I am a jerk

Our neighbor, who I constantly refer to as 'crazy', came over Tuesday night.  Mike answered the door, I prefer the pretending-I-am-not-home-even-though-you-can-hear-the-surround-sound-through-the-door method myself.  I mean, this is the woman who digs through our recycle bin to find treasures to stack in her garage and who sits in her yard barefoot in the dead of winter with her tiny dog wearing a sweater.

Anyway, she had her laptop and wanted to make sure that by having it open, on, and yahoo mail up her son would be able to get through to her.  She said her son was missing.

I chalked it up to crazy old lady whose son hasn't called in a day.

His body was found Wednesday morning in a local reservoir. 

Okay, so she wasn't crazy about this one thing, and it really, really sucks, but she is generally nuts.   I am not so much of a jerk that I don't feel bad for dismissing her concerns as baseless.

Roses and raspberries

No, I'm not talking gardening here.  It's a good day for a yeahs and nays (neighs? naes?NOs) list:

Roses: to electric tea kettles and leaf tea.   Mmmmm, Harney and Sons I love you.  The whole day goes better with cup and saucer on my desk.

Raspberries: to 'texturizing' hair.  I no longer have 2 hairs on my head that are the same length.  I hate paying someone to make my hair look worse.  I have to stop having ultimate faith in stylists who work at SuperCuts.

Roses: to Spring!  Cherries are in blossom, sun in my window and it's actually light out both coming AND going from work!

Raspberries: to taxes.  I held on 'til the end, but ponied up the cash to Oregon today.

Roses: to having a wonderful partner, adorable son, a car that runs, an apartment I like and a job that is flexible.  Life is pretty good.   :)


t.

The end begins with a single black hair

Yesterday Lawrence told me that he had his first black hair.  Um, okay.  Is that like getting a gray hair?  Noooooo.

He wanted to have a conversation about hair that grows- you know - in the 'crutch' area.   And so I did my best to muddle through answers about how yes there would be more and no they might not be super curly and yes he could cut them if he wanted and no he shouldn't bring up the topic in lunchtime conversation. 

Okay, sure, I guess you can talk about armpit hair.  No, I can't see any hair in your armpits yet.

No, you do not need a razor for a single hair.  You don't like how long the hair is?  It makes you feel weird and unhappy?  Um, here are some safety scissors.  Oh, you would prefer that I cut the hair?  Great. 

And so I found myself trimming a pubic hair on my NINE year old last night.  I was completely weirded out and trying to see how I could have avoided the moment with someone as straightforward as Lawrence.  He saw the whole process as fairly routine, like getting his nails trimmed.

It was hard enough talking body changes with a classroom full of alternately mortified and hysterical 5th graders.  I am so not ready for adolescence with a child who has no real sense of privacy or modesty or ability to pick up on the social cues of others.  

I've got to buck up.  No way I am wussing out and leaving a book about puberty on his pillow.

Faded memories

Today I went to a workshop which included laughter therapy - weird but it did lift my spirits.

During one part she suggested that each day we focus on a different behavior, I remember gratitude, friendliness and forgiveness.  It's only been 2 hours and I forgot the others...

Anyway.  For forgiveness she had us close our eyes and picture the face of someone we were angry or resentful or annoyed with.  I decided to go big and picture Henry.

And couldn't.

Honestly.  I can kinda picture the hairstyle he had in high school, and I know he had a missing front tooth last time I saw him.  But I can't picture him.  It was somewhat disturbing. 

So, I focussed on the hair flip and the missing tooth and went on with the excersixe where we were supposed to send 'positive energy' out toward them in the universe.  I came up with "I hope you have someplace to sleep at night".  Not exactly a wealth of generosity there.....

If I've forgotten what he looks like and I spent over a decade in intense emotion (good and bad) with him - I wonder what Lawrence has left?

When less is more...

Back in January I had great plans and set myself some deadlines, to once and for all admit that I am not a scrapbooker and to clean out the tubs of materials, put what i have together and let go of the rest.  I also planned to make Lawrence a book celebrating 10 years of life for his birthday at the same time.

How is it April already?!?!?!?

Time to get serious.  July 1 it all goes away, one way or another...

Although it has been temporarily painful letting go of things I have carried with me for years, and on rare occasions I say "oh, I used to have something that would be perfect for this", mostly once the sting of watching it go has passed, it's just extra room to breathe (and less to pack when the inevitable move comes!)