little bird

English: Green Violet-ear -- Finca Lerida, Boq...

English: Green Violet-ear — Finca Lerida, Boquete, Panama. Français : Un Colibri thalassinus, Finca Lerida, District de Boquete, Panama. 日本語: ミドリハチドリ (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

little bird, you don’t have to apologize for having a new home, i understand completely. I said the same things to my parents when I was your age. I remember thinking that college WAS my home and of course it is. you come back for some vacations, you have moved on and will continue to move on and out. Don’t you think I know that, of course I do. I understand and I support it and I am proud of both you and your sister’s independence, the grown ups you have become. If I shed a tear or two at times, it’s okay, I’m not good at transitions, I never have been, starting from when I was a little girl. Don’t take it too seriously, please. You know I have always been the most sensitive person in the planet and always will be, at times it is both a curse and a blessing. believe me, I have tried to change myself for years but as you know, it really hasn’t worked.

i’ve told you before that I just need a little time to get used to things, even on vacation. when dad and I were dating long distance, he knew i needed 24 hours to get used to him again, some people are like that, its not better or worse, it’s a personality trait. not everyone is as incredibly adaptable as you and your sister,where you both got that trait from we have no idea (okay, maybe my mom) but dad and i are thrilled you both have it.

I was fine saying goodbye to you today until i heard your sweet voice asking “you’re not even going to hug me?” do you think i didn’t want to? could i say no to you? I ‘m laughing at the thought of me not wanting to hug you, of course i did, just didn’t want the flood gates to open up, kind of like now. waiting for that darn transition to kick in (it hasn’t been 24 hours yet) I am writing this for me and for you, and you know how i get when i feel like i’m writing something mushy…not a sight to be seen. you’ve seen it many times before, but now i’m also laughing at myself too which is a very good sign.  I know that you are happy and independent and i am so proud of the person you are. my goal in raising a son, was to bring up a good man, truly. when i found out we were having a boy, i was honored, blessed that i could try to make a difference to help shape a boy to become a wonderful young man.

you have become all that and more. you know i feel that way. sometimes we don’t even have to talk, we know what the other one is thinking with a look, or a smile or a quick nod of your head. this gift will never go away, no matter where you or i live. we are connected. forever. so have the best time of your life, and, because i’m a mother, it’s in our handbook to also add “please be safe.”

i love you.

Oprah And Rosie: It’s Not Me, It’s You

Photo © by Jeff Dean.

Image via Wikipedia

Dear Oprah and Rosie,

As tempting as it may seem, I am NOT going to turn on the television and watch you both again on OWN. I’m sorry but this was Oprah’s choice. I didn’t want her to leave and know many other people felt the same way. “You made your bed now……” You get the point…. All of a sudden Oprah is doing a “Life Class” I thought she was finished teaching on television? She did a Facebook chat, really? I hope this show isn’t going on the air because your OWN ratings are down, deep down in dog doo doo. It does seem like an amazing coincidence, no?

As you have taught us all it’s really alright to say you made a mistake. We understand. Hold your head high (not too high to appear infallible) and say  you tried but it didn’t work out as you had hoped. That’s what my son made me say to people after his first set of SAT scores came in. He made a great effort (well, he really didn’t study that much) and his scores were “less than he had hoped.” It’s okay.

As for Rosie, I really have mixed feelings, “cutie patootie.” I LOVED your show, watched it every single day it was on and supported you when you had a HAARURRMMGH  clash with someone. I stood behind you all the way kvelling in your sense of self and your values. Now? Not so much. I know you had emotional problems (really, who doesn’t?) and I’m glad that you feel comfortable  taking hormones (I didn’t want to chance that) but does that make me want to watch your show again? Sorry, no.  When you were with your first partner and all the kids were together and everything was, pardon the pun, rosie, I was there for you, wishing I could swim from your dock with and hoping you would help me with decoupage. I tried it on my own a few times and I did like it, but the thrill is gone. I admired your fire and your straight (no pun intended) shoot from the hip style. Nobody wants a dumb downed Rosie unless it’s the network executives. I liked the raw you but I am happy that you feel happier about yourself, bio-identicals and all. I was almost talked in to taking them but please be CAREFUL they do have risky side effects and a correlation for breast cancer in the future so please get checked often! I worry about you.

Ladies, it’s hard to go back, really it is. I don’t want to revisit an old wound. I really don’t watch much television at all anymore. I do have to say that Ellen Degeneres is consistent and kind and moved, no, slid into first place with sincerity and smiles and I’m sure a bit of strategy too. Four o’ clock is not the same as it used to be, it will never be the same. I’ve accepted that.

I wish you all the best of luck.  I think I will take my dog for a long walk on this beautiful autumn day. It’s too nice to stay indoors and watch television.

Love,

Your Old Fan

You Are Not Making This Any Easier, Oprah

Goodbye Stop

Image by Peter Kaminski via Flickr

Dear Oprah,

I get it. You’re done. Finished. You said Good-bye. I have accepted it although it did take quite a long time. Why, though, are you torturing me with email messages EVERY SINGLE WEEK DAY to watch today’s episode of Oprah. Hello? There are no more episodes. I consider this taunting and would like a cease and desist order to be put in place. This wound is still raw and hurts.

It was hard enough to say good-bye after twenty-five years but do I really need this incorrect advertising flaunted in my face? No, I do not. In fact, I hate to tell you but I am not a big fan of “The Own” as I say or OWN as you say.  I watched it, I tried it, and I really do not want to spend my time searching for when something is on unless you practically TELL me, like you (still do) with your old show. Nope, not gonna watch, not gonna happen. I’m not saying I won’t give it another chance, I might. Just not promising…. You left US, Oprah and it’s going to take a while to adjust.

So, please, stop sending me reminders on my e-mail to watch your now defunct show. It’s just not appropriate and it is a bit insensitive. Oprah, what is going on? Is this how you have changed since you left your show? I’m a little surprised and a little disheartened. Oh, and by the way, I WAS an ultimate fan too.

Good luck in your future, I wish only good things for you but mostly I really wish you hadn’t left.

Sincerely,

Hibernationnow.wordpress.com

Predicting My Future? Plinky Prompt

Brother and sister in the street of Qala-i-Sha...

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  • Congratulations, Pass The Tissues
    Ten years ago my son was eight and my daughter was 6. I’m sure I thought about them graduating one day from High School  for a second or two but I was in a dense fog. I just had NO idea how I would feel. With a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old you don’t have time to think about the future; you are busy every minute with carpools and dance classes and baseball and swimming and lunches and snacks and dinner and shopping and playdates. Endless playdates with an equal amount of driving. My son graduates on Sunday and I have been crying a lot. I try to hide it from him, but sometimes he figures it out, it isn’t hard. One quick glimpse of my face and he knows, he senses it, he sees it. We understand each other without words. I expected him to graduate but I never thought how devastated I would feel. My brown-haired, brown-eyed first-born. I am thrilled with him no one could be prouder; his choice of colleges was fantastic. Change is hard for me and I never was good at saying “Good-Bye.” All my life, I’ve hated to say “Good-bye” to anyone I loved.
    My first-born son is leaving and I have written a lot about that in my blog. A year from now, my daughter, my blonde-haired baby will also graduate from High School. Twenty- one months apart yet only one grade year apart. I feel like I am being sucker punched constantly. In a year, my husband and I, will be “empty nesters” and while I am sure that we will enjoy it, now, it’s a bitter, lemon-sour word, near a very open, raw, wound.
  • Can anyone out there with a graduating Senior from High School relate?
  • Previous Answer

The Start Of Good-Bye

In two weeks my son will graduate from High School and head to his summer job, after that he will be going to college. This is harder than I thought it would be. It’s also brand new and I’ve never been too good with change.

Simple yet elegant prom corsage

I literally want to sink my head into my folded arms on my cheerful, flowery bedspread and cry. I want to cry loud and hard enough to erase the pain of change and sadness, new beginnings and endings. I want to cry for all the graduating seniors that will say good-bye in two weeks to their life-long friends, their girlfriends, their boyfriends, their parents, siblings, dogs, pets. I want to cry for me, I want to break down in unwavering sobs because it feels like I am losing my son to the future and I know that things will never be the same. Already, the “Seniors” have changed you can see it on their faces. Next year, my baby, my daughter will graduate High School as well.

I am a fluctuating emotional mess, happy, sad, crying, excited and miserable.  It is after prom and before graduation; it is the time in-between. The Pre-Prom party was at my son’s girlfriend’s lovely home. For me, it was like a Hollywood set, the girls with their glowing, shiny faces and beaming smiles, the sun streaming down on the back lawn highlighting their hair. Girls in long dresses of all colors: fuchsia, beige, royal blue, gold, gorgeous girls, each one of them, with the light in their eyes dancing, their faces sparkling. Their wrists adorned by delicate  wrist corsages awkwardly put on by their dates. I have known some of these girls since they were four. The young men in their tuxedos, stand tall and proud, handsome and mature. It felt like the tuxedo added years of wisdom and maturity to them.They stood brave and beaming, handsome and charming, strong and proud, very proud. Each one had a boutonniere shakily attached by nervous girls with manicured fingers.  My son posed willingly with the three best friends he has grown up with, solid friends, forever friends. He posed with his girlfriend, he posed with his family. This was a boy who refused pictures taken of him since he was nine.

These were not boys and girls anymore, here stood young men and young women going off very soon, to follow their dreams. Even though as parents we try to be prepared for the good-byes, it still hurts us. Like pieces of our heart literally being chipped off never to be repaired exactly like it was before. Our hearts still work but differently. With the young men and women’s new-found freedom, so too, comes pain. As a parent, not being able to prevent that pain is horrible yet I know, being a good parent means just that, letting them go solve their own problems, make their own mistakes.

As a mom, I am on an emotional roller coaster. Am I grieving beforehand like I usually do? Merely picturing graduation makes me wince. When my son actually leaves for college, I hope I will be just fine but anticipation is truly my downfall. I look at the photos I took of Pre-Prom over and over as if I will learn something new each time. Yet, every time I see the photos I see the same thing, utter, unblemished joy and happiness. As a parent, I wish that these things would continue but I know in a mere two weeks a lot of that joy will become heartache. It doesn’t seem fair does it? That is what growing up is all about, I’m afraid, there are always trade-offs.

These youngsters have precious little time to say good-bye to all their friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, best friends. I don’t envy their losses but I am happy for their new adventures. Tonight, on a dark and windy evening, I dread my own loss. My son is one of the nicest people I know, he is moving on and I will miss him. I love this boy of mine and in addition, I truly like him. Follow your dreams, first-born, the world will be a better place with you in it. That, I know, for certain. We will always be here for you, will always love you and support you unconditionally, when you are ready to leave, place that in your heart forever.

The Letter

Thomas the Tank Engine depicted in the TV Series

Image via Wikipedia

Dear Kate,

It’s been a long time since we last talked or wrote each other. How are you? I have a feeling I know. I can’t believe our boys are graduating from High School in four weeks.  It doesn’t matter that so many miles and so many years have passed by. We still have the memories, the boys still have a connection and so do we. As I grow older I realize that there are many types of friendships on so many levels and they are all different and good.

Right now, I am stuck in between pride and delight and loss and simple sadness.  It seems like it was yesterday that our two boys, mine with his dark brown hair and yours with his light blond hair were playing in the sandbox together and sipping apple juice from juice box containers, tilting their heads back and drinking from the tiny spout without the straw. Our whole family called it the “Nick” way for many years; it made quite an impression! I can still see us watching our children together, sitting at a picnic bench, side by side, while they dug in the heavy, beige sand. Now, our sons are graduating High School and heading soon, after the summer, to college.

Wasn’t it yesterday, Katie, that I was cradling my newborn son in my arms, his head snuggling against my shoulder, the sweet, milky, powdery smell of baby? Trying to remember the smell is virtually impossible. Even back then, when I breathed it in daily, hourly, every second of the night and day, I wanted to bottle it, especially for nostalgic times like these.

Adam is going to the prom in less than a week with his girlfriend. The word “girlfriend” does not roll off my tongue naturally yet, because the word was always forbidden in the house…that is, until a few months ago. It makes me happy to see Adam and his girlfriend together, and it makes me sad, for them, that they will be saying goodbye to each other very soon. But, that’s how life works. This is all so new to him and I can’t protect him from pain any more now than I could protect him once he was properly suited up when he played football in the early years. Our children need to work things out and learn by themselves, they will need to grow up on their own.

I am trying to prepare myself for the quiet stillness of the house without Adam here at home. Julia, my beautiful blond 16 and a half year old “baby”, has only one more year left of High-School and then she too, graduates. It’s all a bit overwhelming, it feels like the powerful ride of the dark-green ocean waves with no rest in-between. When Julia graduates from High-School and is in college I can imagine that this tiny house, our family home will seem cavernous. We cannot imagine the silence creeping into our house like moths, flapping their fragile wings without a sound.

I wonder if we will miss the kids’  booming voices, the fighting, the shrieks, and their clothes all over their floors. I am sure we will at first. I imagine this whole, new experience summed up in a word: “bitter-sweet” some happy, some sad, like the strong branches with delicate red berries growing on them.

I still carry the picture in my mind of the boys playing with smiling Thomas The Tank Engine and his friends. How we built bridges and tunnels with wooden Brio pieces time and time again. Thomas and his Friends and tracks and the Conductor are still somewhere in my mildewy basement; I could not say good-bye to them too.

Love, Jane

Oprah, Please Reconsider, It’s Not TOO Late

According to Keirsey, Oprah Winfrey may be a T...

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Dear Oprah,

NOOOOO, DON’T GO!!! The countdown of shows is really affecting me. I’m an ultimate, ultimate viewer and I’m not asking for a ticket or a vacation to Australia or a car or even the 3-pack of beauty products you had on today’s show. Just one thing, don’t go. PLEASE don’t go. Change your mind. ( It is NOT a sign of weakness but of strength.) I’ve gone through every part of my life with you, you were the only one who had the grace of mind and spirit to say “Stay at home Moms have the toughest jobs.” Thank you for that. When people looked at us stay at home moms with real attitude, I didn’t argue, I knew what the right thing was for me and my family, and yes, you admired it. It made me feel validated, it made me feel like a beautiful queen. I have two amazing children that I love and that I like, they are my gifts to the world. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that the world will be a better place because of them.

I was your viewing audience every day from home. I was happy to just watch your “Favorite Things” shows because I loved watching the audience members get so happy. I can’t imagine how you felt, that times a billion, I’m sure. I know you are not disappearing and I have watched OWN but it’s not the same. I taped your show every day for years and when the kids were young and finally in bed I would watch your show, relax, learn, be entertained and I would feel better.

So, my teacher and friend from afar, I am trying to say good-bye graciously because you always want what your friends truly want. But, I confess, there’s a 5 year old inside of me that has thrown herself on the floor, kicking and screaming with disappointment and sadness and stubborness.

I can’t wait to see the final show and at the same time I really don’t want to. I’m obsessing that if I am away for a few days my DVR won’t record and there are only so many times I can check.  I will cry, probably hysterically, but I am not ashamed of that. There really is no such thing as the “ugly cry.”  But, you know that. The last few weeks I have cried spontaneously as my son decided on the college of his choice and while I know he will be so happy, it will never be the same after this. Change. I’m not good with it, I admit it. I know I have no choice to accept change; I’ve learned that I need 24-48 hours to adjust, but it’s just not working with your show ending. I’m having a hard time accepting it (can you tell?)

Oprah, I was always the one in the viewing audience that was totally confused when you said “Do what you love to do.” I spent years figuring that out, until I went back in time and remembered my love for writing in High School. That was a really long time ago and I had NOT written much since 1978. I took a chance and started a blog and I was so afraid. I did it though, slowly and while it isn’t bringing in the money (yet?) I am doing something I love. Because of you. You were a comfort to my heart, you were the teacher of my soul.

Goodbye Oprah. G-d bless you for all the things you have given us.  I don’t need to wait till the last show, I’m doing the “ugly cry” now, and that’s okay.

I will miss you dearly.

Love,

Your biggest fan

Hibernationnow

http://hibernationnow.wordpress.com