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.

I hate everything about this stupid war in Iraq. And all the stupid articles about Iraq just make me angry.  My brother’s in Iraq for the 3^rd, count ‘em first, second, THIRD time. I mean, the second time he was over there, his HumVee got blown up, and his knee cap got BLOWN OFF. He’ll never walk without a limb. His first born child will be born in October, and he won’t be there. Twenty Four is TOO YOUNG to see the all the death that he’s seen. And I miss him, damn it.

I’m sick of every news report starting out with how many soldiers and marines died in Iraq. It’s TOO much. I want this war over now.  I’m all about diplomacy, but for fuck’s sake, just end it already!

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.

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?

I know I publicly said I wasn’t doing that stupid chain letter. But today, I was in the pool and I was thinking about all the things I think about when I’m by myself and realized that I need to be a part of this pop culture phenomenon that is the “25 random things” but I have to do them Monica-style.

I had five called “Reasons why I’m better that you” but I deleted them.

Here is the final list, by catergory

Personality things

1. I HATE being by myself

2. But I sometimes feel alone in rooms full of people

3.  I sometimes say things I don’t mean just to see how others will react

4. I’m an attention whore, but I’m really shy around new people

5. Sometimes I believe that I’m living someone else’s life

6. I’ve been dreaming of my tattoo since I was 10 years old, but only recently got it.

Sexuality things

1. I love being naked

2. I wish I were way more scandalous than I am

3. I find older women very attractive

4. I’m a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. I prefer to call everyone honey, baby, sweetness, or some other southern foolishness

5. I am very attracted to the way people smell. And I will sniff you if I want to.

6. I get crushes on people EVERY DAY

Spiritual things

1. I don’t believe in coincidences. Signs are everywhere

2. I believe prayer works

3. I believe in soulmates. Not in the sense that we are each assigned 1. I believe I have a whole gang of people that I’m supposed to spend my life with, and I believe that there are a few who I have spend a few lives getting to know.

4. I am a Sagittarius sun sign and a Leo rising, and I embody almost every stereotype of each.

5. I have problems with faith, yet I love and study religions whenever I can and I can quote the Bible on command

6. I grew up in a very religious, conservative home, and I am surprised that I’ve turned out the way I have.

Relationships

1. I prayed for friends and God put me in MPA school

2. I am EXTREMELY close to my siblings, and I miss them every day that we are apart

3. I miss my childhood best friend a lot, and I am saddened that it is only because of stupid divisive religious beliefs that we aren’t friends anymore

4. I prefer animals to people, and I prefer babies to adults

5. It has only been recently that I realized that I could love someone else as strongly as I love my family

Miscellaneous

1. I met and hung out with a girl twice and she had a profound effect on the trajectory of my life, but if I passed her in the street, I wouldn’t be able to identify her and I don’t remember her name

2. I believe that we all have gifts and it is out purpose in life to share those gifts with others

3. I think I would be a beautiful pregnant woman and I have offered my womb and eggs to friends who fear that they won’t be able to conceive

4. I almost went to Cornell for undergrad and would have majored in Hospitality Management.  I still want to own my own restaurant

5. I’m not an athlete at all, but I like to be active.  I’ve taken (and loved) jujitsu and muy thai kickboxing, I used to teach aerobics (Step, Kickboxing, and Core), I’ve tried to be a runner, and I’m currently tackling swimming

6. My dad used to call me the absent minded professor when I was a child. The moniker still applies.

For the past 10 days, the prodigal son my baby brother has been in town. He hasn’t been home in over 2 years, and the last time I saw him, he had a cast covering his entire right leg (courtesy of a roadside bomb in Iraq) and I couldn’t stop petting him out of gratitude that he was still alive. So it was EXCELLENT to get to see him this year whole and walking without assistance. Additionally, my super awesome cityslicker baby sister has been home from college since my birthday.

As my siblings and I are unnaturally close, I’ve been spending a LOT of time at my mother’s house since their arrival. Beating each other up, fighting over the remote, laughing at mom (and each other), burping in each other’s faces and blaming each other for eating the last of the banana pudding (I promise it wasn’t me). It was amazingly fun and I’m so glad I was able to play with them.

I couldn’t help but notice, however, that I’m not 14. My sister isn’t a precocious 5 years old and my brother isn’t a shy preteen.  We are all adults. (That’s a f*cking scary thought).

In addition to our extremely juvenile antics, we also had some real conversations about life, love, depression and death. (Funny how those four go together).  At any rate, my babies are grown. They have opinions and ideas. Nevermind that our conversations, even on those heavy subjects, still result in oodles of raucous laughter.

The lives of my siblings do not revolve around our neat little nuclear family unit any more. I think my mother did a fantastic job of raising fully formed humans, even though, she sometimes (and I when it comes to my siblings) have a hard time adjusting to the way our family roles have changed.

My brother, who, when we were growing up, would easily toss my sisters and I around like his own personal rag dolls, acknowledged yesterday while he was struggling to carry my sister up a flight of stairs, either she’s getting heavy or he’s getting old (both, of course, are true). But I couldn’t help remembering how easily he would have accomplished that same task a few years ago.

Over this holiday break, I have had a chance to hang out with some of my “big” cousins.  I mean those cousins that were grown (and uber cool in my young eyes) when I was a teenager.  Lil’ Moni used to sneak and listen to the “adult” conversations that would flow around them.  They were usually about who’s having sex, is it any good, how often and with whom -apparently conversations that I was too young to hear then (and I didn’t understand them anyway), but now …. now is a different story. Now, not only is my participation requested in these conversations, it’s damn near mandatory. I can’t count the number of times this week that my family asked me about my “social life”.  And the stories that they tell, wow. I could write a book.

And now my big cousins have kids of their own, kids whose ears are routinely covered or who are flat out told to go outside and play, but who I am sure are smart enough to figure it out what the hell is going on.

But I have a very important question. Where did all the time go?

I say all this to say that time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, into the future. And there is NOTHING we can do about it.

As much as I’d like to keep my siblings young, carefree and innocent of the dirt, evil, and suffering in this world, I can’t. Life happens, man. As much as I will always remember my big cousins, some of whom are in their 40’s now, as young and bright and shiny twenty and thirtysomethings marching toward the prime of their lives, I must remind myself that I am now in that position.  If my life is to move forward (and it must) then I have be aware that time stands still for no one.

We get two choices: move of our own volition or get run over. I’m not getting run over, but repeatedly this holiday season has reminded me,

Cherish this time. Soak it up. Remember this. You will never live this moment again.

And luckily, I listened.

Every since Eysqueen wrote about Santy Claus, or maybe it was just seeing the fat man EVERYWHERE, or maybe it was the lady behind me in a store telling her kids if they didn’t straighten up she was going to tell Santa to give their toys to kids who could behave. Or maybe it is just after December 13 and no one is talking about my birthday anymore.

Whatever the reason, my HATRED of Santa Clause has doubled tripled.This week I went to a X-Mas party, and the host had Black Santas everywhere. And I wanted to stomp their little fat faces in.

On other occasions this week, I have gotten a chance to play with a few of my very cute little cousins, who have been very excited about getting presents (and having new people to play with). And every so often one of the stupid adults would say something stupid about Santa Claus coming, and I would grit my teeth and hold my tongue.

Why?

Because all I wanted to say was: SANTA CLAUS DOES NOT EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!

I think it is ABSOLUTELY wrong to trick kids into believing in this FAKE person. I mean, boogyemen don’t exist, right? And there isn’t (and has never been, according to my mother) a goblin living under my bed, waiting to eat my toes and suck me under the bed, right?

Then why the F*CK to very educated parents persist in lying to their kids about a fat happy man that breaks into homes EVERY YEAR?

My mother never told my siblings and I that there was a Santa Claus.

And I thank her dearly for it.

WHY?

Because when we got Christmas presents, we understand the SACRIFICE and HARDWORK, on my mother’s part that went into making sure that we had presents at all. AND we were F*CKING grateful and hugged and kissed our mother to let her know that her good deeds did not go unnoticed.

Unlike these badass kids today who do not understand the meaning of thankfulness, giving and sharing.

All they know is MINE and GIMME.

The meaning of “Christmas” has completely been forgotten. So forgotten that I was forced to send out the following Christmas Day message

Merry Hanukkah, Happy Christmas, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice and other pagan and commercial gift-giving season.

I feel that I have to acknowledge the season, but I kind of hate Christmas and all it has come to represent. I would rather get presents during the year for being good, rather than having the pressure and the competition of getting (and giving) the right present for Christmas.

And while I LOVE my family, I would rather visit them individually at their homes, than trudging from house to house on Christmas Day forcing myself to smile and be f*cking merry.

I’d rather be a home in my sweats watching a movie (or a House marathon on USA).

Why do we continue to buy into the forced merriness of this time of the year? (while it is cold as BALLS, and we can’t even go from house to house without repeated layering up (to go outside) and stripping (once we get into the house)).

At the very least, can’t we move Christmas to August? And make it a mandatory beach vacation full of beautiful half-naked people and margaritas?

*sigh*

Anyone wanna co-sign that?

In the meantime, I, evil demon that I am, have been whispering under my breath all week, “I hate f*cking Santa.”  And it has been oh so hard not to randomly tap little kids on the shoulder and say, SANTA DOES NOT F*CKING EXIST!!!!

Would it be so bad to just gather all the munchkins together and say, Kids, your moms and dads work hard. They work and save (or borrow and steal) to make sure that you get that Big Wheel or Xbox or Barbie doll, so when they tell you to do your homework, or clean your room or eat your veggies, YOU better f*cking do it! There is no Santa, there is no naughty/nice list. There are just the parents that you drive crazy 364 days a year. Be NICE to your parents, and be NICE to your teachers. Behave yourselves in public, and stop being an embarrassment.

It’s the least the little rugrats can do to repay their lemming parents for keeping Toys R US in business, right?

Ok, I’m done.

I hope everyone had a nice semi-religious, pagan holiday season.

Love,

Your neighborhood Grinch

My name is Monica and I am a complainer. I’m also a worrier. And a cynic. I have very little faith (in anything). And I can get really anxious (I think I get worked up with all the worrying.)

For almost a year now, I have been trying to counteract my tendencies and put a little good ju-ju into the atmosphere. Because if The Secret is right, then I’m attracting tons of negativity.  And that’s bad.

At least 3 nights a week I try to make a list of all the things I’m thankful for.

My thankful list is generally kind of random.  When my brother was in Iraq (twice!!) my thankful list consisted of 1. Being thankful that a member of the Army didn’t show up at our door with bad news. 2.  Being thankful that my brother would wake us up in the middle of the night with a phone call from the other side of the world.

Nowadays, I’m just thankful when I can find a parking place. Or that when I cut all my hair off I still look like a girl.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been adding another layer to my little ritual.  I’ve been asking for things that I need.  I’m not sure what I expect, but supposedly, when you put good stuff into the Universe, you get good stuff back.  We get not because we ask not, and all that jazz.

We’ll see.

So, I’m going to share with you, some things that I am thankful for.  And the gifts (or blessings, whatever) that I’m asking for.

1. I am thankful that my baby sister is enjoying school and life in Atlanta.
2. I’m thankful that my brother is still in the States, and not in the Middle East.
3. I’m thankful for my relationship with the gf.  It (she) has taught/helped me to rediscover some things about myself that I either denied, forgotten, or was unaware of.
4. I am thankful that my mother calls me almost everyday because she wants to know how I’m doing and she just wants to chat.
5. I am thankful that my friend, R, is finally taking care of herself and putting herself first in her own life.
6. I am thankful for friends.  Not too long ago, I felt really alone.  I don’t anymore.
7. I am thankful that I’m in grad school.  3 years ago I worried that no respectable program would have me.  But I’m in one of the top 6 programs in the country. Go figure!
8. I’m thankful for positive role models (especially relationship role models)
9. I’m thankful for the beauty, the rhyme, rhythm and the symmetry that I find in nature and in life every day.
10. I’m thankful for the passion that I feel inside myself.  It still surprises me sometimes.
11. I’m thankful for my super awesome job and totally cool boss, and my groovy co-workers who invite me to parties
12. I’m thankful for my classmate, aka, drinking buddies.  They rock my world.

And one to grow on: (I will not number it 13). I’m thankful for my little Toyota Corolla that gets 30 MPG and takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’

Now for the things that I ask for….

1. I ask for the strength to do all the things that life demands (waking up, speaking up, being present)
2. I ask for guidance to know where and on what I should focus my time
3. I ask for the courage to be the person I know I am.
4. I ask for confidence in myself-I need to trust my intuition
5. I ask for the right words at the right time
6. I ask for help getting through the next two hellacious weeks of school
7. I ask for my dream job
8. I ask for health and safety for my family and friends
9. I ask for the ability to not be constantly distracted by everything
10. I ask for focus
11. I ask that it doesn’t rain while I’m walking outside.
12. I ask that I don’t hit/get hit while in a car or walking on the street.

What are you thankful for?  What would you like a bit more of?