Generation Exhausted

Never say never

Java Diva has a post up about those famous last words we all thought we'd never say. In her comment box I confessed to starting the "because I said so's" way earlier in my child-rearing days than she did. In fact, those who've been reading here a long while will recall that the very first incarnation of this blog was called Because I Said So.

So I got to thinking about some of those things my mom said that, for one reason or another, I swore I'd never say. And I've said them all, so there you have it.

1. What do you mean, you can't sleep? Just close your eyes and lie (lay?) down, it'll happen.
2. We'll see.
3. Let me think about it. (which I don't, and then have to give the answer I'd wanted to all along, which is usually #4)
4. No.
5. You put that shirt back in my closet right now.
6. It's none of your business, that's why.

Along with that, however, there are several things my mother always said that I try to remember to say to my own children:

1. I love you.
2. I'm proud of you.
3. I knew you could do it.
4. You can do anything you set your mind to.
5. No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little girl and I'll always be your mom.

Linda says

Linda says I've been neglecting my blogging duties. First, she looks in my favourites folder and then she maximizes my windows. Oh yeah, and lowers my chair.

And I just now remembered she criticized my driving too.

What self esteem?

Today has been a very good day, and also offered an interesting moment.

Early this morning, the school called and asked could I attend the Student of the Month assembly. This was not unusual - I figured either one of my kids had won, or that the principal was going to do something to recognize the Parents' Club, since the lockout begins Monday and may last past the end of the school year. At past assemblies, she's recognized various parents for various activities and I did run the Spring Writing Contest back in March.

So the principal gets up there at the front of the gym, and starts talking about this really nice lady who hangs around the school a lot. And then she congratulates this lady on publishing her first book and declares her Author of the Month.

I realize she's talking about me, and I cover my face. Because really, with 585 kids, 40 teachers and 30 parents in attendance, covering my face is an ideal way to hide, right? I'm pleased, but embarassed.

So she calls my name, and I start the long walk up the aisle toward the front. I hear parents murmuring amidst the applause, and everyone's looking at me. Everyone is looking at me.

Instantly, I'm transported back to fifth grade.

In fifth grade, and in sixth, I got beat up. A lot. And threatened and harrassed, and generally terrorized by a gaggle of girls that possibly didn't have anything better to do. I also got good grades, and got called to the front of the gym. A lot. And every time I did, it caused more problems, and more threats, and more fights.

When I was ten, success was trouble, and so I learned to be afraid of success. Not so much that I stopped wanting it, but accomplishing it terrified me. I carried that contradiction with me for nearly twenty years, and it slowed me down. A lot.

And walking up to the front of the gym today, that's all I could think about. That other mothers might look at me and think, "Who does she think she is?"

So I was embarassed, yes, but also a little afraid. And that's weird. Because the people I meet and the people I know really aren't like that. Mostly, the grown ups act like grown ups, and don't begrudge someone something they've worked for. There's nothing to fear. It's just old baggage I'm still hauling around from fifth grade.

Maybe some day, I'll be able to let it go completely. But today I realized that even though I thought I'd done a pretty good job of packing it away, it's still there.

Weird.

More on the up side - sold books in the office at lunch, lined up two book signings for next week, and confirmed a decent, short-term copywriting job. Yay me!

Is there a Gagliano in the house?

I had to stop by the local CBC studio yesterday to drop off a copy of the book - they're talking about having me on the local show. The building is located down by the river, across from the railroad tracks. So as I'm walking across the parking lot, I notice there's a little sign stuck in the flower bed near the front door.

This is what the sign said - in both Official Languages:

Caution: Skunks have been spotted in the area. Please be careful.

Who da thunk it? Skunks hanging around a Crown Corporation! Say it ain't so!

I may even go back and take a picture. It was definitely one of those "wha...?" moments.

Wasn't that a party?

Sorry it's taken so long to check in with a party report, but it's been a busy weekend!

The weekend started with an amazing event - Linda arrived early! I've never known that to happen before, and it was a sign of good things to come. As you can see from her blog, she used my computer whilst I was otherwise occupied.

I'm not sure if I'll let her use my computer again. You see, she did the equivelant of rifling through my cyber medicine cabinet, and later gave me a lecture on the lack of organization inside my favourites folder. She also maximized all my Windows and lowered my chair. The nerve!

But then it was on to the party, and wasn't it one? We had a great book launch, and Momwriters were in abundance, in the form of Linda and Kim. The Other Kim was also in attendance.

We sold mucho books, and I quickly got used to being in the spotlight as hugs, pats on the back, and general congratulations were sent my way during the afternoon. Everyone should get a party thrown in their honour, at least once - it was great!

Lisa (not that one) Beamer arrived just as things were wrapping up, and it was wonderful to finally meet her. Lisa, Linda, Other Kim and I went to see 13 Going On 30, and then headed for the hotel for a sleepover. We chatted into the wee small hours, and generally had a very relaxing and enjoyable time.

Just for the record - you'd think a gathering of people that met on the Internet would be fairly uneventful, wouldn't you? You would be wrong. The weekend also included an altercation in The Beer Store, three fire trucks, multiple American teenage party-ers, police cars, and a cell phone ringing at 5 a.m. Plus, a stolen croissant. You will be happy to know that both Lisa and Linda were welcomed into Canada by the border guards - I'm assuming they were also allowed to leave the country, since I haven't heard from them since this morning.

I'm going to let the rest of them fill you in on the exciting details. I'm still flying high from a comment I received from my co-worker this morning, who stayed up late last night and read the book from cover to cover. She said, "Your book made me feel for the first time as though I'm normal. It's so good to know that the same things happen to somebody else. I thought I was the only one!" That, and "I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants!"

Makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over. I'll post some pictures later, as I'm sure the others will too. In the meantime, see for yourself what all the fuss is about!

That's what friends are for

Attention Linda - this is me, blogging. See? Now lighten up, would ya? Between broken bones, Baby Guides and begging rides, I've been preoccupied.

So, it's suddenly hitting me that in less than 48 hours, people will gather to help me celebrate the birth of Generation Xhausted. Friends and family are coming from near and far to eat, drink and be merry on my behalf. Lisa, Linda and Kim will all be here. And the other Kim.

Unreal. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

I'm not nervous, not exactly. I've almost been too busy to be nervous. I'm excited. Knowing that friends are coming from so far away just tickles me, as does the fact that so many of my family will be in attendance as well.

The book is selling. The first shipment of orders goes in tomorrow's mail. I did the radio spot earlier this week. All is well.

Yay!

Oh, and one more thing...

My 1993 Ford Aerostar XL Sport, which has served me faithfully, (more or less), since 1995, decided that today was going to be the day the mechanic told me was coming eventually. After 178,000 km, its time has come. Today's new noise is eerily reminiscent of the noise the '82 Cutlass made just before the engine went kablooey. A peek under the hood confirmed that further trips, of even the smallest distance, would simply be foolhardy.

My short-term solution of walking to Tim Horton's and buying a coffee just so I could Roll Up The Rim & Win did not work out as planned.

I informed my husband of this, and optimistically said, "Well, at least we have our health." Then the phone rang. It was the school calling. See previous post.

Is today over yet?

Change o' plans, part deux

Take one immoveable object (eighth grade basketball player), add one unstoppable force (seventh grade child running around corner) and what do you get?

A wrist that's probably not broken, but they're not sure, so she has to wear a splint for the next ten days and then have another x-ray.

Pretty soon the girl and I will qualify for reserved seating in the ER. Yes, it's the same kid. All I can say is, thank God and Tommy Douglas for universal health care.

Raison d'etre

After years...nay, decades...of an ongoing journey of self-analysis and discovery, I have, at long last, finally realized why I inhabit this earth. My purpose. My role in this great play called life.

I'm here to put the hand towel back on the towel ring in the bathroom.

Truly, this is a great purpose. Were it not for me, and my reason for being, my poor children would face the traumatic experience of washing their hands and then having to look around and figure out where the towel is to dry their hands. Were it not for me, the towel would be any one of a number of places - on the floor, tossed in a heap on the back of the commode, draped over the edge of the tub. They'd have to search, and locate, and then possibly even bend over to pick up the towel from wherever they tossed it the last time.

But thanks to me, the towel is right there where they expect it to be. Hanging on the wall, at a convenient height, just waiting to meet their drying needs.

Aren't they lucky?

I've spoken of this phenomenon before. Kim assured me at the time that my kids don't do that when they visit her house. But Kim's little Bug understands how things work around here - when she was visiting last week, I watched as she carefully lathered and rinsed her tiny hands, reached out for the towel, dried her hands - and then threw the towel onto the floor.

Sigh.

It's okay, really. Now that they no longer need me to tie their shoes or wipe their noses, I was worried that I might be out of a job.

Let's go to the movies

As part of the weekend celebration that is the girl's 12th birthday, the big girls and I went to the show tonight. (I was the best date they could come up with on short notice. Plus, I was paying, and I drive)

We went to see an advance showing of 13 Going On 30, which doesn't officially open until next Friday.

Now, I'd seen some of the trailers, and it looked like a fun movie. Newsweek called it the 2004 version of "Big." It's a theme that's been done before - child in an adult body. So I figured that it would be a cute diversion.

And it was. But, oh, so much more for the Xhausted one.

You see, either I missed the point in the trailers, or it wasn't quite clear, but this movie has something that most of the child-as-grown-up movies hasn't had. And that's the part that made it perfect.

It has a time warp. Heroine Jenna starts out 13 all right, as expected - only she's 13 in 1987.

In a weird coincidence/irony type thing, the first song in the soundtrack is...wait for it...

Jesse's Girl, by Rick Springfield.

How freaky is that?

The adults in the audience had as much fun as the teeny boppers, and there were parts that we got that they didn't get. While my daughter went ohmygod during the scene of the "Thriller dance", the grownups were laughing and cheering.

It was so cool.

I won't give away too much. But there's a scene that really hit me, hard, and I think it appears in the previews. 30 year old Jenna is still trying to get her bearings, and figure out who the heck she is now. She's in an elevator with her younger neighbour, and asks the kid how old she is.

"I'm 13," says the kid.

"I'm 13 too," grown up Jenna replies. Then, with a confused look, she continues, "At least I was...yesterday."

Don't we all have days like that? Days that we wake up and think to ourselves, "How the hell did I get here? Wasn't I a kid just yesterday?"

The movie is for kids, obviously, but you Gen X girls will love it too. Because, in a way, it does answer the question, "How the hell did I get here?" It's definitely a chick flick. If you don't have daughters to use as an excuse for going to see it, grab your best Gen X girlfriend, and take a trip down memory lane. You'll be glad you did. I came away just knowing I'm going to be smiling (and probably humming "Jesse's Girl") for the rest of the weekend.