When I was little, I used to notice when women wore sneakers all the time. Sneakers at church, sneakers at work, sneakers with suits, skirts, jeans, on holidays, on vacation. I was particularly vexed when women wore sneakers with skirts.
The above image is a photograph of my feet. In sneakers. With a skirt.
I love other kinds of shoes, and I do wear them, though I nearly always regret it after.
Here is an example of a recent time when I did not wear sneakers:
That was at my sister’s wedding. I was in that wedding, and it was my sister. It was also nine million degrees hot outside, and I took my funky (in both senses) old lady flip flops from New Balance (with the instep support and lowered heels) for the dancing.
I considered wearing my clogs today. With my skirt. It would’ve looked better. But when I do not wear sneakers, my body hurts.
Yes, I know, it’s partly because I’m too fat. But it’s also because I’m not twenty anymore.
Since we last spoke, fair blog readers, I have been head-spinningly busy, and I will be for a few weeks more, but I couldn’t let it go any longer without letting you know I’m still kicking (haha), and that I promise I’ll be back in force in a few weeks.
I’ve got a lot to tell you. And some pictures, too. And some more Self (Publishing) Help posts, even though I know you hate those.
It has been an intense month for Child and I. I am a generally sensitive person with loads of feelings.
But I have been in the midst of this confronting-feelings tsunami for about a month.
There are two things I want to tell you about.
1. My sister’s wedding. I already told you about it, sort of. I am happy for her. But I am also worried. I am worried because she does not know how young she is the way I’ll say I didn’t know how young I was ten years from now. This is a thing. It is a hard thing. I don’t really care about marriage. I think it can be a reasonable pragmatic choice for some people, whether they are in love or not. And my sister’s wedding RULED. Here are some pictures. But oh gosh, she actually did it. She actually got married. And oh man, she moved to Texas. And holy birds, this is just kind of age-making. I mean, I helped to take care of her when she was a baby. I changed her diapers. If it’s this intense when my baby sister gets hitched up, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when Child does it. Sheesh.
I am a crier. I cry when I am happy and sad and frustrated and occasionally if I am hungry. I cry at weddings and funerals. Whether I know or love the people or not. I am still, a week later, occasionally crying about my sister’s wedding. Especially when I see pictures or think real hard about how my family is different now: Richer, and more interesting, and with potential for greater closeness (but also for greater pain), for having made this milestone, for welcoming a new person.
2. Child met her paternal grandparents for the first time. If you’ll recall, she hasn’t met her father. We spent a lovely late morning with them, had some lunch, played at the mall, chatted. It was cool and nice. But it felt kind of similar in terms of adding new people. In terms of overwhelming love and complicated, conflicting feelings.
They were sweet and loving toward both of us. They did not have to be. I wasn’t expecting them to be. I wasn’t expecting anything.
But this was the third time we’d scheduled a visit. So I was kind of scared they wouldn’t show up. I was half worried it’d be some kind of ambush. I remain concerned for Child’s emotional health. I have had the swell luxury of not really having to examine my feelings about Child’s bio father. Maybe not about him, exactly, but about this situation as it relates to him. I haven’t believed I’d have to. I haven’t believed we’d have to figure out how to give Child that part of her family without giving her him.
I can’t help but think that this intense emotional overwhelm is at least partially responsible for the way I had the first migraine headache in like 15 years, and the way Child spent last night puking and moaning.
So this morning, during her little uptick of energy before she ate anything, she asked to play Candy Land, and so I took a break from playing catch-up and played with her.
I was struck by how absurd that game is. It’s unfair and ugly (like life), but it’s all swaddled in pink and the excitement and indulgence of CANDY!, and it requires no skill.
The image above is the new version. I played a very squared-edges, bare version compared to what exists now. The board is vertically oriented, and just gauche, and the gingerbread man pawns are these wavy, pretty critters, totally unlike the basic, barely-recognizable cutouts of my youth.
Candy Land struck me as a metaphor for lives: It doesn’t matter how pretty you try to make it, or how much candy you eat, it still sucks, will often be boring, and it is more likely than not that you’ll lose, even–or especially–if you do everything right.
So. Enjoy the cynicism for a Monday afternoon. Any of you have moments of clarity over kids’ media?
So I’m thinking about making my blog schedule Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and changing my posts from uploading very early in the morning (usually between 6-7:30 EST) to later in the afternoon (3:00 EST).
I’m also going to be out of town the next two weeks, so my posting schedule might get wonky anyhow. I’m going to try to share cool pictures and happenings, but I also begin grad classes, participate in a Major Family Wedding, and engage in the usual poverty-battling activities.
I’m not complaining. I choose to live like this. It’s the best way to be a reasonable mom for now. There will be plenty of time for capitalist ambition.
But if you live in the tri-county area, you should consider taking my Writing Workshops at Penn College in the Workforce Development and Continuing Education program. They are unbelievably inexpensive, and they will be loads of fun, plus open, welcoming, liberal, and kind.