Mommy and Me

I started this year vowing to immerse myself in positivity. To say my vow has been tested is an understatement. Granted, this has been a year of huge achievement for me, it has also been a year of great loss; and now I'm losing again. I've never heard the words, "six months to live," outside of a the big screen and I have to believe there's a more sensitive way to state the same point.

Although I'm sad to lose another loved one I'm happy that, like my grandmothers, he has also lived a fulfilling happy life. He's content with the situation and handling the news well. My mother, on the other hand, is preparing to bury her husband, only a few months after burying her mother. For her, my heart weeps.

Someone recently told me they admired my strength. It's no secret I don't take compliments well so I instantly questioned the sentiment. The only rational explanation is that I'm not strong, I'm still learning, and I have the greatest possible teacher.

My mother has every reason to lock herself in her room with a gallon of chardonnay.  No one should lose a partner while they're still mourning a parent.  But she can't, and she won't, hide from the world.  She'll stand by her husband's side and smile whenever he needs it.  She'll keep his adult children and ex-wife updated on his condition and learn to use FaceTime so he can see them all as much as possible. She'll never cry... at least not in front of anyone. She'll make all arrangements according to his specifications and she'll continue to tell me she's "fine," even though she knows I know she's not. She's hanging by a thread but I know that thread won't break.

My mother is strong. She is the strongest women I've ever known. No matter what life throws in her direction she takes the hit and continues to play. No, she hasn't always been the best mother or the best wife or the best friend, but she has been the best example of what a strong woman is for this woman right here.

And there's my feeble attempt at finding the positive in yet another devastating loss.

The longer the wedding the shorter the marriage.

I don't know if anyone's ever said that but it sounds good so I'll go with it. As "wedding season" starts to die down I've had a chance to critique others' lifelong decision that still sends a chill down my spine.

A wedding is a beautiful, special and significant event. That's right, an event. It's technically just a party. As long as you don't gain 20 pounds the week before, and the bar doesn't run out of whiskey, the night will be a success. A marriage, on the other hand, is far more complicated.

A marriage is so much more than a single event. It's a combination of events, both good and bad, shared by two people. Or more for polygamists but that's another blog. Unlike a wedding, a marriage takes work. You're not just choosing between red velvet and vanilla cream, you're choosing a life partner. I use "life partner" to mean, partner in the business of life. Not necessarily "for life" because no one should be expected to make that kind of contract. Would you lease an apartment for life? Of course not. I can barely handle my 2 year plan with AT&T.

So in summary, what I've discovered is that people, especially women, tend to confuse the want for a wedding with the want for a marriage. If you wouldn't be just as happy with the same person saying the same vows in an abandoned building on skid row, maybe getting married isn't the best idea. I'm sure you have a birthday coming up.

High Expectations.

It's my biggest fault. I expect every day to be sunny and warm. This is LA, so that's generally the case. I expect sloppy kisses in the morning, a hot shower, and a smooth mildly trafficy drive to work. If I go to work. Because I'm lucky to have a job that allows me to decide. These expectations are simple, I guess, which is why I list them first. 

Specific events, however, I may be expecting a but much. I expect every date to be straight out of The Notebook. If a guy doesn't climb up the Ferris Wheel to see me, it's just not gonna work out. I expect all my clients to be honest and understanding. But I'm a lawyer. I expects friends to be supportive and fun and for the most part most of them are. I also expect to succeed in everything I do which, if you've seen me ride a bike, or bake a cake, you'd know is a stretch. 

Today I went into a courtroom expecting an instant replay from A Few Good Men but with pointy-toe pumps and pastel highlighters. What I got was a band-aid commercial. It was quick and easy and I didn't get to yell at anyone. To say the least, I was disappointed. 

I should have known my over prepared self, in my pressed pants suit with my colored highlighters, was preparing for diss disappointment when I couldn't spot my Nicholson lookalike in the hallway. But I didn't. 

I'm sure I'll look back on this day and think, "Wow! That could've been way worse!" But right now, for today, I'm gonna look in the mirror at my liquid eyeliner, pearl studs and perfect bun screaming, "I Want The Truth!" Until I get it all out of my system.