Moms – Day No. 29

keep-calm-and-call-mom-76Today is Mrs. B’s 60th birthday. How is it possible my mother has gotten so old? I can still remember when she was my age… Oh God, I’m old!  Back when she was still getting carded. Back when she was teaching me and my sister, working as a nurse, and managing our gorgeous house. How did she do it all? Let’s just say I did not inherit any of that from her. My mother was like Sarah Jessica Parker in “I Don’t Know How She Does It“, which we just watched last night and is an incredibly good film. Watch it. You won’t be sorry.

Moms: they are so important, with the caveat that they are good moms. If you ahve a bad mom, then I’m truly sorry. My mom is great, and that’s not me just saying that because I’m supposed to. Sure, because we are nothing alike we have our moments  where we do not agree. At all. But even when  we have those moments, which seems to be more frequently, we still get along. I think. I trust Mom’s advice and she is who I do talk to when I need to vent. She can read me too well, and tends to do that regularly, sometimes to my annoyance, and other times where it’s really helpful.  As number 6 of the 13 Things No One Tells You About Being A Woman says:

6. The most complicated relationship you’ll have is with your mother. In your teens, you hate her, in your early 20’s you miss her, after that you rely on her advice as if it is Bible. Most women don’t want to become their mother, but they still love and respect her — and end up becoming much like her anyway.

It’s very true. Granted, I have not had the missing her part since I still live at home, but when she goes places for longer than I think she should, I worry about her. We have a unique relationship.

Mrs. B’s girlfriend is a great Mom. I watch how she loves her kids and I kind of get a gooey feeling like a hot brownie in my chest when I think about it. And if I needed a surrogate mom, I bet I could rely on her.  I actually know quite a few cool moms out there.

For years, I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to be married at 22, have four kids, home school them all, name one girl after my great-great-great grandmother; Phoebe. I had names picked out for my kids….. Sophie, Paul, Phillip, Rose, Charles….. Those are just some of the names. I had grand ideas about being a mom. While at the same time scared out of my wits that I could even be a mom.

But none of that has happened. And now part of me doesn’t want to be a mom. Oh sure, I want to have my own baby, but honestly, kids scare me. They scare the heck out of me. I don’t know what to do with them. I have never baby sat in my entire life except for once and that time scared the heck out of me and I was just next door watching the 8 year old boy for an hour… No big deal.  I view kids as ankle biters… You use a fly swatter to move them along…. Okay, maybe not that bad.

This is kind of ironic because I like writing children’s books. I like making things for kids. I like all that fun stuff. But I don’t know how to even talk with kids. Sigh. So I don’t think I would be a very good mom. But again< I’m not sure I want to be a mom> i like to think I could be a very cool aunt. Or if I married a man who was older and already had young grand kids… I could be a really cool young, hip grandma.

So, do you love your Mom?  Is Mom the most important person in your life? Do you agree with No. 6 above?

Kate

Being Beautiful

Pearls, curled hair, yeah, this is my beautiful moment.

Pearls, curled hair, yeah, this is my beautiful moment.

I was sitting reading my journal from earlier in the year… it’s something I do to reflect…… and I came across an entry  from near my birthday. I was describing being called beautiful.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I have found that it is one word that while wonderful to be called, can hold a whole lot of meanings or feeling behind it.

I have been called beautiful by plenty of men…. despite which I still wonder if I really am beautiful because what I see in the mirror sometimes is meh.  How I look isn’t what makes me feel beautiful. Sometimes for me, wearing Stetson for men, a string of pearls and having my hair in a simple updo makes me feel so incredibly beautiful in my own mind, that’s all that matters.  But having a man call me beautiful is a rather interesting thing.

First there is Boris. Boris is fire and ice and extremes. He calls me beautiful, gorgeous and such regularly. It’s his greeting. It’s his way. His way makes me feel like I am the sexiest young woman ever. Okay, I’m not young anymore, but well, I still don’t feel like a woman. I am one….okay, I can go with lady better.  Considering he calls me young lady all the time too.  His beautiful is like stepping into pure heat and desire.  I can’t explain it.

Then there was Neeko.  Darling boy. I mentioned him earlier in the year.  What I wrote in my journal was, ” He calls me beautiful and it feels like pure sunshine happiness. Not sexy, but like I’ve stepped into a rainbow. Gooey inside. Unexpected. Undemanding. Nick is daisies and buttercups and sugar sweet.”  Maybe it was safety, but I felt like me with Neeko. I didn’t have to impress or be any more than me. Something I struggle with. I’m always worried about someone’s opinion, but with Neeko I could just be, like I had stepped into a meadow….. Bella’s meadow.

More recently there is someone that calls me various forms of beautiful, but it’s weird.  I can’t put my finger on it….okay, maybe I can. I am not interested in this guy, and he says he’s not in me, because he’s in his mid fifties, but sometimes I get this weird vibe that makes me kind of shudder. I sit there and think to myself…’no, please don’t call me anything endearing.’ It’s one of those disturbing moments in life where what someone says to you makes you feel so uncomfortable.

I think who we know that calls us beautiful means something different from each person. Sweet, sexy, disturbing…… And various other feelings.  Sometimes I smile and giggle insanely when I’m called beautiful. Other times I take it in stride.   I have to say that a sunshine and daisies beautiful is like eating the best brownie, and the fire and ice extremes beautiful is like that first sip of whiskey.  It’s sexy in it’s own way.  Sunshine and daisies, which I am not a person who would ever really go for that vibe, is really, really nice.  And it’s so hard to explain….. Okay, wait, I just read what I wrote. One is safe while the other has me in a constant state of alert.

Hmmm. Rather interesting, isn’t it? Do I know which one I want? I tend to go for sweet because at the end of the day, the safe is nice, steady. Comfortable. But that being said, the extreme and sexy is well, adventurous and exciting. I think a bit of sweet with sexy is really nice.

So what about you, ladies.  Do you have different vibes of beautiful?  What makes you feel beautiful?  Words or your own inner self?  Does something you do make you feel like the goddess you are?

I’d love to know so share with me.  I feel I should add in a One Direction line… but I’ll leave that up to you.

Kate

 

Right For Me – A Poem

472622366Back over my birthday and the week prior I met a darling boy/man, and I was still dealing with new feelings about Boris.  Recently my emotions have gotten the better of me as I watch The Bachelorette and drool over gorgeous men, at the same time dealing with Boris and possibly someone new in my life.  (Online dating can be a whirlwind in it’s own way)

I have had poetry and romance and kisses in my head to the point where I have this perpetual knot in my chest.  I can’t write it all down enough and I am getting stuck and lost in my mind more and more. Fortunately, I was able to capture some of what I’m struggling with in a piece of poetry.  I am titling it ‘Right For Me’ because I’m not sure what else to call it. I think my birthday….. no, pardon Neeko, was the catalyst to all of this.

 

 

 

 

Right For Me

I’m too old for you
Too young for him
Just right for me

I’m too close to there
Too far from here
I’m just in between

My words too long
The story too short
The plot just right

I’m looking back
I’m plowing forth
Just standing still

I like you a lot
I love him a little
I’m happy with me

I wish on you
I hope for him
I dream for me

 

Just a little something to express myself.

 

Kate

 

Unrequited Letters – Flash Fiction

He poured his heart and passion into the letters he wrote her. Long, romantic missives. Short, tiny notes folded into secret notes. He told her of his hopes and dreams. Of his delight in her newest dress or the remark she made as she conversed with the grocer. 

He had mounts of letters. Piled so high a slight breeze might disturb and send the snowy sheets into a cascade of drifts and eddies around his small study.

For he never sent her the letters. Always afraid of how she would respond to his devotion, he wrote letters till he died, always pining for her.

 

Letters, and specifically love letters, have been in my mind lately. I have been thinking about writing letters to lovers

Bright Star (film)

Bright Star (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

(not that I have any at this moment… and note the use of the plural. I’m laughing at that) Writing letters to friends and families. I love how John Keats and Fanny Brawne wrote letters, though that whole thing is rather tragic. We won’t go there.

 

I love letters. Have I mentioned that a time or two? *said with tongue in cheek* I’m sure you could search my posts for just letters and find all kinds.

 

I long to write a lover a love letter. Pull out my red wine ink and pen something that is romantic. And this bit of flash fiction made me think of that and unrequited love, which has hit me a time or two.

 

Telling Fortunes

Published in the US - 1895, US Playing Card Co...

Published in the US – 1895, US Playing Card Company (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m not someone that believes in the occult, nor do I go for all that mystical thing or fortunes or tarot…. I am honestly a Christian.  But I am still fascinated by things like fortunes or tarot.  Just because. I can’t explain it. And even in the Bible, games/lots were thrown. It technically wasn’t biblical, and it doesn’t follow along with trusting God.

But again, it still interests me.

Someone in my life is frustrating the heck out of me and I just found out today I don’t rate as high in his life as he does in mine.  It’s rather depressing and I’ve been trying to mentally deal with that.  A few years ago I found this fun way of determining who you will end up with using playing cards.  Yes, I suppose it is rather ridiculous in the scope of things, but I decided to play with it today.

Here is the original link.  How to tell if he likes you, and other sleepover occult games

So, I just ran my cards, picking the main person, someone new and a possibility, someone who I don’t consider but like talking to, and then someone I can’t stand.

The results….. Um, I ended up with the one I wanted, and it was relatively decent in the scope of things.  I suppose if one believed in this, it would be hopeful…..

But I don’t believe in tarot………. Do I?

A Poetic Christmas Toast

Christmas ToastI rarely share personal poetry with my readers. I haven’t gotten comfortable with some of my thoughts. I have several poems I’ve written for friends that I may share with them, but only them. But this is one instance where I thought this was sweet and fit with the season. It’s for Boris, whom I hope does not read all my posts because then the surprise is gone…. But I sent this off in a card for him today. Mr. Grinch that he is, it’s not so much about the Christmas them, but more my feeling about him.

Kate

Three French Hens

3-french-hens-550x320It’s the 3rd so I’m just going with the ‘Three French Hens’ and playing off that theme.  I dare you to not sing the rest of the song….

Two turtle doves, and a Partridge in a P-E-A-R TREE!  Now you will be singing it the rest of the day. You are welcome.

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These were one of the sets I found today. So french. So me.

French. All things French or Francais.  I have a thing for France.  Part of this is coming from the fact that I found more notecards from Le Jambon Paperie at my second hand store today.  This stationary store at Etsy has been out of stock of the adorable French note cards. I actually originally found them at my second hand store and swiped them up without a thought otherwise.  And just today, more designs were out.  Oh how I love my second hand store.

I love sending notes to Jules. Or Boris. Or my grandma. Or anyone else I can send a note to.  And these are perfect with a thick card stock, smooth for fountain pens, and a gorgeous design. Totally french.

And carrying on the french theme, I know some, having taught myself french, mais oui, and I collect french things. I have several dictionaries that are English/French and books that are plays, and grammer, and scarves, and a Muffy bear with a Paris outfit.

Oh how I love French.

86820d2efe91ac81d3254bd9e1154a95And now, just to go to France would complete me.  I’m trying to get Boris to take me. See, he goes to Monaco every May…. Which just so happens to be my birth month.  Oh if only he would take me.

And I think I could do Paris at Christmas.  Tres bien.

 

Au Revoir ma chéries.

Kate

 

 

All You Need Is… A Tiara?

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Boris teases me about being a princess, and a drama queen, and a rambler… I saw this image on Tumblr a couple months ago and I fell in love with it because, honestly, all you really need is love and a tiara.  Cookies never hurt.

So, as the Beatles say…”all you need is love, ba ba bada ba! All you need is love, ba ba bada ba, all you need is love, love, love is all you need….”

As for a tiara, well, darling man, get me one and I’ll be the perfect princess…. Oh, and I bake marvelous cookies…..

Signing off

Kate