Family picks.

So my mom is visiting. In a normal person's life this would be a good thing, a fun thing, a visit. In my ridiculous life it's like an unpaid babysitting job. I grew up in one of those homes where the kid raised the mom. I was free range and latch keyed. But not free range where I had fun and got to explore. More like I was out there on my own figuring it out by myself. Good times.

So now I get to sit around and do nothing as I hear how hard raising a teen is because she was a difficult teen. In all the stories I hear the references to children are about her and her sister. Never about me. Ever. Not once. Not kidding.

So I let her sleep in my recently done over bedroom, my sanctuary. My perfect zen space which I am quite proud of. She walks in and doesn't notice a thing. Nothing unusual there. This morning after she wakes up she says she has a question and we look at my memory board (like the one in the photo) I have memories of concerts, events, political stickers and other various things I find cool. She points to an old family picture of her, my dad, my sister and me. I love this picture  not for the memory (I don't remember it) but for the 70s awesomeness. It is also the only picture I think I have of the four of us. Never a happy family the pic is just cool. The closest I have to normal.

So anyways, she points to the picture and I'm waiting for it, a memory, a story, a something! Nope, she proceeds to tell me that she remembers taking the pic because she remembers buying her outfit. Yup. That's it. The only thing she had to say about my perfect zen bedroom is that she remembers the outfit she wore in a tiny picture.

I just keep quiet. It's not worth it. Hold your breath and it will be over soon.

I tried to talk my husband about why I don't bother and he said I was still angry. Nope. No anger, just sadness and a complete lack of understanding how a person lives a life with her head in clouds.

For now I will keep my stories to myself and put them here because it's like talking to audience even if that audience is me. I'm an awesome listener.

If you can't stand the heat...

..then do not go to Palm Springs in August! Just got back from an amazing getaway with my loves. People said we were crazy to head to the dessert on the hottest weekend of the year but that's how we roll. No, really. No matter where we go it's always either the hottest or the coldest weather that place (wherever it is) has seen in years.

This summer was a busy one for us and we somehow never had time for a proper vacation. Strangely, none of us really missed it, we were too busy running from place to place, set to set or friend to friend. What we did miss was some family bonding. We were going to go down to San Diego and take K to Sea World (her choice) but when she found out that she had to be 10 to swim with dolphins she opted for Palm Springs. We found a hotel with waterslides and lazy river and booked it.

I'm not going to lie, 115 degrees is hot but without humidity it's not that bad. We managed to get used to the heat and spent the days floating along the lazy river. It was nice to be together with no commitments and very little iPhone use. K was in heaven and immediately made some "best friends." In fact yesterday she had lunch with a cool family and they live close to us. The kids all vowed to see each other again and since I've been awesome at following up on social interactions this actually might happen.

I keep forgetting how fortunate we are to live in a place where it's possible to drive a few hours and feel like you are completely away from home. D and I also made a vow, we are going to take weekends away more often. It's a wonderful feeling to come home feeling refreshed and recharged, I'd like to have it often. Of course sometimes I feel like my life is a vacation so I shouldn't be complaining.

I'm off with K to enjoy the last week of summer vacation in this breezy 70 degree weather. It a;most feels cold!!

Dysfunction Junction

what's your function? No really, what's the payoff for dysfunction? I had lunch today (well really a late breakfast) with my girl bestie A. She was telling me about the latest drama between her and her mom, who is visiting LA for a few weeks. It's funny because I always thought I owned the franchise of dysfunctional family stories until I met A. We can go head to head for hours and I think she might even beat me. Sadly this is a contest that neither one of us want to win. Her family dramas are unlike mine but both tell the same tale, and while our stories may belong to different genres, they are both located in the horror section. This is something that we joke about constantly and while our childhoods are kept in the past where they belong we both fear repeating the sins of our mothers.

I can tell you that this fear alone is enough to ensure our daughters will not have to live the lives that A and I did. While some people grow up and learn valuable lessons that they will pass on to their kids, we took our childhood as a lengthy seminar on what not to do. The funniest thing about both of our mothers is they don't have a clue (or at least they don't admit it) to how deep their dysfunction has actually affected us. They are both guilty of telling us what we are doing wrong with our kids. They both told us that we were spoiling our babies when they cried and we gave them immediate care and comfort. I'm sure that ignoring us when we were crying uncomfortable babies (and later as children and into young adulthood) spoiled us, very much the way food spoils when you forget about it for too long. Ouch. The good thing about our moms is the physical distance between us, for me it's 2726.33 miles, A is the big winner here, with a distance of over 7500 miles.

Now this isn't to say that it's all bad, in fact I have made peace with my past and allow my mother freely in my adult life. I also allow her the pleasure of spoiling her favorite granddaughter, only this time the spoiling involves unconditional love and a never ending supply of candy, toys, dolls and teddy bears. I think she knows better now and maybe has even learned a thing or two (or a thousand) from me, and while we never discuss past crimes the guilt she feels is something she has to live with every day. A hasn't fared as well though, while she clearly wins the medal for distance, her mother still refuses to acknowledge the cemetery of skeletons in her parental closet. This could be an age thing, my mom is a little older than A's, maybe with the passing of time she too can get with the program and try to mend the fences that she spent a lifetime kicking through.

Or maybe not. Either way K and J (A's little girl and K's friend since almost birth) are reaping the benefits of years of therapy, years of soul searching and years of a friendship that has bonded us in ways that I never thought possible. Most people hide the parts of their life that embarrass them or makes them uncomfortable. The very first time I met A she opened up to me about the truths in her life making me want to do the same. When she opened up about her family I knew that I had met my soul-mate in friendship. I knew from that moment on that I would never have to feel shame about the inadequacies of my formative years. Not only was I free to let the stories flow I was also free to joke about them with someone who had been down that road as well.

So now when we get together we swap tales of good and evil, and marvel at the fact that the journey we both took led us to a place of healing, that good can come out of bad and that our kids will know that dysfunction is a hard word to spell and not a way of life.