9.24.2015

An Open Letter to Lana Del Rey



Dear Lana,

Can I call you that? I mean, I know it's not your real name because Lana Del Rey is more sexy and marketable than the name your were born with. But can I still refer to you as Lana for the sake of this letter? 

I'm not a big fan of yours simply because, well, it's rare in my motherhood gig to devote tons of time to being a fan of hardly anyone outside of my family and friends. But I know some of your more popular songs and one kept repeating in my head today. It was the one about 'will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful." 

It's a fair question to ask. And I've realized it's easy for you to answer that question in your song while you actually ARE still young and beautiful. I guess I wanted to write this letter to let you know the age it all goes away. It's 38. 

38 is the age! Weird, right? If I had to guess I may have picked late 40's or early 50's, Nope. It's right now. At 38. I genuinely wonder if and how a not young and not beautiful woman could be loved. And why that is. 

The truth is I like myself so much better and find I'm not nearly as naive, absent minded, and selfish as I was when I was young and beautiful. I watch one of you in spin class and wonder if she wins on looks alone under all circumstances. Like even if she's an idiot, is it cute because her outsides are voluptuous, firm, and her skin is smooth and tight? Does she win even if she's a liar and murders kittens and hates children? Under what circumstances would the young and beautiful be less loved if given the option against the older and less beautiful despite the knowledge, strengths, and character if lined up on a chart? My bets would be the lesser impressive chart would still win because it comes in a package that's more enjoyable on the eyes. 

After all, this is why people have successful jobs in advertising and marketing fields, right?  Because appealing looks always win. We are buying tap water in a pretty bottle because it has the word SMART on it in a cool font. For real- we do this. It's so DUMB. 

I am embarrassed of the things I said and the way I acted when I was young while also considering myself  beautiful. I knew so much less about the world, other people, myself, compassion, and wisdom. I was full of (at times) empty confidence that people believed! Now,  I fear, I am turning invisible just as I've started to learn valuable and useful things. But to gain access to stand successfully on an ideal platform I'd have to lose 20 pounds, whiten my teeth, fix my boobs, and seriously consult with a fashion and make-up consultant. Is my cause worth it?    

"Fighting aging is like the War on Drugs. It's expensive, does more harm than good, and has been proven to never end." - Amy Poehler

So, Lana. You're probably working with a much different budget than the rest of us along with your access to experts to help you maintain your beauty and youth long past your late 30's. And we hope he still loves you no matter what. But more importantly, I hope you love yourself more than ever when you are 38. It's harder than I imagined. 


"Stop whining about getting old. It's a privilege. A lot of people who are dead wish they were still alive." - Amy Poehler

9.09.2015

tiny bubbles

Today I got some rare 1 on 1 time with one of my kids. I planned ahead and brought a basketball because the universe spread clouds all over the sky, giving us a nice day for once. You can't have anything nice in Arizona. So! While I fished out the basketball I noticed a lonesome party favor of bubbles in the car door. I grabbed those, too, and we ventured over to a couple of concrete squares to play our own version of two square.

Rules changed often, score was forgotten, smiles were wide, and laughter was easy. This little hour was one of my favorites of the day. Week? Possibly. Especially because this is the child that connects most easily with my husband. They are best friends. And that happens in families, some personalities click more easily. I've accepted this and try to sneak in special time with this child intentionally to close the gap between us. Sometimes it feels like we are on opposite sides of The Grand Canyon. Today it didn't.

Today, I accidentally impressed by being 'so good' at 2 square. My tricks were smooth. Until I caught the ball with the tip of my finger. And it hurt. A lot. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. I wanted to swear it hurt so bad. But I also didn't want to ruin the moment.

We sat on the bench together, me hating that I was ruining our magical time together by being a complete wuss with a jammed finger. SO LAME. Then I caught a glimpse of the bubbles. I just started to send them into the air, uncertain of what the response would be. At what age do they decide bubbles are only for babies?

"Mom, I love the way these bubbles look. They are especially pretty because you are blowing them."

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