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Posts for the date of Thursday, January 10, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 1:57 PM |
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Look for more links in future posts. I’m going to start “Gary’s Random Thought Theater” because, everything I do is interesting . . . to me!
There are certain parts of your life that should never change. Certain rules you should always follow because they make sense. Yes, change is good. Taking risks is good. But there should be a comfort zone that allows you to always know that you are “home.”
For example:
1. Never buy a discontinued food product. There are reasons why it was discontinued.
2. One should not switch major furniture without two weeks of consideration. New couches suck, if you are not fully prepared.
3. Never rent a Pauley Shore movie.
4. Beef isn’t what’s for dinner, unless you want to see what it’s like to watch someone digest a bowling ball.
5. Do not change the auditory settings on someone else’s stereo.
6. A car can feel like an extension of yourself. Changing cars is like changing your personality.
7. Toilet paper should not be purchased based on the cheapest price.
8. Same goes for beer.
9. Stupid people should not be allowed to grind their own coffee. For those of us who break coffee grinders at home, their only refuge is the store’s grinder. Mocha-almond-maple-hazelnut-pistachio-vanilla-pumpkin blend should never interfere with my Columbian.
10. Wives should never change their appearance without providing you with mock-ups.
I’m particularly sensitive to number 10. My wife and I have been together for nearly 4 years. In that time, she has had the same hairstyle, which is long and straight. When I say long I mean LONG. Real long. Long enough to be used as a restraining device, if needed. (Yes, I’ve tied her hair to chairs. Sometimes I revert to kindergarten mode.)
Chris’ hair was something I expected. Something I took comfort in. I knew, on a daily basis, exactly what my wife would look like when I walked through the door after a day at work. I needed her to look like that because she is exactly what I had been longing to see all day.
Right now she’s banging her head on the table because I have just said everything a woman doesn’t want to hear about her appearance. “Why not just call me boring!” I can hear her screaming all the way across town . . .
So, let me explain this first. I’m not saying my wife is boring. I’m saying her appearance was something I liked. I looked forward to it. I needed it as it was because that’s the woman I pictured in my head all day long.
For her, however, it was a shabby old sweater that she finally needed to shed. She felt she was in an image rut and needed to escape. Besides, she was tired of getting baby fluids in her long flowing locks. She decided to make a change.
Now, I’m not against anyone changing his or her appearance for any reason. If she wanted to get a Mohawk, that’s cool with me. However, she needs to fill out the appropriate forms. Plus, there’s a five-day waiting period. I thought everyone knew this.
Well, Chris didn’t. Last Saturday, she got her hair cut. Her once length waist hair is now shoulder length. And it makes her look different.
Her face seems to be a different shape. Her hair seems darker in color. She walks different when she doesn’t have an 18-foot attendant train flowing behind her. She seems to feel freer, looser and it’s reflected in her stature, demeanor . . . she’s . . . different. It was a total shock.
“What do you think” she runs in asking, atwitter with giggles. I couldn’t answer. I was dumbfounded. I was in shock.
It’s a horrible question, too. You can’t ask someone if they like something that’s irrevocable. She can’t just put the hair back on if I hated it. No amount of glue would change anything.
But there I was, faced with the question. She had asked it and I was forced to answer. What to do? Do I say I like it now and then realized a day later I didn’t it? If I’m too enthusiastic, and don’t like it, she will be encouraged to keep doing this year after year. If I’m too uninterested, I’ll be accused of not caring or noticing. If I say I don’t like it at all, I will be considered unsupportive.
My only defense was to truly like it. Every other option put me up the proverbial creek.
I asked her to give me a little while to get used to it. After all, if I came home with a new haircut . . . she wouldn’t notice because it’s a matter of short or short. Need a better example . . . if I came home with a new . . . arm sticking out of my forehead, she’d need to get used to that.
Women don’t understand how integral their hair is to their look. Men . . . not so much. Our fashion sucks. We have three types of pants to choose from, three types of shirts and pretty much two hairstyles. There's only variations on a theme. We’re amazed at women. All those different shoes. Shirts that have wider differences than color.
In the end, I do like her hair. It looks quite good on her. (Told her last night her new haircut made her even "hotter" . . . She said I could buy a DVD next week. Sucker . . . )
Really, I do like the hair. And I support her need for a change. Especially after the baby.
Sadly, she also went shopping that day . . . I have yet another cross to bear.
“Does my butt look fat in these jeans?”
God help me.
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 12:57 PM |
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I owe an update, which is coming. Been busy day dreaming about superpowers. To be more specific, what super powers would I have, were I to have super powers. I'm thinking the ability to breathe underwater. It just feels practical.
Another random thought, before I go off to consider what I'll be posting later. The other day would have been Elvis' 67th birthday. I realized I'm glad the man died at 42. Could you imagine what he would be like now? Ugh.
However, it suddenly occurred to me that Elvis was probably the only person on earth whose arterial plaque was bacon flavored.
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Posts for the date of Monday, January 07, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 1:29 PM |
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So, today was the big day. Gertrude went to the sitter. There was much wailing and chest beating. There was crying and kicking of feet. There were cries of “I don’t wanna go!”
But, Chris made me go to work anyway.
They’re doing fine. Chris has called a few times, mournful. I tell her to bite the bullet and face the fact that the baby will call our sitter “mommy” and we’ll be known as those strange people who lock her in a prison to sleep at night.
Of course I didn’t tell her that. I told her that the sitter would probably brain wash Gertrude so that she’s a mercenary assassin for the CIA.
Actually, they’re doing great. There’s a little remorse and longing, but overall they are doing well. I wouldn’t want to be in Chris’ shoes, however. It must be exceedingly difficult to separate herself from the baby after being in contact with her every moment of every day for almost a year. Heck, it was hard enough for me to go back to work after the weekend.
It’s funny; I had a sudden revelation this weekend. I was lying in bed, looking at my slumbering baby and realized that it’s true. I love my kids differently.
You know your mom told you that, “No I don’t love X sibling more. I just love you differently.”
And it’s true. Frightening, but true. Love can’t be measured, but it can feel different. The love I have for each child is as unique as the child herself.
For Gertrude, I have this protective unquestioning love. She needs to be protected, swaddled, held, and nurtured. It’s an almost primal love that seems to come screaming out of every pore of my being. I can’t control it, I can’t stop it. It is not something that grew, but it is innate. It will, however, grow and mature.
It’s Kaitlyn that made me realize this. The love I feel for her is a mature love. It’s a love that has mutated and grown. It’s changed over the years. It’s a love that I HAVE to control, or she’d suffer from it. I have to hold it back because she has to make mistakes in her life. If I were to allow myself to love her in the way I feel inside, she’d be living in a bubble and not allowed to go anywhere, including school, without me.
Hey, let’s face it, life sucks. But I don’t want Kaitlyn to know that. Who knows? For her it may not suck. She may lead a life without disease, war, or bullies. She may never get acne or have her heart broken.
But the odds are against it. Really against it. Friends will betray her. People will take advantage of her. She’ll eventually experiment with things she shouldn’t, be it cigarettes or Top 40 music.
With Gertrude, I HAVE to protect her from the elements, bad food and mean people. With Kaitlyn I have to step back. I can protect her from crossing the street without looking, but I can’t protect her from getting her feelings hurt or failing at something.
In fact, she has to have these things happen to her. It’s part of growing up.
I just wish growing up didn’t have to hurt so much.
And I wish I were done with it myself.
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