Garbage

Dear Homeowners Association,
Trash stinks. It is a way of life. If you stick a week's worth of dirty diapers, papers plates that have been used for a five year old's mac and cheese, toenail clippings, snotty tissues, etcetera into a plastic bags and place those into a large receptacle, the smell will be offensive. No self-respecting homosapien wants to be hit with that odor first thing in the morning when walking out of the back door of her house to get to her car. I, however, have been forced to deal with this nasty reality every day. Despite many failed attempts to move my trash cans to a place that is not viewable from the street, you continue to send me letters about this offensive misdemeanor that I am committing. I have now been forced to keep my bins in a place where if I swim in my pool, grill a hamburger, allow my children to play in my backyard or even attempt to leave my house through my back door, I am hit with the affforementioned odor. I ask you, HOA, what is the point in living in this upscale neighborhood, in a beautiful home, with a constable keeping us safe, if I cannot even leave my home without vomiting? Your immediate attention would be appreciated, but you'll have to come to my house as I am barricaded in here by foul odors.
Sincerely,
Mother May I?

True Friendship

For nearly a lifetime I have pondered the meaning of true friendship. Perhaps this is due to my loneliness and lack of companionship as a child. Maybe it is just something that I feel very deeply. Over the last two days I have finally been able to put a definite finger on the true meaning of frienship. A true friend is a person who will do whatever it takes to ensure the well being of his or her friend. Even if it puts the future of their friendship at risk. I have been put in that position, and I can now say that beyond a shadow of a doubt, I will do whatever it takes to guarantee that my friend's world will not come crashing down around her. Even if it means that she will never talk to me again. I will not betray her trust and I will not hurt her in the process, but if I need to shake her husband into reality I will. It is just that important.

The Birthday Gone Awry

The day started out pretty well. I mean, who wouldn't want to see this face first thing in the morning, even if first thing is five A.M.? The kids were all charming and wonderful this morning, wishing me a happy birthday and giving me the cards that they had all hand-picked and signed (even my three-year-old princess signed hers.) The drop-off at school was not great, I had to fight with said princess to get her to go to her classroom. The security interview at my new job went well, both my brother and my close friend from my former city called to wish me a happy birthday, which put a smile on my face. So what made my thirty fourth birthday suck so badly, you ask? Here's a quick rundown of the lowdown. I picked the kids up from school this afternoon, and princess was in tears. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she was very disappointed that I did not bring cupcakes to her school. I explained that when it is her birthday, in February, she would get cupcakes and a crown. She replied, "no mommy, not for my birthday, for your birthday!" When I got over the adorableness of it all, I offered to go to Kroger's to get cupcakes. So we did. I bought cupcakes for my own birthday, convinced that it would be a duplication of efforts. Surely my husband had something planned. Let's just say that I was sorely disappointed that not only did he plan nothing, but he did not even eat the dinner I made him. Did not even buy me a card. And nobody here called me. I did not even get one phone call from one friend (other than my friend in my old city) wishing me a happy birthday. That would have been ok, but I did not get a card. Not from my parents. Nor my in-laws. Or even my HUSBAND!! All of these people are aware that I am like a little kid when it comes to my birthday. OK, I am done with my poor me rant. Back to your regularly scheduled internet fun.

On Aging

In a few hours I will turn thirty four. I would like to believe that I have earned every gray hair. Every fat cell is a battle wound with a story to tell. Every migraine deserves good drugs because I fight for them. I sit and ponder what thirty four means to me. I still feel sixteen, in many ways. I can still go out and party like it's 1999 (actually, I was pregnant with my firstborn in 1999.) I can still get down and dance the Cupid Shuffle or any other popular dance craze out there. My radio is tuned to the same stations that the high school kids are listening to. Yet I force myself to be a responsible adult. I care for the four children that were entrusted to our care by G-d himself, meticulously. Sometimes Almost always, the house is messy, but it is always clean. I am no longer my main focus. Caring for my husband and kids consumes most of my time. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I am on the verge of accepting a very grown up job. I feel great about that - it will be good to be a professional person. What do I have to look forward to? I hope that I will see my children grow into the kind of teenagers and adults that I am working so hard to raise them to be. Kind and compassionate, yet strong and responsible. Bright and witty, yet capable of caring for and about every creature. Pious, yet worldly. I know that with G-d's help they can all turn out this way. I envision myself beaming with pride at their graduations and crying tears of happiness at their weddings. Once you leave this world, nobody really cares how you scored on an exam or what kind of money you made. Your children are your legacy - they are what you leave behind. And I wish to leave a gift to the world. Because that is all that is important.

Micromanaging Men

I married my husband nine years ago for a plethora of wonderful reasons. And really do not regret this decision at all. However, at the time, my parents warned me that his inability to step back and allow me to be my controlling self would be a source of tension for us in years to come. Like the naive foolish young girl that I was, I completely ignored their words of caution. And now it has come to pass that while I do not regret marrying him, I do regret not taking certain steps to prevent some squabbles in which we now find ourselves engaged. Take, for instance, last night's entertaining exchange. I am a Tupperware consultant (among other things.) I have decided that the time had come for me to try to break in to the market here in my new town (I moved here a year ago in August.) So I printed nearly fifty postcard invitations, adressed them to my fifty closest friends, and quite satisfied with the way they looked, I was prepared to mail them today. My husband took one look at them, and basically gave me a hundred reasons why the suck. The normal wife would do one of two things. Either she would thank her husband for his input and send them out anyway, or she would take his advice and change everything. I am sending them out anyway, just to spite him. To show him that he cannot control me. In addition, I have addressed one to his office. So there.

But you have a MASTER's degree, for G-d's sake!

Almost three years ago, I earned a Master's degree in Social Work. Impressive, huh? Unfortunately, potential employers do not seem to think so. I have been looking for a job - any job - for six months now. No bites. I have to admit that I have been enjoying sitting at home watching TV and popping bon-bons in my mouth all day staying home with my delicious baby, but we are suffering financially. My husband is a very talented immigration lawyer, but he is not as savvy as he would like to believe that he is, businesswise. So we are having trouble rubbing two nickels together. Recently I decided that I would open a daycare in my house. Well, today, after I have informed the entire city in which I reside that I would be doing daycare, my dear insane husband informs me that it would be a really bad idea to do daycare. When I asked him why, he responded, "you have a MASTER's degree, for G-d's sake!" I got the same response with every money-making scheme that I came up with. So I will continue to leave the bread-winning to him. And we will continue to eat rice for dinner every night. Yep- I am a lucky lucky girl.

When Will It Be MY Turn?

When I was a little girl, my mother promised me that when I grow up and have my own house, my own kids, my own life, everything would go MY way. I have been waiting for my turn for almost thirty four years. I am a grown up. I have my own house. And my own kids. I am still waiting for my own life. I am waiting for the moment when things will happen on my terms. I am waiting for something as mundane as the ability to turn the TV on and watch what I want to watch without four kids and a husband complaining about steamy shower scenes involving hot hunks on a soap opera. I am waiting for something as life altering as being in a relationship with someone who truly loves and respects me for who I am and not for the vision of whom he wishes I would be. So I wait. And my hair continues to turn grey. And my stomach continues to grow flab. And my resistance continues to weaken. When will it be MY turn?