I must talk about a wonderful family who have become as special to me as my own family. Lady Shells and Mr. Music were given my number when their first daughter, Biscuit, was 6 months old as they needed a part-time sitter. Here we are 8 years later, they have a 2nd daughter, Doughnut, who is 4 1/2. I babysit whenever I can which is hardly ever these days, so mostly I just go over for dinner or to hang out whenever we can make it work. I have only ever missed one of the girls' school performances or recitals and that can be blamed on the most awful traffic. This family means the world to me and each one of them is a critical part of the development of McPie.
This brings me to the point of today's blog, last night we celebrated the 4th night of Hanukkah together, it was AMAZING! The story begins after candle lighting, I was sitting on the couch with Mr. Music when Doughnut sauntered up and in the most adorable voice says "Lysa (lie-su) can I be your sweetie?" and as my heart melted I replied "you already are my sweetie" then Doughnut says "no Lysa, I want you to be my mom...". Mr. Music and I almost died trying to hold back the laughter that would inevitably offend the 4 year old. Lady Shells is listening from the open kitchen and we all understood the innocence and sweetness of this. When I McPie am there at the house, we all get so excited because we don't get to all be together as much as we used to so everyone is on their best behavior (including myself) and kids don't get in trouble as often and there is an additional adult in the room to watch their shows and help open their presents and so on. Basically this interaction was perfect. I constantly have this fear that if I go too long without seeing them (by too long I mean 2 weeks), the kids won't be as fond of me so to speak, so it's conversations like the one I had with Doughnut that remind me how bonded I am to these kids.
The story continues but it skips forward about 30 minutes. Everyone is still having a great time, Biscuit and Doughnut opened a couple presents each and then it was my turn to give the family a gift from Mr. McPie and me. Biscuit turns to attention wearing her new purple gingham fedora and Doughnut walks a little closer to me so she is within arms reach. I tell them that my gift is to give Lady Shells and Mr. Music a date night while Mr. McPie and I take Biscuit and Doughnut on a date of our own to a pizza place, then an ice cream shop then to either rent a movie or go to a movie. Biscuit lights up, I mean she is going to have a grown-up night out, how awesome is that. And just as I begin feeling like wow how totally successful is this gift, I turn to Doughnut whose bottom lip is jutting out as it swallows her upper lip, and her eyes scrunch together and the wailing begins. "Oh my god Doughnut, what is wrong?" I say. She replies "That's not the kind of present I wanted, I want a present I can touch." At this point, 4 year old fatigue hysteria begins. I tell her how sad I am that she doesn't like my present and she is just heart broken about not having a present to open from me as she only got 2 presents tonight (as if that is the most horrible thing that has ever happened to her) when the other night she got hundreds of presents so she says. I need to explain here that in no way have Lady Shells and Mr. Music spoiled their children, and had I not been there and this fit happened, there would have been a kibosh squash SOOOOO fast. But I was there so I try to indulge a conversation and solution with my dear Doughnut as she is now sitting on my lap and crying on my shoulder. I suggested that on our date night, I bring a present she can open, does she want a necklace? or a bracelet perhaps? Through her tears, and without missing a beat, she tells me she wants a necklace....with lots of diamonds and a star....and then.....she screams again and the crying is in my ear and so so loud as she bawls "but I want my present right now wahhhhh". At this moment, I look at her and I smile and if feels like time stops for a second and everything starts going forward again in slow motion, as the ONLY thing I am thinking about as she howls in my ear, is how it must feel when you have your own children as I can't fathom how anyone could possibly love a child more than I do my Biscuit and Doughnut. Am I wrong to think that most people would be running for the hills in this moment?
p.s. I am aware the kid screaming thing isn't cute 99% of the time....
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
A very McPie dream
Most of my close friends and family know that I have ridiculously elaborate dreams and remember a huge portion of them, well I had a weird one last night/this morning and I think the only way to shake it is to write it down.
In the first half of my dream I had just moved back to Boston with my college best friend American Pie. We were with all these guys we shared a dorm floor with freshman year, one of them I just saw on facebook got married last week. We were all living near college and looking for work, but taking classes at the same time. Mr McPie had apparently told me he was breaking up with me for a couple of days, it hadn't sunk in at this point in my dream. (A total side note, and not part of this dream, Mr. McPie is making me pancakes right now....heaven, don't be jealous :-)). We were all broke but somehow really happy and seeing the lite, we rode on the T, met other students, told them we graduated 10 years ago but felt like picking up a few classes, I remember we all looked very young in the dream. Then in my dream I went to sleep and I was aware that I was in a very precarious emotional state and when I woke up in my dream, American Pie and I were living in Los Angeles with my mother, in my old bedroom, but my old bedroom was actually the bedroom from My Father and Step-Mother's house. At this point in the dream I am very sad because I am aware that Mr. McPie has broken up with me for a few days. In fact, he let me have the tickets to the concert we are going to. I had 2 tickets and I think Fro NoFro had a ticket as well so American Pie and I were going to give him a ride but then all of a sudden it wasn't really American Pie anymore, it was some other chick who I don't recognize but still call American Pie, and my gay high school boyfriend, who shall henceforth be referred to as the Mayor, was there and telling me why he broke up with me in high school. He was super effeminate in my dream and in the dream I was confused as to whether he was explaining to me why he dumped me in high school or why Mr. McPie broke up with me for a couple of days the day before. The Mayor told me it was because the environment was nicer to him than it was to me. WHAT?!?!?!? He said to me "look at your family, the environment wasn't nice to all of you." Then he told me that I also wasn't a girl of smaller size and told me to look at my pants. They were very light colored jeans, almost stone washed, and I also remember being aware they were a size 8 and too big (Hey, dreams are part fantasy right). At this point in my dream we are somehow now caravanning to the Rose Bowl, Fro NoFro, The Mayor, and American Pie are in the back car and Mr. McPie and I are leading in the front. I guess Mr McPie agreed to drop me off at the concert before driving to General Middle Irvine. AGAIN WHAT?!?!?! He said he needed dental work done and it would be a really long Saturday. Before I got out of the car he advised me not to be in alleys by myself, as he said that as he pointed to a tunnel we were driving under. Right before I woke up, American Pie was walking towards me and told me the boys were following close by. Mr. McPie said he loved me and we'd talk later....as if he might die in General Middle Irvine.
OK people, this is actually one of my milder dreams. Some things are very obvious to interpret but other things are kinda like huh? When I woke up this morning I was holding on to Mr. McPie very tightly; not only was I cutting off the circulation in his arm, I was cutting it off in my arm as well...not so happy making. Anyway, I do feel better now having spewed this all out so I am going to eat some pancakes....yummy.
p.s. I am sorry if the confusion of this post hurts any part of your brain.....at least in this dream I wasn't being chased by a Hairy Toothed Tiger.
In the first half of my dream I had just moved back to Boston with my college best friend American Pie. We were with all these guys we shared a dorm floor with freshman year, one of them I just saw on facebook got married last week. We were all living near college and looking for work, but taking classes at the same time. Mr McPie had apparently told me he was breaking up with me for a couple of days, it hadn't sunk in at this point in my dream. (A total side note, and not part of this dream, Mr. McPie is making me pancakes right now....heaven, don't be jealous :-)). We were all broke but somehow really happy and seeing the lite, we rode on the T, met other students, told them we graduated 10 years ago but felt like picking up a few classes, I remember we all looked very young in the dream. Then in my dream I went to sleep and I was aware that I was in a very precarious emotional state and when I woke up in my dream, American Pie and I were living in Los Angeles with my mother, in my old bedroom, but my old bedroom was actually the bedroom from My Father and Step-Mother's house. At this point in the dream I am very sad because I am aware that Mr. McPie has broken up with me for a few days. In fact, he let me have the tickets to the concert we are going to. I had 2 tickets and I think Fro NoFro had a ticket as well so American Pie and I were going to give him a ride but then all of a sudden it wasn't really American Pie anymore, it was some other chick who I don't recognize but still call American Pie, and my gay high school boyfriend, who shall henceforth be referred to as the Mayor, was there and telling me why he broke up with me in high school. He was super effeminate in my dream and in the dream I was confused as to whether he was explaining to me why he dumped me in high school or why Mr. McPie broke up with me for a couple of days the day before. The Mayor told me it was because the environment was nicer to him than it was to me. WHAT?!?!?!? He said to me "look at your family, the environment wasn't nice to all of you." Then he told me that I also wasn't a girl of smaller size and told me to look at my pants. They were very light colored jeans, almost stone washed, and I also remember being aware they were a size 8 and too big (Hey, dreams are part fantasy right). At this point in my dream we are somehow now caravanning to the Rose Bowl, Fro NoFro, The Mayor, and American Pie are in the back car and Mr. McPie and I are leading in the front. I guess Mr McPie agreed to drop me off at the concert before driving to General Middle Irvine. AGAIN WHAT?!?!?! He said he needed dental work done and it would be a really long Saturday. Before I got out of the car he advised me not to be in alleys by myself, as he said that as he pointed to a tunnel we were driving under. Right before I woke up, American Pie was walking towards me and told me the boys were following close by. Mr. McPie said he loved me and we'd talk later....as if he might die in General Middle Irvine.
OK people, this is actually one of my milder dreams. Some things are very obvious to interpret but other things are kinda like huh? When I woke up this morning I was holding on to Mr. McPie very tightly; not only was I cutting off the circulation in his arm, I was cutting it off in my arm as well...not so happy making. Anyway, I do feel better now having spewed this all out so I am going to eat some pancakes....yummy.
p.s. I am sorry if the confusion of this post hurts any part of your brain.....at least in this dream I wasn't being chased by a Hairy Toothed Tiger.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Push On McPie
So I have no idea why I got all insecure about blogging again and took a break (ya I'm aware how quickly i needed a break); even started questioning my own motives for blogging in the first place. Then I began wondering if this is part of a greater pattern in the life of McPie? I never really thought of myself as someone who doesn't finish what they start......but maybe I am.
I wrote a list:
When I was in the 2nd grade, I loved a series of books called Choose Your Own Adventure by R.A. Montgomery, I loved it so much that I talked about it...a lot. So my parents (still married to each other at the time) thought it would be a good idea to write one myself (this was, in fact, a trick they used to get me to stop talking which they learned from my first grade teacher. "McPie, why don't you write me a letter hmm?" said Mrs. Rabasa frustrated at the fact that McPie wouldn't stop talking while the rest of the class lay on their mats for nap time). Anyhow, I did it, I wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure book.....well most of it anyway. I actually distinctly remember NOT finishing it. There was a competition (probably hosted by scholastic news), and my dad was going to help me submit my book, and I wouldn't finish it. I was a very competitive child, so really I'm not sure what got into me. Mom and Dad, if either of you saved that book by any chance......I'd love to see it.
In 6th grade, in shop class, I decided to make Fro NoFro a skateboard.......hahahahahahahaha
In high school I started knitting a blanket, even bought enough yarn for the whole thing........I finished 3 12"x12" squares....I needed 25....I still have it.
OMIT COLLEGE EXAMPLE
OMIT POST COLLEGE EXAMPLE
A few years ago, I became a giant yoga junky, it was amazing, I was going to 6 classes a week, I felt amazing, my giant ass was looking like a rather fit giant ass. I stopped...I blamed it on money...load of crap. Lady Shells, dear friends and yoga teacher, said I could take her classes whenever I want and she would never charge me....I still haven't gone back. I saw Lady Shells last night...she reminded me of the free yoga offer, in fact she demanded I start showing up...I wonder what the odds are on that one.
Most recently , Sasa Wongstein and I wrote a script...we started in July, in August we had 10 pages left....now....we have 10 pages left...we have outlined those last 10 pages a million times, but we find every excuse in the book to not finish. It is an amazing tween script by the by, with lots of action and plenty of good messages in case anyone is buying!
So here we are....I am the queen of sabotaging my own hobbies..what is that about? I know that I hate the end of doing anything because it's freakin' scary (anyone who I have ever worked with on anything, project or film, knows the puddles of tears that soak my feet and theirs when the end is near). I mean the end means that people will see things and judge them and compare and everything, and it means something new will start which can be exciting and daunting and anxiety inducing...I get it, it's obvious. But hobbies? Things that are for me don't get finished and I have no idea why.
Well I am continuing, with no plan to finish of course....definite plans for disappearing every now and again, but really that's my personality, I am phase driven I suppose. I get inspired quickly, move on, and lose my inspiration....must talk about this with shrink ASAP.
p.s. Mr McPie and I are going to Vegas for the weekend, we have tickets to a concert. 2 days ago, I actually said "we don't have to go if you don't want to?". Is this somehow related to my chronic hobby quitting I wonder? I need to get a grip if anyone knows where I can get a cheap one.
I wrote a list:
When I was in the 2nd grade, I loved a series of books called Choose Your Own Adventure by R.A. Montgomery, I loved it so much that I talked about it...a lot. So my parents (still married to each other at the time) thought it would be a good idea to write one myself (this was, in fact, a trick they used to get me to stop talking which they learned from my first grade teacher. "McPie, why don't you write me a letter hmm?" said Mrs. Rabasa frustrated at the fact that McPie wouldn't stop talking while the rest of the class lay on their mats for nap time). Anyhow, I did it, I wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure book.....well most of it anyway. I actually distinctly remember NOT finishing it. There was a competition (probably hosted by scholastic news), and my dad was going to help me submit my book, and I wouldn't finish it. I was a very competitive child, so really I'm not sure what got into me. Mom and Dad, if either of you saved that book by any chance......I'd love to see it.
In 6th grade, in shop class, I decided to make Fro NoFro a skateboard.......hahahahahahahaha
In high school I started knitting a blanket, even bought enough yarn for the whole thing........I finished 3 12"x12" squares....I needed 25....I still have it.
OMIT COLLEGE EXAMPLE
OMIT POST COLLEGE EXAMPLE
A few years ago, I became a giant yoga junky, it was amazing, I was going to 6 classes a week, I felt amazing, my giant ass was looking like a rather fit giant ass. I stopped...I blamed it on money...load of crap. Lady Shells, dear friends and yoga teacher, said I could take her classes whenever I want and she would never charge me....I still haven't gone back. I saw Lady Shells last night...she reminded me of the free yoga offer, in fact she demanded I start showing up...I wonder what the odds are on that one.
Most recently , Sasa Wongstein and I wrote a script...we started in July, in August we had 10 pages left....now....we have 10 pages left...we have outlined those last 10 pages a million times, but we find every excuse in the book to not finish. It is an amazing tween script by the by, with lots of action and plenty of good messages in case anyone is buying!
So here we are....I am the queen of sabotaging my own hobbies..what is that about? I know that I hate the end of doing anything because it's freakin' scary (anyone who I have ever worked with on anything, project or film, knows the puddles of tears that soak my feet and theirs when the end is near). I mean the end means that people will see things and judge them and compare and everything, and it means something new will start which can be exciting and daunting and anxiety inducing...I get it, it's obvious. But hobbies? Things that are for me don't get finished and I have no idea why.
Well I am continuing, with no plan to finish of course....definite plans for disappearing every now and again, but really that's my personality, I am phase driven I suppose. I get inspired quickly, move on, and lose my inspiration....must talk about this with shrink ASAP.
p.s. Mr McPie and I are going to Vegas for the weekend, we have tickets to a concert. 2 days ago, I actually said "we don't have to go if you don't want to?". Is this somehow related to my chronic hobby quitting I wonder? I need to get a grip if anyone knows where I can get a cheap one.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Fly McPie Fly
Tomorrow morning, bright and 6:00am early, Mr. McPie, my brother Fro NoFro and my soon-to-be sister-in-law Carat will fly back East to see my entire family for turkey day. Mr. McPie has only met my Mother, Fro NoFro and Carat to date. So this week he will meet my Father, Step-Mom, Mr. Mom (Step-Father), older sister Stoop, little sister Booty, aunt, uncle, and a slew of cousins....needless to say it is a big week.
Now last weekend I met Mr. McPie's entire family and it was amazing, couldn't have gone better really so there is a lot for this week to live up to. What will Stoop and Booty think of Mr. McPie? What will Mr. McPie think of Stoop and Booty? My Mother, Fro NoFro and Carat all adore him already and I know that both my Step-Mom and Mr. Mom will be wonderful as they are both incredibly social people, however, I have never introduced either of them, or my Father to anyone I ever called my boyfriend and more importantly my Mr. McPie (I did introduce my Dad to my boyfriend senior year of high school, that boyfriend is out of the closet now...no I am not trying to make a correlation). As I am a girl, I do get more nervous about my Father meeting Mr. McPie than I would other people; my Dad is not an intimidating guy by any means, but he is my Father and firsts are always scary.
Look, I am 31 and when I am talking to my Dad and say "we stayed at Mr. McPie's place last night" for whatever reason, I get incredibly nervous and embarrassed...like OMG my dad knows that I stayed at Mr. McPie's place and he probably knows what we did there! I'm telling you, I feel like a child. My nerves are swimming around my stomach like little chickens.......oh mygoodness, do you see my point? I know that chickens don't swim! Mr. McPie said I have been acting like a crazy person all weekend (I assure you he was sweet as pie when he said it). I have tried to explain to myself numerous times that there is nothing to be nervous about (which is mostly true) and that I, McPie am confusing all of the excitement with nervousness, but for some reason, my brain is confused (and yes I mean more-so than usual).
I do have to go get emotionally prepared to take Hot Body and Plus Sized Model to Wiwi's house, she and Mr. Wiwi are taking care of the dogs for the week with the help of their two pit-bulls, one of which only has 3 legs. Mr. McPie asked "will the ladiesbe ok without us for a week?" my response "no"....we are still dropping them off..........
p.s. I have yet to ever drop the ladies off without crying 10 minutes later........daddy issues AND doggie issues......I'm so super screwed!
Now last weekend I met Mr. McPie's entire family and it was amazing, couldn't have gone better really so there is a lot for this week to live up to. What will Stoop and Booty think of Mr. McPie? What will Mr. McPie think of Stoop and Booty? My Mother, Fro NoFro and Carat all adore him already and I know that both my Step-Mom and Mr. Mom will be wonderful as they are both incredibly social people, however, I have never introduced either of them, or my Father to anyone I ever called my boyfriend and more importantly my Mr. McPie (I did introduce my Dad to my boyfriend senior year of high school, that boyfriend is out of the closet now...no I am not trying to make a correlation). As I am a girl, I do get more nervous about my Father meeting Mr. McPie than I would other people; my Dad is not an intimidating guy by any means, but he is my Father and firsts are always scary.
Look, I am 31 and when I am talking to my Dad and say "we stayed at Mr. McPie's place last night" for whatever reason, I get incredibly nervous and embarrassed...like OMG my dad knows that I stayed at Mr. McPie's place and he probably knows what we did there! I'm telling you, I feel like a child. My nerves are swimming around my stomach like little chickens.......oh mygoodness, do you see my point? I know that chickens don't swim! Mr. McPie said I have been acting like a crazy person all weekend (I assure you he was sweet as pie when he said it). I have tried to explain to myself numerous times that there is nothing to be nervous about (which is mostly true) and that I, McPie am confusing all of the excitement with nervousness, but for some reason, my brain is confused (and yes I mean more-so than usual).
I do have to go get emotionally prepared to take Hot Body and Plus Sized Model to Wiwi's house, she and Mr. Wiwi are taking care of the dogs for the week with the help of their two pit-bulls, one of which only has 3 legs. Mr. McPie asked "will the ladiesbe ok without us for a week?" my response "no"....we are still dropping them off..........
p.s. I have yet to ever drop the ladies off without crying 10 minutes later........daddy issues AND doggie issues......I'm so super screwed!
Hated that last McPie post
So i just read that feminist McPie post and frankly I can't stand it,....I could take it down, but its part of the evolution of this blog and I insist on leaving it up as a reminder of how not to write if you are trying to be interesting, in fact, how 'bout I don't try to be interesting anymore. If any of you had the urge, after reading it, to poor something stronger than the coffee into your coffee...forget the coffee.
moving on.
p.s. I changed my mind, i took it down.
moving on.
p.s. I changed my mind, i took it down.
Friday, November 20, 2009
A Serious McPie
Mr. McPie and I just saw A SERIOUS MAN, i'm not sure that I will let on what I felt about it, but it made me think...shocking I know. I have said before how strange I think it is to feel both conceited and self conscious while blogging and then I watch a movie like this and I think of other things that people (I McPie) do that are just as, if not more, conceited than this, and not fully controllable.
Lets take a stereotypical Mother. To make clear which aspect of the Mother I speak, I speak of the overwhelming feelings of guilt in which they all suffer and the overwhelming feelings of guilt in which they dump on their children.--- I must interrupt myself to add in the disclaimer that I am quite aware that I don't actually know what it feels like to be a mother so if I insult any mothers out there, I apologize in advance, I hope to have your job one day --- I am going to tie these two paragraphs together to tell you that a theme I found in the film (I am ruining nothing I swear) is the same one I am speaking of...Guilt. Guilt in it's own right can be a conceited feeling (I know I have mentioned what a guilt ridden person I McPie is); I am not talking about the guilt you feel when you accidentally run over your neighbor's 18 year old cat and can't sleep.....ever again, I am talking about the idea "what have I done to deserve this" (example of feeling guilt) and "how come you never to tell me what is going on in your life, you tell all your siblings, but I ask and you poo poo me, you must think I am an awful mother" (example of pouring on the guilt).
The example I mention in feeling guilt assumes that we have enough power to actually change the course of the universe, and everyone in it, so that it comes back around, returns its focus to us (if in fact it ever left) and causes suffering. So in my humble opinion, if and when you catch yourself saying "what have I done to deserve this" keep in mind, the chances are you did nothing and really are you that conceited? See just like that the guilt should be gone (I will let you know tomorrow if I was able to sleep tonight because of all the guilt I am already feeling about all the people I possibly just offended).
I paused for a while before writing this paragraph and on because I couldn't figure out how to bring all these thoughts together (a very common occurrence in my brain) and I think I may have figured it out....a little bit. I left out the Mother guilt that occurs the most, the guilt that Mother's feel when their kid skins a knee, or doesn't like what's for dinner, or instills a curfew. Maybe Mothers have to have enormous feelings of guilt because without it, how would they know how important it is to let their children skin their knees, or force them to eat their vegetables, and to stand firmly on the word "no" even when they know it will cause a major rebellion (my rebellion involved hanging out with some ridiculously tortured souls...and trying to fix them....shocker). If doing something wrong doesn't make one feel guilty than why try so hard to do things right. Maybe the guilt I constantly feel isn't as conceited as I think, maybe I am having life-before-motherhood guilt, thus another piece of evidence in my destiny to be a mother.
P.S. I realize I said nothing about the second Mother example I gave on types of guilt, I just think it's hilarious that my mother says "poo poo me"...I laugh so hard inside that I completely forget that I am supposed to be feeling bad about something.
Lets take a stereotypical Mother. To make clear which aspect of the Mother I speak, I speak of the overwhelming feelings of guilt in which they all suffer and the overwhelming feelings of guilt in which they dump on their children.--- I must interrupt myself to add in the disclaimer that I am quite aware that I don't actually know what it feels like to be a mother so if I insult any mothers out there, I apologize in advance, I hope to have your job one day --- I am going to tie these two paragraphs together to tell you that a theme I found in the film (I am ruining nothing I swear) is the same one I am speaking of...Guilt. Guilt in it's own right can be a conceited feeling (I know I have mentioned what a guilt ridden person I McPie is); I am not talking about the guilt you feel when you accidentally run over your neighbor's 18 year old cat and can't sleep.....ever again, I am talking about the idea "what have I done to deserve this" (example of feeling guilt) and "how come you never to tell me what is going on in your life, you tell all your siblings, but I ask and you poo poo me, you must think I am an awful mother" (example of pouring on the guilt).
The example I mention in feeling guilt assumes that we have enough power to actually change the course of the universe, and everyone in it, so that it comes back around, returns its focus to us (if in fact it ever left) and causes suffering. So in my humble opinion, if and when you catch yourself saying "what have I done to deserve this" keep in mind, the chances are you did nothing and really are you that conceited? See just like that the guilt should be gone (I will let you know tomorrow if I was able to sleep tonight because of all the guilt I am already feeling about all the people I possibly just offended).
I paused for a while before writing this paragraph and on because I couldn't figure out how to bring all these thoughts together (a very common occurrence in my brain) and I think I may have figured it out....a little bit. I left out the Mother guilt that occurs the most, the guilt that Mother's feel when their kid skins a knee, or doesn't like what's for dinner, or instills a curfew. Maybe Mothers have to have enormous feelings of guilt because without it, how would they know how important it is to let their children skin their knees, or force them to eat their vegetables, and to stand firmly on the word "no" even when they know it will cause a major rebellion (my rebellion involved hanging out with some ridiculously tortured souls...and trying to fix them....shocker). If doing something wrong doesn't make one feel guilty than why try so hard to do things right. Maybe the guilt I constantly feel isn't as conceited as I think, maybe I am having life-before-motherhood guilt, thus another piece of evidence in my destiny to be a mother.
P.S. I realize I said nothing about the second Mother example I gave on types of guilt, I just think it's hilarious that my mother says "poo poo me"...I laugh so hard inside that I completely forget that I am supposed to be feeling bad about something.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Canines McPie
We have all heard that our dogs become reflections of ourselves, well I have two and the rule still applies. Hot Body is the tall skinny California girl in me and Plus Size Model is the short fat New Yorker in me. (I usually say tall skinny white girl and short fat black girl but I am trying really hard not to be offensive when the "black girl" part really only refers to the size of her ass and mine...oh and she's black). These descriptions don't sound so bad when I say them like this, but to me, and everyone who knows these lovable ladies, these labels have serious implications.
For the record, I LOVE my dogs. I do refer to their crate as Jail, but this is only because I know with all my heart that Hot Body and Plus Size Model do not know that Jail is a place where bad people go. I say "Time for Jail" and they wag their butts, one much larger than the other, and skip into their crate, its a beautiful thing.
Hot Body, tall skinny California girl, is unbearably needy, I mean I sit down to pee and she jumps on my lap before my ass hits the seat. I'd be lying if I didn't say I have, on occasion, indulged this toilet jumping behavior, even though I know how absurd it is... no matter how you look at it. She is 19 lbs of follows-me-wherever-I-go-and-cries-when-I-put-on-my-shoes-love. This poor girl has more angst in her than a high school valedictorian waiting at the mail box for her early admissions letter to the university of this-school-will-clearly-determine-the success-of-the-rest-of-my-life. When I make a noise, any noise, (a yawn, a burp, a giggle, a sniffle) Hot Body comes to attention and immediately stares directly into my soul to make sure I am alright. If Hot Body could get under my skin to feel my pulse at ALL times...she would find a way....I have explained to her numerous times that I am not biologically her mother...she isn't getting it. Now I am someone who desperately wants to know how everyone is feeling ALL the time. For example, it wouldn't bother me the slightest bit if every 5 minutes Mr. McPie shouted out things like "content" "perturbed" "gloriously happy because of how wonderful you are and how lucky I feel to have you in my life", see this way, I would never worry that maybe he hasn't spoken in the last 5 minutes because he is about to leave me for someone who isn't as full of angst and needy as I am (abandonment issues...but really, who doesn't have them). Hot Body has abandonment issues as well, by the way, as a particular mother-like relative of mine is the one who purchased them and then 1 month later decided they should go to LaLa Land to live with me, of course I was part of that decision, but Hot Body doesn't see it that way, she told me. The neediness in me is apparent in that I simply cannot be in a room with Mr. McPie without touching him. I mean sometimes we are sitting on the couch and he holds my hand, somehow that isn't enough, I have to cross my other arm over my body and hold his bicep with that hand, it even seems nuts to me when I read what I just wrote...oops. Hot Body and I, McPie, could be in the same group therapy.
Now Plus Size Model is an easier comparison, we have very similar senses of humor, we both have awful allergies and incredibly sensitive skin, oh oh oh and we both love to be massaged in the area directly above our giant butts. Most people would say that Plus Size Model is perfect. We are kindred spirits...I am sure of it.
In conclusion, If my dogs could blog...they would.
For the record, I LOVE my dogs. I do refer to their crate as Jail, but this is only because I know with all my heart that Hot Body and Plus Size Model do not know that Jail is a place where bad people go. I say "Time for Jail" and they wag their butts, one much larger than the other, and skip into their crate, its a beautiful thing.
Hot Body, tall skinny California girl, is unbearably needy, I mean I sit down to pee and she jumps on my lap before my ass hits the seat. I'd be lying if I didn't say I have, on occasion, indulged this toilet jumping behavior, even though I know how absurd it is... no matter how you look at it. She is 19 lbs of follows-me-wherever-I-go-and-cries-when-I-put-on-my-shoes-love. This poor girl has more angst in her than a high school valedictorian waiting at the mail box for her early admissions letter to the university of this-school-will-clearly-determine-the success-of-the-rest-of-my-life. When I make a noise, any noise, (a yawn, a burp, a giggle, a sniffle) Hot Body comes to attention and immediately stares directly into my soul to make sure I am alright. If Hot Body could get under my skin to feel my pulse at ALL times...she would find a way....I have explained to her numerous times that I am not biologically her mother...she isn't getting it. Now I am someone who desperately wants to know how everyone is feeling ALL the time. For example, it wouldn't bother me the slightest bit if every 5 minutes Mr. McPie shouted out things like "content" "perturbed" "gloriously happy because of how wonderful you are and how lucky I feel to have you in my life", see this way, I would never worry that maybe he hasn't spoken in the last 5 minutes because he is about to leave me for someone who isn't as full of angst and needy as I am (abandonment issues...but really, who doesn't have them). Hot Body has abandonment issues as well, by the way, as a particular mother-like relative of mine is the one who purchased them and then 1 month later decided they should go to LaLa Land to live with me, of course I was part of that decision, but Hot Body doesn't see it that way, she told me. The neediness in me is apparent in that I simply cannot be in a room with Mr. McPie without touching him. I mean sometimes we are sitting on the couch and he holds my hand, somehow that isn't enough, I have to cross my other arm over my body and hold his bicep with that hand, it even seems nuts to me when I read what I just wrote...oops. Hot Body and I, McPie, could be in the same group therapy.
Now Plus Size Model is an easier comparison, we have very similar senses of humor, we both have awful allergies and incredibly sensitive skin, oh oh oh and we both love to be massaged in the area directly above our giant butts. Most people would say that Plus Size Model is perfect. We are kindred spirits...I am sure of it.
In conclusion, If my dogs could blog...they would.
"I" McPie
The word "I" makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I know how strange this sounds as I sit here blogging about myself to the world.....you must know it wasn't easy to get here, this is a huge step in the evolution of McPie. "I" have always been great at taking care of things for projects and/or other people. "I would love to introduce you to so and so, i totally think this is the man of your dreams and its my birthday party and this would make me happy" or "I am happy to pass your resume on for a position that we all know I should probably go after myself but can't think of a single reason why i deserve it more than you" or "yes, I will gladly take care of your children so that you can go out and have a good time, and i will sit here for 4 hours watching your spawn even though 3 of those hours they will be sound asleep and I will be watching the television, only on a less pretty television than the one I have at home." Now please know, I in no way claiming to be this selfless of a person. I do these things because they make ME happy, there is a very odd selfishness in knowing that I introduced someone to their husband, or really helped someone get a job. I don't run around with a sign saying "ooh ooh ooh look what I did" but I sure do hold my head damn high thinking about these things. And on occasion, I have actually aided in someone's new relationship that turns out to be awful or helped find someone a job that was no better than a Hollywood sweatshop and I feel AWFUL, sickly guilty, to the point where I become so annoying with apologies and ass kissing that I permanently damage my own relationships.
So what I have concluded is that I use "I" a lot, but mostly when it applies to you. I need to use "I" to improve my own life, and I know for a fact I am not the only person out there who is guilty of putting themselves second to ...well..most everyone and everything. My best friend from high school, Snoop, isn't good at the "I" thing either and we constantly have these pep talks where we talk about how one of us has had a revelation and is really going to start focusing on her own needs and screw everyone else. I would say by the second check-in conversation on how this new lifestyle is working, either Snoop or I have failed miserably, but in such a way that neither of us realizes we have done it until the next time we have a conversation about how we are going to start taking care of ourselves. It's a vicious cycle. Snoop and I have always been phenomenal at taking care of each other, we are enablers.
Mr. McPie, my dream man, can also be my worst nightmare. "Whatever makes you happy hon" is the most common phrase to pass through his lips. I cry because it makes me happy and because i don't have a clue how to make a decision based on what makes ME happy because what makes ME happy is what makes HIM happy. It seems like a real ass-hole thing to be upset about, but it is truly a struggle for me.
It will be easy for people to read this post and think "oh poor her meh meh meh" but know this is not a complaint, this post is an observation, these are the humps I have to get over to figure out what I am supposed to be doing with my life at this moment in time. There will be plenty of other posts where I write about my mean streak, how selfish I am, how I unnecessarily abuse my mother, and how I have morbid thoughts about torturing Hot Body and Plus Size Model....
p.s. I just turned to Mr. McPie and asked him if I was totally conceited for writing this.......
So what I have concluded is that I use "I" a lot, but mostly when it applies to you. I need to use "I" to improve my own life, and I know for a fact I am not the only person out there who is guilty of putting themselves second to ...well..most everyone and everything. My best friend from high school, Snoop, isn't good at the "I" thing either and we constantly have these pep talks where we talk about how one of us has had a revelation and is really going to start focusing on her own needs and screw everyone else. I would say by the second check-in conversation on how this new lifestyle is working, either Snoop or I have failed miserably, but in such a way that neither of us realizes we have done it until the next time we have a conversation about how we are going to start taking care of ourselves. It's a vicious cycle. Snoop and I have always been phenomenal at taking care of each other, we are enablers.
Mr. McPie, my dream man, can also be my worst nightmare. "Whatever makes you happy hon" is the most common phrase to pass through his lips. I cry because it makes me happy and because i don't have a clue how to make a decision based on what makes ME happy because what makes ME happy is what makes HIM happy. It seems like a real ass-hole thing to be upset about, but it is truly a struggle for me.
It will be easy for people to read this post and think "oh poor her meh meh meh" but know this is not a complaint, this post is an observation, these are the humps I have to get over to figure out what I am supposed to be doing with my life at this moment in time. There will be plenty of other posts where I write about my mean streak, how selfish I am, how I unnecessarily abuse my mother, and how I have morbid thoughts about torturing Hot Body and Plus Size Model....
p.s. I just turned to Mr. McPie and asked him if I was totally conceited for writing this.......
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Mother McPie
I am told that I, McPie, was speaking full sentences (run-on I am sure) and tying my shoes at nine months old. And it was then, at nine months old, that everyone started saying that one day I would rule the world. Hello all you parents out there, that is a hell of a lot of pressure to put on a kid. I was born and bread to be in charge, I was born to be a mother. So as I sit here staring at my all-over-the-place resume and I read down the list of all these professions where I was in charge, I wonder....what am I supposed to do before It's my turn to be a mother?
The thing is, it IS about being a mother for me......(current best friends and various ex-boyfriends can attest to this). The one thing I have ALWAYS wanted to be is a mother. So even when I was saying "when I grow up, I want to be a photographer" (I thought that meant secretary when I was little, and no, it wasn't the other way around) the kind of "photographer" I wanted to be was the kind that had lots of papers to move around on a desk, and I would move those papers around before and after picking my kids up from school, bathing them, and cooking them dinner. And to clarify where I got the impression that this is what a "photographer" did, I have a vivid memory of my mother moving papers around on a desk, probably bills, I should also mention that at the time, my mother was a professional photographer (the kind that actually takes photos)...and thus my toddler confusion. Having children was what I dreamed about while producing films and while marketing a day school. It's what I think about now when I try and get some client to purchase more cakes than last time, would I feed my own children these cakes? (in this case, the answer happens to be yes, I am morally opposed to hocking a product I don't fully believe in. I have been told I stand too firmly on my moral high ground.....many stories to back this up).
Knowing what I have always wanted to do with my life doesn't help in figuring out what to do right now. And please know, I haven't ever left a job that wasn't leaving me so to speak...I don't seek the ranks of career dissatisfaction hastily (did I mention I am obscenely wordy?).
At this very instant I have an unbearable urge to go do something for Mr. McPie while he isn't looking.....like unload the dishwasher. :-) hasta
The thing is, it IS about being a mother for me......(current best friends and various ex-boyfriends can attest to this). The one thing I have ALWAYS wanted to be is a mother. So even when I was saying "when I grow up, I want to be a photographer" (I thought that meant secretary when I was little, and no, it wasn't the other way around) the kind of "photographer" I wanted to be was the kind that had lots of papers to move around on a desk, and I would move those papers around before and after picking my kids up from school, bathing them, and cooking them dinner. And to clarify where I got the impression that this is what a "photographer" did, I have a vivid memory of my mother moving papers around on a desk, probably bills, I should also mention that at the time, my mother was a professional photographer (the kind that actually takes photos)...and thus my toddler confusion. Having children was what I dreamed about while producing films and while marketing a day school. It's what I think about now when I try and get some client to purchase more cakes than last time, would I feed my own children these cakes? (in this case, the answer happens to be yes, I am morally opposed to hocking a product I don't fully believe in. I have been told I stand too firmly on my moral high ground.....many stories to back this up).
Knowing what I have always wanted to do with my life doesn't help in figuring out what to do right now. And please know, I haven't ever left a job that wasn't leaving me so to speak...I don't seek the ranks of career dissatisfaction hastily (did I mention I am obscenely wordy?).
At this very instant I have an unbearable urge to go do something for Mr. McPie while he isn't looking.....like unload the dishwasher. :-) hasta
Who and Why I McPie?
As your average, everyday overly guilt ridden human being, i find it difficult to justify blogging without first apologizing and saying thank you for whatever time you spend reading this.
Now for the first order of business, I shall henceforth be referred to as McPie. I McPie am happy as a clam (usually this would mean something dirty coming from my mouth, but for now I am truly referring to the ever smiling shell of a clam) most of the time, I have hilariously morbid thoughts, and am a HUGE fan of run-on sentences.
Second order of business, my wonderful boyfriend will be referred to as Mr. McPie. It is true we are not married but he is the Mister to my McPie, and as he is currently the most frequently witness to my ever turning brain; he has earned this title twofold. What should be known about Mr. McPie is that, unlike me, every word he utters has been carefully thought out and planned. Where I lack in outside-voice-filters, one could say he has the perfect amount.
Third order of business is to mention my dogs, these little ladies will be referred to by their middle names, Hot Body and Plus Size Model.
Now that all of these little details are out of the way I should tell you why I am writing. Well the honest truth is that I am going bat shit crazy. I am 31 years old and i have no idea what I am doing anymore in terms of a career. I produced three feature films before turning 27, worked retail in fine jewelry, was the director of marketing and admissions at a private Jewish school in Beverly Hills, and currently a client relations manager at a food company. I have been all over the place and am completely unsatisfied at the moment. I am also currently a full time wedding party participant, In the next 8 months, I will be a Maid of Honor twice, a Bridesmaid once, and a sister of the Groom once. With all of this on my resume, I am completely lost. The thing that makes me most happy in life and the thing that I am really great at is taking care of the people I love. Now, if anyone can tell me how to get paid for this, I am open to suggestions.
Don't for a second think I am not aware of all of the psychological implications in this. I NEED to be NEEDED. Without feeling needed and necessary, I shrivel into a pathetic ball of wo-is-me depression, readjust my meds a million times, talk to my therapist more and my parents less, listen to too many ballads and talk to Hot Body and Plus Sized Model as if taking care of them is my only reason to wake up in the morning. Thank god for Mr. McPie, even though he is completely self sufficient, he indulges me by letting me clean the dishes and take his laundry to the cleaners, I kid you not he hates that I do these things (no he is not that good of an actor) but he knows it makes me happy so he grabs onto his neuroses, steps back and lets me do my thing (I am actually pretty sure he rearranges the dish washer when I leave the room....kind of makes it sweet). Many people may find this weak and pathetic, and maybe it is, but my desire to do these things is ridiculously strong and I HAVE to feed it. I am an AMAZING unmarried housewife....however, I am an AWFUL housekeeper. I do want to be good at cleaning but apparently I suck at it....I mean suck bad. I have many roommates from my past who would attest to this. I can tidy up well, and i never leave dirty dishes in the sink (HUGE pet peeve), but this "tidying" I do is not the same thing as "cleaning". Thank god for Roomba and the swiffer. I happen to be a pretty great cook and baker and I happen to be in a relationship with the one man whose heart is not in anyway connected to his stomach. So when i cook, its to have fun in the kitchen and experiment, not to make Mr. McPie happy when he comes home from a long day at work. Don't get me wrong, he appreciates my cooking completely, but food doesn't interest him the way it does most people (there are stories behind this that may or may not be told in the future).
So that was the long explanation to perhaps why I feel the urge to blog. The short answer is that I clearly need to start a new dialogue with myself about what to do next in my career or lack there of.....I am hoping that when I have all these thoughts on paper, I will be inspired by them..
p.s. If it wasn't clear, I am Jewish...Mr. McPie thinks it important that I share this :-)
Now for the first order of business, I shall henceforth be referred to as McPie. I McPie am happy as a clam (usually this would mean something dirty coming from my mouth, but for now I am truly referring to the ever smiling shell of a clam) most of the time, I have hilariously morbid thoughts, and am a HUGE fan of run-on sentences.
Second order of business, my wonderful boyfriend will be referred to as Mr. McPie. It is true we are not married but he is the Mister to my McPie, and as he is currently the most frequently witness to my ever turning brain; he has earned this title twofold. What should be known about Mr. McPie is that, unlike me, every word he utters has been carefully thought out and planned. Where I lack in outside-voice-filters, one could say he has the perfect amount.
Third order of business is to mention my dogs, these little ladies will be referred to by their middle names, Hot Body and Plus Size Model.
Now that all of these little details are out of the way I should tell you why I am writing. Well the honest truth is that I am going bat shit crazy. I am 31 years old and i have no idea what I am doing anymore in terms of a career. I produced three feature films before turning 27, worked retail in fine jewelry, was the director of marketing and admissions at a private Jewish school in Beverly Hills, and currently a client relations manager at a food company. I have been all over the place and am completely unsatisfied at the moment. I am also currently a full time wedding party participant, In the next 8 months, I will be a Maid of Honor twice, a Bridesmaid once, and a sister of the Groom once. With all of this on my resume, I am completely lost. The thing that makes me most happy in life and the thing that I am really great at is taking care of the people I love. Now, if anyone can tell me how to get paid for this, I am open to suggestions.
Don't for a second think I am not aware of all of the psychological implications in this. I NEED to be NEEDED. Without feeling needed and necessary, I shrivel into a pathetic ball of wo-is-me depression, readjust my meds a million times, talk to my therapist more and my parents less, listen to too many ballads and talk to Hot Body and Plus Sized Model as if taking care of them is my only reason to wake up in the morning. Thank god for Mr. McPie, even though he is completely self sufficient, he indulges me by letting me clean the dishes and take his laundry to the cleaners, I kid you not he hates that I do these things (no he is not that good of an actor) but he knows it makes me happy so he grabs onto his neuroses, steps back and lets me do my thing (I am actually pretty sure he rearranges the dish washer when I leave the room....kind of makes it sweet). Many people may find this weak and pathetic, and maybe it is, but my desire to do these things is ridiculously strong and I HAVE to feed it. I am an AMAZING unmarried housewife....however, I am an AWFUL housekeeper. I do want to be good at cleaning but apparently I suck at it....I mean suck bad. I have many roommates from my past who would attest to this. I can tidy up well, and i never leave dirty dishes in the sink (HUGE pet peeve), but this "tidying" I do is not the same thing as "cleaning". Thank god for Roomba and the swiffer. I happen to be a pretty great cook and baker and I happen to be in a relationship with the one man whose heart is not in anyway connected to his stomach. So when i cook, its to have fun in the kitchen and experiment, not to make Mr. McPie happy when he comes home from a long day at work. Don't get me wrong, he appreciates my cooking completely, but food doesn't interest him the way it does most people (there are stories behind this that may or may not be told in the future).
So that was the long explanation to perhaps why I feel the urge to blog. The short answer is that I clearly need to start a new dialogue with myself about what to do next in my career or lack there of.....I am hoping that when I have all these thoughts on paper, I will be inspired by them..
p.s. If it wasn't clear, I am Jewish...Mr. McPie thinks it important that I share this :-)
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