BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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You’re Not My Friend (the Sometimes Sting of Motherhood)

I need you, Mom. I know that since I’ve become a teenager I act like I don’t, but really I do. I need you to take me to school and sign my permission slips and pay for sports. I need you to clean up after me and buy me clothes and make sure I get to the orthodontist. laundry-1024x808I need you to take me to the doctor if I’m sick, and make sure I take my medicine. I need you to make sure I have a comfortable bed and tasty food and the latest video games and cable television. I need you to go grocery shopping so I can have snacks I like and I need you to pack my lunch, whether or not I feel like eating it.  I can’t possibly be expected to do all those things for myself.

Sometimes I have projects; then I need you to drop everything and take me to the office supply store to get poster-board or chart paper or a glue stick. Sometimes I have clubs after school, then I need you to pick me up at a different time, and oh, by the way, can you drop off my friend at his house too? imagesSometimes I forget my book at school or at Dad’s or somewhere else so I need you to take me there, unless it’s too late. Then I need you to listen to how I didn’t know I needed it but I really do need it and I need you to believe that it’s not my fault that I have an impossible problem.

But you know what I need most of all? I need you to be my Mom. I need you to understand that sometimes I’m going to be a jerk, but I still love you. I need you to understand that you’re not the same age as me, and it’s embarrassing when you try to act like you are.  I need you to be nosy and know where I am and what I’m doing, even when I hate you for it. I need you to say no, and I need you to protect me from my own stupidity. I need you to know that just because I keep my distance from you, I still know I’m your kid, and I still know that you love me. I need you, Mom, more than I will ever admit.


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Daily Passion Prompt 20: What Legacy Will I Leave?

TODAY’S QUESTION

For some reason I frequently feel like I’m totally forgettable. People I’ve met several times don’t seem to recall who I am. Have I left no impression at all? Am I invisible? Sometimes I wonder. If I don’t seem to leave much impression in life, how am I to leave any type of legacy after I’m gone?

invisible-man-shadows-pol-ubeda-4When it comes to the big picture, we are all just tiny blips on the radar screen of time. We are born, we live, we die. Most of us leave behind loved ones who will mourn and remember us, but over time they too will expire and along with them, the memory of us will die. It’s as though our lives are a flame, warm and bright but fleeting. Some of us are like tiny birthday candles, snuffed out quickly and soon forgotten. Others are a bonfire, or even a forest fire. Some lives reach millions, for better or worse, others hardly reach beyond their own front doors.

Of course I want my family to remember me with love and tenderness, and I’m sure they will, at least for a little while. I do wonder what will become of me and my memory after I’m gone, but deep down I think I know. I came from nowhere, and I will return there. I was adopted at birth, never allowed to know anything about the circumstances of my origin. I simply appeared. I believe that after I’m gone a while, I will simply disappear, forgotten from the family history, possibly relegated to a footnote, or an asterisk on a distant relative’s family tree. I was a give away for one family and an add-on for another, and as such, perhaps easily dismissed by both.

candleOutside of my family, I hope to leave a larger legacy. I hope that somewhere out in the world at least a few of my students look back fondly on their experiences in my classroom. I hope they remember that I taught them something, or tried to make some lesson memorable, or even that I was goofy and silly in class. I hope that at least one person took away something positive from their time under my care. Sadly, I feel like the odds are against me on this point too. People grow up and move on. Rarely do they remember their fourth or second grade teacher making a mark on their lives. It seems the only time they do recall these people, they do so in horror.

Maybe this is part of the reason I write and quilt and scrapbook. These are all ways for me to say, “I was here.” I may just be one of those little blips existing in a tiny space in the universe until my own flame is snuffed out, but my life is important. I live and love and dream. I can and will leave my mark on the world, and I will do my best to leave it better than it was when I arrived.


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Daily Passion Prompt 19: Looking Back on My Life

Today’s Question

 Imagine that you’re 80 years old, sitting in your rocking chair reflecting back on your life.  

What do you want to look back on?  What memories do you want to smile about?

Rocking_ChairsLucky me, I already have so much to smile about as I look back on my life. I have loving relationships, new challenges, rewarding work, and all sorts of amazing memories. You know all those cute sayings that people pin on Pinterest and buy on canvasses at their local craft stores? Of course you do. The ones about home and family and living and loving and laughing? The ones about memories and faith and commitment and joy and friendship? Well, I don’t need those. Why? Because I have that stuff in my life and in my memory banks. I don’t need to see it plastered on the wall, and in fact I’m pretty sure that the people who have those all over the place will be tired of them in a year or two and replace them with cows or giraffes or bunnies, or whatever else is hot in home decor that season.

I love and am loved. I live within my means. I have traveled. I have tried new things. I have hopes and dreams and aspirations. I’m reasonably well educated and relatively well rounded. I’m generally well liked and fairly well respected in my personal and professional lives. I’m good.

By the time I’m in my rocking chair, I hope to have many more good memories, far fewer unpleasant ones, and a legacy of love to look back upon. That should put a smile on anyone’s lips.