Life in the Middle Lane

I have 3 siblings.  You’ve heard me talk about my brother that’s in Afganistan, and my youngest sister, Kelly Belly, who is the smartest person I know.

I don’t often talk about my sister Maretta, so I’m going to tell you a story about her today.  Maretta (Retta Feta) is only 18 months younger than me.  Apparently, my mother didn’t realize that she could get pregnant so quickly after birthing me.  For all intents and purposes, I cannot remember my life without Retta being a part of it. We went to the same elementary, middle and high schools. I used to hang out with her class and go with her on field trips. (I don’t know how I got out of my classes to attend all her events.) Maretta and I were never in the same class because Maretta has Down’s Syndrome.

Maretta’s Down’s Syndrome was never a issue in our family. Often when friends meet her for the first time they are surprised by it because we don’t think it’s something that needs to be explained in some way.  She was never treated any differently. Mama expected her to go to school and do well, the same as the rest of us.  Specialness was not a hot commodity in our family. Everyone is special. I’m special because I was the oldest, Maretta’s special because of Down’s Syndrome, Matthew’s special because he’s the only boy, and Michaele’s special because she’s the youngest. See how that works? No one was ever jealous and no one had “middle child syndrome”.

I’ll be the first to admit that my siblings and I don’t have a traditional sibling relationship. We just love each other too much, and we’ve always gotten along way too well.  That doesn’t mean that there haven’t been times when I’ve wanted to bang their heads together.  With Retta, I rarely wanted to bang her head against something; I was more likely to want to bang my head against something. She has never liked it when I’ve told her what to do, and she is WAY more stubborn than I am. And quite honestly, she’s stronger than I am, so I never could bang her head into anything the few times I’ve tried.

Maretta is very caring and loving but, like all of us, she has her flaws. Maretta had a couple of years between her birth and our brother’s.  She was none too pleased to have Matt in the family.  She didn’t want to touch him, she didn’t want to play with him, she didn’t want him around and she had HELLA tantrums when he was a baby.  I, on the other hand, treated him like a new toy.

And when Kell was born a few years later, things weren’t much better. Maretta was indifferent to her at best.  Kell was is an attention whore, and I don’t think Maretta liked having this little screaming meanie monopolizing Mom’s and Dad’s and my attention. Maretta ignored her when she could and tolerated her when she had to. (Now they have a great relationship, and their closeness makes me proud and a little jealous).

Maretta’s disdain for children extends to all babies and toddlers. Under the best circumstances she ignores them and pretends that they don’t exist.

So when I, my Mom, Maretta and Michaele decided to visit Matthew’s wife and babies this Christmas we weren’t sure how Retta would react to the little ones.  Honestly, we weren’t sure how ANY of us would react.  We all were meeting Matt’s family (wife included) for the first time and it was a little scary for all of us.  Moreover, since Matt’s in Afghanistan, we could not even use him as a buffer.

Luckily, Christmas was AWESOME. My brother’s wife is really sweet and we had a lot of fun. We each made sure to get some one-on-one bonding time with Maria. And I, personally, think Matt did a good job of adding her to our family. And my boy has made some pretty babies.

The babies are the cutest creatures I have ever seen.  They are cuter than puppies, kittens, bunnies, and strawberry pie a la mode.  I am madly, dangerously, irreversibly in love.  And I’m not the only one.  Maretta couldn’t get enough of those children. Almost immediately she was curious about them, peeking over our shoulders so that she could get a good look at them while we held them, or showering them with kisses whenever they were close to her. And before long she wanted to hold them by herself and talk to them.  This was the ONLY time that Maretta has ever given two hoots about a kid, and now she’s cooing, and kissing and rocking this beautiful child. *shaking my head*

Life is grand. And I’m an auntie.

If we are Facebook friends, check out my “Christmas in Colorado photo album”. And if we aren’t facebook friends, check my photos out here.

It seems like a lot of people lately are getting engaged or married. The overarching theme that I hear at engagement parties, and wedding showers and on invitations is the idea that marriage means getting to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.

What a wonderful idea.

Presumably, when two people decide to get married they have things in common. They know each other’s likes and dislikes, favorite foods, favorite movies, personal styles and so forth.  But more importantly, these two people are able to identify each other’s smells and the taste of one’s skin.  They know what they expect to feel when they touch a favorite body part.  If one were to hear the other’s voice at a distance, over the phone or across the way, they know unconsciously that it is them.

Countless times a day I think a thousand variations of “I have to share this with the GF!” when I read or see something that makes me laugh or cry. And I sometimes send her half a dozen emails when I read something that I know she will find interesting.

So when I hear about friends that have been in relationships as long or longer than myself going through the messiest of break-ups or even those that end because “We just aren’t right for each other anymore” I automatically put myself in their shoes and try to figure out what the GF and I can do to avoid their fates.

I understand what it feels like to want to spend the rest of your life with my best friend.  And it makes my stomach hurt to think about living my life without her in it.  I’ve lost best friends before, and it ain’t fun. I don’t want to go through that again.

When I see my newly single friends bouncing back from a break up, I marvel at how they do it.  How do you turn off the “I can’t wait to share this with them” button?  How do you forget about this person that meant so much to you? How does one go from sharing the most intimate details of life with a person to never speaking to them again?   Call me crazy, but I get attached.  Once I’ve shared myself with you, I find it difficult to just forget about all those details and go about my existence without at least wondering about the other person.

Unfortunately, the reality of life is that break-ups happen.  People, interests, desires all change. Sometimes we make stupid mistakes that change the course of our lives and relationships.  And while I know a break up would not literally kill me, that pain is not one that I relish having.  And maybe that’s why I try so hard to keep my relationship together.

Two nights ago I didn’t sleep that well. For most of the night, I felt like I was somewhere between consciousness and sleepytown.  It wasn’t very restful.  At least part of the problem was that a) I didn’t make it to the gym that day, and b) it’s that time of the year in the south when the seasons change, leaves start to fall and my allergies start to irritate me.

Apparently, even when I hover in this purgatory of the sleep world, I still snore. And because of my allergy irritation, I snored LOUD.  Loud enough to wake up the GF.

**I’m going to stop the story to say that a fear of mine is that the GF is going to kill me in my (and her) sleep. And she has a fear of zombies and dead people being reanimated and people who sleep with their eyes open. Yes, we’ve talked about these fears at length.

(Back to the story) So when I felt something warm touch my chin I immediately flashed my eyes open And what did I see? The GF’s hand closing in on my throat (or so I thought).

Of course, I’m terrified because it’s my nightmare coming true. She’s going to kill me! (This commentary is happening only in my head, I don’t ever say anything)

The GF gets scared because I look like Night of the Living Dead and my eyes are wide as saucers. Apparently, she thought I would sleep through this assault.

Eventually, she was convinced that I was, indeed, awake, she brings her hand all the way to my face, and gently turns my head away from her.  She said, “You’re snoring in my ear, I was reaching to turn your head.” (Yeah, that’s what all the middle of the night killers say.)

Apparently she often rearranges my head because of the snore, but this was the first time I woke up.

I don’t know, man.  I mean, how often does one wake up to find a loved one’s hand coming towards one’s throat?  I think I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open.

I was watching an L Word DVD this weekend. In one of the overly-dramatic scenes one of the characters (Jody) realizes that her girlfriend (Bette) is a lying cheater. During the break up, Jody said that two things that really resonated with me.

Jody asks Bette if she still loves her, Bette says yes.  Jody clarifies by asking if she loves her to the exclusion of all others. Of course, cheating-ass Bette just looked sad and stupid.

Do you love me to the exclusion of all others?

WOW. That’s asking a lot, right? I mean, I understand the sentiment behind it- fidelity and so forth- but when you think about it that’s a pretty powerful statement.  Loving one person to the exclusion of all others means, of course, that you will be faithful to and love only that one person.  But in my estimation, this ACTUALLY refers to excluding everyone else.  This is why married couples leave their parents and start their own household.

Today, one of my friends told me she was happy to have couple friends because couple friends understand the importance of “couple time”. Couple time excludes everyone else. It’s time for you and your boo- alone.

In past relationships I was the girl that left her boyfriend at home and partied with her friends. I preferred my friends; I was more likely to exclude HIM. My current relationship is different.  I’d rather be with the GF than anyone else.  And when I am with my friends, I can’t wait to come home to her.

But that’s not all that happened on The L Word. Later in the scene, Jody proceeds to break down.  She lamented the fact that she allowed herself to love Bette as much as she did.  She said I was fine before I met you.

I had to yell at the TV screen at that one! Jody I feel you, girl!  Sometimes the GF pisses me off so BAD! Sometimes she does things that make me think back to the night we met.  I remember our first few dates and I think, if only she’d kept her damn hands to herself. If only we hadn’t had such a strong connection. If only she had left me alone.

I was fine before I met her. My life was going according to plan.  Granted, when we met I was ending a relationship that was less that satisfying but I had great friends, a great job and my heart was in check.

Then I fell in love with the GF and nothing has been fine since.  No one has makes me as mad as she does, no one makes me laugh as hard and no one makes my heart feels so full.

But sometimes I want to strangle her

I’ve been in Atlanta for almost two months now, and I’ve settled into my life with the GF and I’ve gotten a job. Next on my list of things to do is to make myself some friends. So like any good Gen Y quasi-computer geek, I went straight to Meetup and twitter. And while twitter hasn’t been really fruitful (too much spam) Meet up has been amazing.

There are meetup groups for anything you want to do. Me, I’ve joined a couple of arts/film/food lovers groups, a couple of writing groups and a couple of book clubs. So far, my I haven’t been able to attend many of the activities. All the activities tend to happen at the same time that I have something else going on!!!

A few weeks ago, I went to one book club meeting, and I wasn’t impressed. I spent a week quickly reading the book club selection, and not really liking the book. I almost chickened out of going to the meeting (I’m shy and not that into meeting new people). I talked myself into going, only to be pretty disappointed. I ended up leaving the meeting sad and depressed. I didn’t feel a connection to any of the the other members, and there wasn’t anything about that meeting to convince me to return.

Today was different, I attending a Women of Worth book club meeting. It was, in two words, hilariously awesome. It was my kind of book club; we read poems and drank vodka and laughed our asses off. It was so much fun.

When I got home, the GF asked me if I felt silly for getting all bend out of shape over the first failed meeting up. I didn’t actually answer her, but yep. I feel a little silly.

I generally have a pretty f-ed up view of the world. I expect the worst to happen.  I expect people to behave badly.  I have a horrible time trusting people.  I’m a cynic and a pessimist. I’m naturally sensitive, but I try VERY hard to keep my emotions under wrap, in a box with a key in a vault.  In a cave, under the ocean. (Being called a crybaby as a child will do that to you)

So when I read beautiful things written by beautiful people it makes me really happy and my faith in the world is restored (at least briefly).  And Marie had made me pretty happy today. In her post, Take Care, she asserts that we are in the lives of our friends, lovers, families because God trusts us to take care of them.

Read it again to make sure you got it. God trusts us to take care of them.

WOW. I got chill bumps while reading that statement!!! It is such an amazing and empowering thought. I am responsible for taking care of the people with whom I’ve been blessed to interact.

Sometimes I think about packing up my life and running away and living in a cave in the Midwest.  I’ve wondered if anyone would notice or care if I was no longer around. Most times I think I make a so-so friend. So to think that God (in her/his all-knowing wisdom) trusts me?!?!?!

I have friends and family with whom I have a cosmic (in my mind, at least) connection with.  People with whom I immediately feel comfortable.  People with whom I can be my total ridiculous self.  People who know me better than I know myself.  People who (on the days that I believe in reincarnation) I believe I’ve been living and dying with throughout the millennia. People I would die to save.

People who I am very guilty of occasionally treating badly.  People who I haven’t called, texted or even tweeting in forever. I ignore phone calls. I hold grudges.  I hurt feelings.  I rush to get off the phone or off the IM. I have horrible trust issues. I have hang-ups that keep me distant and invulnerable.

Sometimes I consciously tell myself that I shouldn’t care about anyone.  Caring makes one vulnerable and out of control. And I don’t want to be vulnerable and out of control.

When I think about how I treat people, I feel like an asshole.  Because Marie is right. How dare I not care? How dare I not trust myself to be the kind of lover, friend, family member that my loved ones deserve? I mean, if God can trust me (and my friends and family trust me) to do it properly, what’s my f-ing problem?

I’ve been admonished.

Thanks, Marie for reminding me that love, friendship and family are beautiful gifts that shouldn’t be taken lightly.  I promise to do better.  And I printed out her post and am taping it on my Vision Board.  I want to be the kind of person that God, apparently, thinks I am.

Worthy of the people in my life.

My mother expected us to be make good grades, have a strong work ethic, have an active spiritual life, and to give back to the family and the community.

She raised my siblings and me to be successful.

When I was 16, I had two jobs; I worked as a cashier in a grocery store and I worked as an intern in the local County Commissioners office. I made quite a bit of money for a sixteen year old.  And all my money was not mine. Every pay day (every other Friday) I was responsible for dinner.  That was usually the day that we ate out; on my way home from work I would pick up Subway, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell or KFC was usually on the menu.  I often helped out with my own and my younger siblings’ school shopping. I was responsible for a quite a bit at a relatively young age. I mean, I was the oldest of four, being raised by a single mom.

Additionally, my academic life was absolutely not to suffer because of my jobs. I had to maintain a 3.5 GPA and keep up with the Latin Club, French Club, Key Club, and African-American Club activities.

You know what? I loved my life; I was busy, I was happy, and I had money. (If only life stayed that simple.)

I don’t remember if my mom ever asked me to contribute to the household or if I just decided it was the right thing to do.  And I don’t remember being upset about

Over the years, I’ve watched my mom give back to the community. Whenever we outgrew anything, she bagged it up and gave it away. I’ve seen her give people at church, in the neighborhood or at her school money and food when they fall on hard times. I’ve also seen her give kids (the ones that were less fortunate than us) a dollar per A on their report card.  I’ve seen her take people into corners to pray, I’ve heard her call out the names of friends, family and acquaintances in prayer from her bedroom.  I KNOW she gives hundreds of dollars to programs as church that she believes in.

She’s awesome.  She may not be a saint, but she’s pretty dang –on close. For her, being successful isn’t about money or materialist goods (She will likely not be a rich lady). Success is about doing the right thing (even when it takes money out of your own pocket), success is about taking care of your family and touching the lives of others. Success is being about to look in the mirror and being happy with the person that you are and the life that you live.

She’s likely a big part of the reason that I’ve decided to go into public service.  Whenever we talk about my career and my life, she tells me that my purpose in life is the help people lead better lives. Luckily, I agree with her. She thinks I have a future in the ministry. I gotta say, I’m fighting that one.

What does success look like to you? Who has been a major influence in shaping your ideas about success.

Cohabitation Week 1

Her: I’m so happy you’re here! Finally, someone I WANT to spend lots of time with.

Her: I’m so happy you’re here! I have so many things for us to do!

Her: I’m so glad you’re here! It’s fun to watch tv with you.

Me: (in all seriousness) Are you sure you want me here? You aren’t going to kick me out?

Me: Are you sleeping well, do you have enough room? Am I in the way?  Am I too loud?

Her: You’re tense. When you are tense, you make me tense.

Her: Are you ok being here? You seem on edge.

Her: I’m happy you’re here. Stop expecting me to kick you out. Stop tripping.

Me: But… but… but… I want to make sure you are ok. I take up a lot of space.

Her: Shut up. I’ve been perfectly clear about how happy I am that you are here.

Me: So I can be my normal slobby self?

Her: You know you want to.

Her: I’m not as anal as I was last year. Right?

Me: WAAAAY less anal. (giggling)

We’ve made it through one week.  And as the GF often says,

We haven’t killed each other…. yet.  :-)

I’m surrounded by amazing women.  Ambitious, smart, beautiful, I-can-take-over-the-world women.  More often than not, these women are partnered with the wimpiest, honey-can-I hold-your-purse, AVERAGE men ever.  And I don’t understand how these relationships work.

Disclaimer: I’m not saying this as a lesbian that feels that all strong women would be better with a woman; I don’t think that’s true.  I’m just saying that life partners should be well and equally matched (my mom would say equally yoked).

Several of my female married or nearly married friends now that when they decide to have families, they will continue to be the breadwinners and their husbands will be stay at home dads.  I also have a few male friends who can’t wait for their wives to pop out some babies so that they (the husbands) have an excuse to stay home and play house.

Disclaimer: I’m not knocking the stay at home dad (well, maybe a little). I guess it’s ok that men my age are evolved enough (or shrewd enough) to see the economic potential in their mates and support their careers.  Similar to the way one of my college girlfriends supported the promiscuity of her roommate and pawned her off on football players with Lincoln Navigators and Cadillac Escalades.  Needless to say, I think it’s underhanded. But that’s neither here nor there.

Since about age 16, I’ve considered what I wanted in a mate.  I knew I didn’t want my mother’s life. God bless her, she is the best mommy ever, but I knew that motherhood, kids, and domesticity were not for me. When I started dating in high school I considered boys based on their athletics, their looks, their family life, and whether not they would (or could) support the lifestyle of a national politician. You see, even in HS I had every intention of being, Monica Carol Evans, President of the United States (it is even on my vision board) and I needed a First Husband that wouldn’t embarrass me and would support my ambitions.

When I think back to the boys I’ve dated I must say that in many ways, I dated boys that turned into the men that the very ambitious women that I associate with on a daily basis have married.

Then I think about the GF.  There is nothing average or wimpy or subservient about her.  She matches my ambition and passion on every level.  If either of us turned into a new virgin mary right now and birthed an alien baby we would have to play “paper, rock, scissors” to decide who would be stuck with it.

Disclaimer: Nah, just playing, we’ve already decided. I’d be responsible for the baby while it was little and vulnerable. When it learned to talk, I’d pass it to her, and she would be responsible for it until it turns 14.  At 14, we’d have joint responsibility and teach it to be an adult.

But seriously, I don’t try ANY of the stupid sh!t on her that I tried on past boyfriends. There is no “steamrolling” or cuckolding the GF.  She is my equal partner is ways that I have never experienced.  As smart, passionate, ambitious ladies, we each have career goals that are very important to us. At important junctions in our relationship we share and remind each other of our personal and professional goals, and completely cheerlead for each other. 

Recently I met an older woman who is very much who I want to be in 15 years. Her career path is amazing; her work experience is crisscrossed with policy, lobbying, and politics gigs. She is doing or has done lots of work that is currently on my career to-do list.  In a recent conversation, it took us 45 minutes to hashed out how I’m to start my consulting business, she gave me a list of possible projects AND she invited me to work on her next political campaign (I think it’s her third successful one).  Then she told me her 5 year plan (which is phenomenal and crazy and BUSY) and while she’s telling me, basically, how she’s taking over North Carolina politics, I couldn’t help wondering, “What the hell does her husband do? And what does he think about her plans?”  I don’t know her well enough yet to ask her those questions. Honestly I’m not even positive that she’s married, which, in my book, would make perfect sense. It takes a strong and secure man to handle a strong, career-minded female. (and they are in SHORT supply, these days.)

What kind of husband (or wife) does a really ambitious and motivated woman need?  She needs someone who is self-assured, secure, and smart for sure.  But I always get hung up on supportive. 

Can a partner who is equally ambitious really support a mate whose ambition may be pulling them in a different direction? For a relationship to be successful, someone has to be willing to compromise, and potentially forsake themselves to preserve it.  I have two friends left great jobs and moved (joblessly) ACROSS the country for their mates. I thought they were crazily romantic and I wish them the best.

I wonder to myself, would I be willing to do that? Last summer in Atlanta would suggest that I would move to be with my partner, but I’m a nomad by nature and was curious about the big city. But what if I was settled and the GF needed to move away to pursue an opportunity, would I be so quick to follow her? How quickly would she be willing to move for me? Thinking about it makes my stomach hurt.  We’ve even had conversations about what would happen if only one of us gets a job soon in San Francisco.   

Does a wimpy, but dedicated mate make it easier for an ambitious woman to be successful?  I wonder if the formula that my girlfriends and their husbands are using (daddy daycare) really means that they will be able to fully concentrate on their careers while hubbie takes care of the house and kids? I’m skeptical. Can the working woman depend on her trailing spouse? 

How the hell do people make marriages work long-term?

50% of marriages work, so some people have figured out an arrangement that works for them.  I wonder if those are the relationships with a clear dominant and a clear submissive partner or if those are the marriages that are truly equal?  

What makes a relationship equal?

Over the past month, my awesome life coach, Jenny Ferry, and I have been working on being present in my life. As the end of an era approaches, I am to take advantage of my classmates and other friends and love them and be with them while we are all in Chapel Hill. 

Tonight, a group of us got together and had Indian food. 

Not just normal Indian food.  One of us found this Indian lady who cooks every Wednesday at her house.  She doesn’t just cook; this woman stick’s her little Indian foot in it!  With an RSVP you can come to her house, eat in or take out dinner for $10 a person. 

We went in with tuberware, got a crazy amount of food, left and ate dinner (family-style) by the pool at our apartment complex. 

It was SO much fun. And the food was A-MAZING.

We ate, and talked about each other, our classmates, our professors.  As I am not a fan of small talk, I love intimate conversations about hopes, fears, concerns, life…. And tonight was that kind of conversation. 

 I love that every time I talk to my classmate friends I reveal parts of myself and learn new things about them.  I love our closeness, I love our easiness, I love our generosity with each other.  Even though we will be scattered across the country in a few weeks, and I will be soooooo far away from these crazies that I have come to love and admire, I KNOW that these are my life friends.  While our relationships will change with our geography, I have to beleive that we can remain a part of each other’s lives.  (otherwise I’ll go stark raving mad)

I love my ‘maties!