago.

I'm in such a weird place right now. So many things coming to a close, just getting started, coming full circle. This just added to the whole cosmic mix of questions. This was just a real kicker. In a good way I think.

Don't worry, I'm not going back to wearing all black and spending my days in the photography or ballet studio.

...maybe just a few classes here and there? I'll wear some blush and lipstick if it helps?

Climbing the hill

Notes on aging:

1. CFL bulbs have almost a blacklight effect on gray hairs. My sink looked as if I went Brittney on myself, with tweezers.

2. Hip fashion seems like clown wear. Seriously, puffy sleeves? And why do I need a camisole for every GD blouse on the rack? Face it, double-Ds after two kids just can't go cami.

3. Which is worse, mom jeans or muffin top? Cause I can pull off either one with what I own.

4. I'm confused on my hair. For the last year, I've been growing my hair. Going for a Reese look. But long hair is annoying, clogging my shower drain, and making me anxious. Does long hair make me look like a wannabe 20-something? Like I'm grasping at youth? Does short hair look like I've given up? As a compromise, today, at the hairdresser, I asked for "a longish Katie Holmes." Sadly, I now have a wacko Victoria Beckham.

5. While watching American Idol, I scoffed at a call into the show from a 40 year old. What 40 year old is watching this show? And calling in? Oh wait a minute, I'm only 30 months away from 40. I haven't missed the show in 4 weeks. I've voted. Twice. How could I resist a Lionel Richie remake?

Holy shit.

Hamill Haircut

I have to admit, I had the Hamill haircut. I also took ice skating lessons. In North Carolina.

Also, I am now a big fan of the NEW bionic woman on NBC....

http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/11/01/seventies-something/

"I never thought there was going to be any sort of nostalgia for childhood in the 1970s, a time of skyrocketing divorce, “latch key kids” and newly liberated adults who sometimes behaved rather badly toward their much less with-it offspring.

Yet now, with middle age encroaching upon the girls who cut their hair like Dorothy Hamill and carried lunchboxes that sported the face of the original Bionic Woman, the seventies are coming back to life, and looking a whole lot better in retrospect............"

Bonnaroo

I had given about 10 minutes thought to going to Bonnaroo this year. We don't live far, the Police were there, and we have great babysitters. Could've gotten my Zenyatta Mondatta groove on.

I am completely happy about my decision to stay home. Two reasons:

1. I ran into our favorite babysitter in Wild Oats grocery store the Thursday before Bonnaroo. I was buying baby food. She and her 4 friends were loading up food and beer to go to the show.
2. The Flaming Lips weren't even scheduled to play until 12:30am. Along with many other great bands. Yes, I mean SCHEDULED. And yes, I mean "AM," as in, after midnight.

It became clear to me that yes, I am officially a parent. I am so f-ing old that I own Zenyatta Mondatta in vinyl. And that I have the widsom to know that paying money to see a band after midnight is like lighting $20 bills on fire as I drive down the freeway. Even flaming money for Flaming Lips cannot bring back my youth.

Like bread

My son released me from a big hug with a big smile on his face. "Mommy, your tummy is like a big piece of bread, squishy." Then he gives my belly a big smoosh for emphasis.

So much for 20 #$%&-ing weeks of Weight Watchers and Pilates.

Do we have life insurance?

In December I decided to do a breast exam. I'm not very good at remembering these things. Quite frankly since most of my thoughts about my breasts had been related to how much milk they could or could not produce, it just wasn't on the radar. I had not been nursing for almost 3 months and this was my 2nd period since the baby.

So I'm in the shower getting ready to pick up the older one at school and I do it. At the end, blood comes out of my right side. The rest of the day was like an out of body experience. I could NOT believe it. But as many times as I repeated the process I got blood each time.

Now, if you ever look up anything on the web about blood coming out of one breast but not the other know that you will find nothing but horrifying information if you are the person it is happening to. I'm a nurse so in the back of my mind I knew this was concerning but I had to call my friend Amie (also a nurse) just to verify that I should be freaking out.

I cried a lot for about a week until we finally got some imaging studies done which turned out to be negative. I kept seeing my 2 boys growing up without me. At the time William was only 3 1/2 months old.

You may think that my doctor husband responded with bravery and comforting words. Remember now, he's a surgeon. So, here's the first thing that comes out of his mouth: "Do we have life insurance?"