help

Can somebody please tell me how to teach my eldest child that stealing things and lying about it is not cool? That calling me names is not cool? That acting tough and mouthy is not cool? She is apparently not yet mature enough to realize that her actions and words can create negative or positive results for not only herself but everyone around her. She wants to be left alone (by me) but insists on using my things and sneaking around, thus inviting me into her troubles.
Of course, I blame her father who lives to buy her things and doens't like to discipline her at all who manipulates her into feeling sorry for him. When she is with him she acts sweet and passive and when she is with me she is herself-loud, relaxed and smelly. In my defence I treat both of my children with respect, am open with them and have a relaxed attitude towards many things. I do expect them to do what I ask when I ask it (homework, tidying up, getting outside to play) but am inclusive and fair.

I have people I know whose kids are rotten and it's almost always the parents fault. What have I done wrong and how can I fix it.?
p.s. she is almost certainly PMS'ing....

saturday traffic jam

Traffic jam on the highway
there's a jumper on the bridge
it's a sweltering day but the lake is blowing off a cool breeze
it's saves us from going crazy in the waiting.

I am sitting in the car watching the scene unfold-
kids playing ball in the deserted spaces
others just hanging out on the hoods
glad for their bottled water.

Worried travellers with a plane to catch
hightail it for the Lakeshore
suitcases in hand
hoping to be the ones who win the cab.

Me, I am just waiting
time has stopped for the next little while
We've got some talking to do
and the radio is playing a pretty good song.

passing it on

My mother has spent her entire adult life-possibly her entire life-on a diet. My mother is a slim woman-great legs, shapely, long and lean-tiny waist, smallish bust. I know she eats but i cannot recall ever having seen her eat. She shuns sweets and walks and dances and rollerskates. It is fair to say she hates her body and has been at war with it as long as i can remember. If i mention that she looks good, she will argue with me, pointing out some horribly fat body part to emphasize my wrongness. All this despite the fact that she is a real catch, and always has a long line up of elegible men waiting to take her out. She dresses like a fox and even her lingerie is nicer than mine (i know, I receive her hand-me-down bras because after a couple of months she insists they are too small for her). I strongly suspect she is having more and better sex than I am as well.

However, I also suspect that in every other aspect save for the clothes and sex, i am becoming just like her. Last November i vowed not to spend another summer not wearing skirts and dresses because my thighs rubbed together in a most uncomfortable manner. i vowed not to fit into those unsightly "fat" shorts that I have been wearing since I had my littlest one-4 years ago.
I prefer sex with the lights off and do not enjoy appearing naked in front of anyone except my 4 year old. I see women on the street who are bigger and curvier than me and I think they look just fine-fabulour even. I do not strive to be skinny. I want to feel healthy and strong and muscular blah blah.

However. I have not been as diligent as I had hoped. Many days I simply do not have the time to jog or do yoga or workout. I am addicted to cookies and brownies. Even now that spring is here. My thighs still rub together. the fat shorts still fit snugly. I am filled with a sense of failure at my shortcomings and shame at my own (probably skewed) body image. My body just seems to have found this weight that it likes, is comfortable with and does not want to part with even an ounce of it. I am struggling with the notion of appreciating it and loving it-as we all do no doubt. I do fear terribly the idea of spending my entire life at war with this body of mine, of not ever feeling sexy in it, of not enjoying how it looks and feels, of this discomfort with seams and buttons. I fear giving up the joys of food and drink for a notion that is unattainable.

But mostly I fear that I too will pass all that on to my girls who are still in the glory days of just how fucking beautiful they are.

Paperwork

we haven't done our taxes for 3 (count 'em) years. today I am trying to sort through the nightmare that is my man's version of organization. I keep coming across little bits of things-pictures drawn by the big girl when she was little, lists of things to do last year (half-completed), something I cut out of a magazine then promptly forgot about. There is so much paper in this house-so much of the minutiae of our lives, forgotten or put away for another day to examine so I keep getting sidetracked from my task to spend a few minutes thinking about then and now-what's changed, what's stayed the same. it's a beautiful day outside but I am perfectly happy in my dining room with these little bits of paper and the cat happily in the middle of it all, listening to Sarah Slean singing away like a bird through the speakers.

Kids these days...

We were innocently drinking our bootleg vino chattering away about who what where why and how-quietly I thought since the man on the stage had a microphone which enabled his voice to boom above ours-and it's not like he was saying anything funny, despite the laughter of the just-lost-my virginity age bracket that surrounded us-no doubt on their first big night out sans parents (which would explain the apparent hilarity of the comedian on stage) but REALLY! It's a concert for chrissakes- not an undergrad lecture. The band is the main event-the opening act just window dressing. And I just simply can't see how a 20 minute monologue which revolves around reading a fake letter to the customer service department of DELTA Airlines (Delta ???-this is Canada dude!) can ever possibly be misconstrued as comedy. However, I digress.
We were talking and then we were shushed by the pretty young things all around us because we weren't being quiet enough-at a concert. The same ones who texted their friends throughout the main event. We were the only ones with hooch.

Remember when going to a show meant burning your hands because you held your lighter for too long? Or getting high even if your weren't smoking because of the thick haze of pot smoke hanging over the crowd? Smuggling in your camera and some booze to drink secretly in the dark. Standing throughout the entire show and missing the opening act entirely because you were hanging around the bus chatting up the roadies?
I feel older today.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY

scene: a small house in a quiet suburb. a man is sitting on the couch idly watching a soccer game-it is half-time. a woman enters the living room, stops just short of the tv and twirls around.

woman: Hey, what do you think of my new skirt?
man: (eyes on the tv) hmmm? oh. it's nice.

the woman leaves the room.

scene: sometime later, the game is almost finished, only 2 minutes of injury time to go. the woman re-enters the room wearing her pajamas and sits down on the couch next to the man.

woman: Hey honey, what do you think of the TFC's new uniform for this season?
man: Well, I don't like it as much as their first season. The second season wasn't bad, but this one has that high neckline that I don't really like. I don't mind their logo-I'm glad it's not like Kansas City-they have some weird crappy American style mascot thing-but it seems that now the corporations just try to put as many logos on the shirts as possible. I do like the grey stripe on the sleeves and they have the Canadian flag on the centre so that's good....

the woman gets up and goes to bed.

all that being said..

all that being said, last week I told a young woman who was thinking about having children not to do it. 'Don't do it" I said, "live for yourself" I told her. I hadn't even been drinking.

wife vs mother

In a moment of boredom the other day I turned on the tv and flicked through the channels until I passed the Oprah show-she was talking to MOMS about THE THRUTH ABOUT BEING A MOM and all the moms were SHARING their funny little stories about how they cheat and cut corners on their vision to be a PERFECT MOM and the little secret resentments they have about BEING A MOM. I couldn't help but think that it's not really being a mom that is the soul sucking thing-it's being a wife. Taking care of a kid wouldn't be that bad if we also didn't have to take care of a man, a partner, a house, a job, a boss, a bunch of things that suck our energy and time and identity. I remember in University (Women's Studies, of course) learning about the separation of wife from mother and it was like a Eureka moment. It's quaint when we say that what Moms really need is a wife. The nature of WIFE is to take care of all the domestic, all the social, all the relationships that the family needs taken care of. When we have to combine the work of mothering with the work of being a wife, it's no wonder we feel overwhelmed/understimulated. In all these years of feminism and social change, I really don't think all that much has changed for women with a few small exceptions.
Much of the time I receive great joy and strength from my children. I love being a part of their lives and a witness to their growth. My identity as a mom is something I am very proud of and has brought tons of healing and love into what was once a very broken life and heart. Mom as an identity is a good thing for me, wife something I could easily do without...

coupledom

And so it goes that couple X is carrying on with their plans and having more and better sex than ever (with each other) and I'm like whaaa?? A little juice goes a long way I guess and now I am seriously contemplating having an open relationship just so I can get some action from my man.

My newer and better therapist is actually helping me look at things in a more positive way and I actually spent time appreciating how R and I compliment each other and what I have learned from him. Who'd have thunk it..

Another couple has decided to divorce but are continuing to live together (him in the basement-whaa?) because they do not want to risk selling their house in the current market-although they live in a very "desirable" place and would not have to worry. Their youngest daughter (same age as my eldest) thinks they are not actually breaking up because of this.

So today I am thinking about a lifetime with someone and how long that might be and when do you know when the time is up? How can you stay strong despite the barriers and personality deficits of your chosen one?

We have been taking dance lessons-R's romance appeal and although it makes me feel like I am back in grade 5-one two three four, switch two three four-it is so lovely to be twirled around, his face tilted down smiling at me as if we are the only ones there in the middle of the afternoon. Romance indeed.