Welcoming it all

The smell of fall is in the air here in the Pacific Northwest. I’m not really ready to let summer go but fall is my favorite time of the year. More than January 1st, fall feels like the time to begin again–a new year–a new time of possibilities.

We’ve had a fun summer and I’m beginning to be ready to dive in to the world again. I’ve been cleaning things up in my office, my home, and in my head. Taking stock of what I have, what I need, and what to do next. It’s a little exhausting at times, but I know it will all pay off in the end.

I was having some apprehension about starting school again. HG and I decided that changing schools would be a good idea and I applied to the school I want to attend last spring but did not follow up on my admittance until just last week. I think I was having anxiety about it and figured if I put it off too long I could just take some online classes at the community college I attended last term. But I did decide to follow up and did send them the info they needed and did register for classes as a non-admitted student until everything is processed. Yesterday I filled out all of the financial aid info that I know they will need as soon as everything is processed, cleaned out all of my files, recycled an entire garbage can of paper, and got ready to mail two important items that will (yes, Universe WILL) bring me some money.

I’m making room for great things to come my way.

In a few hours I will pick up my father from the airport for his visit here with us. I don’t think that I realized just how anxious I am about this visit until I woke up this morning at 2:30 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep. Usually when something is coming up that I’m not sure about I just put it aside and deny it awhile. It works out for me actually because I think while I have it set aside in my denial I somehow process through it a little bit.

This visit brings up a lot of things for me. Obvious things like Why Now? Why Now, after all this time does my father want to come and visit? I’m glad he does and I’m very much looking forward to it but I still hear that voice in my head that says, “What’s wrong with me that he didn’t want to come before?”

Logically, I know it isn’t me (right?) but I still hear it.

I am a little resentfull of all the things that I’ve never been able to do with my father/never experienced with having a father.

• He never held one of my newborn babies.
• He’s never seen my children on Christmas morning.
• We haven’t had a holiday meal together for nearly two decades.
• I’ve never cooked dinner for him (or made him coffee, or mixed him a drink, or baked him a cake.)
• He’s never stepped foot in any of the four homes that I’ve owned.
• He’s never met my wife or any of the dear friends that I adore.
• He’s never fixed anything for me.

These things come up at a time like this but I am extremely grateful that we have a chance to maybe catch up on a few of them. I will certainly make him coffee, pour him a glass of wine and possibly make a cake. He will be a guest in my beautiful home. I will cook him dinner, and he will meet my wife and my friends.

And the other day when he called me to check in about the flight and the weather here and what-not, the last thing he said to me was, “And if you need anything fixed while I’m there, I’m very handy. I can do pretty much anything–electrical, plumbing, whatever you need.”

I laughed and said, “Well, as a matter of fact . . .”

Inside my heart jumped with happiness. My dad is going to come to my house and fix something for me! In a strange way just the thought of this is very healing.

I’ve been making room for good things to come my way.

And I’m welcoming it all.

All Alone

Our rotation of company has ceased for a few days.

The girls are at the coast with their father.

HG is taking the day off tomorrow.

I’ll be un-plugged Internet.

Be back on Wednesday.

Ciao.

My Wife’s Ex-Girlfriend is here

And that is all good. Here is what is interesting.

She’s a 12 Step’r.

She arrested Brittney Spears.

She had sex with HG for over three years.

Is that weird?

It is just a teeny tiny bit to me.

But maybe I’m weird?

McMinnville PRIDE!

HG and I will be heading out to McMinnville on Sunday to attend the town’s first ever Pride event.

McMinnville is a beautiful town–about 25 minutes from the Scary Suburbs and home of my friend Teresa DiFalco, world famous novelist and New York Times published writer. It is also home of the Hotel Oregon’s Rooftop Bar. HG and I like it there. A lot. It’s haunted you know.

It’s going to be beautiful tomorrow and all of the cool people will be there–Marty Davis will be there–HG and her ex-girlfriend and I will be there. You should be there too. You could join me for a beer, or better yet–BUY me a beer! I like Ruby. Or Purple Haze. Just not Coors lite or Budweiser–that will not do. But at least come and meet me and HG and her ex-girlfriend who is coming to visit tomorrow. We have rotating company here at Chez RSG. Nothing but fun my peeps. Fun in the Sun!

The Out-laws are Here

HG’s parents arrived safely. They left their quiet world of living by the beach in Mexico and entered the chaos that is our life. I’ve already subjected them to a soccer game, hours and hours of listening to the bickering of my children, a barbecue with my mother and neighbors where my mother drank too much wine (one and a half glasses) and noise. Massive amounts of noise. Dogs barking, children shrieking, video games, television, fireworks, jets, machine gun firing, bombs exploding. Just usual stuff around here.

Today the girls leave to go on vacation with their father, his parents and fiancee. Yes, my former husband has a fiancee. A very lovely woman who I like very much. Do I feel weird about it? Not at all. I hope that he is very happy and more than that I hope he will be very good to her. She’s good to my girls and that’s all that matters about that situation. I believe they’re getting married relatively soon–like next week–but I don’t know that for a fact. Should I send a gift? What would one send to one’s former husband and his new wife? Suggestions are welcome.

That is all right now Internet. I’m feeling a little needy. Love letters would be nice.

Speaking of Parents

HG has some and they’re arriving this evening for a visit. Of course that meant that I had to get off my butt and re-organize and re-decorate the entire house yesterday and today. I think I have just a few more kitchen cupboards to go and the pantry. The Pantry. It’s in serious disarray.

To prepare for the arrival of the Parents, Ginger and Abby went to the groomer.

Ginger was less than thrilled with the groomer and even less thrilled with me trying to take her picture with PhotoBooth. I’m a mean mom.

I’m so mean that I’m taking my children to Target right now to purchase School Supplies which is the same thing as me saying that I’m going to Target to drain what’s left of my bank account. I love Back to School time, just love it.

We’ve already visited Steve & Barry’s, Ross, Marshall’s, Staples, Old Navy and Ulta. Oh, the Ulta was for me and I had FUN in there. I’m too lazy to find a link so if you don’t know the store–look it up. Around here it can be found at that new shopping center in Tualatin. I could walk around there for a few hours and not get bored. It’s like Ikea but with make-up and hair products. I heart it so much I’m going to date it regularly.

I’m off. Say goodbye to my money!

Dad, Daddy, Father

The other evening we were over at a friends house hanging out and having wine on their patio. It finally cooled down in Portland a bit so it was nice to be outside. We watched heat lightning in the far off distance and enjoyed the evening. My wife was recalling a conversation that she had with of the girls and in that conversation she referred to the DD’s father as “your daddy,” which is exactly how I refer to the DD’s father in speaking of him to them. My friend SB thought that is was strange that the girls still call their father Daddy. I guess I had never really thought about that at all. They call me “Mommy” and really what difference does it make? She felt that the title of “Daddy” is one that is given to men who show love, attention and nurturing to their children–XH does not exactly fit into that category. I suppose that the girls will figure that out for themselves as they continue to mature and grow.

The conversation prompted me to think of why we call our parents the names that we do and what does it mean. Is it a cultural/regional thing or is it rooted in our affection for that individual? I address my mother in whatever way I am feeling at the time. If I am feeling very affectionate (and needy) I call her Mommy. If I’m pissed off–it’s Mother. Other times it’s Mom. My extended family always refers to their maternal parent as Mum but not like the Brits say it–it’s the Pittsburgh version and not nearly as sweet sounding.

And my father?

Well that is a relationship that has been quite strained by time and distance and other relationship obligations for many, many years. We’ve shared telephone conversations and holiday niceties, but over the last several years even those have diminished to a call every few months and a check from him at Christmas to cover a Birthday and Christmas gift for each of the girls.

When my parents divorced my mother moved me hundreds of miles away from my father so she could be with her new husband and I rarely saw him after that. Mix that with the fact that neither of my parents protected me from each other’s viciousness towards each other, and that I was brinking on being a teenager and being moved around, and the fact that my father remarried someone who was less than thrilled that he had a child by a (gasp) previous marriage. It was not a good combination. As a matter of fact it was a recipe for the beginning of the end of our father/daughter relationship.

He went on to have a second family with his wife and he was a very, very good father to them. He was such a good father to them that his life did not allow any leftover time for his first child–or his three granddaughters. He has only seen the girls a few times. The last time was nearly nine years ago when they were 1, 3, and 5 and we flew to Pittsburgh to see my dying grandfather. He doesn’t even know them.

Yes, this has hurt at times–yes, I have felt very ripped off about the whole thing–and yes, it hasn’t felt very fair.

There are a lot of people to blame for all of this but seriously what does that accomplish? I’m nearly forty years old and I had accepted that the type of relationship (or non-relationship) that I have with my father is just the way that it is and being torn up about it doesn’t help anyone. I’m a grown woman–I don’t need a Daddy anymore, I don’t need a Father giving me advice or telling me I’m doing things wrong. My girls don’t need a grandfather–you can’t miss what you’ve never had. Right?

Last month I called him. I hadn’t talked to him in months but I did send him a Father’s Day card that the girls helped me to make. “Why do we need to send him a card?” they asked, “We don’t even know him.” I told them it didn’t matter that they didn’t know him, it was a nice thing to do. So we did.

I called him last month because I was feeling sad. I had just gone with my Mom to have her 15 year-old-dog put to sleep and it was a very difficult task. I had to be strong for my sobbing Mother and I was feeling like I needed to be parented a bit myself–so for some reason I instinctually turned to my other parent.

He was happy to hear from me and after giving his condolences over the dog, he told me something that shocked me.

He wants to come for a visit.

My father has not visited me since he came for my High School graduation in 1987 and now, 21 years later he would like to come to Portland to spend time with me and the girls.

I can honestly tell you that I felt as though some miracle occurred. Did my Mom’s dog have to die to make this shift in the universe happen? You see, I’ve never been angry about my father’s un-involvement in my life–I’ve always wanted it to be different, I just never thought it would take this long to happen if it happened at all.

But I guess it has.

After determining what dates would work for both of us we arranged a visit and he will be here for a long weekend visit over Labor Day.

This has obviously brought up a lot of things for me that I’ve needed to process. I think it has also brought up a lot for the girls although they probably can’t quite wrap their heads around it. DD#1 asked me, “I’m almost 14 years old, why now is he suddenly interested in us?” DD#3 asked what she should call him. I told her she can call him whatever she likes. She decided on Pappy.

I told them and at the same time told myself that it’s never to late to create a relationship–and I know that it is true. We’re excited about his visit and I’m planning some fun things for us to do together. I want to show him that he is welcome in our home and in our life whenever he wants. And I want him to know that I do still need him.

I may not need a Father and I may not need a Daddy, but I still need a Dad–and finally after so many years–it looks like I may have one again.

Peachy keen summer fun

Picked 40 pounds of peaches yesterday. Canned six quarts so far and froze 12 cups. More tomorrow when I give out Peach Canning Lessons to Melissa Lion. I saved some peach juice for the Bellinis I’ll be making sometime soon–like maybe later. It may help cool me off in the Extreme Heat we’re having here in the Portland Metropolitan area. It’s crazy hot and it makes me cranky and lazy. It is 102 degrees today. In my air conditioned house? It’s 80 degrees downstairs and about 85 degrees upstairs. Yeah, my A/C unit completely sucks.

Oh, that’s my friend Sarah up there in the picture. I credited her with the photo on my Flickr but actually DD#2 took that one of us–I just remembered. Sarah is a super cool lady with two super cool boys and she know everything about wine. She came over for dinner the other night and we laughed and talked and drank Pinot and hot-tubbed. She has a new blog–go read it. I’m hoping to convince her to go somewhere cool for Happy Hour tonight. It may help my crankiness.

It’s hot Internet. Really, really hot.

Just a little post

I’m off to pick peaches. Don’t tell my wife because I may have in the past picked fruit and then not followed through with my plans to preserve them. I will today though and it will be a big surprise. Unfortunately it’s going to be upwards of 150 degrees today which is a hot day for preserving peaches.

Thank you to all of you who commented and shared your own fears, ideas, stories about Weight on my last two posts. When I read comments like yours I am reminded why I blog and how much I love making connections with other people on such an “Intimate” level. Yes. Intimacy through blogging. Who knew?

Good news today for those of us Domestically Partnered in Oregon. The 9th Circuit Appeals court refused to force a vote on the subject. We’re still legal and now the Anti-DP people will need to appeal to the US Supreme Court. I wonder if they’re done? I hope so. I’m really tired of all of those haters.

I may throw a peach at them later.

We are all lovely

I love that so many of you commented on that last post about weight. I think that it’s something that women don’t talk about enough. No, I don’t mean talking about it in the sense of saying “I’m so fat” or “I need to go on a diet” or “how many calories are in that?” I mean talking about how it makes us feel and where those feelings come from.

LeLo and I chatted a bit about it yesterday and I realized a few other things.

I have always raised my daughters to love themselves and their bodies. I have never made food an issue except to try to limit the amount of junk that they eat. I have never said anything that may give them a negative notion about gaining weight or their size. But they are inundated by what is around them all of the time. And it starts from birth.

Every example that we see from television to magazines to retail stores send us the message that there is something wrong with us if we’re not a perfect size with a perfect body. And it just gets worse and more extreme.

Have you noticed that the sizes of things are changing? My 13 year old daughter wears a size Medium at Holister. She’s not a Medium–she’s a little girl who at Target is an XS. How does that make a young girl feel? I can tell you it doesn’t make her feel as though she should shop at Target where she’s a smaller size but it does play something in her head. Imagine when she’s 16 and is wearing an XL at Holister. How will THAT make her feel?

When we were on vacation we went to a water park. There were ten thousand people there of various shapes and sizes. I look around and watched some of the people and while I was not judging I wondered.

Women spend hours and hours of time and a lot of money making ourselves beautiful. We wax, we shave, we pluck, we cut and color, we diet and exercise to make our bodies look a certain way–we have surgery to alter what we already have–lifting, cutting away and reshaping.

And men? They don’t have that same pressure, nor do most of them care even one little bit.

I saw SO many men at that water park who were greatly overweight, proudly wearing a swimsuit with their large bellies hanging over. They were covered in back hair and chest hair and really they did not seem to be bothered. I’m absolutely not saying that men should groom themselves the way that most women do, but I am asking why we have allowed such a double standard to occur and no one seems to really notice or care that it exists.

Mostly I realized that we need to be aware of these things and really try to wrap our head around them. Get real with why we feel and think the way that we do about our bodies and try to understand where all of that comes from. Settle in with it, make friends with the understanding and allow the realities of them be a guiding force.

Our baggage certainly plays such a big role and understanding that baggage also helps. What messages that baggage sends and why and how to go ahead and leave it on the side of the road. Doing that and understanding that we can’t really help feeling bad about our size if our own misogynistic society tells us to feel bad by the examples it sets is a huge step I think. And the next step may just be to realize that WE ARE the society and WE can make that message stop if WE want to. We can change the messages and it starts with really, really believing,

that we are all lovely.