Welcome to Leslie Dishes!!!!! Read my weekly rants regarding my dysfunctional upbringing, struggles with motherhood, intolerance for stupidity and life's general observations. You'll find that I tend to get myself into trouble....often. Read how I successfully manuever my way out of these debacles. Sometimes I'm just an idiot. Enjoy. ~Leslie Bosscher
Be You. Don't be them.
My recent post (Chicken Soup For My Soul) was about the security I have within my close girlfriends. Later that day, I was talking to a girlfriend who told me that she ran into someone recently. Minimal, polite pleasantries were exchanged among my girlfriend and that other person. Apparently, the other woman began to rattle off names of unmemorable people that she’d recently hung out with. I guess my friend was supposed to be impressed, but she wasn’t because she didn’t know or care who any of these impressive people were. Girlfriend says to me the next day, “Why does she always do that?? Like I care..” My only response was, “because she’s desperate for friends and she thinks her only worth is who she hangs out with”. My sweet, little friend seemed satisfied with that answer and then we went onto talk about more important topics.
But, our conversation stayed with me for a while afterward. It’s sad, actually. That anyone would purposefully name drop in a conversation, just to feel good about their self. Name dropping is obnoxious in 5th grade. It’s downright pathetic at age 40.
By the time we reach middle age, we should probably have a pretty good understanding of who we are. If the only thing you have to talk about is whose party you invited yourself to, you probably don’t have much going on. Is there really nothing else in your life that you care to report, besides who you spend time with? So, going back to the last post ... Among my friends, I don’t ever think I’d ever be so insecure that I’d have to incorporate their names into my self-worth. I’ve got my own thing going on. I don’t need to align myself with anyone to feel good about myself. I realize that might not be as easy for some people. It comes with age and it comes from within. You have to like yourself before you can expect anyone else to genuinely like you. All signs point to [said] person NOT really liking herself. But, what do I know? Some people collect stamps or coins, some people collect “people” to stand in as ‘friends’. Whatever works for you, I guess.
I’m just saying, at this stage of the game (30’s, 40’s, 50’s…..) I would have thought most women would have gotten over that petty ‘clique-thing’ by now. No? Guess not. Still not comfortable in your own skin? Despite having a great life? No? Ok… Whatever, be weird. Suit yourself.
But back to that conversation I had where an acquaintance asked why she doesn’t see me out (socially) much. Gee….I wonder. It all sounds so enticing, but I’ll be over here… doin’ my own thing, with my own friends. Excuse me if I don’t feel the need to talk about it, so that everyone knows what I did and with whom I did it. I know where I kick up my heels and clink my glass, and that’s good enough for me.
It's not all roses
I don't know how to 'fake it'. At least you'll always know where you stand with me. I was not born with that ability to smile and nod. I have zero filter between my brain and my mouth and if I'm upset, sad or annoyed, you'll know it. It's a curse, really.
If given the opportunity, I'd change my appearance in a hot second. Nose, lips, chin, eyelids---BAM! It's a good thing I'm a fun & decent human being because I'm pretty sure if I had a bad personality, I'd hate myself.
I get bored VERY easily. I set a goal. I obtain the goal. I want something else. It's maddening. I have to learn to be content.
I'm impatient. I can't even watch tv without scrolling through Pinterest and flipping through magazines at the same time.
I don't give my kid the attention they deserve. In my defense, they say, "Mom, look" about 395 times a day---EACH! I start the day with good intentions, then around 7 PM, they'll say, "Mom, LOOK" and I'll just say, "no. " I wish I was absolutely fascinated with every syllable that comes out of their mouth from sun up to sun down, but that's simply not realistic for me.
I overreact. I have this thing where my mind gets away from me and I'll create the worst possible situation and then I'll react to a situation that never happened. My own imagination tortures me.
I don't give my husband the attention that he deserves. He comes home from work and he'd love to tell me about his day and he'd love for me to be interested. Unfortunately, I'm so spent at the end of the day that I just want him to sit quietly next to me and not need anything from me. I swear, I'm a really good wife and mom---maybe just not after 7PM? I gotta work on that...
I'm very insightful and cynical. Depending on how you look at it, this can actually be either a blessing or a curse. It's a blessing because I can smell bullshit from a mile away and my instincts are usually dead on, which keeps me from being hurt or disappointed later.. It's a curse because it doesn't allow me to have much tolerance for any bullshit. I wish I could say I was one of those people who, "tries to see the good in everybody". But unfortunately, I'm not one of those people. It's like when a psychic person says they wish they didn't have that 6th sense because they don't always want to see into the future. It's like that. Sometimes I think. "Awe....I want to like you. But deep down, I know you're a total douchebag".
See? I'm very flawed too!
As it turns out....
You know how I always get on my soap box about the downfalls of helicopter moms and how they're not doing their kids any favors and how their constant hovering actually hurts their child more than helps them?
Well! As it turns out..... My own mother is the most hovering of the all the hover mothers! But, Leslie, your mother passed away in 2003! Yes, I know. I'll explain.
Gabe is obsessed with All-Things-Sharks. My sister bought Gabe that helium filled, remote control shark for Christmas. You saw it in all the ads. Gabe lost his shit when he opened it on Christmas morning and that fucking shark has been haunting us ever since.
Ok. I'll back up. My house is neither large nor small. It's the perfect combination of being right in the middle. While it has a lot of rooms, it's very sectioned off and the rooms are small. Not a wide open floor plan, you see. The shark has a permanent home in Gabe's bedroom. I swear to God, the thing takes up half the room. Because it's helium filled, it pretty much stays close to the ceiling, but it has life-like fins and the way it floats around the room is eerily realistic. At night, when I go tuck in the kids, it's swimmingly slowly around Gabe's room and I gotta tell you, it freaks me out. A weeks ago, I was watching tv on the couch and I got up to get a drink from the kitchen (or a few rice krispie treats...shut up) and when I came back, the shark was in the family room and it was eye level with Luna, who was sleeping on the couch. I assumed the kids were fucking with me, so I dragged it back upstairs and left it in Gabe's room. I went back downstairs, chilled back on the couch and I'll be damned. The shark came floating down the stairs again. WTF???
The kids were sleeping and the remote was in the basement. I emailed my sister that night and asked her about our cursed shark. She said that she'd paid extra to have it demonized. Then, we realized we were being silly and deduced that it was probably our mom 'visiting' us. In the shape of a shark. Since my sister was her favorite, it wouldn't surprise me at all if my mom clung to something that SHE touched first. God forbid she just visit me....no, she's all, "Ok, I guess I'll visit Leslie. But ONLY if I can ride around on the shark that my favorite daughter bought with her own hard earned money". We laughed about it and I continue to share my creepy shark stories with her. I'm telling you, the fucking thing's possessed.
Often, I'll sleep in our guest room. Not because I'm fighting with Jason or anything quite that dramatic. I'm an insomniac and I love to read, so.... if I can't sleep, I'll go read in the guest bed. I woke in the middle of the night recently and the shark was literally 12 inches above my head. It's as tall as I am and it's dark, dark blue with black eyes and huge teeth. Not a great way to wake up, albeit, but I'm used to it by now. I was like, "....um. Can you, I don't know...go somewhere else, mom?" Then it dawned on me. For all the blogs I've written about helicopter moms, my own mother is paying me back in the afterlife. She's, quite literally, hovering over me, via shark. Grrrrr. (picture me shaking my fist toward the sky) A nagging mother to the very end. God love her. xox
I get bored.
My friend Sarah and I tend to take things too far. This is what happens when we do. What started out as an innocent conversation of us making fun of each other, turned into this. It's absurd. Watch as the cameras roll. Hopefully you can relate. You're welcome.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QmRUL6f9rs&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Chicken Soup For My Soul
Again, with the emotional, sentimental posts… Here we go again (what is WRONG with me??).
A couple of instances have come up in the past few weeks that have made me stop and think about my friendships.
I’ll admit, a lot of these thoughts have been brought upon by Pinterest. Well, I can’t help it. All of these, “How does anyone get by without a sister” posts. They make me sniffle. It’s true. My sister is my earthly mother, my big sister, my best friend and my protector/advisor all rolled into one person. We can go 2 weeks without talking or we could talk every day for two hours. It’s all the same. That said, we haven’t lived in the same state since 1983. I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself if we lived within driving range of one another. Probably be a couple of stay-at-home-drunks. Somehow we make our long-distance sisterhood work. As Manhattan’s Eloise says, “She’s my mostly companion”.
Another recent happening that got me to thinking was a dear, old friend called me recently and surrepticiously slid in that “….oh, by the way…we’re listing our house, moving to a new neighborhood and we’re custom building a new home…..” WHAT????? I was so freaking excited, you’d have thought I was building a new home!! But that’s just it. Maybe 10 or 20 years ago, I’d have been depressed or jealous over that phone call. But, instead it was pure joy and excitement. After we hung up, I reported back to Jason every last detail of what she’d told me and we were so stinkin’ happy for our friends who so, so deserve this. I love realizing that true friends are genuinely happy for you when things go well, truly sad for you when things don’t and everything else in between. My close friends have been there for me through all of life’s trials and tribulations and I love being there to support them as well. Life’s not always perfect, sometimes it downright sucks. But, if you have someone to empathize and celebrate with you, it makes life easier and more precious.
And lastly, a neighbor whom I’ve been talking to a lot lately was shooting the breeze with me one afternoon and she mentioned that she didn’t see me around too much, socially. I explained that the older I get, the more protective I am of my time and whom I spend my time with. She asked who I typically spent time with. I mentioned the intimate, precious group of 4 women who have become like family to me. Our husbands are all close, our kids have become like cousins. Then she asked me the strangest question (well, maybe not so strange, but it seemed strange at the time). She said, “if any of you split up, does anyone get hurt or jealous?” Meaning if only 2 out of the 4 of us did anything without the other two, would there be hurt feelings? Without hesitation, I laughed and said “absolutely not”. We pair up all the time, depending on the activity and/or our availability. We would NEVER think anything of it if some of us got together and some of us didn’t. There’s a certain element of security in that. The best times are, without a doubt, when the four of us are able to come together. It doesn’t happen often because we have families which all seem to go in different directions (sports, work, etc). When that rare occasion does occur, we always breathe a sigh of relief that we’re together, we clink our glasses and then we get down to business. By ‘business’, I mean catching each other up on our lives, via gossip, funny stories, rants and complaints. More often than not, the four of us aren’t able to come together, so we branch off and never, ever would anyone be hurt by that. THAT’S a real friend. That’s the good stuff, right there!
There’s nothing in the world as precious as that sort of belongingness. Well, besides our husbands and kids…. Maybe. J
xoxo
Good friend or opportunist?
Ask yourself this......is someone a good friend or an opportunist? There's a difference and the differences are subtle. Lucky for you, I can spot an opportunist (phony) from a mile away. I'm not just another pretty face, you know.
A Good Friend...
- Quietly executes kind gestures
Opportunist...
- Publicly (and obnoxiously) announces intentions
- Waits for a pat on the back
- Internally tallies the score
- Positions themselves in the center of every crisis (as to stay in-the-know)
- Stays front and center as to "appear" helpful
- Has a hidden agenda. Uses other people's crisis to further themselves socially
mother/son dance
"Mother" by Pink Floyd seems to be the only fitting song, as far as I can see....
Mother do think she's good enough for me?
(how could anyone possibly be good enough?)
Mother do think she's dangerous to me?
(why? what did she do to you?)
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
(she better not lay a hand on you)
Mother will she break my heart?
(I'll kill her)
Hush now baby, baby don't you cry
Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you
(Check out, stalk...whatever)
Mama won't let anyone dirty get through
(which won't be easy, knowing Gabe)
Mama's gonna wait up till you get in
(or just follow you...)
Mama will always find out where you've been
(tracking devices)
Mamma's gonna keep baby healthy and clean
(antibacterial gel and lavender/camomille baby bath)
Ooooh Babe Ooooh Babe Ooooh Babe
You'll always be a baby to me
(always)
Mother, didn't need to be so high.
(what--? Come on...)
Lady A.D.D.
If anyone actually heard the thoughts that run through my brain on a minute to minute basis, I'd sound like a crazy person. Seriously. Sometimes I just need a break from my own head. It's torture, I tell you.
I figured out that I had Attention Deficit Disorder a few years ago. This is completely self diagnosed, mind you. But, all kidding aside, I pretty much met all the criteria.
My doctor put me on an attention deficit medicine and honestly, I didn't notice much of a change, except....some time around 2:00 P.M., I'd look around the house and notice that it was gleaming. My closets were suddenly organized. My laundry got done AND PUT AWAY on the same day. My junk drawer would magically become a drawer which neatly housed pens, paper and scissors. My daily quota of doing less than 3 things, shot into the double digits. DOUBLE DIGITS, I say!!! I assumed the meds had nothing to do with it. I figured I was just motivated. And then I stopped taking the medicine. And then Jason wondered if we were robbed. No. Why do you ask? Oh, nothing... it just looks like wolves live here, that's all.
I can't believe the difference between being on track and being....let's just say, distracted. It could EASILY take me an entire afternoon to empty the dishwasher when I'm not on my medicine. I'd wander upstairs to make beds and then I'd find myself two hours later laying in my bed thumbing through an Atlas. I can't imagine what a child who suffers from ADD goes through. No wonder I was such a wreck in elementary school. I didn't understand how my friends could retain information and I couldn't. I felt like the teacher was speaking in foreign tongues and I was the only one who didn't understand.
Even as an adult, I HATED working. I'd sit at my desk and do everything but what I was supposed to do.
Boss person: Leslie, did you file those TPS reports?
Leslie: No, but I moved my kitty cat pencil holder over to this side of the desk, soooooo..... I've had that on my plate today. And tomorrow, I'll be replacing my pink post its with the yellow ones, sooooo. Tomorrow isn't looking good either.
Boss person: I don't think 'work' is really your thing.
Leslie: RIGHT?????
Yes, life is much better since not having to work. But wait, where was I? Oh yes. Life is also much better since my doctor introduced me to attention deficit fixers. I can clean my house in a single bound. I can talk on the phone while writing a grocery list. I can listen to my ipod AND run on a treadmill (this is new).
Currently, my house is for sale. I average about 5 showings a week. I wrote a 60 minute comedy show that was performed at a sold out event. Whatever task I perform, big or small, I do it with precision and perfection. I still keep up with all the daily on-goings of running this household. It takes a lot of concentration, energy and focus just to maintain the bare minimum and I'm not a bare minimum kind of girl (unless it pertains to boring work). This kind of chaos would have sent me spirally into a downward cycle of mayhem a few years ago. Thank goodness for modern medicine!!
(note to future employer: disregard the sentence about my not liking to work. I'm sure by the time we meet, I'll be a great little worker bee. Unless you make me do boring work. Then, I'll probably lay my head down on my desk and hum. Might I suggest that my compensation package offer prescription coverage?)
Foggy and Delightful
Ok, so there's the alcoholics. I guess alcoholism has been around long enough that I'm somewhat familiar with inner workings of the disease. Nothing too baffling there. However, the prescription drug abuse has been on the rise and for the longest time, I used to watch these episodes going, "I don't get it. They're addicted to pain killers? So....they get all high on not being in pain? What's fun about that?" I didn't make any sense to me. Until.... (flashback)
Food Poisoning 2002. Stomach ache pretty much all day. By the time Jason got home from work, I was convinced I was dying. Absolutely certain that either my pancreas was falling out, or else my appendix had burst and poisonous toxins were racing through my body and killing me slowly. It was so bad that I agreed to let my brother in law, who was about 25 at the time, watch my baby. Ok, this might seem like a non-issue to you, but let me assure you, I would have had to have been on my death bed for me to agree to leave my baby with anyone. My reasoning went from "Will my precious baby boy be cared for? Will he be loved and nurtured and taught sign language? Will he feel secure and will be happy and well adjusted?" to "Is there a fairly good chance that he'll be alive when I get home later? Good enough for me!" That's the sorry state I was in. Jason brought me to E.R. I was literally writhing in pain, walking around, bumping into walls because my vision was blurred. Have you ever been in so much pain that your eye sight was like, "fuck it, I give up". Well, that's how bad it was. Finally triage brought me in to evaluate me and I puked immediately. Not just puked, mind you, but puked a black, vile liquid. Which, confirmed my suspicions that I was, in fact, dying. They hooked me up to an I.V. and administered something the nurse called, "the Doctor's Concoction" and the next think I know, I was singing Ethel Merman and telling Jason how much I loved him. Turns out, it was only food poisoning, but still... I realized very quickly that I was a happy camper when narcotics entered the scene. Good thing they never told me what was in the good doctor's concoction or else I would have tried to find it on the streets.
Tubal Ligation 2005. Ah,, the blessed birth of baby Gabe. Ah, the much anticipated Tubal Ligation that followed the blessed birth of Gabe. For those of you who have no idea what a tubal ligation is, it's when a woman gets her tubes tied as to never, ever, ever have another baby, ever, in the history of ever-dom. Or so, that was my thinking. I woke up from the procedure bawling. My blood pressure sky rocketed and I honestly have never been in such pain in my life. They went through my belly botton and used a torture device or a button hook to find my fallopian tubes and then, it seems that they might have pulled the tubes through my belly button, severed them, cauterized them and then very roughly shoved them back into my girly parts. As the nurse wheeled me back into my room, where my handsome husband sat holding our newborn baby boy, I begged for something to take the pain away. She came back with two somethings.....percocet maybe, possibly vicodin. Who cares, really. The next thing I know, I'm drooling and telling Jason how much I loved him and how I wanted to have more babies with him. Really? That information may have come in handy before I had the tubal ligation. Anyway, that night, the drugs were still kicking and I started drunk dialing friends.
Me: Yeah, hi. I had the baby. Yep, he's gorgeous. You should see him.
Friend: Oh, Leslie...congratulations! You sound like you're on cloud 9.
Me: I am! I'm so fucking high. I like the baby too.
Corneal Abrasion 2006 I'm getting ready to go into work (I "worked" at my friend's little boutique downtown) and by 'work', I mean that I didn't get paid a single penny because I spent twice my paycheck there, but whatever, it got me out of the house. So, I'm pulling my hair dryer and my curling iron out from under my bathroom sink and the cords were wrapped around themselves. I yanked and yanked them, trying to untangle them, until the plugger-inner part gashed me across the eye. So, my eye is watering beyond belief and I reached into the shower to grab a wash cloth to hold over my eye, but I'm blind, see and I accidently grab my razor instead and I basically slice my finger off. I can't even put eye makeup on one eye because it's watering so bad and it HURT! But, I couldn't call in because the owners were attending a funeral that day. So I went into work and basically suffered for 4 hours with a leaking, stinging eye ball. I had to ring people up with one hand over my eye. Finally, I couldn't drive, so Jason came to get me and took me to Urgent Care. The nurse took one look at my eye and said, "How are you not vomiting right now? I've seen less severe corneal abrasions where the patient has fainted from the pain". So, there you have it. A historically severe corneal abrasion and stitches in the ol' finger. You know it's bad when Urgent Care gives you two vicodin on the spot. Usually they'll give you a prescription on your way out the door, but they felt so bad for me, they hooked me UP. By the time the vicodin kicked in, I was (again) drooling and telling Jason how much I loved them. My Mother in Law was watching the kids and she offered to let them stay the night because it had gotten late. You'd think I'd have just gone home and passed out. Oh no. I begged Jason to take me to his mom's house so I could "read to the kids" before bed. And by 'read to the kids' I mean, glance at a book while slurring a story to them. Even she was like, "Jesus, just go home, you babbling idiot".
So, as I ask myself, "how silly to get addicted to pain killers---how does one get addicted to not being in pain?" I can now look back and reflect on exactly how I came to realize that narcotics can be both helpful and fun! I'm not even gonna lie--it takes approximately *5-8 pills to keep me alive and sane, on the daily. Everything in moderation, I always say!
** don't assume these are all narcotics--most of them are boring old vitamins and thyroid replacements. I said most.
and ps. I just watched a recent episode of "Intervention" where a kid was addicted to snorting bath salts. Go ahead. Let that sit with you for a moment. Now, I like that fun, floaty feeling as much as the next person, but snorting bath salts? Or huffing computer duster. Or smoking anti freeze. If nothing else, Intervention has prepared me for what 'the kids' are doing now-a-days. Crazy! I used to drink Budweiser in high school, now the kids are literally snorting bath salts. I would love to know how they figured that out. Were they sitting in the tubby, scooping in their mom's aromatic bath salts and thought to themselves, "Imma snort these". Kids... So stupid. What part of 'poison' sounds like a good idea? I should be a drug counselor. My kids are so screwed when they're teenagers. I know too much!
moms are people too!
I've had hundreds of conversations with my girlfriends, my peers, my sister and my neighbors about this very topic. It's so sad to me when a woman's identity falls to the wayside as soon as she gives birth. I completely agree that motherhood is the most important role you'll ever had. It's the only job you can't afford to fuck up. It's the one that will haunt you forever if you don't give 100%. I get it. There's no other job that I'll ever work as hard as I have being a mom.
However. (Big However) That being said, it's almost AS important that you remain your own person as well. To all the moms out there whose entire existance revolves around their children, this blog is dedicated to you!
I will start by saying, you're doing an incredible job. You are selfless and amazing and the dedication to your children will (hopefully) ensure hard-working, decent adults. With that said, it is equally as important that you make your kids' mother a priority as well. If you give and give and give and give, you'll have nothing else to give and you'll fail. If you're tired and you let yourself go, chances are pretty good that your husband, partner and kids will probably want to let you go too. If you take the time to care for yourself and do things for yourself, the idea is that that effort will shine through and will (hopefully) make you a content and confident person.
I'm not saying, go out 5 nights a week and get drunk with your girlfriends. I'm not saying dump your kids off in daycare so you can work out, shop and eat lunch with your friends all day. I'm not even telling you to ignore your kids so you can pamper yourself. I'm just saying--- if you gave yourself a fraction of the attention that you give your kids, you might feel better about the woman that you are.
Eventually kids grow up. God willing. And when they do, you don't want to find yourself with your mom jeans and nude nylons surrounded by finger paint and flour. Just because you are a mom doesn't mean you have to trade in your skinny jeans for Cold Water Creek slacks. Being a mother is a God-given privlege and a role, it's not an identity. It's not an excuse to be matronly.
It's ok to be sexy, sassy and polished when you're a mom. You might not think it's a priority, but think of it as important to your well being as getting a mammogram is to your boobies.
Take care of your children's mother. Make time for friends. Make time for your man so that he doesn't only see you as a milking machine. Make time for yourself. Whether it's a bath, a book or a 20 minute massage. It could be a new haircut or a new outfit every so often. Take care of yourself, so that you can be fulfilled, which ultimately benefits your children. I think when my kids see their mother as a woman who is occasionally independent from them, it will create more secure children. Children who come from mother's who dote on them 24/7 for two solid decades, grow up to be very needy people. Trust me, your future daugher/sons in law will thank you.
