I was going to write today's blog about something more positive and upbeat, perhaps wishing all of you a happy Cince de Mayo and suggesting some places to get rockin' Mexican food (there are a TON) in LA, but honestly, I'm feeling weird today, and what's a blog for if not honesty and a little self-authenticity, mixed in with a dash of respect for other peoples' privacy. I'm sure you guys have probably guessed that my life, much like yours, doesn't always go as planned, that there are occasional hiccups, issues, and even a little bit of drama every now and then, and I don't usually blog about it because a) that's not what this blog is about, and b) life's bad moments are usually so transitory, why on earth would I want to permanently memorialize something negative that I'm going through in a blog to remember for the rest of time? So I can go back six months from now and re-read what I was going through? No thanks. I'll keep the lessons learned and pass on reliving the pain.
So here I am, in all my over-sensitive, slightly weirded out glory, blogging about it for all the world to see. What's a girl to do when things that usually don't get under her skin are getting under her skin quite well today?
I know. I'll make a list. Because lists make me happy.
My mother's day project this year is a sort of scrapbook with watercolor paintings and hand-written memories and questions for my mother, because I like to throw as many visual mediums together (this is kind of how I do my salads, too, only I'm not sure ranch dressing hides a scrapbook's taste as well as it does a salad's) and hope for the best. I have taken exactly four watercolor painting classes in my lifetime, I have scoured my photo albums for pictures of my mother and myself, and I have racked my brain for memories to jot down and questions to ask. And now I will share with you that list of things I'm going to ask my mother. Feel free to steal, share, or simply opine your thoughts on the questions.
- Was I planned?*
- Did you feel ready for me?
- How was the birth? Honestly. You can tell me. Did it suck? It sucked, didn't it. You can tell me.
- How was I as a baby? Was I a little punk that cried incessantly?
- What do you remember most about me growing up?
- What did you think I was going to be when I became an adult? Why?
- What was the biggest challenge you faced in raising me?
- What was your favorite game to play with me when I was little?
- When was the time you felt I let you down the most? What about the time I made you the most proud?
- How was I as a teenager? What did you want to say to me as I was going through those years?
- Did you agree with my choice of college? What about my major?
- Now that I'm an adult, what choices that I've made do you support the most? How about the least?
- What would you like me to do for you to make our relationship even stronger?
And finally: Do you remember reading "Goodnight Moon" to me when I was little? Because I do. Thanks, Mom. For everything.
* I already know the answer to this one. I was conceived in a Winnebago in Canada. Which makes me one third American, one third Canadian, and one third Winnebagan.