My "Future" Child

I had an assignment for my Psych class (Human Development) to write a letter to a future child (or actual one, if applicable) on the event of their 18th birthday.  It needed to include a few requirements, parental goals, hopes for the child, obstacles, etc.  The assignment really touched me, so I am sharing my letter here, to keep for future reference.

Dear Leah and Ben,

As I write this, we are just a few hours away from meeting for Ben’s birthday dinner.  I cannot believe that it was 18 years ago that I gave birth to my beautiful boy.  You both have made me so proud. 

I always knew that I wanted to be a mother, but neither one of you were planned out in advance. I suppose that set the tone for our life together; that spontaneous events are usually the most memorable.  What I did plan for though, was for you both to know that you are always loved, and that you would know that no matter what the problem or situation, you could come to me. I hope that I have lived up to that goal, and that you have never been afraid to confide in me. Of course I know that I have sometimes fallen short, that I have made mistakes, and I have sometimes let you down.  But I have also strived to look you in the eyes and say “I’m sorry”, and mean it.  I hope that by my example you know that standing up and admitting your mistakes is not a sign of weakness, but shows great strength of character.

I know that because I was so busy working and going to school while you were both younger that I didn’t always have the time to just “be” with you as much as we might have wanted.  I hope that you both will be able to finish your educational goals before having children of your own so that you don’t have to divide your time as I had to do.  But I also hope you know that whatever path you choose, you are capable, strong and that you will succeed as long as you continue to believe in yourselves. 

I hope that my love of adventure, of discovery and of learning inspires you to always live your lives fully, and not get too bogged down by the day-to-day struggles that are sometimes part of the deal.  I hope that you always keep dreaming big, and know that you are in charge of your own destiny. I may not have known at the beginning that I would be flying solo in my journey as a parent, but I hope that I was able to show you that you only need depend on yourself… you CAN do great things.  And if you find yourself traveling down a road that you wish you were not on, remember that it is NEVER too late to turn around, or blaze a new trail. Right now is where you begin, right now is where you always are. 

Admittedly, I’ve been an unconventional mother.  But you are exceptional souls, and that is what you required.  And although at 18 and 22 you are both technically adults, I hope you remember to give yourself room to grow, because you are far from finished.  I have taught you that you are not limited by what society says you need to be, because you are you, and the truth is that you are nothing short of the eternal divine love of this universe, put into a body to experience this wondrous adventure of your life. 

I look forward to the rest of our lives together, full of adventures, conversations, laughter and tears.  I look forward to meeting the people you become, meeting the person I become. 

All my love,

Mom

April 18, 2025

If I Were a Betting Woman...

      I’ve never been much of a gambler, in fact the last time I was in Vegas (for my sister’s wedding), I didn’t so much as put a quarter in a slot machine.  I guess my thinking has always been, I have this $20 or $40, it may not be much, but I HAVE it.  I can spend it on what I need.  With gambling, there is always a chance to make more money, but there is no guarantee.  I’d rather have the sure thing. 

     I made the decision to stop dating over a year ago.  I’ve been completely happy with this decision, as during this time I have also returned to college, so I have even less time to devote to “dating”.  Recently though, my son has suggested a few times that I get a boyfriend so I can have someone to help me out.  He sees me struggle to make ends meet financially, keep our home up, and take care of all the things that require my attention.  His father, on the other hand, has been coupled up from the time we divorced, and as a double income and double adult household, things probably run a bit smoother. 

     I explained to my son that I don’t need a boyfriend to help me, because we are doing okay. Besides, I would have to share my time with someone else, and I would rather keep it all for him and his sister. 

Of course I understand where he is coming from, he only wanted to suggest a solution to help his mommy.  And how I love my boy’s sweet, dear heart for it.  From a parental perspective, my choosing the single life wasn’t necessarily aimed to teach my children independence, but this will be a natural side effect.  Being of two different households will show them options, and that both work… just work differently. 

     I wasn’t always “miss independent”, and for a long time I was searching for someone to sweep me off my feet, rescue me, and take care of me.  Over the years of my adult life, I found many who were willing to do just that.  I even fell in love with a few of them, and consequently, also had my heart broken a fair share of times.  As I listen to my playlist of music (as I always do while writing), any given song can trigger the ache still lingering in the scar tissue of my heart. As that happened today, I realized another reason for my choosing the single life.  In addition to the life lesson for my kids, I also realized that I simply don’t want to feel that soul penetrating pain again. 

     I may only have one income, and I may struggle, but I have my life.  It’s mine.  Sure, there is a chance of “happily ever after”, but like gambling, there is no guarantee.  I’ve been deeply in love, and I know how euphoric it can be.  I have been heartbroken, and I have healed, knowing eventually the hurt lessens.   Today I know that I “got this”, and I’m not willing to place that bet on the table for the chance of something “more”.

Those Pointy Fingers

Unless you are a trained and skilled forensic detective, you should not define a person based upon (metaphorical) debris taken from their trash, soiled with spilled liquid contempt. 
Even in a criminal court of law, even after witnesses have testified, it is only if the defendant chooses such, they may remain silent.   To not give the defendant the opportunity to present their "side" would undo the very fabric of one of our dearly held rights.  

The Sixth Amendment:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.

 I'm sure most would agree that these rights should always be provided in a court of law, so why is it so common place to pass judgement on someone after hearing stories, gossip and "highlights" while never speaking to the subject of scrutiny directly?  

Maybe ponder this a while.  Maybe it will spark the realization that you may have judged without knowing "all the facts", perhaps you only knew a version of the "truth" from one source, laid out conveniently as to avoid incriminating themselves.   

But this is all probably falling on many deaf ears, as we (as a society) love to vilify and castigate ... together.  Why? Maybe to as a distraction so that we can avoid looking at something closer to ourselves (maybe even our self?) But I digress.  We are but simple humans and we often have a pack mentality. 

 But next time you are invited to listen to scandalous, salacious, *exciting* gossip before grouping together to judge, convict and sentence a person, perhaps you should first reach out and hear what they have to say.  SUPER important if this person is a family member, I might add. 

Insight from a beautiful, bigger girl.

It literally just occured to me that for so long I accepted the "I normally like petite/skinny girls, but I really like you" bit as a compliment.  That despite the fact that I'm in no way petite (I wear a size 11 shoe), and I'm not built to be "skinny", I had somehow won the affection of whoever it may be.

As an intelligent, witty and beautiful woman, I still felt like I had to prove myself worthy to the man (or woman) who was lowering their physical standards to be with me.

Seriously,  WTF is that? Why did I spend *SO* many years starving myself so they would notice, hiding my stomach, and dreading bathing suit activities with someone that professed to love me (in spite of my obvious flaws)?

Well. There's a new sheriff in town called self-respect.  Beyond grateful for this insight,  most likely induced from my dating sabbatical. 

Reading about the "plus size" model,  Ashley Graham, seeing the comments of admiration of her physical form on instagram made me see that there are PLENTY of people that not only like but PREFER a curvy or thick woman. It made me realize that instead of being ashamed, or trying to hide my most "problem areas", I should have been proud, and anyone worthy of my devotion would LOVE my "problem areas" as much as they loved my eyes, my lips, my philosophical nature, my humor and my intelligence.  In fact, they wouldn't see my "problem areas" as problems at all, just more of me to love.

I declare this today, on behalf of any and all women who can relate to my story, to no longer settle to be settled on.  To no longer try and prove ourselves to be "just as good" as the skinny girls someone prefers. 

I don't know what the future holds,  but something is in the air these last few days that has turned my thoughts to the topic of love and romance, normally far from my mind.  It seems as good a time as any to make my intention known to the universe, that if I should come out of retirement,  as it were, it will only be for someone not like the others I've known.  Someone who thinks I'm beautiful,  not just a pretty face.

Let me close by saying I am in no way bitter. I chose my path, and I participated in this learning game.  And I learned that I am beautiful.  Even my thick thighs and loose, battle-scarred belly are beautiful.  And the ones that don't agree, need not apply (no, I'm really not taking applications). 

Namaste, and self love, y'all

Why I hate INXS

When I was twelve, I fell in love a lot.  My first big love, I’m somewhat now embarrassed to admit, was Kirk Cameron.  His dreamy, lash-y eyes, his curly locks of hair, the impish grin… *swoon*.  I bought all the Tiger Beats I could find and plaster his mug all over my room.  I would surely marry him someday.
 

But months later, I tossed Kirk aside for a real man.  A grown man.  A sexy, take charge man that could kick the crap out of Mike Seaver.  Patrick Swayze.  Oh yeah, he could teach me a thing or two about the Merengue.  I ripped down every Kirk picture I owned, and replaced them with pinups of my real love, Patrick. He was my lover that summer of 1988, and I took my Dirty Dancing soundtrack cassette with me everywhere, even to Girl Scout camp, where we all wanted to be Baby.   I was horror stricken when I found out he was 36 years old AND married.  I didn't know which was worse.  But my heartache wouldn't last long.

One day, minding my own business (doesn't true love always work this way), I heard the most incredible song on the radio.  It was called Need You Tonight.  I had never heard so much sultry sexiness in a song, before or since.  I found out the band was INXS (inks?) and I knew I must own this song.  Then, something magical happened.  Something that would change my life forever.  I saw the video. 

It was like lightning came and struck me, awakening every dormant feeling in my soul, all at once.  THIS was love.  This was Michael. 

From then on, I was a one man woman. My heart belonged to Michael Hutchence.  Soon I was saving up my allowance and babysitting money for every cassette (they had quite a few) and every poster I could find.  I pored over the magazine index at my middle school library in search of articles and pictures of him and the band.  I became an expert not only in all things INXS, but also all things Australian. This was, of course before the internet, so I had to go to great lengths (and many malls) to find my bounty.  I memorized the birth dates of all the band members, their backgrounds and families, and I felt like I knew them. 

I was a hormonal preteen, the only child of a single mother.  My home life was, at times, rocky.  I often escaped into a fantasy world where Michael was my boyfriend, and the members of the band were the older brothers I never had.  With my Walkman at my side, music swimming in my brain, and my eyes closed, this world became my escape.  INXS became my savior.  Each member of the band had a story, partly based in fact, but mostly based in my own imagination.  Andrew Farriss (keyboard and songwriter) was the shy one, always needing a bit of a push to have some fun.  Jon Farriss (drums) was the youngest member of the band, and therefor served as my contemporary.  I just wanted to set him up with a nice girl.  Tim Farriss (Guitar), the eldest of the Farriss brothers, was already married (I learned in my research), so he was obviously the mature one.  But he was the biggest prankster of the lot.  Kirk Pengilly (sax and guitar) was the brainy one, a little awkward, and loved to stay up late and have deep philosophical conversations. Garry Gary Beers (bass guitar) was the oldest member of the band, and was practical, and just a bit fatherly.

I was almost sure, someday, Michael would come riding down the street in a limousine driven by Andrew, to rescue me from my hellish angst, and we would be happy for always. I would take care of the band, making sure they had breakfast every day.  We would laugh, tease, comfort and support each other.  I was too young and naïve to know about the Yoko Ono curse, but even if I wasn't, that would never happen.  Because the band loved me too.  They thought I was good for Michael.  They knew I would take care of him. 

My fantasy world saved me, and carried me through to a calmer period of my life.  As I began high school, INXS was still there, Michael was still kissing me goodnight, but I was also checking out the boys closer to my age.  As I continued my journey through adolescence, I took on real boyfriends, had real kisses, and experienced real, heart pounding love.  I no longer relied on my fantasy, reality was exciting enough. 

I graduated high school in 1994, and began the “adult” experience.  Working, trying out community college, relationships, the whole bit.  I’ll spare you the details of my trials and tribulations, and instead fast forward (like a cassette) to November 1997.  I was 21, and I worked at a call center.  One of my coworkers, another fan of INXS, had lost his father a few days before, and I was planning on attending the viewing for support of my friend.  I got a call that day, from another coworker.  She told me she had a message from Tom, our mutual friend who’s father had just passed.  She told me he had called, and that someone from INXS had died, but she couldn't remember his name.  My heart stopped. 

I started naming names.  Kirk.  No.  Garry.  No.  Tim.  No.  Andrew.  No.  Jon.  No.  Michael Hutchence.  Yes. 

I told her I had to go.  I turned on MTV.  And it was there.  Coverage of his death.  I sat in stunned silence and stared at the screen.  It wasn't real.  He couldn't be dead.  But he was.  This was the year of death, I had decided, as just months before I stayed up all night to watch with the world Princess Diana’s funeral on TV. 

I wore all black to work that day, and had to break often as tears overtook me.  Thankfully I had a compassionate supervisor who didn't laugh at me when I told him the reason for my grief. 

But, boys and girls, life goes on.  Life went on.  I went on.  A few years later, I won tickets and backstage passes to the “Just for Kicks” tour that INXS was doing with guest singer, Jon Stevens.  I took my then boyfriend (and eventual ex-husband) as my plus one. I was beyond excited.  I was going to meet Andrew, Jon, Tim, Kirk and Garry.  These men who were my brothers, who wallpapered my teenage room, who played the music that lulled me to sleep many nights. 

Let me tell you though, it was odd.  It was wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but the solid fantasy I had built didn't exactly mesh with the reality of these men.  My imagination was so strong that it was nearly fact, and when they didn't know me on sight, I was almost surprised.  

Despite that, I was still an avid fan and supporter of INXS.  And it’s true, I supported them.  When I would tell someone INXS was my favorite band, often I would get, “didn't they die?”

No, they didn't die, their lead singer did.  INXS is five other guys too.  I defended their right to exist in a band without Michael, in a world without Michael.  And after I had married my plus one, and our daughter was just a toddler, INXS announced they would be partnering with a new reality show to find the new lead singer of INXS.  What?! I couldn't wait to watch, and neither could my plus one.  I had made an INXS fan out of him, too.  Just the thought that our votes matter in such a huge decision…

We watched, and mostly agreed.  My plus one was for JD Fortune from the start, but I favored the blond haired Marty.  Eventually I was won over, as was INXS, and JD became the new lead singer for INXS. 

They came out with a new album, and a new tour.  Naturally we went.  I don’t recall being impressed.  This was my third INXS show, my first was in 1993, complete with the immortal Michael. 

JD fizzled out, and so did INXS, it seemed.  I didn't hear much about them until last year, when an INXS mini-series was premiering on Australian TV.  I wanted to watch this so bad.  And I am telling you the gods honest truth, I have never illegally downloaded anything (including music), until the day that I downloaded the INXS mini series.  I watched it twice.  I read a few interviews with the band.  I follow Jon on Facebook. I've read articles written by the daughter of Garry Beers and was enlightened to learn the reality she, her sister and mother faced as a real family of the band.

I wanted for so long to believe in my version of them, the good-natured band of brothers, the saviors of my preteen torment.  But they were not.  They were once the Biggest Band In The World.  25 years ago.  But no more. 

Michael became a celebrity in his own right, a legend, like Jim Morrison.  He was close with Bono.  Was the rest of the band close with Bono, I asked myself tonight? No.  Why Michael, because he was pretty?  I don’t think Bono is that shallow.  The reason why is because Michael, like Morrison, was a poet.  A thinker.  A philosopher.  Michael knew the band was losing it’s fan base, that they could only go down.  Andrew knew this too (if the movie’s story line is true), but he seemed the only one that was OK with that. 

Whether Michael died accidentally or not doesn't matter.  What matters is that he left the game.  He will always be young.  He put up a good fight, and he was a star.  But he didn't go down with the ship.  And the rest of the band, (besides Andrew it seems) are desperately grasping at the last bits of the spoils of fame they can.  It’s sad.  It’s depressing.  It makes me hate INXS.