Just Love

Instead of wondering what I can get out of this world, how about waking each day with the question:  What can I give today? Who can I love?  How can I brighten this small piece of the world I live in?  

I think about how I’ve been dreaming of finding that special guy.   

Because I’ve been hurt, because I don’t want to make the same mistake thrice I have a terrific list of must haves and can’t haves.  I doubt seriously there’s anyone out there that would qualify just in those specifications alone.  He must be perfect and generous with his love for me and – here’s the real rub - he must magically make up for all the wrongs ever done to me.  It’s no wonder I can’t find him.  

Then I think about how I was given Dia at a stage in my reproductive life that, without help from science, might be considered a miracle.  It’s remarkable nonetheless.  And I wonder why me?  Maybe it’s because my only thought when it comes to children is to love THEM.  I expect zero back in return.  I merely relish in the love I feel for them.  Nothing in my life has ever brought me so much.  Just loving.  Without asking for a damn thing back.  Just loving them.

And it occurred to me today during my meditation that that is exactly what I am doing wrong everywhere else.  I want.  I want to have as much as the folks on the top of the hill.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a perfect family with a man, a father, at my side because it looks shiny and it is what is normal and expected.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a better car, a bigger house, nicer stuff.  Give me that.  I want.  I want a bigger bank account.  Give me that.  I want. I want to travel the world; to be taken care of; to sit back with my feet up and have someone else do it all.  I want.  Give me that.

And in all my life the only thing I was ever so brilliant at that I actually give myself credit is my parenting.  That’s not because I’m so wise and so magnificently insightful.  It’s because I don’t talk all the time.  I listen.  I am not looking for my agenda to get filled.  I’m not waiting for the day that they do whatever it is that is going to make me feel loved, cherished, validated, worthy, fulfilled.  I just love.  And it works.  It’s successful.  Inadvertently.  It’s a side effect of just giving of me to them with no expectations of a return.  In fact, not even wishing for one.  And when the return comes – and it does – it lights me up so much more than any grand gesture dressed up in a bouquet of roses ever could.

So logically… wouldn’t it go to follow that if I put that kind of love into every other part of the world, it would earn a return as successful as my parenting?  What if tomorrow I wake up and ask:  What can I give today?  Who can I love?  Where can I show compassion?  How can I help?  And just trust that that, in and of itself, is enough.  What do I get back?  Nothing.  But my little corner of the world is rosier, and the sun shines a little brighter in it.  Because of me.  And that is enough.

In fact, I won't wait until tomorrow.  I'm going to start now.

It's Time for a Revolution

All this "Occupy (insert location name here)" nonsense has my inner activist fired up.  I'm not one to shy away from a cause, but I also tend to lead a life of moderation.  Therefore nothing has gotten me revved up enough to date to lead a movement or join a protest.  Nothing, that is, until now.

Folks, it is time to do something about this.  We have spent decades - nay! centuries! - accepting this atrocity as not only fine, but important.  We teach it to our children in preschool.  It's blasted all over children's programming and blatantly displayed on the walls of their classrooms.  Yes, people, I am referring to:

The Alphabet.

Well, not the whole thing.  Just one letter.  That letter, may I be so bold as to say - is the letter "C."

Despite the fact that this letter begins my last name and my daughter's first name, I think we can all agree that it is time to do away with this archaic and unnecessary letter (or, rather, this arkaik and unnessessary letter - see where I'm going?)  It makes the same sound as two other letters we already have.  Why is it there?  What is it for?

I, for one, believe we should start a campaign (or, rather, kampaign) to do away with this treachery (or, rather, trea...ch???  OH!)  Oh, right, the 'ch' sound.  How do you make that with the other letters?  Darn it.

Never mind.

I will then, change my campaign to the eradication of the letter "Q."  After all I cannot think of single time that the "kw" combination would not suffice (or ck in the unique "que" instances (or, rather, the uneek "que" instances)).  Therefore, I shall be hosting a rally on the steps of the U.S. Department of Education to promote a bill to reduce our Alphabet to 25 letters and to prohibit the further use of this offensive letter.

Who is with me?  We will call it "Occupy Sesame Street!"

My Little Monster

I had to work for a little bit this morning.  It's Saturday and we'll soon be off to a play and then we'll spend the rest of the day together, so I had Dia playing on her own while I got some business stuff done.

My background noise while I toiled away was her playing, singing and chatting to herself or the cat or any inanimate object about.

She's dressed for the day in a swingy dress and crazy tights with polka dots, stripes and stitches down the legs.  The stitches particularly inspired her apparently:

To Albert (the kitten):
(Singing)
"It's still me
Why are you afraid?
Could it be the stitches down my leg?"
(this was done in a rhyming fashion which I, as a totally biased bystander, found genius)

And then, she turned her attention to cutting the heads off of all the models in a catalog:

Dia, to the model: "I will cut your head off, Princess!"

(Speaking for the 'princess') "No!"
"Yes! You will never marry now!  Buhahaha!  Princesses without heads cannot marry!  It is the RUUUUUUUULE!"

Then, to add more color, she explained to the now decapitated models:
"You will all be monsters like me now!  Buhahaha!

and, still snipping away at the catalog:  "Heads, heads, heads!  You are all dead, like me!  La-la-la-loo!"

.... Should I be afraid?

Dia said "YES!"