It’s November and for me and what appears to be about a million other bloggers it’s NaBloPoMo Month over at Blogher. That means that come hell or high water, I’ll be blogging every single day. I had a trial run last month and managed to post every day except for two. I didn’t blog on the weekends, but this time around, I will. I may be biting off more than I can chew, but here I go.
The folks at Blogher are kind enough to give the intrepid bloggers writing prompts to use. That was really helpful for the first few days I was blogging, then I just sort of did my own thing. Tonight I’m super tired and can’t really think, so I’m using the prompt, which is:
Tell us your favourite quotation and why.
Actually, it should be “Honey Badger don’t give a shit” because I just went in Walmart wearing my LL Bean slippers and an unhooked bra (it was on; I had just unhooked it while I was napping with the baby and I was too lazy to hook it back so I instead proudly sported an awesome uniboob.) I’m terrified that I may be turning into my mother, who would run to the store in her nightgown if she needed something late at night. She also threw empty Coke bottles at birds when they woke her up too early; I’m not quite there yet. My actual favorite quote is from the movie ‘Terms of Endearment.’ Debra Winger plays Emma Horton, who is married to a cheating creep. She’s dying from cancer, and they’re discussing what to do with the kids when she dies. Those kids are no walk in the park, especially the oldest who makes no bones about the fact that he finds is mother repellent in every way. The cheating creep of a father wants to keep the children, but Emma wants them to go to her own mother, and she tells him:
“As hard as you think it is, you end up wishing it were that easy.”
I think it sums up parenthood pretty well, and marriage and life, too, for that matter. When I was pregnant with my first child, I imagined all sort of horrible things about raising children, but nothing I could dream up and worry about would have prepared me for what it’s really like. Taking care of my kids, watching them grow up, and supporting them when things get rough is always a challenge. Sometimes I get lucky, and their struggles aren’t as bad as I thought they would be, but more often than not, I do end up wishing that the drama hadn’t defied the limits of my own imagination. My daughter, whose struggles with bulimia I’ve written about before, is still away at college. She’s holding her own, but there have been nail-biting moments where I wondered if everything would be okay; scary moments that I couldn’t have imagined that made me wish that the normal things that other parents have to worry about were the problems on our plate instead of the ones we’ve been dealt. I was on the phone with my stepmother, who lives an hour away from my daughter’s college, so she’s seen her recently. She assured me that my daughter is so busy that she doesn’t have time to party. Why she brought that up, I have no idea. I guess when people think of kids in college, they automatically think of toga parties and beer pong? I’d love it if college partying was our only concern, and I told her that. I wish it were that easy.
It’s sort of like the Jewish folktale ‘It Could Always Be Worse’. All the moments that seem tough while I’m raising my children are outdone by harder times, so I need to learn to relax and enjoy what’s tolerable at the moment. Everybody wins that way, and we can always watch The Honeybadger if we need to be cheered up.