Baby Bee is 2!

Hopefully, it doesn't age me to say things like "it seems just like yesterday that. . ." because I've been saying plenty of stuff like that lately. Case in point, Baby Bee is 2 as of today. Which is crazy. I have no idea where the last two years of my life have gone. Other than student teaching and a soul-sucking property management job. So maybe I'd just rather pretend I have no idea where the years have gone, rather than feel that, as far as the property management job is concerned, I have been squandering my time.

Anyway, Saturday was the family celebration since today I am again squandering my time at a soul-sucking job. My dad and stepmom came over and we had a lovely time with Baby Bee (who I really can't call 'Baby' anymore, as she is officially a toddler AND will be moved to being the middle child in July when a little boy arrives). We went to Build-A-Bear in the mall and I had to buy she and Bug's bears shoes, because no one should be shoeless, even teddy bears. Also, while the store itself was very organized and flowed well, it was still way overstimulating for me. Baby Bee and Bug kind of got glassy eyed when trying to pick out clothes. Thank heavens for Disney Princess dresses or we would have been there for hours.

After a quick trip to the candy store and a stop for throwing pennies in the mall fountain, it was nap time. Which did not happen, so we had lunch and birthday cake instead. And then Baby Bee, Mrs. Mime, my stepmom, and I all took naps while my dad entertained Bug with a play dough kit he and my stepmom had brought her.

Evidence that I don't always forget my camera for big events:

Baby Bee looking at her burning candles with delight - could we have another pyro in the family?

Blowing out the candles. 

Bug laughing at Grandpa being silly.

Playing with play dough, shortly before both Baby Bee and I crashed for a quick nap.

Uggos, Crazies, and Bailers

I was watching the season finale of 30 Rock recently and Liz Lemon's boyfriend of the season, Criss (James Marsden, in the one role in which I don't find him completely annoying), said something that made me laugh and then made me think. He was explaining to Liz why he was stressed about their relationship, saying: 

“You know what kind of women in their 40s have never been married, Liz? Uggos, crazies, and bailers. You’re not an uggo. And you’re haha crazy, not oh boy crazy, which means you bail!”

While I'm not in my 40s (although you could argue that the pressure on an LDS woman who is single and in her 30s is roughly equivalent to an non-LDS woman in her 40s), the comment stuck with me. I'm aware enough to know I'm not a complete uggo, middle school pictures to the contrary, and I like to flatter myself that I am endearingly and amusingly crazy, not scary crazy. That leaves one choice: bailer. Once I started to think about it, it didn't see so far off the mark.

A brief and non-scientific analysis of my behavior would show that I am the first to leave any situation. If I'm in a conversation, 99% of the time, I'm the one to end it. In an sort of communication situation, I'm so worried about making a fool of myself, I get out early before I can embarrass myself. You can imagine how the stakes rise if I'm actually in a situation involving a guy in whom I might be interested. A ticking timer starts in my head the minute one of those conversations start. I can only imagine what kind of signal it sends to the guy I'm talking with (gentleman readers, if you exist, please chime in).

Additionally, if several of these conversations, with their abrupt endings, occur and nothing comes of it, I assume there is no interest. I bail on the possibility of something, which inevitably becomes self-fulfilling prophecy. And since I assume they are not interested, you can imagine how much shorter the conversations become and how much sooner I'm ready to pull the plug. Which does nothing to change the situation.

So, how do I change my behavior? That internal timer is so habitual I don't realize what is happening until the situation is over, til I sit back and realize I've done it again. Suggestions?

Five Years

I didn't want to get out of bed today. There are multiple reasons for this; I'm still not feeling 100% after having a death flu that turned into an ear infection. It is rainy and gray. I didn't want to go to work. Underlying all of this, however, is that it is the fifth anniversary of pretty much the worst day of my life.

Five years is a long time. The world has changed, there are lots of things that have no reference to my mother. I've cycled through a whole new wardrobe. I had to give away the suit I wore at her funeral because it was too big. She would be thrilled at how little of my wardrobe is still black. There's a whole crop of television addictions and fantasy boyfriends I never had a chance to tell her about. My life plans are radically altered. But there are some things that don't change. Hearing a James Taylor, Carole King, or Billy Joel song still makes me melancholy. I feel homesick when I see rose bushes. While it happens far less frequently now, I still reflexively think of calling her whenever really good or really bad things happen.

And that is the rub. All the things she hasn't been and won't be a part of is the hardest bit. The good things in life, the happy moments or great opportunities are always a little bittersweet because she isn't here to share them. The bad things, the sad moments, the unfortunate blind sides in life are all a little worse because she is no longer just a phone call away.

I remember shortly after my mother died, my aunt telling me "Welcome to the Dead Mom's Club. It sucks." And it does. That is really all there is to say about it when you lose your best friend and confidant. You make do, and you move forward. You try to refrain from wallowing, because she would be irate if she thought you missing life because of her. But it's never the same.