Reading and Writing

I've been reading the 50 Shades of Grey book series. I wouldn't call them the best written books I've ever read but what I've noticed is the variety of reactions when I confess that I've been reading them. My inner goddess highly approves of my choice of fiction, and I giggle when I recall various scenes, many that made me uncomfortable. I think when a book causes so many people to talk about reading, what emotions and reactions a book caused, it's a good thing. (sorry-sounds a little Martha Stewart-ish)  It reminds me of the conversation I had with the Dean of Student Affairs at my favorite university. They had decided to give each incoming freshman and transfer student a copy of a novel, it happened to be The Hunger Games that year,  to encourage reading and discussion groups. I was skeptical about the outcome, after all-who reads books for fun in college? I never had the time or inclination. However, it was and continues to be an overwhelming success, so much so that the rival university in the same state is following the lead and introduced their own reading program this fall.

When my daughter was in junior high, her 8th grade English teacher discussed with the parents at Back to School night, her passion for encouraging students to write. With the computers and digital age advancing at lightening speed, she talked about her concern that students don't write anymore and 'text talk' was ruining students spelling skills.  Both of my children had the good fortune to have her as their teacher and both kids learned a lot about descriptive writing, poetry and becoming more creative in their thought processes as they wrote down those words.

My mother used to write letters to my grandparents each week. Their return letters were looked for in great anticipation by my parents, anxious to hear about other members of our family, how the land looks (depending on the season)  who is doing what to whom. As I grew older, I wanted to read them too and I grew up reading about people I didn't know and family I rarely saw. I love to read. I love to lose myself in a good story, passing the afternoon in my recliner, beverage of choice at my side. Vacations mean finding a good book. Getting my hair cut and colored means flipping through a magazine while waiting, and when I hear something interesting being mentioned and I have no idea what they are talking about, I perk up and think, 'sounds like a search!' and I'm off to the computer, to read and learn. I am passionate about learning new things and like being able to socialize with people on a variety of topics. I'm not sure anybody at the next office party wants to hear me wax eloquently about 50 Shades of Grey given the subject matter, but being well read does increase your vocabulary and makes you express yourself in a more descriptive manner.

Earlier this week, someone said they had read my blogs. I can't tell you how much that pleased me to hear. Another confided that I had moved her to tears with my own confessions of the heart. Wow-considering my limited literary experience, it meant the world to me that anyone would read my words and that they would evoke an emotion.  Some days I sit here and think-I have nothing to say today that anybody would want to read. Other times, I'm wrestling with a number of topics but can't come up with anything substantial to say about them. Certainly nothing that is 'title worthy'. Thank you, friends, for your faithfulness and kind words.

Rollercoaster

I made a Facebook post earlier this week about how sometimes parenting hurts. At the time, I really couldn't elaborate because to address my feelings reopened the floodgates and I really needed to get through the day. I received an overwhelming response with friends stopping by with hugs, messages and phone calls. I'm lucky. I have wonderful friends.

Yesterday we took our daughter to college. I wasn't sure how I would react to the day, or what her actions would be. I have been having separation pangs for several weeks now, so I was taking lots of deep breaths, and had teary eyes which meant I had to look at the ceiling to keep my tears from falling. Oh I know she will be fine, more than fine, and I can't wait to watch her find her place in this new world she is experiencing. One the hardest things about yesterday was watching the mileage markers count down to the town as we drove. It seemed like it was a fast trip, however my daughter said she thought it took forever. Unloading was easy, the stairs to the 6th floor never got any shorter and we stayed until she said she was ready for us to go. I gave her a good hug, got all misty-eyed, because that's what I do, and then we let her know we were a phone call away and walked out the door.

This week my son made the decision to leave the football team. It's what we've done for 9 years, watched our boy play the sport he loves so much. And part of that is being a football booster and sharing the experiences with friends and family, cheering and volunteering. I'm really going to miss being a part of that group. I was so proud to be the mom of #53. I've watched him grow and become a better player. I remembered when he made the unbelievable tackle during the Toy Bowl that earned him a call of his name over the loud speaker. I recalled watching him get angry and take it out on opponents-bigger than him but not better. He used to talk about wanting to play football for as long as he could. This week, he decided that he just didn't love it anymore. Oh, he still loves the sport, just doesn't love playing it anymore. I've cried a bucket of tears over this, and he offered to continue to play-for me-because he knew how much I cared. But I had to respect his decision, because at the end of the day, it wasn't about me, it was about him.

So yeah, parenting hurts. But there are joys and celebrations too. It's a real roller coaster and I think about the scene in the movie ParentHood where they looked at each other and said, 'I wouldn't want it any other way'.

Driving in NYC

I played Trivia with my girlfriends last night at one of the restaurants in town that host those games. We are a varied lot of women from all walks of life, so we might know the answer to a wide range of subjects.  I got to contribute to one of the questions with one of my 'little known facts about Deanne's life' episodes and when they asked how sure I was about the answer, my response was "all the points sure".

My first job out of college was working for a consumer products company, travelling the state of Kansas, calling on pharmacies, card and gift shops and chain drug stores.   I was on the fast track and was promoted 4 times in 5.5 years, with my last position being the Director of Retail Stores. The stores were located in shopping malls, downtowns and stand alone locations and many were nearing the end of their leases. This was the late 80's and the shopping mall was king. Rents were skyrocketing and our little stores were becoming less and less profitable. As we made the decisions to close locations as opposed to renewing leases, I had the responsibility to help close the stores with going out of business sales and selling the store fixtures.

Last night, as I heard the trivia question, I recalled a trip to New York City to close one of those stores, and the episode of getting my car towed in downtown Manhattan, roughly 5th Avenue and 42nd St, around the corner from Radio City Music Hall. I was terrified. I'm a Kansas girl and I was heading to the Big Apple, where I've been told scary things happen and traffic is ridiculous. Imagine my delight in finding a parking space on the street close to the store! I looked around, trying to find any signage that might indicate a problem with where I was parking, but only spied a No Standing sign. Whew, I thought-good thing I'm not going to stand here and went on my way. No Standing means just that, but it also means No Parking in NYC. My rental car was gone along with all of the other cars on that block and I had no idea where it was or how to get it back. So I embarked on an adventure, hailing a traffic cop for directions, travelling via taxi to the car lot, and standing in line-an extremely long line, watching humanity at its less than finest. I was called a bitch, which escalated to f*ing bitch all because a person didn't feel like going to the back of the line and I wasn't inclined to let her cut in front of me. The smirk on my face and the rooted to the ground stance I took probably didn't help either.

I grew up a little that day, learned to be self sufficient and responsible. I learned to laugh at my naivete and toughened up mentally. I found that most people, no matter where they live, are decent and want to help and that we all get irritated by the messiness of life. Oh, and by the way, the trivia question? Which borough of New York is Battery Park located? Answer-Manhattan-that car tow lot is located across from there.

momof2teens

It's a cool morning, temperature-wise. I have the doors open, hot coffee in hand and I'm reading the Sunday paper. I took a moment to think about the right word that would fit the space on the crossword and started daydreaming. At least, when I was in grade school that was what the teachers called it. I think they have other words for it today. 

In my first blog, I mentioned identities and how I'm struggling with which group do I identify with right now. This morning, I'm thinking about my identity as a momof2teens. I just went and adjusted their blankets and made sure they were covered up. As I put my hand on their heads, I watched my children shift in their slumber and snuggle into their pillows and take that big intake of breath as they moved and settled. These are my babies and they are growing up. 

My daughter will head to college in a few days and I'm so stinking excited for her to experience the next chapter of her life. She gets to forge her own path, with an academic plan of her own, meet new people from so many different places and enjoy, what was for me, some of the best years of her life.  She is so ready to go, but I will miss the talks, laughter and messes that she makes all over the house. I have an ache in my heart and I blink back tears just writing about it, but I wouldn't hold her back for anything.

My son will be a junior in high school. He is my affectionate one. The one with the big bear hugs and easy laugh. I'm lucky because he talks to me, oh not when anyone else can hear, but he talks to me about important things, feelings, peer pressure, that kind of stuff. John plays high school football. It's what he loves. And when I see him get on the field and take up the position he loves to play, my heart swells for him, knowing he is in his element. And when I see him stand on the sideline, waiting for his name to be called, I ache for him. I never thought being a football mom would have so many ups and downs on Game Day. 

It's a Sunday morning, and my babies are sleeping in their beds. I want to package their smells, their sweet faces, their love of life and keep that package close to me, hugging it tight.  

A New Beginning

Hello!

I've thought about doing something like this for a long time. I am always putting stories together in my head and thinking I should write them down and when I share my stories, my friends ask me if I'm writing a book. I'm not an educated writer, meaning I've never taken a writing class. I love to read, but the idea of writing a book is overwhelming. I find the ironies of life amusing, sometimes sad, sometimes outrageous and I like to share those things.

I have to say, my first struggle was trying to figure out what to call this blog. Gah! My first writers block! I sat here looking at a blank screen and blinking cursor and thinking, who am I? What am I? How do I identify myself? What do I want to say in a title? Some people are so creative, they have a strong attachment to something they do, a hobby, kids.....something. I'm in transition, I think. My email address says shopgirl825. That was back when I was a store owner, with an address of 825 Massachusetts, so I joined the two together. But I'm not a shopgirl anymore. I'm a mom of 2 teenagers, but I'm so much more than a momof2teens. I have a new job in the Chemistry Department, but lets' face it, I'm not an academic nor do I identify myself as a chemgem. I thought of the names of newspapers I'm familiar with. The Star, Journal, Sentinel, Intelligencer, Times, Daily. Daily! Aha-the Daily Deanne! No-too much pressure, what if I don't write daily? So, as I begin to think about what this blog is all about, it's journaling, it's a public diary, and the Thesaurus recommended Daybook as an alternative. I liked it. Not too pretentious, no underlying expectations, just a place where I can enter my thoughts, any old day.