letter

by

Dear Daughter: The Happening,

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I have a secret tornado that swirls in my chest at night. It twirls through my heart and stomach. Back and forth. Again and again. Until it finally dislodges the lump in my throat. The storm turns to rain. Will it ever not be cloudy when I think of you leaving me? My sunshine. Gone.

I tried to write this during the day, but much of what I want to say to you only comes to me at night. When the comforts of the day are gone. When it is quiet in the house. The darkness staking claim to my thoughts. Allowing my mind to wander to circumstances that hide from the light of day.

At night, I lay awake and the “what ifs” come tumbling into me. But the “what ifs” are not as scary as “the happenings.” Things that are going to happen that I desperately wish were not. At least the “what ifs” might never happen.

But “the happenings” are true. Not nipping at my mind like the “what ifs.” They have a cocky sureness that is unnerving. They do not call for attention. For they know they do not need to. No need to make a fuss. No need to stamp around my mind for a glance or a scratch. They are solid. Always there. They know attention will be brought to them however they act or proceed. So, they lodge themselves comfortably in my throat. Escaping only through hot tears that trail down my cheeks into my pillow in the night.

Now let us address this happening. The one that keeps me awake at night.

Unable to swallow.

It cannot be ignored any longer.

Each day that passes, I know that it is one day closer to you going to college. One day closer to you leaving us. You start high school in one week. “The happening” of it all is too much.

Where did all of the time go?

There are so many things I still want to teach you. Memories we have yet to create. You going to high school feels like a new door is opening for you. And I am desperately trying to keep it closed.

But it is one of those automatic doors. It has seen you coming. Felt your presence. It has swung open and there is no way for me to close it.

I just have to watch you go.

Hope that the years will slow down just a bit. Allow me to catch up. My heart is still trying to understand what my eyes have all ready realized. You are growing up.

I just want you to know…

What? What is it that I want you to know? Need you to know?

Let us start with the stupid little things: Cooking is not hard, as long as you follow the recipe exactly, the first time you make it. Never be late on a bill. Fabric softener is unnecessary. Always keep tissue in your purse. And breath mints. And a hair tie. And bandaids. And headache medicine. And your wallet. And lipstick. Okay, just keep a purse. And put everything in it.

Because you never know what life is going to throw at you.

Boys are going to break your heart. Some of them on purpose.

Girls will, too. Most of them on purpose.

People are going to disappoint you. I will probably be one of them.

You are going to disappoint people. I will not be one of them.

You are going to try for things. And you are going to fail.

You are going to try for things. And you are going to succeed.

Which of these outcomes you choose to dwell on will decide the course of your future.

But the most important thing I want you to know is: I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

And I want you to not worry about telling me anything, because I love you.

And I want you to not worry about life, because I love you.

And if you are ever in trouble, I love you.

And if you ever need anything, I love you.

I am so proud to be your mother.

I love you.

I realize you are just as nervous as I am for you to be starting high school. As much as I am dreading it, I cannot wait to see how you are going to handle your future. You are so clever and sweet. So beautiful and kind.

“The happening” is happening whether I wish it to or not. I can see it around the corner. Its form growing more solid with each passing day. It can now be felt in daylight, as well as at night.

I will watch you walk through those high school doors. It will “happen.” I have walked through them myself. I know the trials that await you. The victories, too. I cannot follow you. But I will still be behind you.

Every step.

Every stumble.

Every “happening.”

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* I have recently learned my children are googling my blog. Which is sweet. Very sweet. But I also want to know that they are learning something from me besides simple recipes and pretty clothing. These letters are real letters to my children. From their mother. You might not agree with my message, but please respect my sentiment.

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Cyndi Lauper Concert Part I

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My husband and I recently went to see Cyndi Lauper in concert. It was a wonderful evening. I will highlight the concert tomorrow, but first I wanted to share a letter I wrote to Ms. Lauper. I was never brave enough to mail it. But I wanted to explain that this concert was special. It meant something. To me:

Dear Ms. Lauper,

I recently learned you are going to be performing in our town. Thrilled does not describe the feelings that overcame me when I saw this. I promptly ordered our tickets (for my husband and myself). And now the waiting commences.

I thought I would write you a little note in the meantime. Growing up, I found myself mesmerized by you. You were so cool. You did not care what anyone thought of you. That was so important for a young girl to see.

When I was in my twenties, I would often hear, “Do you know who you look like?”. I always knew what was coming, but humored them with a patient smile, anyway. “Cyndi Lauper,” they would gush. I would thank them, be flattered, and move along. I took it for granted that it would always be so.

I got married very young and had both of my babies by the time I was twenty six. My dreams were put on the back burner and became dusty and forgotten. I unhappily gained seventy five pounds. I ate my hopes away. I lived this way for many years. I never heard I looked like you any more. I never heard I looked like anyone. I hardly felt like a person. More like a wisp moving through the breezes of the years. I was put aside much like my dreams.

I do not know how it happened, but last year, a spark was lit on the burner. Maybe it had always been there and I had not noticed until the dusty remains of my ideals wafted in my face. I decided I had to lose weight. I had to make something of this life. It took me almost a year, but I did it. I lost all of that weight. I am a free woman. Suddenly the world seemed brighter and I was reminded again of the girl I once was.

I am now writing again. Something that was always a passion of mine. I started a blog and although this such a trivial every day occurrence. It means something to me. I am putting myself out there. Just like you taught me. I know I will stumble, but at least I am doing.

While out at the store the other day, someone paused and looked at me. It has taken some time to get used to being visible again. And do you know what they said? They said, “Do you know who you look like?”. And I stared at them. I did not give them my old patient smile. It seemed so surreal. They said, “You look like Cyndi Lauper.” And the world stopped. And I felt like myself again.

So, thank you Cyndi Lauper. It has always come back to you. And I am ever so grateful. Because you know.

I do.

I just wanna.

And it is shining through.

Jennifer *****

* I will discuss the concert in detail tomorrow. The photo above was courtesy of a wonderful woman I met at the concert named Serena. Thank you Serena! You rock!

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Dear Easter Bunny

We arrived home from vacation at 1:30 in the morning on Easter. Being the completely unprepared mommy that I am, I had absolutely nothing put together. Everything was purchased but it was not going to happen. The kids were told before our trip that eggs would wait an extra day.

This bad mommy wrote the sweet Easter Bunny a sad little letter. This is what it said (I have horrible writing. Thankfully, the Easter Bunny isn’t picky):

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Yes, we asked the Easter Bunny to please visit us on Monday. He is very accommodating. This is not the first letter I have had to write to a fabled character. The Tooth Fairy has had an earful from me after forgetting not once, but twice to pick up my son’s tooth. She is a very flaky entity.

Here is what the Easter Bunny left:

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I separated the eggs by color. My daughter’s were pink, purple, orange and yellow. My son got blue, green, and limey yellow. They were filled with small trinkets, stickers, candy, chalk and some notes that said, “See your parents.” They turned in the notes for items too big for eggs. This consisted of bubbles, a giant bouncy ball each, and pez dispensers. Each of them got one golden egg. Let’s bring some Christmas into this post (yes,I know that the lyrics do not quite go like this) and repeat that in song, shall we? “One golllllllddddeeeeeennn egg.” Thank you! I feel better now. This was turned in for Monster Hunter 3 Ultimate for the 3ds. My husband and I live and breathe this game. It is our family heritage. That, and being very close friends with holiday magical beings.

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My son is so cute with the notes saying, “see your parents.” He carefully walks the precious note over to me and exchanges it for a prize. My daughter, on the other hand, will look up and ask for her prize from across the room, “mom, I got another note.” I think the Easter Bunny really likes my handwriting, because he copied it perfectly for the eggs. At least, that’s what my son’s theory is.

Did the Easter Bunny come to your house? Have you ever had to write these holiday figures?