The heart wants what the heart wants

Why are there so many songs about Romeo and Juliet? I mean, do we really have a world full of unhappy people and unrequited loves? Isn't anyone happy? I was talking to a friend of mine recently who says she is convinced no one is happily married. I am not sure I am that cynical. I have been at times, but overall, I still believe in true love. I believe in that feeling that just grips you from the insides and won't let go. It has a way of super ceding all that makes sense, a way of taking over. In short, the heart wants what the heart wants. I love being in love. I believe anything worth having is worth working for.



There are some who just like the first date feeling forever-and they stay single or get a lot of divorces. I suppose that makes sense-to a limit. But that's not me-I was never very good at the single thing. I didn't really like worrying about what this guy or that guy would think of me. Everyone has a list of things that aren't so great-in order to avoid that, you would have to subscribe to the single forever theory. That being said, sometimes people get married that shouldn't. I get that, but I also think some people get divorced who shouldn't. I am no marriage counselor (nor could I stand to be) but I just don't believe everyone is unhappy. It's just one of those things about our culture that has evolved-we don't really like working hard. But relationships can be hard work.

I got a good one

I really hate to bake-it's a lot of work, and it rarely turns out well for me. My cookies are like frisbees, my cakes always fall and stick to the non-stick pans, my brownies are like chocolate volcanoes on the inside and bricks on the outside, I have never tried a pie, and baking breads or rolls sound less appealing to me than the word speculum. My Mother In Law is an incredibly good baker-that should tell me right there that I have no shot. She and I are so different, it comes as no surprise that she has mastered something I can barely make edible on a good day. This is not to say I don't like my Mother In Law; just that we are different.


She is actually an excellent MIL. I don't have another one to compare to, but I know both she and my own mother had terrible ones, so I totally appreciate the difference. For example, she has NEVER imposed her will or abused her influence over her son to meet her needs as her own mother in law has always done. Her mother in law once wrote her a letter completely renouncing Catholicism-which is how my MIL was raised; she also made her name her first born (my husband) a hideous name-Millard. My poor husband has gone by his middle name his entire life-and my MIL would love to see him legally change it. She once said to me that she had hoped to never be that kind of mother in law. And she has succeeded. I could not ask for a better one. She has always been very hands off-and very respectful of Paul and me-even when we do things that just make her scratch her head. She has been so helpful and supportive all these years-but never over steps it. I have seen the mama's boy syndrome in many of the men I know, or the men my friends/family married. It is not the case with my husband-and that is a giant credit to this great lady.


And I am sure I drive her crazy-I am her opposite in so many ways. I am super outgoing and overly talkative; terribly unorganized and unstructured; messy, forgetful, impulsive, emotional and expressive. I bet when she met me-almost 18 years ago-she just rolled her eyes. When we told her we were getting married, she thought we were pregnant. Probably because I was her worst nightmare.


However, over the years, we have really grown together. I used to be so uncomfortable around her, like I could never please her. Despite the litany of things we do not share, we do share a huge love for our family. She is an exceptional mother and amazing grandmother. And she has been able to put aside things about me that have to feel like finger nails on a chalkboard to her, and become my friend anyway.


We both love to make fun of our husbands-and their ridiculous over eating habits. We love to discuss recipes, she has gotten me addicted to Philosophy and Bare Escentuals products, she gives the best gifts-new flatware, dishes, the best Kitchen Aid hand mixer ever, my favorite sweater, to name a few. She watches my boys 2 days a week-which has made it possible for me to work and never have to put my kids in daycare. I am forever indebted to her for that gift. My house is cleaner when I get home than when I left it-despite my 2 sons (and her son/husband) messing it up all day. I doubt she realizes I notice that because I often forget to mention it. She is such a blessing in so many ways. She gives so much, and never asks for anything in return. She is so understated and unassuming.

I used to just see the things about her I did not understand because we were such opposites. But now, I see such a wonderful lady, full of incredible talents and gifts. I have learned so much from her, and I continue to all the time. I love her with all my heart.


I hear terrible stories all the time about the families people marry into. And while I don't seem like a perfect fit for the one I married into, it is perfect for me.

More of life's irritating mysteries

It occurred to me that this column could be something I do more often than once. After all, the world really never stops irritating me, so here is another post:


Why do we have to type words in a little box for security purposes? And why are those words always impossible to read? Is there some connection with criminal internet behavior and someones ability to decipher those impossible scratchings?



And why can't parking meters take credit cards? And what happened to the days when parking meters didn't charge for weekdays and weekends?



Why would anyone tell you that you look tired? Isn't that just another way of saying you look terrible? I hate backwards insults like that. Just tell me I look awful!


Why are CDs and DVDs epoxied with industrial strength saran wrap material that could seal an army tank? And speaking of which, why can't saran wrap we use for food be that useful? It really only sticks to itself.

Have you ever noticed how the radio stations all play commercials at the very same time? Such a conspiracy. And I am a seriel flicker, so it really bugs me on the drive home.

Who came up with a 40 hour work week anyway? Was it some scientific calculation or was it based on a specific task/industry; or was it just arbitrary like most things that have to do with the workforce? Do we really need to work 40 hours? I tell you a stimulus plan that would work-cut it to 30 (same pay) and see how much daycare cost savings would help the middle class. Not to mention, people only work about 30 of those 40 hours anyway. I know people would work a lot harder and more efficiently if they only worked 4 day weeks-the same amount of work would get done as it does now. People would just be a lot happier, and families might start forming again. Our culture has lost its sense of family.

Why is it acceptable to wait in the lobby of a doctor's office for endless periods of time? Is there another profession where we could get away with that? Is a doctor's time that much more important than his patient's? The only ones more important would be those monopoly weilding folks like repairmen and servicemen-what's with the standard service window of time-"we'll be there between 8 am and 4 pm" What? Are you kidding me? I would love to be that loose on when I would get things done at work!

Why are there so many dead zones for cell phones? When our kids are grown, will they laugh at us when we tell them there was such a thing? It will be like telling them we had phone booths or rotary phones that weren't cordless.

Why is it that when I lose something, I look in the usual spot for it. Then I look around a bunch of other stupid places only to find myself looking in the original spot over and over again; long after I have determined that it is not there? As if it will somehow magically re-appear where it belongs in the first place! Am I the only one who does this?

I hate 35 MPG speed limits. I also HATE when a policeman is behind me-especially in a 35 MPG zone. I don't have to be doing anything wrong, and I still feel nervous and guilty. It reminds me of my 7th grade typing teacher who would stand over me until I made a mistake typing. He scared me to death. Invariably, I would make a typo instantly when he stood there.

Best of intentions

So, have you ever planned something you thought was going to be a great time, and then it just really wasn't? It's such a crappy feeling. I made dinner reservations for Paul and me last night at what I thought was going to be a hip little place downtown. Turns out, there were quite a few other folks planning to go downtown last night as well. In fact, after 30 minutes of driving around in a construction laden, skinny parking lot infested, over priced 5 or 6 block square radius, we finally found a $20 spot that we could not get the stupid autopay parking figured out. By then, we were both pretty frustrated-and we didn't even care anymore. We figured the parking ticket couldn't have been much more than $20 anyway.



Then, we got to the restaurant-a place called Limelight Supper Club. It is located right smack in the middle of the Denver Center of Performing Arts complex. Seemingly, a pretty hip and swank place. However, we walked in-and we were literally the ONLY people in the entire establishment. Seriously! I felt like a geriatric couple eating dinner 3 hours before the rush. I guess the reason was that the shows had already started so everyone who eats dinner there comes early to make the shows. Wasn't I feeling like the uncultured swine? It might have been salvagable if it was just an incredible meal-after all, Kevin Taylor is supposed to be all that in this town, and he is the chef. But, actually, it was a very average meal. The tomato soup tasted a lot like something I would make. Paul had lamb and I had salmon. It was very comparable to any chain restaurant we could have had in downtown Castle Rock (with free parking). Probably the best part of the night was the fact that we did not get a parking ticket. From all accounts, it was pretty much a disaster



On the bright side, it was good company. Paul and I did have a nice time together. I am sure we will laugh about this for years to come....well, we will mostly just laugh at me. In any case, deep down, I just know Paul appreciates that I had the best of intentions.

Musically inclined

Recently, my favorite blogger shared told me she wasn't "musically inclined". Naturally, it is my mission to convert her. It did make me think what it means to be musically inclined anyway. And I guess it's just one of those places I go to escape. I remember as a kid listening to music, and it always made me feel like I could be somewhere else. I loved the sound of my mom singing to me. I played the piano-which could feel surreal at times. I was never a big student of piano though-I just liked making the sounds. In other words, theory and lessons bored me. I just wanted to play songs. It drove teachers crazy.



As I approached the adolescence age when music is oh so important, I remember having a giant appetite for and a huge variety of different types of music. I liked top 40,classic rock, heavy metal, alternative weirdo bands, classic piano tunes, cheesy stuff my mom sang to me as a kid, pretty much everything. I have not met many types of music that I couldn't fine a few songs I liked.


As an adult, I find that music has a way of taking me back to places. Sometimes it's a great memory. The song, Candy by Iggy Pop was playing on my Ipod-and it totally brought me back to my college days. I could feel the warm sunshine on my face in my room mate Amy's Mustang convertible. So many late 80's and early 90's tunes have that affect on me. And I always welcome it! I was a DJ at Pepperdine so I was very up to date on tunes of the times. I love reliving those moments-just in my mind. I think of concerts we went to-getting ready for a typical college night out: complete with lots of hairspray, changes of clothes and pre party beers. I still remember those 18-21 year old days of trying to figure out who we were going to be when we grew up. And some 21 years later, those girls still have such an important role in who I will be when I grow up (if i ever do). We are in 5 states now, we have 8 kids between us, 2 divorces and when we are together, we still play the same songs and our hearts are filled with magic only that type of connection can bring. It's as if we are on PCH all over again wondering what life has to offer; and just happy to be in it together.



Then I hear songs that make me think of things that I forget are even very old. Slave to Love by Bryan Ferry is a song that always makes me think of Paul. I worked at Paramount Cafe downtown the summer I met him. The jukebox there played that song all the time. I still think of those days when I hear it; and it amazes me that has now been 18 years ago. And Brown Eyed Girl has been around forever it seems. I still remember the first gift Paul ever gave me was the Van Morrison CD with that song on it. Years later, we both agree, that is the only song worth anything by Van Morrison. That's another timeless song though, that reminds me of all the years that have passed, yet stood still.



Some memories are sad. I hear Blue Danube on the piano, and it always makes me cry because I think of my grandmother, whom I called Nannie. Despite our incredibly low ranking as Iranian kids among the southern relatives (my mom's side of the family); our Nannie always loved us unconditionally. She never made us feel like we didn't belong-even though we knew we didn't. Remarkably, she managed to mask her distaste for my father in order to love us so much. I miss her so.



Many songs remind me of movies-either the unmistakable rifts like James Bond or Indiana Jones, or maybe Oscar type scores like Chariots of Fire or the Now We are Free Gladiator theme song. That type of music makes me feel like I just got up out of the theatre seat. I remember the Star Wars craze days of the late 70's and early 80's where we lined up for hours to get in to see those films as they were released. I remember seeing the third Indiana Jones with my mom when I got suspended in the 8th grade (which was total BS!)


And still other songs remind me of fun times and places I have been in my life. Whenever I hear Jimmy Buffet, I think of the incredible summer I spent in Cincinnati. And when I hear U2 songs, I think of the many years in my life their music has spanned; and how many times I have seen their concerts. I hear John Denver songs and I am reminded of my many cross country trips home from Pepperdine with Amy through the gorgeous Rocky Mountains. I love them all.



Some songs remind me of a specific person-Turbo Lover will always remind me of my sister. So will Purple Rain. I see her in her black RX7 with her big hair, big nails and her insufferable older-than-me-high-school-girl attitude! I hear Pump up the Volume and I can see Laura; And with Denice, it is always when I hear Summer, Highland Falls . And then there's Maria-with the big blond hair flip and the 10 foot long cigarette-grooving to Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order. These images live in my brain forever.



I could look through my Ipod and find stories for so many songs. In fact, maybe I will. I guess that's one of the things I have always enjoyed about it. Music is a great way of expressing myself Music keeps me company. It used to just be when I was at the gym or driving. But I also love to pop in the headphones while walking my dog, skiing, at work, cleaning my house, cooking dinner, taking a shower, on a plane, hanging out by a pool (like I ever do that!), sitting outside in the summer time watching my kids play and drinking wine with my hubby.

Size matters

Okay, get your minds out of the gutter. I am thinking about how many things I have always aspired for that are bigger and better. I have owned three houses in my life. The one I live in currently is at least 3 times the size of my first house-and almost twice the size of my second house. While I always thought I wanted a big house-I find that it is a giant pain to keep clean-and to keep from being incredibly cluttered. It also comes with a much bigger payment. Our first house payment was around $900 a month. How I miss that! This is not to say I want my first house back but I do question the need for things that are too big.




Also, the diamond in my wedding ring has grown over the years. My first ring was tiny (very representative of our socioeconomic status at the time). We were 23-I think it was maybe 1/3 of a karat. Two upgrades later, I have a 2 karat ring. I think about the years between those two rings, and though it has been worth it-I find myself missing those simple days. We have both endured so much pain, made stupid mistakes, our marriage has been through some very rough patches. I would gladly give back the ring if I could have spared both us of some difficult times. I have heard comments like, "someone really loves you" regarding my ring. I have never thought the size of the rock has a thing to do with how much we love each other. I never look at that beautiful (and it is quite stunning) ring and think to myself-man, my husband really loves me. I generally reflect on days gone by, when we had far fewer things, and how I miss that sometimes.

I remember how we used to spend hours walking our dog together. He was our free time because we just didn't have money to do much else. I never thought that was a bad thing. But I notice we hardly ever walk our dog together today. Those were pre-blackberry, cell phone, laptop, 24 hour Spongebob, Facebook, senior level job days. Days when our time together was so segregated from the rest of our busy lives. We would talk, laugh, and dream together; and we didn't share those moments with anyone. And naturally, we aspired to have bigger and more of everything. Ironically, we both reflect on those days of having so little, and without question admit that we had it better so many smaller ways.

There is a saying, "it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog". Obviously, my first born son embodies this adage. He has such a huge heart-one you could never know by looking at his slight appearance. He has been playing sports since he was 4-and he is ALWAYS the smallest kid. He is also almost always one of the most skilled. His remarkable, God given talent and skill level are not as impressive to me though, as his courage. It has to be hard to be out there all the time-hearing all the comments about how tiny you are. The parents often question how old he is-within his earshot. I cannot imagine what the other kids say to him. Yet, he shows up, he plays with all his little heart, he never quits. I can't say with certainty that I would do the same thing. He never stops making me proud-and I don't care if he ever scores a basket or a goal or hits a homerun. He is such a champion to me.

My little Monkey

I am inspired by my friend Mindee's Blog :http://www.ourfrontdoor.us/index.html. Her post (http://www.ourfrontdoor.us/files/c4e9e7170a52a8d96756dac1da99c769-150.html). was about her 8th grade daughter. But she can hear her parents laughing at the revisitation of her young self upon her as a parent. I am certain I hear the same thing with my second son.

For one, he looks alarmingly like I did at his age. See the middle picture-it was from the 70's of my sister and me. Yes, this means I resembled a boy during my childhood-not the other way around. I was never a very girly girl. I am still not. In addition to the "mini me" appearance, this child has the same wanton disregard for neatness, food, and gravity as I did. I recall never being able to sit still. And, just like him, I certainly had it in for defying convention. I was the second born-same sex as the first, just like him.

Still, though, I have to draw the line at some of his recent antics. As early as 16 months, he was climbing out of his crib. He walked at about 11 months. It would have been sooner as he tried at 10 months but I didn't realize he was wearing shoes 2 sizes too small-see the blog on my other son for an explanation http://tcyarbs-talkingtomyself.blogspot.com/2009/01/why-does-it-bother-me-so-much.html- As soon as he got in the right size-he walked and never stopped moving!

He has climbed our overboard playset in the backyard since he was 18 months old. We are talking rock wall-dangling off the rope ladder and dropping over to the slide (about 20 feet in the air).

This child is not for the faint of heart. He climbed a solid oak dresser at about 2-creating stairs by pulling all the drawers out. Once on top, he had a foot in each of the top drawers and was rocking until it fell. The only thing that kept his incredibly heavy item from not crushing him was that my bed broke its fall. He never sits in a chair-he generally straddles a couple a time, and leans them back to create his own little obstacle coarse at the dinner table. He rides down our stair railings, hangs from his ceiling fan ( I am NOT kidding), stacks very unstable items on top of each other to reach for things I have put up high. He gets into cleaning products and drains spray bottles, has shattered our clock off the wall-and taken out the light switches below it on its way down, wrote all over my leather car seats with pen, regularly TP's the bathroom with an entire roll of toilet paper. He can make a mess eating a tic tac, he somehow destroyed our cable box the other night, he has shocked himself on electrical outlets, he loves to dump things out-for no apparent reason. He thinks chocolate is a food group. Often how he accomplishes some of these things is a mystery to us. I still don't know how the cable box got so messed up. In short, this child EXHAUSTS me. This is just the tip of the iceberg with him.

You know the saying-just let him fall and he will learn. This does not apply to my youngest son. He just thinks he will master it next time. Now, to his credit, he does have remarkably good balance. He is able to pull off a lot of these stunts with minimal bodily harm. But it still scares me to death when I hear a thump and he is not in my immediate sight. His incredible balance and physical acumen are only missing a huge compliance component. The child is as non-conforming as they get. I long to put him in an organized sport or activity, but every time I have tried, he mostly just protests and refuses to participate. He is as headstrong as he is mischievous.

I keep thinking he will outgrow these things, if he lives long enough. I keep this blog as a record for him to have when the same curse Mindee touched on visits him. He is guaranteed to have a moment with his own offspring that makes him reflect back on the havoc he wreaked on his own parents!