I See My Relationship The Same Way I See My Lawn
Everyone in my neighbourhood is having trouble with their lawn. The grass is either being eaten by grubs, or overrun by dandelions, or just plain dying.
I won’t spray my grass. I don’t care how many dandelions I get. I just think, why are we fighting it? We want our yards to look nice – I get that. But to have this huge expanse of green perfection, it’s almost like we are going against nature by trying to keep it that way. Is there some sort of standard that people are supposed to have lawns? Who made that rule?
It’s kind of the way I see relationships. For me, it’s less about control, and more about figuring out ways of allowing what is to exist. I love this quote from Jada Pinkett Smith. I think her and Will probably have a marriage much like my husband and I do.
Note: what I am about to say will be a little out there for many of you readers, but if I’m anything, I’m sarcastic, liberal, and honest. You don’t have to agree with me. This is just my opinion.
Now, go read my article over at Huffington Post entitled “Breaking All The Rules: A New Way Of Thinking About Marriage“. You can comment/slay me here or there. Either way, I’ll answer back. I was a philosophy major remember? I like discussion and debate.
Lots of food for thought this Saturday. Have a great day everybody!
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Related articles:
Do Open Relationships Work? – Men’s Fitness
Jada Pinkett Smith On Open Marriage Quotes – Us Magazine
And if you don’t know who Dan Savage is, you will find out in this next article. It’s a bit long, but wonderfully done. Well worth the read.
Twitter Twit In Training
My nineteen-year-old son says that I’m a technology and social media loser. He is always making fun of me for something. “You can’t even download apps onto your iPhone. A flip phone would probably confuse you.” It’s true, it would. “And Mom, don’t ever, ever, ever, ever post anything about your workouts on Facebook. People will hate you.” Hey, I’ve never done that. OK, maybe I have once. Twice.
Sure, I’m a little slow sometimes. I remember once back when I was in university, the library just got new computers – ones without mouses/mice/whatever. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to use the damn things. I sat there for a good twenty minutes staring at the machine, too embarrassed to ask the person next to me for help.
As for things like Facebook, Twitter, Stumble Upon, and Pinterest – I’m just starting to get the hang of them. Still, my son says I’m lame. Or suckish. Or maybe he used the words “fucking retard”.
“Hey,” I said, “That’s not very nice.”
“I can’t help it if it’s true.” We are not always politically correct in our family.
OK, so I might not be the best, but at least I try. And I do know how to use hashtags.
In case you didn’t know, Brussels sprouts explode in the microwave #FML I found that one out the hard way.
Sorry, Wrong Number
My kids have always been very involved in stuff, sports mostly. It’s meant eating in the car on many occasions. It’s meant never being able to go anywhere or do anything unless it is dance, soccer, or football-related. It’s meant our weekends have been booked solid for the last fifteen years or so.
But before you jump down my throat and say, “What an awful Abby Miller-esque mother you must be,” I’ll have you know that I’ve never forced my children to do anything. It just sort of happened. One minute, we were driving to two innocent ballet classes, a few soccer and football practices a week, and then all of a sudden, we were living the “berserker” life. If you don’t make the kids quit at some point before they turn ten, you get sucked into that insane, swirling extra-curricular black hole.
All that to say that my daughter hasn’t really dated or been involved with boys (that we know of), and she’s almost eighteen. I don’t know when she would’ve had time. “Good,” you say, “You don’t need to be a grandmother just yet.” No, no I don’t.
Things are changing though. With her hormones shifting into high gear – dance practice/recital/competition or no dance practice/recital/competition – she makes time to go out with her friends, which I’m sure translates into “being around boys”. And she’s attractive. Hell, she’s beautiful. If I were a guy (or a girl) who liked her, I’d be afraid to strike up a conversation. Plus, she has that “I am the devil” look shooting out of her eyes sometimes. There are some however, who are not afraid. We learned that last week.
Enter Montmorency. Not his real name obviously, but it probably should be.
The girls were out – downtown, getting food, doing “stuff”. Other than the fact that she came home a little later than she was supposed to, it seemed like a rather innocuous trip. Yeah, it seemed that way. 
A day later, my husband says to me, “All afternoon, someone’s been texting me, saying things like ‘What’s up? Watcha doin’? Damn you fine.’ I don’t recognize the number, and I haven’t responded yet, but I’m going to. It’s weird.” Just at that moment, my daughter walks into the room. “Hey, you don’t happen to know someone by the name of ‘Montmorency’ do you?” my husband asks her.
“What?” she stops dead in her tracks, turns and looks at him. “Did you say ‘Montmorency’?”
“Yeah. You know who that is?”
“Oh God.”
“Who is it?” My husband and I are both listening intently.
“Just some guy.”
“What guy?” My husband is like a lot of dads when it comes to his daughter – shoot first, ask questions later – and he doesn’t even own a gun. At this point, I think he wished he did.
“Some guy I met when I was out last night. He kept asking for my phone number. I did what you always tell me to do, and I didn’t give it to him…”
“That’s good,” my husband is momentarily relieved, then he remembers the situation.
“I gave him yours instead.” All is revealed.
“What? Why MY phone number? Why not Pizza Pizza’s phone number or something?” My husband is angry. No one gets his cell number. I’m lucky to know it.
“He’d recognize that one,” she says plainly, doing her best “I am your only daughter, and you love me” look.
“There was no other phone number you could have given to him?”
“He kind of caught me off guard. I panicked.”
“Well, if he texts me again, I’m going to answer it.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” she says, walking up to her room, a tray of fruit and tea and cottage cheese in hand.
“Oh no. I won’t,” answers my husband. He can be such a liar.
My husband won’t tell me what he said to the guy. He knows I’ll tell our daughter. What I do know is that the guy replied, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry sir – wrong number.”
I’ll bet he was sorry. Thankfully, there have been no more texts. As for my daughter, I’d imagine that tray is still in her room, likely shoved under the clothes on her floor, half the food still on it. No wonder it smells like dead things when she leaves her door open. In some respects, she is still a young girl. For now, I’ll hold onto that.
Fitness Is The Fountain Of Youth: My First Video Interview
Today, I am on Generation Fabulous as their featured blogger. I also did my first video interview with Chloe Jeffreys. It is a show called “Coffee With Chloe” and we talked about fitness. She and I could discuss this topic forever. Take a stroll (or click) over and check us out. Enjoy!
Here’s the link – Amanda Fox Is Fit, Foxy, And Fabulous!
Click here for other fitness articles I’ve written – Fitness After 40
Contessa And Her Dickhead Boyfriend: A Modern Day Fairy Tale
Sometimes – after a particularly bad day – my imagination gets the best of me.
Of King-Sized Beds, And Marriage, And Possible Divorce
OK, relax Mom, and all her friends. I am not getting a divorce. This is supposed to be a funny piece. I tend to be very sarcastic. You raised me. You should know that by now.
I am on Generation Fabulous today talking about king-sized beds and how wanting one would could potentially mean I’m headed for divorce. The article is aptly entitled “Does Wanting a King-Sized Bed Mean That My Husband and I Are Headed For Divorce?” God, I hope not. Check it out.
I’m A Mother – Hear Me Roar, And Sometimes Sputter For Help
Since I’ve already written a post dedicated to my mother, I thought I’d say a few words on this Mother’s Day about what my own experience has been like.
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I never planned on having kids. It was never a dream of mine as a girl or a teenager. I wasn’t getting married either. But then I met my husband, and it all changed.
Since that first little head squeezed his way out of my vagina, I’ve stayed-at-home, worked part-time, and gone back to school twice. Except for the occasional meltdown – OK, frequent meltdown – I’ve been lucky. Everyone has been healthy (knock on wood), they’ve all done well at school, and for the most part, they are caring human beings. We’ve never really experienced too many bumps in the road – not big bumps anyway. That doesn’t mean however, that it’s been easy. I’ll never forget the first time my kids had to go to daycare/the after-school program. Whooosh, they were NOT happy. My daughter especially.
“Remember when you sent me there?” my daughter says every time we drive past the dreaded Children’s Castle Daycare. (We still live in the same neighbourhood.) I’d gone back to school for the first time to study architecture. She was four. I don’t think it was as bad as she makes it sound. It’s just that it was such a huge change for her. “Yeah, I hated that place,” she says. “They made us do the weirdest things, like they told us that we couldn’t have our dessert unless we ate all of our sweet pickles. And then they made us brush our teeth by swishing milk around in our mouths. Doesn’t milk have sugar? It’s probably why I had so many cavities as a kid.”
“OK, I get it,” I always reply. “I feel guilty enough about the whole thing.” And I did feel guilty sending her there. I mean, who wants their babies to be unhappy? It was a struggle between doing something to better myself, and being there for my children every second of every day. Looking back, I’m glad I did what I did. I agree with whoever said that a person has to be happy with themselves in order to be a good parent. Besides, my kids got (and get) more of me than most.
Being a mother is tough, no doubt. It pulls a person in so many different directions. It can make you happy, sad, frustrated, exhausted, embarrassed, and both angrier and more full of joy than you ever thought possible.
No matter what though, I wouldn’t change a thing. Happy Mother’s Day to all!
