I wish I could share with you the wedding of my oldest daughter three years ago. This is a child I cherish beyond words, so for me to give the details on the wedding might break her heart so I will refrain and save the story for my personal journal. However, I can share with you my wedding...which happened a long time ago, in a land far...no, right here in Fresno, sort of.
Back to Greg...Greg and I dated for 3 and a half years, which in Mormon years is FOREVER. I wasn't allowed to mention the "M" word to the guy, though I could never figure out why this virgin wouldn't jump on the chance to get married and do the married thing (no puns or irreverence intended, it's just the honest truth.) We'd been Disneyland fans from day one, and during one random visit, he popped the question on the bridge in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle. He'd carried that darn ring box in his sock achingly all day...what a trooper and romantic. I said yes right away, we took pictures (strangers willing to snap them of course) which ended up being exposed by a child I love dearly and will no longer continue to punish with my ever-resentful reminders..but it was a happy day. I remember feeling light as air, I even allowed people to cut in front of me in the lines, whereas any other time I would've "handled my business." We married 6 weeks later--ah, there's the awakening of the virgin. We should've waited a few months to get married to give us time and money to have a decent reception. Since my dad and sister had been married that year there wasn't any money left for a reception. But Greg was not waiting any longer than he had to. Alas, we had to have an open house. No biggie...Greg didn't even WANT a reception--huh! Imagine how I, the bride, reacted to that. So here's how lame the open house was. First, the invitations we picked out were meant for people on their 3rd and 4th weddings...completely unconventional, non-traditional, didn't mention the names of the parents so half the invitees were like--who is this again? Next, we had to have it at my mom's house. No money...so we had to serve some local Mexican fare on plastic silver platters...mini burritos I think was all. Dumb, we weren't Mexican, no Mexican theme, where did that come from? Burritos? No fruit, no cute frilly platters...burritos and punch. If you are like me, the food is the driving force behind any function attendance. BOMB! Then, I wanted a chocolate cake--again totally non-traditional. But hey, I like chocolate. We had a vanilla sheet cake for those weirdos that don't eat chocolate (they should be dragged somewhere and...) My hair was flat and my make-up practically gone since the wedding was in the LDS Oakland temple, and we had to drive 3 hours back home right away to the reception. I looked like some lady out of a 1950's catalog whose photo shoot got cut at the last minute because thankfully some other photographer pulled through with a REAL bride. Of course, it was a mess...half of Greg's family wasn't there...or more than half. It was too foggy for anyone to want to drive who was over 60 years old. My nail broke on my ring finger so showing my ring in any photo was a tossed sentiment. When we finally got to the hotel room it was so awkward I don't remember any of it except for the lone bath I took in the suite's tub. And yet, here we still are, been together for 20 years and not much has changed except that I've broken Greg down enough to not be embarrassed to buy toilet paper.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Prom
Kindsay had the choice of two proms to attend for her senior year. First is the one our church holds annually for seniors. It's a place where kids can congregate and know it will be tasteful. (Have you been to a school dance lately?) The second is her school prom. She was planning on attending both with her teachers taking her to her school prom, but for the church prom, she asked her dad and I if we would take her. Not a moment of hesitation. We bought her a dress. Her preference? Bling. And pink. I found one at Macy's with the required qualities, and we picked out a cute furry cover-up to make sure she was modest. Because she has problems with her feet, we picked out open sandals covered in guess what...more bling. And she picked out a new tiara (yes, there's an old one) and jewelry. Bottom line, Kindsay wanted to be a princess right out of a Disney movie. But we had an unexpected surprise.
Knowing all the seniors at church were going with each other made me feel kind of bad. I know Kindsay wouldn't be the easiest date because the evening would have to revolve around her (or else!), so I understood when no senior boy at church asked her out. And then my bestie's son had a great idea. Being a senior himself and not planning on attending the church prom, he thought it would be a great thing for her if he asked her. I didn't want to place any expectations on him in case he changed his mind so I didn't say anything to Kindsay. They've known each other all their lives so Kindsay would've known there wasn't anything romantic, and Nathan, our hero, wouldn't have been her type anyway, not with his short hair (she loves it shaggy, remember?)
Well, Nathan didn't hold back any fun for the event. He made her a poster to help pose his question and brought it to our house. I had to give her a heads-up so she wouldn't lose her manners. (She'll straight out ignore you if she's in the right mood.) I went to her room and told her we had a special guest coming over to ask her to the church prom. (I also wanted her to be dressed since she prefers walking around in her sports bra and briefs.) Immediately the questions came flying, "Who who who who who who who who who?" (in a variety of forms) I kept assuring her it was a friend, that it would be just a night for friends and fun, that she would get to put on her pretty dress, that she would get to go to dinner and have steak (serious carnivore), but I doubt she heard anything I said. I think she would've bursted if I had given her any more heads-up than the five minutes I gave her.
Then he came over, and the rest is history! To make it more special, our wonderful church leader and bishop agreed to Nathan driving his brand new truck. Did you know Kindsay loves trucks? Well, not all trucks, brand-new 6-seaters is what she loves, and our bishop's truck was just that. We kept that as her evening's surprise. After pictures, we walked her outside and told her, "See that truck over there? It's how you and Nathan are getting to the prom!" She ran and Nathan almost became invisible (if it were possible for her and the truck to take off into the sunset, she would have.) I think she hugged the truck too.
the speed limit.
Monday, May 25, 2015
The First Shopping Trip
Kindsay loves food. When she wakes in the morning, she goes straight to breakfast. (most of us will hit the bathroom first?) She gets her Pop Tarts, slams herself into the recliner, and devours them. She gulps her milk down so fast you can hear it upstairs. When she finishes with breakfast she secures her lunch for school. Yeah, yeah, yeah, she gets dressed for school...hair thrown into a ponytail and clothes placed on her body without thought, such an inconvenience. When she walks through the door at the end of the day she calls me. It doesn't matter that every time she does I ignore it (if I'm close to being home) or answer it and tell her "I don't know," and hang up. I know what she wants. "What is for dinner?" Boy, if I don't have that planned out...you can forget it! I will suffer. And if she finally gives up on me and eats something random, and I actually do cook dinner, I get an earful for not telling her. I say, "I didn't know at the time. I told you to just wait!" But that's not good enough. Why didn't I tell her? Did I know she was going to go eat something else? Why did I let her do that so now she is too full to eat what I've made?
Well, at least someone cares about dinner...my boys eat everything doused in ketchup so they don't care what I cook.
Kindsay finally got some money for her groceries. She always told us that when she got her money for groceries when she turned 18 that she was going to buy her food and we were not going to be allowed to eat it. We would not be able to have any of her food. It would be hers and we would get in huge trouble if we touched it. OK...uh-huh. We know, Kindsay, we won't touch your precious food.
So she gets her money and we go to Target. I get a shopping cart, and she comes up from behind with one of her own. She has some big humongous blingy boots on with her maxi skirt swaying down the aisles like the food is being emptied off the shelves as we speak. She is like a bullet train getting to her next destination. Yikes. I can't even tell people fast enough "excuse us" because she is blowing past them. I stop worrying about other people. If they can't get out of her way on their own, it's their problem.
I tell her, "I have to go grab a few things over there, so I will meet you in the food section. Just for now pick out a couple of things you like." I don't know that she cared if I was still in the store, she was already zoned into the food. I asked Greg to follow her because...well, you never know. Just follow her please.
I get my things and head back to the food section. I can't see her but I can hear her bellowing, "Where's the _____?" "Can I get one of these?" "How many should I take?" It's like she's never eaten before the way she is looking at the food. I follow her voice to find her and Greg in an aisle. I look in her cart. No kidding--five 2-liters of soda, 3 bottles of sparkling cider, 1 box of hot cider packets, 2 bottles of sparkling flavored water, some mini wrapped cheeses, and a couple boxes of Pop Tarts. Wait a minute!--I say. I start putting things back, like 3 of the sodas, 2 bottles of sparkling cider...she starts protesting. I look at Greg, "Really? You couldn't say no to her?" He tells me that what I see in the cart IS a result of him saying no. "You should've seen the cart before I said no!" Well, we need to say it some more because she is not going to drink through her grocery money and she's not eating like royalty out of Target (who eats baby cheeses?) I tell Kindsay, "You have to keep your voice down, I can hear you across the store."
"That's nothing," Greg tells me, "You should've heard her earlier. She was so loud while looking for things, a guy three aisles away hollered that what she was looking for was over by him."
Oh geez. It takes a village, doesn't it!?
I finally get Greg to pull in the reins more, he's shooting down all her requests for this and that gourmet whatever, until she mentions seafood. His eyes lit up and he floated behind her while she headed to the frozen food. They pull out frozen shrimp and Greg loses his judgment completely. I have to monitor both of them at this point. It also didn't help that Kindsay's favorite food is steak..."Where's the steak?" I explain that we can go to the Meat Market for steak, not Target. That satisfies her only if I can give her an actual date that we'll go. Uh, Monday, Monday, okay?...I choose whatever day is enough away that I can get her to forget or at least hush about it for now.
So now we're up to a bag of bagels, flavored cream cheese, flavored oatmeal, frozen shrimp and fish fillets, mini powdered donuts, a few boxes of sugar cereal, some frozen pasta dishes, and mac n cheese. I resign, but, I tell her...This is IT until next month! You get one trip, then you have to eat it slowly or you'll be out of food in a matter of days. I don't know that she is able to register what I say while her eyes are whirling looking at the food in such a new light.
We get home and I assign her a drawer in the pantry and a part of a shelf. She can have those for her food. Oh, thank goodness for sugary, salty, over-processed food--the factories are working overtime now that Kindsay has grocery money! Manufacturers are partying hard--Kellogg's is treating their employees to a cruise...General Mills just wrote bonus checks to their employees, Kraft's processing plant just pushed the conveyer belt speed to "Kindsay's here!" A new chapter in our lives. And this one is going to be long.
Well, at least someone cares about dinner...my boys eat everything doused in ketchup so they don't care what I cook.
Kindsay finally got some money for her groceries. She always told us that when she got her money for groceries when she turned 18 that she was going to buy her food and we were not going to be allowed to eat it. We would not be able to have any of her food. It would be hers and we would get in huge trouble if we touched it. OK...uh-huh. We know, Kindsay, we won't touch your precious food.
So she gets her money and we go to Target. I get a shopping cart, and she comes up from behind with one of her own. She has some big humongous blingy boots on with her maxi skirt swaying down the aisles like the food is being emptied off the shelves as we speak. She is like a bullet train getting to her next destination. Yikes. I can't even tell people fast enough "excuse us" because she is blowing past them. I stop worrying about other people. If they can't get out of her way on their own, it's their problem.
I tell her, "I have to go grab a few things over there, so I will meet you in the food section. Just for now pick out a couple of things you like." I don't know that she cared if I was still in the store, she was already zoned into the food. I asked Greg to follow her because...well, you never know. Just follow her please.
I get my things and head back to the food section. I can't see her but I can hear her bellowing, "Where's the _____?" "Can I get one of these?" "How many should I take?" It's like she's never eaten before the way she is looking at the food. I follow her voice to find her and Greg in an aisle. I look in her cart. No kidding--five 2-liters of soda, 3 bottles of sparkling cider, 1 box of hot cider packets, 2 bottles of sparkling flavored water, some mini wrapped cheeses, and a couple boxes of Pop Tarts. Wait a minute!--I say. I start putting things back, like 3 of the sodas, 2 bottles of sparkling cider...she starts protesting. I look at Greg, "Really? You couldn't say no to her?" He tells me that what I see in the cart IS a result of him saying no. "You should've seen the cart before I said no!" Well, we need to say it some more because she is not going to drink through her grocery money and she's not eating like royalty out of Target (who eats baby cheeses?) I tell Kindsay, "You have to keep your voice down, I can hear you across the store."
"That's nothing," Greg tells me, "You should've heard her earlier. She was so loud while looking for things, a guy three aisles away hollered that what she was looking for was over by him."
Oh geez. It takes a village, doesn't it!?
I finally get Greg to pull in the reins more, he's shooting down all her requests for this and that gourmet whatever, until she mentions seafood. His eyes lit up and he floated behind her while she headed to the frozen food. They pull out frozen shrimp and Greg loses his judgment completely. I have to monitor both of them at this point. It also didn't help that Kindsay's favorite food is steak..."Where's the steak?" I explain that we can go to the Meat Market for steak, not Target. That satisfies her only if I can give her an actual date that we'll go. Uh, Monday, Monday, okay?...I choose whatever day is enough away that I can get her to forget or at least hush about it for now.
So now we're up to a bag of bagels, flavored cream cheese, flavored oatmeal, frozen shrimp and fish fillets, mini powdered donuts, a few boxes of sugar cereal, some frozen pasta dishes, and mac n cheese. I resign, but, I tell her...This is IT until next month! You get one trip, then you have to eat it slowly or you'll be out of food in a matter of days. I don't know that she is able to register what I say while her eyes are whirling looking at the food in such a new light.
We get home and I assign her a drawer in the pantry and a part of a shelf. She can have those for her food. Oh, thank goodness for sugary, salty, over-processed food--the factories are working overtime now that Kindsay has grocery money! Manufacturers are partying hard--Kellogg's is treating their employees to a cruise...General Mills just wrote bonus checks to their employees, Kraft's processing plant just pushed the conveyer belt speed to "Kindsay's here!" A new chapter in our lives. And this one is going to be long.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
A Friend Indeed
For many of you, you know Kindsay is online a lot...I don't need to be in touch with anyone because Kindsay does it for me. She knows all my relatives, their kids, friends, co-workers, and their parents. When we had our family reunion I was so excited for everyone to actually meet Kindsay since they all knew her, and when the gathering came, she clammed up, acted uninterested, and everyone just faded away to their own groups. Why? Nervousness, shyness, anxiety, all of the above. I tried to explain the best I could while she was sitting there that she wasn't actually being aloof, but was extremely nervous. In any case, the fun was lost and they all moved on.
So Kindsay wants to know--why doesn't anyone like me? Why doesn't anyone respond when I text them? Why do I get unfriended or banned from Facebook?
Sadly, she really doesn't know. She really doesn't "get it" that when she posts picture after picture of herself, she is setting herself up for ridicule and negativity. She doesn't understand that adults, especially those of my parents' generation, don't want to chat with her all day. She doesn't know why her peers from school, usually from the general population, don't text her back.
YES, I've explained myself blue. Only for her to over-voice me with her overly sensitive reactions to people.
Well...sometimes tables turn, and it is Kindsay who is sought out by a friend. One particular friend calls her maybe once a week. She doesn't call often during the week, but when she does pick a day to call Kindsay, she will call non stop until she is given the time of day. Even worse is that she is calling my phone. Kindsay, amazing...never ceases to amaze me, tells me she can't talk to this girl because (her words) "I am busy. I am on the computer, I am listening to music, I am watching my shows, I am shopping on the computer. I do not have time for this!" Her hands are on her hips and as she tells me and gets further down her list of what she has better to do, she is rising in excitement to the point of anger and frustration.
"Give her five to ten minutes of your time, that's all I ask," I tell her. Lips pursed, head shaking back and forth, she tells me the girl is harassing her, she is going to call the cops, and when she moves out, she is not inviting this girl to live with her. Five minutes...? really?
So I try psychology.
"Don't you feel bad when you try to talk to someone and they ignore you?"
I'm talking to a wall.
Kindsay fires back, "And do you know how that makes me feel? Bad!"
Okay, I say, now you are doing it to this girl. She just wants a friend the same way you do.
"I am getting tired of this! I do not want her to move out with me in my own place. I do not want her calling me. You know what? I'm going to call her mother and tell on her! Now, I need your computer!"
I shook my head...I'm not giving you anything until you give your friend five to ten minutes. "Fine!" She by now is up for an Oscar. "But you know what? I'm going to tell her she needs to stop harassing me! I will talk to her when I want to talk, but not now--I'm busy! And I'm sick of people ignoring me! Now she is calling calling calling. So you know what? We're just going to have to see how it goes in the past!"
That is not a typo...she wants to see how things go...in the past. I didn't even approach that--by now just too tired. My head feels like Exorcism trying to understand her logic. Her reasoning is like a big ring of fire, going in a circle fueled by the heat coming off her head in her imagined fury at the gall someone has to seek her attention. Soon she is in her room, furious at my nerve. I can hear her talking to herself, going over and over how this is not okay. She calls the poor girl and has ten minutes of laughter and fun. hm.
Kindsay suddenly bursts into my room. "OK you know what? I told her she couldn't move out with me. But then we started laughing and I liked talking to her so I told her sorry for what I said, I will think about letting her move out with me!" She tells me this as-a-matter-of-fact, and what did I, her mother, know about anything...these are her revelations and none of my doing. The time she took to tell me what she thinks, rattling off nonsense, she could've been on the computer having a go at contacting people who probably feel harassed by her. And you know what? You know how that makes her feel? BAD!
Kindsay's reality? There's only one side of the table--hers.
So Kindsay wants to know--why doesn't anyone like me? Why doesn't anyone respond when I text them? Why do I get unfriended or banned from Facebook?
Sadly, she really doesn't know. She really doesn't "get it" that when she posts picture after picture of herself, she is setting herself up for ridicule and negativity. She doesn't understand that adults, especially those of my parents' generation, don't want to chat with her all day. She doesn't know why her peers from school, usually from the general population, don't text her back.
YES, I've explained myself blue. Only for her to over-voice me with her overly sensitive reactions to people.
Well...sometimes tables turn, and it is Kindsay who is sought out by a friend. One particular friend calls her maybe once a week. She doesn't call often during the week, but when she does pick a day to call Kindsay, she will call non stop until she is given the time of day. Even worse is that she is calling my phone. Kindsay, amazing...never ceases to amaze me, tells me she can't talk to this girl because (her words) "I am busy. I am on the computer, I am listening to music, I am watching my shows, I am shopping on the computer. I do not have time for this!" Her hands are on her hips and as she tells me and gets further down her list of what she has better to do, she is rising in excitement to the point of anger and frustration.
"Give her five to ten minutes of your time, that's all I ask," I tell her. Lips pursed, head shaking back and forth, she tells me the girl is harassing her, she is going to call the cops, and when she moves out, she is not inviting this girl to live with her. Five minutes...? really?
So I try psychology.
"Don't you feel bad when you try to talk to someone and they ignore you?"
I'm talking to a wall.
Kindsay fires back, "And do you know how that makes me feel? Bad!"
Okay, I say, now you are doing it to this girl. She just wants a friend the same way you do.
"I am getting tired of this! I do not want her to move out with me in my own place. I do not want her calling me. You know what? I'm going to call her mother and tell on her! Now, I need your computer!"
I shook my head...I'm not giving you anything until you give your friend five to ten minutes. "Fine!" She by now is up for an Oscar. "But you know what? I'm going to tell her she needs to stop harassing me! I will talk to her when I want to talk, but not now--I'm busy! And I'm sick of people ignoring me! Now she is calling calling calling. So you know what? We're just going to have to see how it goes in the past!"
That is not a typo...she wants to see how things go...in the past. I didn't even approach that--by now just too tired. My head feels like Exorcism trying to understand her logic. Her reasoning is like a big ring of fire, going in a circle fueled by the heat coming off her head in her imagined fury at the gall someone has to seek her attention. Soon she is in her room, furious at my nerve. I can hear her talking to herself, going over and over how this is not okay. She calls the poor girl and has ten minutes of laughter and fun. hm.
Kindsay suddenly bursts into my room. "OK you know what? I told her she couldn't move out with me. But then we started laughing and I liked talking to her so I told her sorry for what I said, I will think about letting her move out with me!" She tells me this as-a-matter-of-fact, and what did I, her mother, know about anything...these are her revelations and none of my doing. The time she took to tell me what she thinks, rattling off nonsense, she could've been on the computer having a go at contacting people who probably feel harassed by her. And you know what? You know how that makes her feel? BAD!
Kindsay's reality? There's only one side of the table--hers.
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