Sunday, November 29, 2009

sunday diaryah #28

Teen-me from '92:

"Oct 17, 92
Dear Diary,
 Today I was supposed to be in Cardston and at a volleyball tournament, but I missed both because I was sick. I went to Katherine and Kevin's reception though, it was really fun, especially the dance afterwards. I danced with Lars 3 times, Chris twice and Michael once. I really wanted to dance more with Chris, but, I didn't know how to ask. And Jill! I'm really beginning to hate that girl! She gets on my nerves so much! First, she brags about volleyball ALL THE TIME! Second, she's fat, but SHE thinks she's SO SEXY. Third, she puts everyone down. Fourth, she always stinks and doesn't even shave her armpits, and now she's trying to take Chris away from me! I really hate her attitude! I don't know what's so special about Chris, but I just don't want to lose him! And I don't want him to fall for some slut like Jill! Oh well, I'm tired, and I have to get to church tomarrow anyway. Good night.
From,
Sarah
p.s. sweet dreams!"


"Oct 25, 92
Dear Diary,
Today I went to Svea's for supper for her and Lars's birthday. Chris was there. Yup! Yup! Yup! I really do like him, I don't exactly love him, I don't think I'm capable of love at 13. He's just so... so... special. There's something about him that makes me feel so comfy, the whole atmosphere seems to change when he walks in, he seems so carefree and understanding, and he always has that gorgeous smile on. And his glassy blue eyes, and his deep tanned skin, and his straight sandy hair, with that tint of blond above his ears. I'd really like a boyfriend like him. Someone who would walk me down the beach and talk about how life was going. Who would be really sensitive to my feelings and would understand if I ever had a mood swing or something. If only Chris were mormon.
Dreamy,
Sarah"


"Nov 15, 92
Dear Diary,
Guess what? I've got bad news. I'm not in love with Chris anymore. I just kinda admire him now. I don't like anyone now. It's sort of depressing. But I've got good news! I phoned Allyson G. today! She couldn't believe I called! They thought I was in Toronto. John remembered me even! I told her I'd phone again. I feel depressed. Surprised? Well I do. I don't even know why. Well good night.
From,
Sarah"


"Nov 24, 92
Dear Diary,
I officially do not like Chris anymore. Oh, as a friend he's fine, but not as a lover. There's lots of guys to choose from, I'll tell you who and why:
Brian L - cute, nice, looks so lonely, doesn't smoke or drink.
Ryan S - really nice! doesn't smoke or drink.
Colbey C - funny, cute, doesn't smoke or drink, is nice when he's himself.
Ryan H - funny, cute, nice, mormon.
Lars - funny, cute, nice, he's growing up! mormon.


Most of the guys would be better as friends though.
From,
Sarah"


"Nov 28, 92
Dear Diary,
I'm in the mood to write small. It's 12:29am and I just got back from Pam's house about 10mins ago. I went past Law's and they got a new dog so I wanted to see it so I called it out and it got all excited and started whining really loud so I ran down the trail so they wouldn't see me, and it started barking and howling. Boy did I ever run fast! Today Clarkson's shot a cougar that was attacking their turkeys! Pretty weird! Well I'm really tired!
From,
Sarah
p.s. Natalie is home now
p.p.s. Chris is now out of my life."


Weird! The Chris crush has ended!? Now for the gong show of non-stop, ever-changing crushes!

Sunday, November 22, 2009

sunday diaryah #27


SUNDAY DIARYAH RETURNS!!! Yes after a nearly three month hiatus, I finally have my Sunday motivation back. Once again we will delve into my idiotic teenage brain! WHAT has my 13-year-old self been up to all these weeks? WHO is she currently totally in love with? WHY did I hate washing my hair in 1992? These mysteries may or may not be answered in the following entries (I'll go back and pick out the best ones from the last few months. And that pic is my actual diary from '92-'93):

*the page of this entry has this written at the top:
"Please close my diary, I hate it when people read my private stuff"

"August 24, 92

Dear Diary,
Boy! Have I got alot to tell you! Lots has happened this weekend! My mom went down to the temple for three days so I babysat. Audrey stayed too so I could have a little help, Pam came for 1 night too. I got this rash from David, Auntie Lorene says their the German measles. We've got this big, black stray cat, Julie named him midnight, it doesn't get along with the kitten very well. On Sunday morning Vince and Ryan D. –"

*top of diary page:
"What are you blind? I said close it!"

(entry continued) " – came and picked us up for church, and for supper we made chicken, potatoes, corn, gravey and broccoli with cheese on it. And everything worked perfect! Last night me and Pam slept in a tent in the yard, it was very cold! Today me and Pam went down to the church and watched a little volleyball, tonight I went to Vince's and watched "Wayne's World", and "Another You". "Wayne's World" was the funniest. After we just talked, I talked to – "

*top of diary page:
"Your ignoring my message aren't you? I don't know why you suddenly had an urge to read it, but, I haven't really been keeping any secrets about my life, have I?"

" – Ryan lots. I'da know, he never flirted really, he was just real nice. Me and him were playing kneel volleyball and then Svea came, and then Patricia came so we had teams. And Pamela was feeling left out so she came. After me and Ryan H. did a puppet show with cows, we sang "I don't know much but I know I love you," but no one watched. Ryan D. is nice, he never talks to me much, but he'll look at me all the time. Greg was looking at me through the movie. Probably because last time he saw me I was still that slime ball from grade 6, he was probably surprised at the change. Well, I'm tired.
From,
Sarah

p.s. tomarrow we should be going riding."

"Sept 1, 92
Dear Diary,
Sorry for not writing, I can't find the key, I had to force you open. Well school started, but last week me, Svea, and Pam went to Edmonton and I did some serious shopping! I bought a B.U.M. sweater, an ESPRIT sweater, another hooded sweater, a t-shirt, a jacket, 3 dress shirts, some dark green jeans, some blue jeans, a troll doll, some real cool sunglasses, and I still have money left over! Originally I had $252! Me and Svea are pretty good friends. At lunch hour Svea and I snuck away and she introduced me to her friends, only some though, they were Trina, Jodi, Brian L., and Ryan S. I've got a really boring teacher this year, her name is Miss Hall, she's new here and she's really stupid! She's like a sub. It feels good to be in grade 8. You feel a little more respected than a grade 6 or 7er. Lots more guys are noticing me. There's a whole bunch of new guys from Athabasca. One of them has half his head shaved and the other side is down to his shoulders. There's a smaller guy and I was walking down the hall and he stared at me, when I passed him he looked back and mumbled, "wow". Well I'm pooped!
From,
Sarah"

Kay there are a bunch more good ones, so I'm going to have to update more over the next few weeks. I don't have time to type them all right now. I wonder if I'll sound as stupid when I'm 50 and I look back on what I've written now. Probably.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I've soooo done "it"

Disclaimer: some of the content of this post is lewd and immature.

When I meet new people, especially men, I'm self-conscious about telling them that I'm a mom. Bashful even. It isn't that I'm embarrassed of my family, or that I want them to think of me as fancy-free and available. It's not that at all. It isn't even that the Phantom Mom (referred to in my last post) might possess me and cause to me embarrass myself (bubble voice: "is that a trampoline?? I haven't been on one of these in years! Here I go - AAAWWWWaaaawwwwAAAAWWWaaaawwwwAAAAWWW-" and I bounce off and land on a toddler). I'm not afraid of seeming less cool either. I'm perfectly content with my coolness, which is to say, I've spent most of my life as slightly awkward, and I now embrace it. Misread social awkwardness is the new leather jacket, so I'm fine there.

No, it has nothing to do with any of that. My reticent confessions of having kids has more to do with my distinct impression that the instant that it comes out of my mouth – the very second that my lips form the words "I have two kids" (imagine it in slow motion even), the other person is momentarily blinded by a flash of my yawning vag, a mucky babyhead bulging out like an elephant pooping a cantaloupe. The image is gone in a millisecond, and what remains is my face. My "please don't judge me" mom face. I see the flash register in their eyes – for women I might see a hint of awe or pity, but for men I see a deep, subtle glint of pure terror. They will never truly be at ease with me until they have wives and kids of their own. The yawn-vag vision is forevermore connected to my face, and yes, it embarrasses me. It's my vag, for fruck's sake!

Moms. Moms are intense creatures. This feeling of sheepishness at having my vag spotlighted during every introduction is doubled when I'm out in public with my kids. I don't mean to sound vain, but I'm a decent-looking gal. I know this. I like looking good. I really do. It makes me feel youthful, relevant, like I got my "groove" on. But then there is the grotesque phenomena of MILFs and "hot moms". A while ago, Mike told me about a conversation he'd heard between his work buddies in a mall food court. The guys were educated engineers, by all accounts bright and respectable fellows. Part of their conversation went, "I love coming to malls because I like watching all the hot moms, because you just KNOW they put out."

This naturally leads to the question of how every other mom got pregnant. Especially the ugly ones.

I've since heard a friend say (jokingly, but he was referencing guys who say it), "well she's got kids so you know she puts out". So firstly, I'm an attractive girl who is also a mom. That makes me a slut, I guess. Secondly, if my kids are around me, I'm basically screaming out to every dickbag, "HEY GUYS! I HAD SEX! TWICE!!! CHECK ME OUT!"

I've tried to think of how this position might empower me. I might approach random strangers and say, "excuse me, have you ever had... SEX?! Oh ya? PROVE IT. I GOT TWO KIDS, BEEOTCH!!!" Then I would back away from them aggressively, doing gangster signs at my crotch. Then I would walk through downtown pretending to dance to the "let's get it started" song. Then I'd stop for a decaf chai latte. Perfect day.

Of course, the plus side is that no matter what all the dicks think of me, they sense my grizzly bear mama-defensiveness and would never get all up in my face (I'm still in gangster mode from the last paragraph). The yawn-vag flash is a potent safeguard, but also, moms are loco. Don't mess with us hombre, or we'll wreck you in a seriously non-jilarious way.

ps. if I ever do mom-stand-up, I will use this. Totally ©sarahbacon beeotches.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

the ghost of mommies past...


I am a haunted woman. Ever since becoming a mother, a specter has followed me, trailing my every mommy-step and clucking at every mommy-move I make.

She is in her mid 40's, chubby, frizzy hair, with ill-fitting stretch pants accentuating her dimply thighs. She wears baggy sweatshirts as a uniform, occasionally wears glasses, earnestly reads Harlequins and knows every Disney princess song off by heart. Her voice sounds as though she has a bubble permanently caught in her throat, and her taunting wraith-calls include things like, "cheesecake is the devil's desseeerrrrrrrt," but mainly she makes a drawn-out "aaaawwwwAAAWWWaaaawwww" sound. She is the doughy pheonix risen from the ashes of a thousand America's Funniest Home Videos segments.

Despite her unintentionally hilarious antics, this woman terrifies me. Somehow, every awkward bounce off of her dirtbike, every broken rope-swing, every fall down a playground slide resulting in several squashed toddlers – it has all embedded itself into my consciousness. It has become the woman I fear most. The woman who I never want to become. The Mom.

She's harmless, really. Keep her away from wedding dances, of course. And don't let her play baseball. Aside from her complete disconnection from all things that involve agility or dexterity and her incessant blurts about how many asses she'll have if she eats another cookie, she means well.

My mom wasn't like her. Neither were my aunts. I don't know why she follows me. She affects so much of how I see myself now, and also how I judge other moms. So many moms are so defeated-looking. Slovenly, completely out of shape, all hints of ambition drained away. Sexless, bored, insisting that staying at home with the kids is a "full-time job". I can see it being super busy with more than two, but honestly, being a SAHM is booooorring if you don't have anything else going on in your life. We don't have to iron, we don't have to haul water, we don't have to make or mend clothes, we don't have to hand-wash anything, we have microwaves and easy meals, we have over-the-counter quick fixes for little ailments, most moms have cars for zipping around in, we don't have gardens to tend, weeds to pull, laundry to hang, cows to milk...

We have a bit of vacuuming and dusting to do, maybe some dishes to wash (or just rinse and load in the dishwasher), kids to feed and bathe, but other than that... what is so "full-time" about this lifestyle? What the hell do we do all day???

Eat. Shop. Watch TV. Facebook. This is the life that I dread. It creates The Mom who I abhor. The stigma of this lazy lady flutters around me every time I tell someone new that I'm a mom, and I smell it wafting around me when I'm hanging out with childless friends. When I'm at home I fill as much head space as possible with projects, ideas and plans. The internet is my guilty indulgence; I need it for business and feeling social, but it also swallows up a lot of time that could be better spent. Going outside daily is mega important. Reading is the only leisure activity that doesn't make me feel guilty. Keeping as busy as possible prevents my mind from straying to over snacking and idle money-spending, or just becoming an extremely uninteresting person. I'm sure that if I lose my ambition I'll lose myself, and one of the primary reasons why we're stopping at two kids is so that I'll always have room for my own time and projects. The thought of having every second of my day consumed with tending to kid stuff repels me. I don't think I could be a happy mom with more than two. I can't be an awesome mom unless I'm feeling like an awesome me first.

Still though, that ridiculous phantom of The Mom loiters up in my head. I refer to her almost every day in one way or another, usually through mildly self-depreciating jokes. I love being a mother, but I dread becoming that Mom.

Monday, November 9, 2009

I am the wind beneath my wings

LET ME AT YOU, WORLD!

As a follow-up of my last post: yes, things are getting easier. I'm getting more sleep and feeling more energized, which leads to my list of a million things that I want to do ASAP. It's been so long since I've had energy and motivation that I'm getting ahead of myself with all my plans. In reality, I can't really take on much yet, and probably shouldn't until the new year at least. My time at home right now still fluctuates between feeling good and feeling exhausted, and back when I had Vera, it was at this point that I piled so many satellite projects onto myself that I ended up dealing with a few major breakdowns.

BUT, that said, there's still tons that I want to do in the new year. Here they are, in no particky order:

- I want to volunteer at the Loose Moose improv theatre. Yup. I want to dip and wiggle my toes into the improv and comedy community. I love funny people. I love that most of them are angry, cynical assholes just like me, but that they can make people pee themselves laughing. I've written skits and stand-up routines since I was a teenager, and I think I've got something to contribute to the comedy community. Nerdy as that makes me. I also think that I'd be good at it, and most of my friends know that I love performing, so there you go.

- I want to dedicate muchos time to Pith Gallery. I love the project and want to pump it full of awesomeness.

- I want to start writing regularly again. Whether this is art writing or fun writing, I haven't decided. Whichever my life can accommodate, I guess. I've got a long list of ideas, short stories, fun premises, and plans for my fictional writing, starting with getting a really hilarious sci-fi romance novel published through Harlequin. Aim for the stars. That's me.

- I want to go back to school for Public Relations. I want to be a PR consultant, focused on Artist-Run Centers, and working within the arts. I want the Calgary public to get art, dammit!! I want to break down those frikking walls of exclusivity and ignorance and convince people that anyone can get contemporary art, and that it's important. I realized that this has been the driving force behind everything I've done since art school, even my artwork. I think maybe it's my calling. Annnnnd it'd be nice to have a profession that paid decent, but that's secondary.

- I want to open a bakery. Whoa! Left field! This is more my "I quit art" plan, aka: my retirement plan. I've wanted to do it since I went to baking school, and I've totally nailed my whole bakery concept, from product to branding. Trust me, it would be the cutest little place ever. Only thing is that I'm not sure I'm up for the whole process of starting a business, much less all the work that follows. I don't know if I want to be a "real" baker again. Plus my business skills are basically nil. Any business person out there want to open a crazy cute bakery with me? I'll do recipes and concept, you do business, and we'll hire everyone else, sound good? Oh, and I'll need a seriously huge chunk of cash. Thanks!

- I want a vacation. Who wouldn't after accomplishing so many awesome things?


So yeah, these are the things fluttering around in my brain as I sit at home feeding little Dot and reading to sweet Vera. Being a mom is super, don't get me wrong, but I've got a mountain of stuff to do. Yet another reason why stopping at two is so important to me. Call me selfish, but I want to be able to give myself to my kids without feeling like I'm missing out on all the fun plans I've made for myself. So two it is. I'll back in full swing by two years, and it'll be awesome.