He was a neuroscience PHD student. He was involved heavily in his church. He was shy and well-mannered. He had never had so much as a parking ticket. But he randomly walked into a movie theater and brutally killed twelve people and injured fifty-nine for absolutely no reason. It's appalling how little sense the world can make sometimes.
Waking up to the tragic story of the killings in Aurora, Colorado makes the things I thought I'd be worried about when I woke up this morning seem pointless and contrite. Tiny bumps on the road of life, not real problems. Going to see a midnight showing of a new movie and winding up dead, that's a real problem.
To be honest, my first reaction to this story (my first reaction to any like it for that matter) is "The world is full of bad people and horrible things, I never want to leave my house ever again", and I suspect that's a pretty common thought. All I want to do on days like this is hold my kids close to me and forget that an outside world even exists. But the outside world does exist. And ultimately hiding from it won't do anyone any good. Neither will attacking outside sources. I keep waiting for the media fall-out, with people blaming everything from video games, to comic books, to Marilyn Manson (no one's blamed him for anything ridiculous and out of his control in awhile, so he's probably due) on this tragedy. I'm not looking forward to the bashing because I simply don't agree with it. I think that art can inspire and entertain and maybe even influence a person's actions to an extent. But art didn't pull the trigger, James Holmes did.
I think that despite this tragedy and those like it, we should try to remember that the world isn't full of bad people; there are amazing people doing amazing things every day, they're just a little bit harder to find. Fortunately, I know some really great people and I can give a couple of great examples of wonderful people in this crazy world.
First, My friend Alison who started the organization Humans Helping Humans, which does exactly what it sounds like it does: Helps humans. She's organized drives to help with the Colorado wildfires and is currently helping out the families of the victims of the Aurora shootings. Or my friend Jeremy, who inspires us all with his work to help find a cure for Leukemia and Lymphoma through The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society . What both Alison and Jeremy have in common is that they are sincerely and proactively trying to make the world a better, more positive place. It's times like this when I try to think about people like Alison and Jeremy and how we can all strive to make positive contributions in this crazy world we live in. And how making positive contributions trumps living in fear any day.
What's funny is that during all of this, I keep thinking about something
George W. Bush said right after 9/11. Now, I can tree-hug and Bush-hate
with the best of them, but his words were actually amazingly
appropriate then and I think they apply now. He said that people
shouldn't be afraid to leave their houses or live their lives. If we
didn't make an effort to keep going and keep persevering, it just meant
the bad guys were wining. They want us to be afraid and the worst thing
we can do is give in to fear.
I, for one, don't want to live my life in fear, no matter how scary the world is. And I don't want my kids to grow up learning to live in fear either. As easy as it would be to board up my windows, order my groceries online and never let my kids see the light of day again for fear of something bad happening to them, I'm going to take my chances. I'm going to continue to raise them to believe in good people and good things. I won't let my life be consumed by tragedies and "what-ifs". That's no way to live a life.
My heart goes out to the victims and the families of the victims of last night's shooting. I can't imagine what they're going through. My prayers are with them. My prayers are also with James Holmes' family. I always tell my kids that I will love them no matter who they are or what they do, and I can't fathom my own child doing something like this. I can't imagine those words being tested in such an extreme way. It must be agonizing for them.
In the meantime, I'm going to turn off my computer for the rest of the day and stop reading about this. I'm going to take my kids swimming and out in the sun to play. We are going to live our lives, not hide from them.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
My Soapbox: DOWN WITH "THINSPIRATION"!!
Anyone curious to see what "fat" by American standards looks like? Apparently, it looks like Kate Upton, and Kate Upton looks like this:
I know, right? You have got to be freaking kidding me.
For those of you who haven't heard about this yet, here's the back story: A wannabe hack of a blogger recently wrote on a pathetic excuse for a legitimate website (Skinny Gossip) that the gorgeous twenty-year old blonde pictured above doesn't have "the body" for modeling, calling her “thick, vulgar, almost pornographic".
Anyone want to join me in a "Say whaaaaaat?!" moment here? I could use about a million words to describe this person's body and among them would be "perfect" and "holy crap, I'm jealous", but apparently, that's just me. This writer (if we even want to stretch the word enough to call her that) is actually delusional enough to think that slamming a body like Upton's is inspirational to people who are trying to lose weight and obtain the "perfect body" (whatever the hell that may be) and the truly terrifying part is that she's not alone.
After reading about Upton's "fat shaming" I did a little research on the subject and was absolutely horrified to discover that this is all part of a movement of sorts called "Thinspiration" which basically convinces women to lose as much weight as humanly possible (whether they need to or not, and the latter is usually the case). It's all about those flat, perfect stomachs, protruding hip bones, and the ability to count your own ribs. As if that wasn't bad enough, Thinspiration sites say really asinine things like "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" (which always makes me think of Liz Lemon: "I don't know! Ever put a doughnut in the microwave?"). And worse of all they (proudly and unapologetically) advocate anorexia. No, you didn't read that wrong. They Advocate. Anorexia. You know, that horrible disease where you completely stop eating, waste away to nothing, and eventually die a horrible death usually involving some kind of cardiac arrest? They advocate it! Good God, wasn't anyone else required to watch "The Karen Carpenter Story" in seventh grade health class?! She died because she didn't eat, but that's perfectly acceptable to these lunatics. It's encouraged even, because it's all about looking good, right?
No, not right. So not right.
Allow me a minute to be completely honest here. If my life was just about me, I'd think "Wow, those people are real creeps for calling that beautiful girl fat", and that just might be as much thought as I'd give the whole ordeal. But my life is not just about me, it's also about my daughter and the sucky fact that she has to grow up in a world where a size eight is considered "plus size", a healthy body is called fat, and exercise is seen as the thing you do as a last resort if you don't have the willpower to starve yourself. It's disgusting in every sense of the word and it has to stop.
Women of the world, I implore you: Stop calling yourselves fat. Stop calling celebrities fat. Especially don't call yourself fat in front of your daughter because she might look in the mirror someday and think that horrible word applies to her. In fact, let's just take the word "fat" out of our vocabularies. It's a small word used by small people. Replace "I'm fat" with "I would like to be healthier". And just so we're clear, starving yourself is not healthy. Exercise because you want a heart that's healthy enough to see the day your grandchildren are born, not because some dumbass on a horrible, meaningless website tells you that your thighs are too big. Counting calories is no way to go through life and if you miss counting something so badly, go back to school and take a math class.
My bottom line is this: Bodies change and evolve over time. I've had two kids, so I know that mine has, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. It only becomes a bad thing when "skinny" becomes a priority over living your life.
And for the record, I think Kate Upton looks great. She looks healthy. And healthy will trump skinny any day.
Thanks, I feel much better now.
For those of you who haven't heard about this yet, here's the back story: A wannabe hack of a blogger recently wrote on a pathetic excuse for a legitimate website (Skinny Gossip) that the gorgeous twenty-year old blonde pictured above doesn't have "the body" for modeling, calling her “thick, vulgar, almost pornographic".
Anyone want to join me in a "Say whaaaaaat?!" moment here? I could use about a million words to describe this person's body and among them would be "perfect" and "holy crap, I'm jealous", but apparently, that's just me. This writer (if we even want to stretch the word enough to call her that) is actually delusional enough to think that slamming a body like Upton's is inspirational to people who are trying to lose weight and obtain the "perfect body" (whatever the hell that may be) and the truly terrifying part is that she's not alone.
After reading about Upton's "fat shaming" I did a little research on the subject and was absolutely horrified to discover that this is all part of a movement of sorts called "Thinspiration" which basically convinces women to lose as much weight as humanly possible (whether they need to or not, and the latter is usually the case). It's all about those flat, perfect stomachs, protruding hip bones, and the ability to count your own ribs. As if that wasn't bad enough, Thinspiration sites say really asinine things like "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" (which always makes me think of Liz Lemon: "I don't know! Ever put a doughnut in the microwave?"). And worse of all they (proudly and unapologetically) advocate anorexia. No, you didn't read that wrong. They Advocate. Anorexia. You know, that horrible disease where you completely stop eating, waste away to nothing, and eventually die a horrible death usually involving some kind of cardiac arrest? They advocate it! Good God, wasn't anyone else required to watch "The Karen Carpenter Story" in seventh grade health class?! She died because she didn't eat, but that's perfectly acceptable to these lunatics. It's encouraged even, because it's all about looking good, right?
No, not right. So not right.
Allow me a minute to be completely honest here. If my life was just about me, I'd think "Wow, those people are real creeps for calling that beautiful girl fat", and that just might be as much thought as I'd give the whole ordeal. But my life is not just about me, it's also about my daughter and the sucky fact that she has to grow up in a world where a size eight is considered "plus size", a healthy body is called fat, and exercise is seen as the thing you do as a last resort if you don't have the willpower to starve yourself. It's disgusting in every sense of the word and it has to stop.
Women of the world, I implore you: Stop calling yourselves fat. Stop calling celebrities fat. Especially don't call yourself fat in front of your daughter because she might look in the mirror someday and think that horrible word applies to her. In fact, let's just take the word "fat" out of our vocabularies. It's a small word used by small people. Replace "I'm fat" with "I would like to be healthier". And just so we're clear, starving yourself is not healthy. Exercise because you want a heart that's healthy enough to see the day your grandchildren are born, not because some dumbass on a horrible, meaningless website tells you that your thighs are too big. Counting calories is no way to go through life and if you miss counting something so badly, go back to school and take a math class.
My bottom line is this: Bodies change and evolve over time. I've had two kids, so I know that mine has, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. It only becomes a bad thing when "skinny" becomes a priority over living your life.
And for the record, I think Kate Upton looks great. She looks healthy. And healthy will trump skinny any day.
Thanks, I feel much better now.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Kids DO Stand A Chance
Something that's really important to know about me is that I endorse practically nothing.
In fact, if you've ever watched TV with me, you know that I'm not exactly what you would call any "easy sell". Actually, that's putting it nicely. A more honest statement is that I can pick apart and cruelly mock a product with the best of them. Worst of all, this isn't a habit I want to change, it's actually one that I take a sick sort of pride in. Have an advertisement for a cell phone that can play music, surf the internet faster, and give you a map if you get lost while running? Well unless you show someone actually making a call on it, good luck trying to sell it to me! Cynical? Probably. Flat-out refusal to buy into everything that's put in front of me? Absolutely.
For a long time, this was never a problem. Then I had kids. Then those kids became susceptible to advertisements and commercials, which inexplicably led to the desire to play video games and computer games. Naturally, I dug my heels in the ground for as long as possible, reasoning that there was nothing you could do on a computer that would be more educational than reading a book or just going outside and exploring. I reasoned that my kids get enough "screen time" just by watching Sesame Street alone and the longer I could hold off on the inevitable the better. After all, we have done so much as parents to mold their brains, why give up now? This theory held up for awhile until I realized that weekly computer lab days were part of school curriculum and I might actually be holding my kids back by not teaching them what are now considered "basic" computer skills. And it turns out that holding your child back from doing anything productive is a terrifying thought for a parent. I finally realized it was time for me to stop dragging my feet and hop on board. In other words, it was time to cave.
I had no idea where to start, so we just started exploring our options. The games on PBS and Sprout were cute, ABCmouse.com was nice, but the membership fees are astronomical, and Layla's personal favorite, The Build-A-Bear Workshop game was cute too, but I failed to see any real educational value in it. In fact, the more we explored the vast world of online gaming for kids the more I noticed a running theme: Cute and fun. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with cute and fun; cute and fun is a good thing and has its time and place. But if you're anything like me and looking for something that will not only entertain your kids for a minute but actually educate them a bit in the process, you'll probably want more than just cute or just fun. Additionally, many of the sites that claimed to be "educational" didn't really strike me as such and as an educational late-bloomer myself, I've discovered an increasing level of paranoia about what goes into the minds of my kids. Simply put, cute and fun just aren't going to cut it.
I was beginning to feel really desperate when I got the chance to work with an up-and-coming educational children's website called Tropic Mind. Tropic Mind features games and short educational videos about everything from biology to physics to math to cute and fun things, like decorating and using the coins you earn by excelling at games in the fashion shop. The site itself consists of several islands which the player travels to by boat, including an island of their own to do whatever they want with. Each island hosts specific games and videos related to the subject (an Island for the Food Pyramid or The 5 Senses, for example). Layla's personal favorite island is Pet Island, which allows the player to custom create and subsequently care for an animal of their choice. The basic functions of the site are delightfully simple (especially for younger kids just learning the basic computer skills or inept parents like me who feel like they don't know a computer from a toaster some days). The site is colorful and cheerful while at the same time practical and functional, with gentle but firm reminders to use your nickname, not reveal your password, and to generally interact with caution. Every post or interaction with any other member is closely monitored by the site, which I appreciate as a paranoid parent (although I'd be remiss if I didn't point out here that it's always a good idea to monitor your child's computer use yourself anyway, but I digress. A little extra security never hurt anyone).
The best way to describe Tropic Mind is like an educational Sims for kids. It teaches great subjects like math and science that kids, unfortunately, lose a lot of interest in by a certain age, by making them bright, interactive, and fun. What's even better is that games that may seem like they are just for fun (like creating and adopting a cute little pet or using your coins in the Fashion Shop) teach subtle lessons of responsibility and money management without kids even realizing they're learning a lesson. As a whole, I have very few complaints about the site, a majority of my issues came from just signing up (I have no idea why it took the parrot asking me for my information three tries before he accepted my email address as valid, but oh well, all's well that ends well, right?) Some of the games were a little advanced for Layla, but I knew this going into it (the target age range for the site is six to eleven years old) so it wasn't exactly an issue that I didn't see coming. While the site isn't necessarily structured enough to use as, say, a curriculum tool for homeschooling purposes, it is still a great tool for casual learning, basic computer skills, and cute and fun activities with a solid educational slant. All-in-all, I can honestly say that it blows all of it's "educational website" competitors out of the water (pun completely and whole-heartedly intended!)
By now the more cynical among you might be thinking that my recent opportunities are fueling my praise for the site (and as a hard-sell myself I can appreciate your reluctance), but I can assure you that you're wrong. Actually, I can do better than assure you, I can prove it.
I have the opportunity to give away a free (and I know you all like free!) one-year membership to Tropic Mind to anyone who is interested or doubts that this site is half as awesome as I'm claiming it to be. There's only one catch-- Since I know so many wonderful moms/dads/aunts/uncles with kids who I know would love this site, I'm going to make you work for it. All you have to do is take a minute (either in the comments section on this blog or at Deliberations Of A Domestic Diva) and tell me all about your worst computer gaming experience. Annoying characters? Grating theme songs? Flat-out pointless? I want to know! It's not necessary to actually name names as far as the actual websites go, but please include your email address so I can send you the code for your membership. I can give you the Domestic Diva guarantee that both you and your kid(s) will love Tropic Mind.
I look forward to reading the responses of my clever readers! Game on!
In fact, if you've ever watched TV with me, you know that I'm not exactly what you would call any "easy sell". Actually, that's putting it nicely. A more honest statement is that I can pick apart and cruelly mock a product with the best of them. Worst of all, this isn't a habit I want to change, it's actually one that I take a sick sort of pride in. Have an advertisement for a cell phone that can play music, surf the internet faster, and give you a map if you get lost while running? Well unless you show someone actually making a call on it, good luck trying to sell it to me! Cynical? Probably. Flat-out refusal to buy into everything that's put in front of me? Absolutely.
For a long time, this was never a problem. Then I had kids. Then those kids became susceptible to advertisements and commercials, which inexplicably led to the desire to play video games and computer games. Naturally, I dug my heels in the ground for as long as possible, reasoning that there was nothing you could do on a computer that would be more educational than reading a book or just going outside and exploring. I reasoned that my kids get enough "screen time" just by watching Sesame Street alone and the longer I could hold off on the inevitable the better. After all, we have done so much as parents to mold their brains, why give up now? This theory held up for awhile until I realized that weekly computer lab days were part of school curriculum and I might actually be holding my kids back by not teaching them what are now considered "basic" computer skills. And it turns out that holding your child back from doing anything productive is a terrifying thought for a parent. I finally realized it was time for me to stop dragging my feet and hop on board. In other words, it was time to cave.
I had no idea where to start, so we just started exploring our options. The games on PBS and Sprout were cute, ABCmouse.com was nice, but the membership fees are astronomical, and Layla's personal favorite, The Build-A-Bear Workshop game was cute too, but I failed to see any real educational value in it. In fact, the more we explored the vast world of online gaming for kids the more I noticed a running theme: Cute and fun. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with cute and fun; cute and fun is a good thing and has its time and place. But if you're anything like me and looking for something that will not only entertain your kids for a minute but actually educate them a bit in the process, you'll probably want more than just cute or just fun. Additionally, many of the sites that claimed to be "educational" didn't really strike me as such and as an educational late-bloomer myself, I've discovered an increasing level of paranoia about what goes into the minds of my kids. Simply put, cute and fun just aren't going to cut it.
I was beginning to feel really desperate when I got the chance to work with an up-and-coming educational children's website called Tropic Mind. Tropic Mind features games and short educational videos about everything from biology to physics to math to cute and fun things, like decorating and using the coins you earn by excelling at games in the fashion shop. The site itself consists of several islands which the player travels to by boat, including an island of their own to do whatever they want with. Each island hosts specific games and videos related to the subject (an Island for the Food Pyramid or The 5 Senses, for example). Layla's personal favorite island is Pet Island, which allows the player to custom create and subsequently care for an animal of their choice. The basic functions of the site are delightfully simple (especially for younger kids just learning the basic computer skills or inept parents like me who feel like they don't know a computer from a toaster some days). The site is colorful and cheerful while at the same time practical and functional, with gentle but firm reminders to use your nickname, not reveal your password, and to generally interact with caution. Every post or interaction with any other member is closely monitored by the site, which I appreciate as a paranoid parent (although I'd be remiss if I didn't point out here that it's always a good idea to monitor your child's computer use yourself anyway, but I digress. A little extra security never hurt anyone).
The best way to describe Tropic Mind is like an educational Sims for kids. It teaches great subjects like math and science that kids, unfortunately, lose a lot of interest in by a certain age, by making them bright, interactive, and fun. What's even better is that games that may seem like they are just for fun (like creating and adopting a cute little pet or using your coins in the Fashion Shop) teach subtle lessons of responsibility and money management without kids even realizing they're learning a lesson. As a whole, I have very few complaints about the site, a majority of my issues came from just signing up (I have no idea why it took the parrot asking me for my information three tries before he accepted my email address as valid, but oh well, all's well that ends well, right?) Some of the games were a little advanced for Layla, but I knew this going into it (the target age range for the site is six to eleven years old) so it wasn't exactly an issue that I didn't see coming. While the site isn't necessarily structured enough to use as, say, a curriculum tool for homeschooling purposes, it is still a great tool for casual learning, basic computer skills, and cute and fun activities with a solid educational slant. All-in-all, I can honestly say that it blows all of it's "educational website" competitors out of the water (pun completely and whole-heartedly intended!)
By now the more cynical among you might be thinking that my recent opportunities are fueling my praise for the site (and as a hard-sell myself I can appreciate your reluctance), but I can assure you that you're wrong. Actually, I can do better than assure you, I can prove it.
I have the opportunity to give away a free (and I know you all like free!) one-year membership to Tropic Mind to anyone who is interested or doubts that this site is half as awesome as I'm claiming it to be. There's only one catch-- Since I know so many wonderful moms/dads/aunts/uncles with kids who I know would love this site, I'm going to make you work for it. All you have to do is take a minute (either in the comments section on this blog or at Deliberations Of A Domestic Diva) and tell me all about your worst computer gaming experience. Annoying characters? Grating theme songs? Flat-out pointless? I want to know! It's not necessary to actually name names as far as the actual websites go, but please include your email address so I can send you the code for your membership. I can give you the Domestic Diva guarantee that both you and your kid(s) will love Tropic Mind.
I look forward to reading the responses of my clever readers! Game on!
Friday, July 6, 2012
Some Days Will Never Be The Same
This is probably going to sound really weird and vaguely anti-American, but every year I dread the fourth of July.
I'd like to say it's for a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill childhood traumatic experience in which I set my hair on fire with a sparkler causing extreme trauma and years of therapy, but the truth is that I never had a single unnerving Independence Day experience as a child. I have nothing but great childhood memories. Which, believe it or not, is actually kind of the problem.
I've mentioned before that my brother and I spent our summers with our grandparents in Iowa from the time we were babies up until we were around seventeen (respectively) and decided that sweltering heat and humidity mixed with the vague but ever-present smell of cow poo wasn't really our thing anymore. But prior to my surly teenage years, I loved spending summers in Iowa and the best part of the summer was always the fourth of July. My grandparents lived in a house on a lake and after the obligatory family barbeques, everyone would gather in boats and on the docks to watch the big fireworks display. My most vivid of all of my childhood memories is watching those fireworks crack over the sky and simultaneously reflect in the water, so you couldn't tell if they were falling down from above or coming up from below the clear, bright surface of the water. Everyone always had their radios on the local station, which would play Louis Armstrong's "What A Wonderful World" on a continuous loop until the last trail of sulfur-scented smoke from the last firework cleared. Every single person on the water, old or young, would sit in silence, relishing in both the sight of the colorful explosions overhead and the comforting, familiar sound of Louis. I remember thinking, even back then, that if I never made it to Paris or went anywhere exotic, it didn't really matter because I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than that little fireworks show in that tiny Midwestern town.
By now you might be thinking to yourself "This person is nuts, nothing about this is even remotely sad" and you're right. This would have been a happy blog full of sweet, innocent childhood memories, until five years ago when everything changed.
July 4th, 2007 is a memory I wish I didn't have. I had just had Layla and was nervously pacing outside of the closed door of her nursery, silently cursing the people who dared to set off the loud fireworks I was sure were going to wake up my beautiful baby (even though they didn't). I was on the phone with my mom who was in Iowa, not sitting on a lake listening to Louis and watching fireworks, but at a hospital with my grandmother. My grandma had become very ill unexpectedly and my mom called to tell me that she was being transferred to a hospice and that it didn't look good. I had been to the doctor that day myself and had been told that because of the circumstances of Layla's birth (horrible, slow-healing, and all-around gruesome), I wasn't permitted to travel. I was about to lose someone very important to me and all I could do was sit and wait for it to happen. Which, in case anyone is wondering, is the absolute worst feeling in the world.
I had always been close to my grandma. She was both the person in my family who I felt I was the most like and the person I aspired to become. I liked her because she always seemed so sophisticated to me, especially as a little girl. I was constantly amazed that she knew the right thing to wear for any occasion and knew exactly what to say to every person she came across. But I loved her because underneath her demure persona, she was funny, sassy, and sharp as a tack. She was responsible for my love of books and would send them to me constantly. Over the years I received all of the classics as well as the Babysitter's Club (AKA preteen girl literary crack) when I was young, and then books she had read herself and knew I would love as I got older. We would spend entire days during those humid Iowa summers just sitting on the porch and reading; our only conversations would involve reading something funny aloud from one of our books or asking the other what we should have for lunch. I've told this anecdote to countless people who never fail to timidly ask if I was bored all day or if spending my days this way made me feel neglected (for the record, my answer is always a very loud, very enthusiastic "Hell no!"). I love that we had that quality in common, in the same way that I love that I inherited her height, eye color, and bump in my nose, things I never fully appreciated in myself until I could no longer see them reflected in her.
My grandma passed away two days after that call on July 6, 2007. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. It's more accurate to say that it felt like losing a chunk of myself and knowing that I would never get it back. I did nothing for days but clutch sweet little three-week-old Layla and cry my eyes out. I cried because the world lost one of its few good people, I cried because I knew she would never meet my children and found that unbearably unfair, but mostly I cried because deep down I knew that the glue that held my family together was gone. I finally realized that those magical summers were magical because of what went on behind the scenes, because of everything my grandma did to make sure everyone was happy and having fun. I, of course, still talk to my grandpa, cousins, aunts and uncles, but it's not the same. When I went back to Iowa two summers ago for my cousin's high school graduation, I realized that it wasn't Iowa that was enchanting. The town I had loved to spend my summers was just a place, and a pretty average one at that. The enchanting part was my grandma. She was the one who made everything beautiful.
It's been five years since she passed away and I still think about her and miss her every day. If I'm in a tough situation, I always ask myself "W.W.J.D?" (What Would Jean Do?). If someone says something unkind to me, I try to respond like she would, remembering how she always said that our words are our most deadly weapons and to use them wisely. I wonder constantly what she would think of my mothering skills and life choices. One of the biggest regrets of my life will always be that I wasn't physically well enough to go to Iowa and say goodbye. On the other hand, when I'm able to feel optimistic, I remember that I was twenty-three when she passed, and I have millions of wonderful memories of her. She was at my wedding and saw me only weeks before Layla was born and as hard as it is to feel like that makes me lucky in any way, I know that it does.
So every Fourth of July when the fireworks (that never seem as impressive as they used to) light up the night sky, I will watch them with my own little family, trying to be the one that makes everything feel beautiful and magical for them, despite the ache in my own heart.
(One of my favorite pictures: From left to right: My grandmother Jean, me, and my mom Debbie on my wedding day--March 3, 2007--roughly four months before she passed away)
I'd like to say it's for a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill childhood traumatic experience in which I set my hair on fire with a sparkler causing extreme trauma and years of therapy, but the truth is that I never had a single unnerving Independence Day experience as a child. I have nothing but great childhood memories. Which, believe it or not, is actually kind of the problem.
I've mentioned before that my brother and I spent our summers with our grandparents in Iowa from the time we were babies up until we were around seventeen (respectively) and decided that sweltering heat and humidity mixed with the vague but ever-present smell of cow poo wasn't really our thing anymore. But prior to my surly teenage years, I loved spending summers in Iowa and the best part of the summer was always the fourth of July. My grandparents lived in a house on a lake and after the obligatory family barbeques, everyone would gather in boats and on the docks to watch the big fireworks display. My most vivid of all of my childhood memories is watching those fireworks crack over the sky and simultaneously reflect in the water, so you couldn't tell if they were falling down from above or coming up from below the clear, bright surface of the water. Everyone always had their radios on the local station, which would play Louis Armstrong's "What A Wonderful World" on a continuous loop until the last trail of sulfur-scented smoke from the last firework cleared. Every single person on the water, old or young, would sit in silence, relishing in both the sight of the colorful explosions overhead and the comforting, familiar sound of Louis. I remember thinking, even back then, that if I never made it to Paris or went anywhere exotic, it didn't really matter because I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than that little fireworks show in that tiny Midwestern town.
By now you might be thinking to yourself "This person is nuts, nothing about this is even remotely sad" and you're right. This would have been a happy blog full of sweet, innocent childhood memories, until five years ago when everything changed.
July 4th, 2007 is a memory I wish I didn't have. I had just had Layla and was nervously pacing outside of the closed door of her nursery, silently cursing the people who dared to set off the loud fireworks I was sure were going to wake up my beautiful baby (even though they didn't). I was on the phone with my mom who was in Iowa, not sitting on a lake listening to Louis and watching fireworks, but at a hospital with my grandmother. My grandma had become very ill unexpectedly and my mom called to tell me that she was being transferred to a hospice and that it didn't look good. I had been to the doctor that day myself and had been told that because of the circumstances of Layla's birth (horrible, slow-healing, and all-around gruesome), I wasn't permitted to travel. I was about to lose someone very important to me and all I could do was sit and wait for it to happen. Which, in case anyone is wondering, is the absolute worst feeling in the world.
I had always been close to my grandma. She was both the person in my family who I felt I was the most like and the person I aspired to become. I liked her because she always seemed so sophisticated to me, especially as a little girl. I was constantly amazed that she knew the right thing to wear for any occasion and knew exactly what to say to every person she came across. But I loved her because underneath her demure persona, she was funny, sassy, and sharp as a tack. She was responsible for my love of books and would send them to me constantly. Over the years I received all of the classics as well as the Babysitter's Club (AKA preteen girl literary crack) when I was young, and then books she had read herself and knew I would love as I got older. We would spend entire days during those humid Iowa summers just sitting on the porch and reading; our only conversations would involve reading something funny aloud from one of our books or asking the other what we should have for lunch. I've told this anecdote to countless people who never fail to timidly ask if I was bored all day or if spending my days this way made me feel neglected (for the record, my answer is always a very loud, very enthusiastic "Hell no!"). I love that we had that quality in common, in the same way that I love that I inherited her height, eye color, and bump in my nose, things I never fully appreciated in myself until I could no longer see them reflected in her.
My grandma passed away two days after that call on July 6, 2007. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. It's more accurate to say that it felt like losing a chunk of myself and knowing that I would never get it back. I did nothing for days but clutch sweet little three-week-old Layla and cry my eyes out. I cried because the world lost one of its few good people, I cried because I knew she would never meet my children and found that unbearably unfair, but mostly I cried because deep down I knew that the glue that held my family together was gone. I finally realized that those magical summers were magical because of what went on behind the scenes, because of everything my grandma did to make sure everyone was happy and having fun. I, of course, still talk to my grandpa, cousins, aunts and uncles, but it's not the same. When I went back to Iowa two summers ago for my cousin's high school graduation, I realized that it wasn't Iowa that was enchanting. The town I had loved to spend my summers was just a place, and a pretty average one at that. The enchanting part was my grandma. She was the one who made everything beautiful.
It's been five years since she passed away and I still think about her and miss her every day. If I'm in a tough situation, I always ask myself "W.W.J.D?" (What Would Jean Do?). If someone says something unkind to me, I try to respond like she would, remembering how she always said that our words are our most deadly weapons and to use them wisely. I wonder constantly what she would think of my mothering skills and life choices. One of the biggest regrets of my life will always be that I wasn't physically well enough to go to Iowa and say goodbye. On the other hand, when I'm able to feel optimistic, I remember that I was twenty-three when she passed, and I have millions of wonderful memories of her. She was at my wedding and saw me only weeks before Layla was born and as hard as it is to feel like that makes me lucky in any way, I know that it does.
So every Fourth of July when the fireworks (that never seem as impressive as they used to) light up the night sky, I will watch them with my own little family, trying to be the one that makes everything feel beautiful and magical for them, despite the ache in my own heart.
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