October 2006 Archives

So we were talking at work the other day (we being the PE teachers, KM and MH, the art teacher, PS, the music teacher, MC, and myself ... the whole 'special' team). Unusual for us because we don't ever have common planning time off but it was a happy accident since 1st grade was on a field trip so we all had that period off. Funny how everyone migrates to the media center when they have time off and need to relax but, when you don't have a teacher lounge, what can you expect?

As a side note, during our conversation, everyone was doing things for themselves and I, naturally, continued to have to work.

Somehow the discussion came around to families and how they express love and PS said that she had no idea until she went to college that some people grew up in abusive households. Funny, it occured to me that I had no idea until I went to college that some people grew up with two parents, in 'normal' non-abusive households. I didn't know there were parents out there that loved each other AND their kids, that didn't leave them alone at night, that remembered their birthdays and school functions, that actually put their kids needs before their own.

A few years after I graduated, when I was thinking about having my own kids, I decided that I would be one of those parents. I just wish I had married someone that wanted to be one of those parents, too.

I started to think about my own kids, with all their awkward teenager 'tude. The boy tells me he loves me but treats me like dirt. Unless he wants something ... or wants to distract me from something. Hmm, wonder who he gets that from. The girl, on the other hand, is easy to please, albeit a bit more selfish the older she gets. For the most part, she is helpful and hard-working. Now, this may sound odd ... but she has never told me she loves me. I know deep down she does ... how she takes care of me when I am falling apart speaks volumes ... but she isn't ready to commit to the words. As if by saying it will make me go away.

I wonder how their early childhood played into shaping their personalities. Maybe the boy got too much exposure to his father's volatility and narcissism, causing him to grow a hard shell. Maybe the girl spent too much time attached to me and me alone until the two of us could almost read each others thoughts, until words aren't necessary between us. How else do I explain how she knows exactly when I neeed a hug and how I know exactly when she is going to throw up? And then there were all those silents months (years really) when we lived in the country and I was the only one there with them and I could not talk or smile. Did that totally mess them up or is it the family history of mental illness, the gift that keeps on giving?

The day went on (as days are wont to do) and we had planned a bridal shower in the media center after school. Now the bride-to-be is one of my favorite people at school and, although we have totally different lives, we can talk about anything. Nice when you find someone like that, someone who seems to take a genuine interest in who and how you are, especially when there are so few people like that in the school.

I didn't really mind going to the shower today, for her, but truth be told, I was slightly THRILLED when I had to run server maintenance after school and had a reason to avoid it. I just don't need to go anywhere near a bridal shower, or a wedding, or anything remotely resembling a fairytale right now. I'm too cynical, morose ... and I don't want it all rubbed in my face, how woefully inadequate I feel, however inadvertantly. I can deny it all I want but I want what they have and I feel like I missed my chance.

What the day devolved into was a sullen mood and I brought all that loveliness home for my family, who had their own moods to share. The boy balked when I asked him to do his chores, muttering "What's in it for me?" and I went over the edge. I hate this.

I. HATE. THIS.

I am the grown up andd I should have had a simple, stock answer for him, something that would make him understand that he stepped over the line, but instead I had a meltdown.

Way to go, mom. Thanks for all of this. I became you at your irrational best and proceeded to make him feel guilty for being ... NOT what I intended at all.

I give up. Honestly, all I've ever wanted to hear was that, for once, my needs matter.

Anyway, about the title. So I was sitting in a hotel room last week. I was by myself, eating Chinese take out bought from a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in a very seedy part of Winston-Salem. As I enjoyed my Kung Pao Shrimp out of a styrofoam container with a plastic fork with a tall glass of water (ok, plastic cup) on the side, I began flipping through the channels to see what was on.

Not used to having movie channels, I was excited to find out I had both free HBO and Showtime. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing on ... nothing but "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants". I once made a promise to myself that I would never watch any movie with the word 'sisterhood' in the title (or anything even remotely resembling a 'chick flick') but there I was, by myself in a hotel, 200 miles from home, no kids and only a tenuous connection with T via YahooIM holding me together. What can I say, I was weak.

I watched the whole insipid thing, amazed that anyone would think that a movie full of such stunningly unoriginal stereotypical cliches should even be made. I felt oddly ill afterwards, mostly from the saccharine sweetness. Ok, maybe a little from the MSG but really? The movie sucked. Is it just me?

I guess I just don't work like most women my age ... or any age for that matter. Even though my life has, at times, resembled one, I don't watch Lifetime TV movies. I don't get all weak for romance movies or ballads. I don't swoon for Brad Pitt or other pretty boys. I don't like lace and ruffles and pearls and sequins and beading and I have never wanted to play dressup like a princess.

When I was little, I played with the other kids in my neighborhood. We played football and kickball and tag and 'Lost in Space' (oh, yes, I was the robot ... "Danger Will Robinson!"). As we grew up, the girls wanted to get together and do each other's hair. I opted to play with the boys and, consequently, became the best punter in the neighborhood. Rainy days, I stayed in and read ... sunny days, I climbed trees or walked alone into the woods and read.

I never liked the 'flock' mentality that most girls had. I didn't need a network of females to lift me up. I didn't need anyone, thank you very much. That's been my battlecry, anyway. So when I see a movie like "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" or "Under a Tuscan Sun" (which was on tonight), I feel a definite disassociation with the women they portray. And then I get angry because I am reminded of how broken I am, how definitely, utterly broken I continue to be.

Sisterhood? No thanks. As my favorite movie psycho once said "Go sell crazy someplace else. We're all stocked up here."

EDIT: As if you needed any more evidence, just look at the newest item on my Amazon wishlist. How hot is THAT?!?!