Beer Goggles...on myself

So a friend pointed out after my last post that writing is my special purpose, she even resorted to calling me a shithead because I am such a moron that I didn't really think of this as a talent. My blog began with my making the effort to document what was going on with the girls. But once I started writing it, it took on a life of its own and became this cathartic outlet for me, not so much a sweet little memoir for them to read eventually.

But the thing is, it's easy to be honest and put it all out there when you don't know who or how many people are reading it. I had thought of it as a way to document life as a family until the same friend from High School wrote a response to a post that stuck with me. This is what she said, "I'm usually not a fan of 'All about me' blogs, but yours is exceptional." So a normal person would take this as a compliment, right? However, typical me, I could only focus on what I saw as the negative... how annoying does an, "All About Me" blog for a 36 year old sound? I mean, if you met someone and they told you to read their "All About Me" blog, what would you think? Uuggh, nothing like self promotion...but I guess mine is a little that way; OK, enough about you, let's talk about me....

So I started going back and looking at my recent posts, a task almost as painful as seeing how much you weigh, or what you look like in a magnifier without makeup...but when I did this I saw that my family journal type thing morphed quickly into just what she had said, an "All About Me" blog... Uh oh, that's not what I had intended, but I couldn't help it. When you're a Mother, it so rarely is "All About Me" that this seems to be my only arena, God help us... so to my readers, I apologize for making it all about me, but I guess can't control it. Oh shit.

Aren't there are so many times, especially when busy, when we can't see things for what they really are. Are there other parts of my life where I was so off the mark that I am not seeing the forest through the trees? I mean, it's like having Beer Goggles (remember that expression from college, when someone looks totally different and appealing to you once you get a good buzz on), but the beer goggles are on myself, "Oh no, it's not an all about me blog, I'm not really that narcissistic that I have to write about myself every day." Nope, not this girl. Uuuhhh, NOT.

And then I started thinking about how some parents have such beer goggles on their kids. Is there anything worse than a mother so proud that she'll tell any Tom, Dick or Harry who could give a shit how great her little darling is doing at t-ball or math? Elliot has an expression for this, it just hits the nail on the head so very well. "She thinks her kid shits ice cream," he'll say after enduring a brag session. I'm sorry, I'm not interested in hearing about how gifted your little Johnny is, in fact, as a standard rule for parents, I think bragging should only be reserved for grandparents, spouses, or truly best friends. Period. Because in general, nobody else wants to hear it.

But at the same time, we must walk the fine line of being humble yet exceedingly supportive, teaching lessons in pride while also showing grace and humility. It is a dance, and one I have yet to perfect. Yes, I want to champion their causes, but at the same time, at every toddler playgroup, if there was a crash, I could immediately blame Sumner or Marshall, as 99% of the time it was one of them. Likewise, when CeCe comes home reporting some injustice from the playground, I am realistic enough to say, "It stinks that she doesn't want to be your friend, but what did you say to her right BEFORE she said that..."

I'll bet most adults will agree that if there's anyone who has permanent beer goggles on a child is it a grandparent. Last year I took Elliot's Mom, Mimi with me to watch the girls at gymnastics class. She sat through the first few minutes quietly captivated at the talent of her granddaughters as I thumbed through People magazine. She then said matter-of-factly, "Don't you think they just sparkle. Don't ours have a magic you don't see in all the others?" As if perfectly timed I looked up at CeCe who was awkwardly trying to catapult herself over a mini vault with the grace of Bigfoot and then, not having listened to instructions, lumbered over to join the line of the wrong group. Sparkle? Not exactly. Stand out? Yes. But not necessarily in a good way.

So the at the next parent observation week for CeCe's gymnastics class, I went with a new attitude, wearing my beer goggles and determined to see said, "Sparkle." But minutes in it was clear that she was, in fact, the least skilled in the class. I proudly snapped photo after photo, determined to show my support REGARDLESS of her expertise. After all, isn't THAT what parents are for? To be there no matter how skilled we are?

So I am sitting there watching, trying not to cringe while CeCe and her best buddy Virginia, who was clearly the most adroit in the group which only magnified CeCe's awkwardness, have the most fun out of anyone. So I get that warm motherly feeling when the Romanian gymnastics coach approaches me to immediately burst my bubble. In a thick accent reminiscent of Bela Karolyi she says, "I do not think she know what I mean when I say, 'Tighten your muscles, CeCe.' She is marshmallow, non?" Uuuh, marshmallow? Maybe, but as her mother,I reserve the right to call her doughy....And then the coach proceeded to say, "Marshmallow," several more times in front of all the other parents and simulated a squeezing motion with her hands. Um, proud moment over. My next goal was to collect my little marshmallow and get out of there ASAP before she realized that the coach was calling HER a marshmallow and not handing out marshmallows to the class.




So the whole beer goggles thing has been on my mind, because as a parent, I have always thought that it is not my job NOT to express how perfect they are, but to have their backs even when they suck at something. I didn't care what the other parents in the group thought, I just didn't want CeCe to think she was anything less than awesome.

As for my self directed beer goggles, I'm just going to embrace being an 'All about me' blog writer and get over it already. I'll just keep telling myself it's a family memoir and then pour my own selfish thoughts and feelings out there for half the world to see. Call me self-centered, call me egotistical, whatever, I'm just gonna put my beer goggles on and write.

My Special Purpose

So I've been a little distracted lately, or should I say, more distracted than usual. I'm not afraid to admit it. I can blame my sister for this, as it was on the trip to Connecticut that I began my latest agitating thought process. I went to see her and her partner Jack, who is an artist. As a birthday present, my sister volunteered his talents and he did a sketch of me as a surprise for Elliot.

Here are some pics of the process...




Ok so bear in mind when looking at the next photo that the ONLY thing I had to do was keep my mouth shut...I couldn't do it, go figure.





Holy shit, right? I mean, all he did was look at me for 2 seconds and then casually jot a few lines on the paper. Talk about talent. My job was to simply sit there and shut up for a couple of hours and I couldn't even manage to do that. I chatted away as he sweetly reminded me to keep my mouth closed every few minutes or so.

The portrait experience was immediately followed up by my sister, a professional chef, throwing a few simple things effortlessly into a pot and having it come out as a fantastic mouth watering dinner 45 minutes later. Talk about being surrounded by skill and competence...

That night as I thought back on my day, I sent an anxious email to my friend Betsy who knows me well. "What's my special talent?" I demanded. I had just been immersed in far too much artistry than I was used to and of course, had to make it about me...so she responds with, "The only thing to conclude when surrounded by greatness is the realization that we can't do shit." And there you have it.

I recently found out my dear friend Cindy is a kick ass bowler; my sister in law was a childhood backgammon champion, who knew? I love when I find out some quirky skill someone has tucked away in their back pocket only to be pulled out on certain occasions. I caught either Sumner or Marshall bragging to CeCe recently about their ability to read. Not to burst her bubble or anything, but I had to interject, "You know, everyone learns to read eventually, so it's not really a talent to hang your hat on..." I should have taken my own advice in college when my advisor guided me to major in what I enjoyed, rather than honing in on a specific skill. This led me to English which has given me the pleasure of reading many great works but has left me without a specific goal...

Remember about this time last year when the Olympics were on T.V. and I was feeling so inferior? Well that's what the weekend with Lesley and Jack was like except in person. Jack worked on the portrait and Lesley worked on dinner while I, um, sat on the couch for the better part of the day demanding they come up with a "My Special Purpose" and cracking jokes about Steve Martin's "Special Purpose" from the movie The Jerk (one of the greatest of all time, by the way).

So for the rest of the weekend, we racked our brains trying to come up with a legit talent for me..."Um, you're a really good long distance runner." She suggested, "Or maybe it's relationships, you're a people person..." She declared with certainty. Does this even count? "I know," She said 10 minutes later, walking into the room all excited, "You're really good with animals." Clearly she had forgotten that my snarly puppy had been sent to The Dog Wizard for boot camp after I had deemed him untrainable. By the way, this works wonders...talent with animals? You haven't seen good until you have witnessed Jake work his magic.

So after hours (literally, we didn't leave the house all day) we came up with nothing. No special purpose, no raw talent for this lady. So my sister did make me feel better by reminding me not to feel that I had come up short by lacking a specific talent, but that I am more one of those people who is all around good at a LOT of things. Hence the complete variety of answers I got from everyone I felt it was appropriate to ask. Elliot's answer was, "Breaking Balls," as any husband's response would be...nice.

Elliot always chuckles when he proofreads my resume and I list random stuff at the end under Special Skills. "Photography?" he joked the last time as we agreed that taking candid family photos on Christmas doesn't exactly a photographer make, but still. I had to put something, right? You can't leave something like this blank. My favorite section to fill out on job applications has always been the "Awards and Recognition" part. It's so easy, I just skip over it, no writing necessary. A while back I thought about maybe getting a job in retail, you know, just for fun and the discount. Little did I know, there was a 10 page questionnaire process to work at a stationary store and according to my application, I was barely qualified to get from the car to the store. This could be where my complex began.

So the conclusion I came to was that I have coasted along being happily average for most of my life. Then you get to the point when you have kids and the focus is all on them. Once your kids grow a little and you start to think about what the hell you are going to do with the rest of your life, it leaves a mother to ponder what her true talents are. I have a friend who is a personal trainer who asks all of her clients what their "Passion" is. What do you enjoy doing so much that you would like to spend more time doing it? As martyrs, ooops, I mean mothers, it is hard to find the time to do this. It's all about the daily care and management of your little people and near impossible to carve out even one sweet moment for maternal solitude. But now? They're in school all day. There's time to think about this, and it has only led me to continue my quest for greatness. But instead of wondering till the cows come home about where I'm lacking, I'm gonna work with what I've got. It's a little hypocritical of me to preach about gratitude to my girls when I'm sitting here focusing on where I'm coming up short instead of embracing the aptitude of those around me, right? Easier said than done.

So unable to come up with any concrete answers, I'm just gonna go with my favorite response I got. When I asked an old friend what she thought my passion was, she said, quite simply, "Laughter." Ding ding ding...that's it. So simple, but exactly the talent I am comfortable with, if we can even call this a skill. I'm labelling it as a people skill, but truly is there anything better than roll on the floor, side splitting, stomach aching laughter? Is there really anything more enjoyable than a good old snicker in the middle of church? What about when you are having a problem, or are in crisis, and something someone says strikes you as smile cracking funny for the first time since you were upset? It's the greatest.

So I'm satisfied with laughter, and I can piggyback this onto the talent I find most important to hand down to my children: Resilience...the ability to let things roll off your back, the impossible skill of forgiving and moving on, even when you don't want to. If I can show them this, then I have fulfilled my passion, that and the amusement of some great potty humor or even a good clean joke at my own expense, which seems to be my forte.

So the next time I update my resume, or have to fill out one of those pesky PTA volunteer forms which includes the question, "Do you have any special talents?" I'm going to write "Laughing" and then wait to see what kind of job I get assigned. Hee hee...