Jun 18, 2012 | Boy Wonder
After the ridiculousness of last week, I started to password protect this post. But then decided, it’s my truth. As Ann Lamott has so eloquently said, “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
When our son was born, I filled out the birth certificate paperwork very carefully. His father had taken my maiden name in hyphenate form years before. On our honeymoon, in fact… in what was a romantic gesture (if a bit short-sighted) he opted to add my name to his.
Today, it might seem obvious. But at the time, it caused a stir. I had already angered his family by keeping my maiden name as a middle name. I tried to explain, “I plan to take IZ’s name in my personal life. But in my professional life, I want both. Unhyphenated, but both.”
My father-in-law supported my decision. My mother-in-law was incensed. It would be five years before she would address anything to us in our new combined name. Insisting instead to address everything, “Mr. and Mrs. J.A. Larsen.”
Probably not the best move on her part. Her obstinateness on the subject just sealed my resolve. OMG… I’m as oppositional as my child. Figures.
But I never had any expectation that IZ would follow suit. And I certainly didn’t expect my child to keep my maiden name. So, when it came time to fill out his birth certificate paper work I was careful. I gave him five names. No hyphens. One last name.
And I fully expected our son to drop the OATES portion of our name once he flew the coop. Baby chicks do that, think for themselves. I should know. However, Geo has been feeling the itch for the past several years. And we’ve always said to him, “Sweetie, if you want to be called ‘Stardust Revived’, we’ll call you that. It your name.”
I’ve always told him I would not, could not be upset with any choice he made. Though, I prefer he kept his given first name, the rest was up for grabs.
He has opted, for example, to Americanize his first name for strangers. He still spells his name as it appears on his birth certificate, but the French pronunciation is confusing for most people, so he has stopped insisting that his name be said correctly. He’s adopted a pseudonym for all his programming online—a name, that tellingly includes Larsen as a last name. And he, quietly, wonders what the future will look like when he is simply, Geo Larsen.
But as of late, I have sensed a hesitation from him. His desire to walk away from my past is palpable. He no longer considers my family of birth his family. He’s had enough (who can blame him?). However, he feels conflicted. “Giving up ‘Oates’ feels like I’m disrespecting you!”
Have I told you how much I love that kid? Like his father, he is compelled by his love for me. And with that comes a huge responsibility to not abuse their loyalty!
So, I’ve sat with it. Our son’s desire to embrace the family that loves him, the heritage he understands, the people who have loved him without criticism or judgment. Those same people have not always afforded me the same grace. But they have, without doubt, embraced my child. And through the years, attempted to embrace me as well.
No easy task, as I’ve been labeled difficult since birth!
The more I sat with the idea, the more I realized that for Geo to move forward it would require that I move forward as well. So, last year I floated the idea to IZ, “He wants to be a Larsen. Which, he IS. I think he needs us to be Larsens, too. Just Larsens.”
I was prepared for this moment. I’ve long anticipated the change, if only because hyphenated names are common and what do you do when you fall in love and marry another hyphenate? FOUR names strung together? I don’t think so. Even three gets complicated. YES, he could marry some girl willing to take his name. But, Geo is his father’s child. You know he’d be trying to find a way to include his beloved, like his father did before him! So, dropping the “Oates” part of his name is inevitable.
What I could not have predicted is my desire to do the same. I could not have imagined that at 41, I would not only be considering a name change for my child, but I would be considering it for ME as well. It’s amazing where our children lead us.
Jun 10, 2012 | This Life
This photo was taken for a photo tour of my house a few years back. But I go back to it often, because it sums us up. On the porch, having tea, together.
In a few short days (Saturday) IZ and I will celebrate 22 years together. Married. We don’t count those years before because that number is getting ridiculously large!
Wedded bliss? Um, sometimes.
Wedded strife? Um, sometimes.
Mostly, it’s two people committed to striving together. And that in itself, is a beautiful thing.
It’s the nature of marriages, any marriage. You bump into things you weren’t expecting. Life hands you lemons. You make lemonade or margaritas. You squabble. You row. You fight. You endeavor toward intimacy. And it’s not always pretty.
But I choose to write about the good. The beautiful. The bliss. And I will continue to do so, despite the recent impulse of the blogosphere to bare its soul. While I applaud the willingness of bloggers to get real and share the hard stuff. To forsake, if only for a few moments, the urge to “pretty it up” and make it seem presentable. When it comes to my marriage, I blog the beauty.
I’ll show you my laundry. And the works in progress. And weeds in the yard along with the before pictures and the posts about failed recipes. I’ll tell you that I struggle with my weight and staying on task and being charitable to neighbors who kill my roses.
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May 1, 2012 | This Life
I’ve moved the party over here —-> Come join me. (I may or may not pick up this blog in the future. I may or may not write a farewell post. But, it’s been 10 years of blogging here… and well… it’s time for a change. Change is good.) Don’t think of this as an end, but as a beginning.
Mar 22, 2012 | This Life
Will you let me take our picture?
“Will you let me take our picture?”
“Sure? What should I do?”
“Just hold my hand.”
My head is a jumbled mess. I’ve been reading some amazing writing* online. Which is a blessing and a relief. Good writing always is. But it also reminds me that I’ve not been writing on this blog, not really.
To my mind, blogging and writing are different things. They often converge and that’s lovely. But not always. Me putting up a picture with a few words below it is blogging, barely. I wouldn’t call it writing. Â You might not agree with the distinction, but I’m loath to use language like “real” or “good” or heaven forbid, “literary” to describe the difference. Wait, wait, you’ll know (real) writing when you read it? I’m not sure that’s even true with Porn, so um, no on writing. You can see how I’m consoling myself, right?
Traipsing through my archives might make the point better. I’m not observing anymore. Let’s face it, every new blogger has a tank full of observations just waiting to get out. Crawling to the surface, it’s blood lust, to put the words on paper. But eventually, you run out of a steady stream of lovely turns of phrases and witty antidotes about standing in the grocery line at Whole Foods. Your three year old grows up. You sleep again, the words no longer playing bouncy house in your subconscious.
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Mar 20, 2012 | This Life
A gray scale start to spring. . .
I feel like I’m sneaking back into the room, walk of shame style. Shimmying into my skirt and patting my hair down. Not that I’d know anything about that except what I’ve seen on television. I haven’t exactly been present on this blog for the past few weeks. I’ve been, um, busy.
And life has been particularly distracting as of late. It’s hard to get motivated (much less photograph anything) in this perma gray. Plus the state of our house is always a constant distraction. There’s lots going on, most of it good in the “this is getting resolved” sort of way—but nothing I want to write about. Honestly, I’m anxiously awaiting the “let’s fix this mess” part of the program. Â Writing about paint colors is so much more interesting than writing about signing legal documents.
But we have to slog through the legal mire first. That takes time and resources and energy. Energy I’d rather put elsewhere; and it leaves me with nothing but whiney posts I refuse to write. Or posts that I can’t write.
Not that it’s all bad. Some of life is ridiculously good. Really good. . . (she says with an *arched * eyebrow). But I’ve been informed by IZ that there are lines I shouldn’t cross. Â And while it’s really fun to watch him turn six shades of red and squirm, “You CAN’T Blog that!” in truth, I probably wouldn’t anyhow. Â So this is me, walking up to the line and smiling.
No, what this blog needs is a little forced sunshine. Some flowers. Some chocolate. Some romance, or at least a few paint chips. It needs Spring to show up already! Â And while I can’t promise any of that will arrive in the next few days, I can promise to work on it. You know, when I’m not so busy.*
