Photo by Ken Yeung
The Unexpected
April 12, 2010 by 13 Comments
I’m not a fan of the unexpected. It stalks me. Always looming overhead.
I like control. I like knowledge. I like familiar situations.
Despite my fears though, the unexpected is sometimes wonderful. Instead of fear, I find friends. But most of all, the unexpected can ground me. It weeds through the chaos to cut to what matters quickly and efficiently.
Time to take my new found love of cows and head back to the hospital. More soon.
I’m More Intimidated by Cows Than the White House
April 7, 2010 by 11 Comments
crossposted at BlogHer.com
I have to admit, when I get driving directions that include “The road is CR 12345, but I think a cow knocked over the sign. Ha!” I not-so-silently freak out a little.
When I see tweets from Ree Drummond that say “My cowlick is violent.” I immediately think one of her calves got loose and attacked her and then I calm down a little and realize she’s probably talking about hair.
It’s not that I don’t love fresh air, and cattle, and beautiful open spaces…it’s that I’m an urban girl and nature scares the bejesus out of me. (For those that can remember my live-tweeting and blogging of a camping trip in West by-god Virginia last year, you will understand. Every sound made me jump and every bug made me scream.)
Which means Friday as I travel to the middle-ish of the country to The Pioneer Woman’s PIONEER life, I’m a bit more intimidated than when I set foot in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. No really.
Dirt roads scare me more than men in power ties.
BlogHer is filming it’s first episode of “Putting it All Together” – and as the Producer of Special Projects I will be there doing whatever it is I do in these situations. But more importantly, I’ll be wondering if a tornado is coming, running from charging cows (what? cows there must be mean because all the happy cows live in California, duh) and worried what bugs might land on me. EEEW NATURE! GET IT OFF!
Yes, I realize that Ree lives in an actual home and there is running water and everything…but this doesn’t help my irrational mind process that I’m going to a CATTLE RANCH IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.
It reminds me of the first time my husband took me to see his family in West Virginia. I asked him if it was possible to “fall off” the family mountain. He’s still laughing. No really, over a decade later and he’s still laughing. But in my defense I had never been to West Virginia and he kept talking about this mountain which I assumed was like any other mountain…you know, with cliffs and what not. So let’s just say my “country” living knowledge is very, very limited and therefor I get quickly intimidated in situations such as…oh, say…hopping a plane and traveling to where the wind comes sweeping down the plains.
And BlogHer is used to me in this sort of situation too… in fact, I just sent in my expense report from SXSW where I attempted to make the most of my stay at the Four Seasons. Erin = White House and room service. Erin = Cattle ranch? Do you see the math problems here? Maybe it’s more like Erin = spoiled brat who could probably use a few good nights on the farm…but…I digress.
My kids, however? They think I am the LUCKIEST WOMAN ALIVE and had a very large debate the other night over which they would like to do more: Go to work with Mommy at a cattle ranch or Disneyworld.
And guess what? The cattle ranch won by a long shot.
So as I pack up yet another suitcase and attempt to NOT throw in things like my emergency earthquake kit (it has rations!) and my red cowboy boots (there are cows, and cowboys, seems like I should be required to wear them, no? or will I be trying too hard to blend?) I’m going to try and let go of my fears and embrace my children’s perspective on my trip to the country: “Mom has the best. job. ever.”
Maybe, before it’s all said and done, my husband’s premonition will be right and I’ll be begging him to sell our house in Los Angeles and buy a farm in the middle of nowhere. In which case I will change my blog name to Queen of Country and trade in my minivan for a truck.
If all else fails, I’ll have Montana girl and BlogHer CEO Lisa Stone, Sheila, and Loralee there with me to make sure I don’t get into any trouble. Oklahoma is a red state, after all.
Contributing Editor Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog and would much rather talk Health Care Reform than Cattle.
I Checked ‘Wife’
April 5, 2010 by 22 Comments
My daughter wants to know when boys marry boys and girls marry girls if everyone gets to wear a pretty white dress.
This is her big question tonight as I put her to bed and she nestles her chin into my neck. Clearly she’s been mulling this over in her five-year old brain and it needs an answer.
I explain that everyone can wear whatever they want…and you don’t need a white dress for a wedding. She nods her head and then proclaims that she’ll be wearing a white dress to her wedding, and she thinks she wants to marry a boy, but maybe she’ll marry a girl.
So long as you love each other and want to spend the rest of your lives together, that sounds wonderful.
And then my son chimes in that he’s probably never going to get married. And he’s going to get a ‘house on wheels’ and live next door to me…so we can always cuddle.
So long as you are happy and this is what you want.
As you fill out your Census forum, know that “the Census Bureau says same-sex couples in any state who consider themselves spouses should feel free to check the ‘husband’ or ‘wife’ boxes on the census form, rather than ‘unmarried partner.'”
However you define your relationship, here’s hoping you can check the box you choose, wear the dress you want, or live next to your Mom in a house on wheels.
Five.
March 30, 2010 by 24 Comments
I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to put into words my emotions today. I want to blog about my youngest turning five. How she’s gotten her ears pierced. How she couldn’t be more proud to be turning into a ‘big girl.’
But it’s too complex for what feels like puny words. Words that will pale in comparison to what’s happening in my heart and in my head.
All I know is carrying her is hard. She’s getting too big for me to hold on my hip. My hip that’s held her and her brother for so many years. My hip that’s labored under the weight of what I always, lovingly, called my ‘sack of potatoes.’
My hips aren’t done. They want more. And I ache and cry as I stand and automatically shift my weight…swaying the sway of a woman with a child on her hip.
But my hand now slips from her bottom and her weight is just nearly too much.
This hip will soon be empty.
And I honestly can’t bear the pain and sting, when I so badly long for this hip to be full.
Play
March 28, 2010 by 19 Comments
For as much ‘time’ as I spend with my kids, I rarely play with them.
There’s work to be done. There’s finally no work to be done and time to just sit. There’s …fill-in-the-blank.
And then there is my dirty little secret: I really don’t enjoy it.
I can’t play Lego’s for that long. My ass starts to get numb on the floor and I suck at putting things together. I can only pretend a stuffed dog and a stuffed cat are best friends and make food in the pretend kitchen for a bit before my eyes glaze over and I check Twitter or begin to read the news.
So tonight, after an exhausting double birthday party at my home, where children screamed and jumped and made a mess…I sat down in a heap of defeat only to hear ‘Mom…you haven’t jumped in the jumper with us yet!’
I knew I could get out of it. I knew I could say no. I knew I could easily send them off to spend another 30 minutes in the rented monstrosity on my front lawn.
But I didn’t say no. I said yes.
Mind you I didn’t last for more than a few slides and a few jumps…but I said yes. And I smiled and jumped and laughed for those very brief moments and came back inside.
It wasn’t much. But I said yes.
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