Macabre Motherhood

Just to clarify....I AM one of those mothers who encourages the presence of any and everything Edward Gorey in my home and in the lives of my children.

Life is grim and we all meet with some terrible end, in the end, try as you might to avoid it.  Gorey makes it all sort of beautiful, without completely minimizing the underlying horror.  His works are lovely and haunting and somehow sort of divine, I think. 

Dear Friend Who Shall Remain Nameless

I remember that you laughed at me when I told you, originally, when we met last year, that I live in a drama-free zone.  Maybe it did sound funny.  I was hoping you were laughing because it appeared so obvious to you that this was the case because who, in their right mind, really, ever wants to dwell in drama?

I explained to you that I work very hard to maintain the parameters and perimeters of my little fuss-free-fiefdom. 

You see, I've learned the hard way that drama begets more drama and the only way to stay away from "hot effing mess" is to not even turn down that road to Dramaville in the first place, and so I don't.  I just keep on driving past that exit and I don't even look over my shoulder or in the rear view.

You didn't really know me when you met me, so who knows what you were thinking, and at the time, it didn't really matter.  But, you see, it matters now, doesn't it?  Yes indeedy!

Because, as it turns out, you've hung out the "See Me For Drama" shingle and the "Step On In Here 'Cause My Shit Just Gets Crazier and Crazier" mat in front of your little door. 

I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I gave you fair warning and I'm just a little too old and, I'd like to think, a little too wise, to ever go there again, with you, or with anybody.

I'm sure this will hurt your feelings, and I'd tell you I'm sorry, but I'm not really.  It was your choice to spritz with crazy cologne, and it's your choice to feel bad that I can smell you coming and choose to steer clear.

So, no, I'm not calling you back.  And, no, you can't come over.  And, well, gosh, no, I'm not free to get together. 

All the best to you.

Corners

I love how "people" talk about your life having a path.  As if it's this pea gravel lined walkway somewhere.  Emphasis on the AS IF.

My path has been full of corners.  Not unlike PacMan sometimes.  (hmmm if I had more time I'd flesh this out for you all but at the moment I'm about quantity and not necessarily quality, sorry)

In any event, last night was a big corner.

I took my darling babies to orientation night at school.  That would be HIGH school, where both babies will be in attendance this year.

For baby girl this is old hat.  She's going to be a junior this year, which is, arguably, the meat of the high school sandwich (or in her case, the tofu).  For baby boy, however, this is new and anxiety provoking territory.  There are over 500 freshmen in his class, some of whom he already knows he doesn't like and many more of whom he will discover shortly he doesn't like.  I'd be anxious too.

In any event the corner came when baby girl offered to go with baby boy to orientation.  She literally took him in hand, walked him to each of his classes, introduced him to teachers and friends and literally steered him in the right direction.

She gave him the ins and outs of negotiating lunch, the breezeway, class changes, etc.  She even connected him with the theatre teacher and volunteered him for participation in the tech crew.  She took him backstage and upstairs to show him the hallowed tech booth from which the production team works its magic.

"Mom," he whispered to me while we stood in line for ice cream later that night "she said that the number one rule of the tech booth is 'no having sex in there!'"

"Mmmm" I feigned instant interest in a new flavor of ice cream in the case to mask my shock "I guess that's probably a good policy."

As we sat around a table having milkshakes she said "Do you know what the number one rule of tech is?"

I beat him to the punch as I now knew this answer, "No having sex in the tech booth?" 

"NO!"  she said, glaring at him "the number ONE rule of tech is 'No talking about tech with people who aren't techies!'" 

He hung his head, chagrined. 

She smiled.

"No sex in the booth is rule number two."

Am I worried about my children having sex in the tech booth?  Not really.  And even if I were, I think it would be outweighed by my new found knowledge that regardless of the opportunities and challenges they'll face this year, their paths, while veering away from mine, seem to be merging, in some small but significant way, together.