Mary Me

So much for my big plan of posting every day this month. Not that any of your lives have hung in balance, but the perfectionist in me feels compelled to figuratively flog myself for not following through on a goal.

Which leads me to my point today... some might even call it a rant. Needless to say, here I go:

* I hate people who don't follow through
* I dislike chronic lateness
* I detest the "Let's get together soon" thing. Either you want to see me or you don't. I will even go so far to say I'd rather have a friend bitch me out for allowing my nasty foot odor to penetrate their new carpet then just stop inviting me for video night
* I loathe people who say "Gimme a bagel" or "I want the red cookie... THAT one!" The people they are demanding service from make $7.00/hour. Can we just be nice?
* I hate women who dress their kids in designer track suits but don't teach them to say "thank you"
* Consumerism during the holidays drives me nuttier than a William Sonoma $29.95 fruit cake

Most of all, I hate that I used to be this fun, lively gal with red hair who had high hopes for everything and now I'm slipping into this "It is what it is" thing... Either regarding my husband, my career, my finances... everything. It's not like me. It needs to change.

Rex mentioned a few weeks back, "I miss the old Mama P". Frankly, that pissed me off. Mr. Responsible finally got me to dot the i's and t's on schedule (if not before the due date) and now he's feeling misty over some missing letters? I didn't know whether to be irritated at him for setting me up for the impossible or grateful that he noticed my passion has taken a detour. I was a ball of emotion who didn't know up from down, left from right.

After a lot of thinking, I came to the wise conclusion that it is not in my nature to set up boundaries on my heart. Like May from the Secret Lives of Bees, negativity sits on my soul like a rotting egg. Before long, if I don't find an outlet for my goofiness, things will start smelling like K Fed's rep and I'll be constructing a cement wall around the cul de sac, filling it with little notes of woe to send to the heavens for help. Um, I'm thinking that's a bit excessive.

So, I am setting off on an armchair journey of discovery where I will re-map my soul without leaving my house. I shall play Parisian music and sip Venetian coffee but never have to leave my Spanish speaking city. I will buy plastic shelving for my Ebay business and paint my office red (after I finish the final bathroom paint... I promised the old Mama P - the one who turned into Miss Responsible, that I would not start any fun projects until that was done. )

So many women make mistakes in thinking that men can solve everything. But then the same women make even graver mistakes by isolating their hearts from their partners in an attempt to shield themselves from differences. This coping mechanism can work for a long time, but one day you wake up and realize you don't feel much of anything. Like a B horror flick, you become a zombie of productivity but remain a ghost of passion.

My goal is to find the happy in between. Call me a Where Wolf of Womanhood: I don't know Where that balanced lady lives, but I'll hunt her down like a wolf until I find her.

In the process, I plan to keep my little pack of dogs here at home in one piece. After all, it's because of Rex the hunter that Mama P, the nester, has such a cozy cave to hibernate in. And before I had my little litter, we used to have fun roaming the countryside together. I even did a little hunting myself and would come home at night to nice conversation and a hunk of meat all cooked by a cozy fire. He and I need time to tap into that again. We can look at each others differences forever (and there are many) but there is so much more good.

I will leave you with, once again, a quote from The Secret Lives of Bees. This book reminded me of my once arduous devotion to Mary. And yes, some of you non-Catholics (or non-religious) might find people who pray to virgins to be bizarre. After all, why not just go to the Man himself?

I'm thinking that it's men in the first place that often cause us grief. Sometimes we need an old gal pal to listen to. Especially mothers, who in the process of being so responsible themselves, need a mommy to take care of them.

August said, "Listen to me, Lily. I'm going to tell you something I always want you to remember, all right?" Her face had grown serious. Intent. Her eyes did not blink. "All right," I said, and I felt something eletric slide down my spine. "Our Lady is not some magical being out there somewhere, like a fairy godmother. She's not the statue in the parlor. She's something inside of you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Our Lady is inside of me," I repeated, not sure I did. "You have to find a mother inside of yourself. We all do. Even if we already have a mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside."

I think August has a point. If you do, also, I welcome them with an open heart. The fence is down and the wolf cave is open again.