Monthly Archives: October 2009

16 Days to Go

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It’s been hitting me for a year, but it’s only really started hitting me over the last few weeks. I mean, really sinking in: I’m getting married.

When I was 9 years old, I was playing in my grandfather’s backyard in Pico Rivera. I was making mud pies – not because I necessarily liked mud, but because I felt that it was something kids should do and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Conclusion? It was dirty. Mom called me to the house and as I ran towards the door, a thought flashed into my brain: I’ll never get married. I stopped dead in my tracks and wondered why I’d thought that. At 9, I was already fairly perceptive and knew that it was strange for a 9 year old to have such thoughts. However, being 9, I quickly wiped it from my mind and went about the rest of my day. Thing is, it stuck with me.

Not that I let this thought control my future or decide how I should live my life. Nor did I look upon it as a premonition. Strange thing is, it still pops into my head when I think about getting married – yet, here I am, 16 days to go, getting married – 9 year old me be damned.

What does any of that mean? Nothing.

When I tell people I’m getting married, they all congratulate me and tell me how much fun I must be having. They’re only half right. While all this massive amounts of planning has it’s high points, it’s also filled with a great deal of anxiety and dread. Not for the man I’m marrying, but for the large scale event that we are undertaking. We’re talking at least 150 people (maybe less), out-of-towners, people I haven’t seen in years, family, friends, dressing up, looking good, making speeches, dancing in front of a crowd, talking in front of a crowd, social graces, being wonderful, and not freaking out. Except, all that makes me freak out.

9 must have been an odd year. It was also at age 9 that I learned to fear speaking in front of crowds. I was, in fact, one of the best spellers in my entire school. That’s not saying much, if you knew the school I went to. Regardless, I was asked to be a part of the regional spelling bee. You know, one of those that could lead to even bigger spelling bees, like the kind kids faint at. I studied hard, I knew my words, I was confident. I got up there, my first round. The word was “cough”. I spelled “couch”. People laughed and I was done. Game over. I don’t remember crying, but I do recall the weight of shame and horror I felt. Since then, I have a hard time getting in front of people – even if it’s just showing off my hilarious comedy skills.

In high-school, I attempted to conquer my fears and joined the drama club. I couldn’t even audition in front of the teacher. I stood there, sweating like an idiot and actually walked out of the room without a word, never to return.

As much as I know where my fears spring from, it doesn’t make it easier. The last time I spoke in front of a group was at Hot Topic almost 3 years ago. They made us do some kind of lame skit that involved me writing a hilarious speech. And it was hilarious, in context to what we were doing. I got a few chuckles from the people who “got” my jokes – you must understand, I don’t play for the bottom feeders, I use only high brow comedy in situations like these. And truth be told, my comedy isn’t for everyone. I’m often far too subtle.

I digress, while up on stage, my body shook, my hands trembled, my ears rang, my face heated up, my voice wavered, and boy did I sweat! I made it through, but it was hard and there were a few moments where I felt as though I might actually pass out.

Unlike Albert Brooks in “Defending Your Life”, I completed the task I was afraid of, but it didn’t make me feel better and I’m still afraid of speaking in front of groups.

I think perhaps my biggest fear about the wedding, isn’t so much how well the event goes off – I know everything will be fine – but that I will be on display for an entire evening. I will be congratulated by people I know and don’t know. I will dance, eat, cut the cake, throw my garter, and all those awesome things people do at weddings – all in front of hundreds of eyes. I will also proclaim my undying love for AJB – for the whole world to see. I mean, that’s a big deal, right? A really big deal.

It goes without saying that I am happy about the whole thing in general. 9 year old fears aside, I realize that weddings are one of those times in life where (if you’re lucky) you don’t get a do-over. The idea is that you do it once and that’s it. You get one chance to get it right, to be fabulous and throw an event that people will remember forever. No pressure.

I’m also filled with a deep sadness regarding the absence of my Dad at my wedding. He won’t walk me down the aisle, he won’t give me away, he won’t dance with me, and he won’t give an embarrassing speech about how he wasn’t sure he liked AJB in the beginning, but grew to appreciate him – without actually saying how much he appreciates him, or how AJB has numerous faults, but no, just kidding, he’s a good guy. I know that there will be a million points during my wedding where I will be unable to contain my sadness and others where I will be unable to contain my joy. I will, instead, dance with my brothers – who I adore.

I know. It’s all going to be great and everything will be fine.

A Glimpse at Motherhood

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AJB has 3 lovely children. Each one of them is unique, intelligent, kind, considerate, generous, loving, and a billion other wonderful adjectives. Over the 5 years I’ve been a part of their lives, I’ve realized that even the best of children are still that…children. I’ve also come to realize that when your mother tells you “you’ll understand when you have your own kids” she is not only right, she is foreseeing the future. My mother is overjoyed that I have finally seen this truth.

AJB’s kids visit with us every Wednesday and every other weekend. Sometimes it seems like too much, other times not nearly enough. I’ve only ever had cats, so in the beginning it was a difficult transition. I went through a bit of shell shock and was frustrated because I teetered on the border of wanting to be their friend, but also not wanting to allow them full reign over the house. You see, it’s important they like me and not see me as some kind of wicked step-mother or psycho harpy stealing their father from them. For kids, it’s confusing enough when your parents don’t live together and you’re split between two homes. Add another woman into the mix? Kids often wonder how they should partition their affections. If they hate the new woman, it’s easy. If they like her, it’s difficult because they feel loyalty to their mother.

I have the unique perspective of seeing what it’s like to be a mom without actually being a mom. The best part is that all I really have to do is be their friend. And that’s pretty cool. The problem with most moms is that you can’t fully be your child’s friend – not when you also have to be the disciplinarian, the maid, the cook, the counselor, and the chauffeur. More times than not you’re the person nagging them to pick up their socks 20 times a day, cleaning the dishes, reminding them to do their homework, helping them with their homework, and not doing any of the things you want to do. While you’re helping your children become better people, you lose sight of the person you used to be. All of this happens so slowly, it’s the day they leave for college that you find yourself scared, confused, and not sure what to do with yourself or how to communicate with people your own age. 20 years later you find yourself asking “OK, what now?”

Losing yourself in your children is a concept that scares the crap out of me. I like who I am and I’ve spent many years trying to figure that out. As a woman, I am naturally inclined to motherhood and I like the idea of my own children (or child). On the one hand, I want to create kick-ass human beings and there are so many good things about kids. On the other hand, I don’t want to forget who I am or spend the next 20 years picking up dirty socks that aren’t mine. I also want to travel, work on my career, discover things, and zone out to video games everyone once and a while. I also like the idea that if, if I ever wanted to, I could just pick up and leave. I might not, but the option is there.

There are people who say that you can retain yourself and still have children. I wonder. I think about all the moms I know and I find that in order to “stay cool” you must (at least somewhat) ignore your children to concentrate on your own life. And then there’s those moms that give it all to their kids and end up resentful and bitter.

I think one of the biggest mistakes moms make is allowing their families to believe that the house cleans itself over night. When I stay up late cleaning, I think, they’re going to wake up and not even notice the house is clean. It’s always this way. They leave, come back on the weekends and the house is magically clean. So who’s fault is it that kids don’t pick up after themselves? Mine. Their parents. The kids would do it if we asked, we just forget to ask. Next thing you know it’s 2am and the house looks like a tornado blew through it.

Truth is, moms really have no one to blame but themselves. Moms are, innately, the schedule keepers and the ones who keep a house running. Dads do alright, but if given the opportunity, they will happily let someone else do it – because it’s not fun. Therefore, in order to have a harmonious home where everyone chips in, moms have to make it happen. It’s a good deal of work to maintain that level of machine-like operation in a home. Not all moms are up to the challenge. Rather than pull everyone away from their homework, TV watching, internet surfing, or phone talking – which is a hassle – sometimes it’s just easier to do it themselves. Resentment follows.

Answers? No answers. Just comments.