Rock And Drool

…Mom Gone Mental

Some Feelings Never Change: The Blogher ’10 Edition

Jul 29

I can’t believe a whole year has passed since Blogher ’09, Chicago. I remember how nervous I was. How worried I was about the impression I would make. If I would like my bloggy friends IRL and even more…if they would like me. Blogher, for a first conference ever was like going to sleepaway camp for the first time and going the whole summer. It’s BIG TIME. It’s the largest, most overwhelming experience I have ever had (different from marriage and giving birth). Overload of senses.

I wrote this post, last year, Laying Naked On The Examination Table. I posted it a few days before I was to leave for Chicago. Upon re-reading it, I realize that, this year, I have many of the exact same fears that I had last year. I may not be as nervous, except for the flying part. I HATE flying. I kind of know what to expect, as far as the conference/senses overload part. I didn’t go crazy with buying clothing or shoes this time. But how I’m feeling…the butterflies, they are the same species that flapped around last year.

Instead of writing a whole new post, I decided to just repost the main part of my post dated July 22, 2009…

I’m having some sort of mid-life limbo identity inferiority complex with my blog right now.
And I’m going to put it out there for all of you.
As you know, Blogher is fast approaching. A few days. Holy SHIT!!!
So many of you are having breakdowns over what to wear. What shoes to bring. What products to pack. What luggage to bring. What bag to put your swag in.
I’m fine on all of that. Whatever. I don’t care. It all seems so silly.
I’m pretty. I have great hair. I have great taste. I can make a paper bag look stylish with the right accessories and shoes. Although, it has to be an extra large paper bag, but still. I’m not there to impress anyone with my looks.
Now that I’ve figured out what parties to go to.
And my sessions have been chosen.
My real insecurity has come blazing forward, guns drawn…
My blog.
It’s my biggest insecurity.
I talk a big fucking talk. Oh yeah. I’m proud of some of my posts. And I think I have a kick ass blog name.
But really.
I’m feeling intimidated. And overwhelmed. Not in an OverwhelmHer type way, either.
In a what the fuck am I doing going to Blogher, type way.
Is my blog really worthy enough?
Do I really have anything to say?
Do I write well enough?
Am I interesting? Funny?
Do people really like me or am I being humored?
I’m trying to change my thought process into…I’m going so I can finally meet my friends, IN REAL LIFE.
I’m trying to lessen the fact that one of the reasons for Blogher is, I’m making this trip so I can promote my blog.
Because that is THE ONLY THING that is really.
Truly.
Scaring the piss out of me.
Because, when it comes down to it…
It really doesn’t matter what you brought with you to wear to Blogher.
Or how many pairs of stilettos or flats.
It doesn’t matter what color your little dress is.
It doesn’t really matter what swag you passed out or received.
Or even really who sponsored you.
Because, when it’s all over.
And we’ve exchanged our cards.
And we’ve poked with our Pokens.
And we’ve bumped our iPhones.
We’ve hugged. Kissed.
We’ve boarded our planes, trains, cars…
headed home with our hangovers and giggles.
We’re back to basics.
Writing posts.
Desperately twittering to remind people that we have a new post, because we didn’t get enough comments for our comment whore-ish liking.
Trying to reach out to our new blog friends.
Visiting our established friends blogs.
Trying to find our place in this hugely cut-throat competitive and drama ridden Mommy Blogosphere.
And I really wonder, aside from my love of writing.
Do I have what it takes to keep my new and old friends interested in hanging out with me and my blog?
There you have it.
Legs spread wide open for my pap smear and I didn’t shave the bush.
Hit publish.

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Posted by Melissa in blogging | 7 Comments

Music, Memories and Friendships

Jul 28

Driving my son to camp today, lost in my own thoughts, I turned on the radio. A little ditty bout “Jack and Diane” by John Cougar Mellencamp was on. Much to my 6 year olds chagrin, I turned up the volume, which drowned out his complaints and groans. I’m pretty sure he was saying something like “Is this what you call music?” or “What about some Eminem?” But, I couldn’t hear him between my own loud singing and the blaring speakers.

Then, David Bowie came on. Let’s Dance. I love me some David Bowie almost as much as Duran Duran. In fact, I think David Bowie is my favorite male soloist, on par with my beloved JT and his little singing group, D squared.

This station kept playing awesome song upon awesome song, throughout my entire car ride this morning. I vaguely remember thinking to myself, what a great station, playing my type of music. It’s like they know me. They are me.

Then, a commercial came on, announcing what station I was tuned into.

Our local Classic rock station. 94.7.

I think I was horrified and shocked.

My music is on my parents radio station and their music has moved to their parents muzak station. And my kids music…it has taken over the radio. What’s up with that?!

Time went so fast. My beloved 80′s music is now classic rock and retro music. RETRO. Holy OMG shit.

I started thinking about time. Which led me to friendships because I can mark friendships by what type of music was popular. And each friendship is defined by a song.

Which led me to time again and what I’ve learned since my friend Lori died.

I have some very good, old friends. Anna and Michelle are two of them. Not to mention Shari, Marcie and Jenn and Jenny and Niki. How I met each of them could be separate posts with crazy, fun, entertaining or heartbreaking stories, much like our friendships. Many of them have been through most of my personality growth defining moments. High school, college, engagement, marriage, pregnancy, divorce, life in-between, upside down and all around. They each carry a piece of me. And in my heart, I hold a piece of them.

And we barely ever see each other. It’s my fault. It’s that little thing called TIME again, mixed with excuses.

It passes. Moments race by.

I meant to.

Oops, I forgot.

I should have called.

Tomorrow.

Maybe next week.

Lori taught me not to live in the could have, should haves.

Don’t get caught in webs of excuses. Don’t fly with the moments.

Stop them. Grab them. Hold onto them.

Because if and when you get unstuck and can find a moment, it may be too late.

Just a little note to my friends both new and old,

I love you.

Love,
Me

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Posted by Melissa in my life | 9 Comments

Open Letter To My Husband or I Hate Poker

Jul 28

To My Husband,

The week has barely started, but already it’s been very long.

My friend died. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. My sadness is sitting in a lump in my throat and sinking into my stomach.

The house is a mess, between what OUR youngest son did when he dumped all his toys out to me trying to clean them up and reorganize. Which, by the way…thanks so much for the help. The kitchen sink is full of dishes. The house needs to be vacuumed. I’m trying to plan that little B’nai Mitzvah for October. I’m getting nothing done.

I’m a mess. I feel like my life is a mess. And…I have a helluva constant headache.

I didn’t want people in the house. I don’t think that’s selfish of me, seeing as you JUST had one of your loud, obnoxious poker games here on Friday.

But, you chose to pretty much say fuck you to me and there they were, a little skeleton crew, sitting at the kitchen table playing poker and drinking beer.

There is never a middle ground. Everything is what YOU want and you could give a rat’s ass about anything else.

So, I’ll tell you what. Here’s the deal.

As long as you keep having poker every single week, contrary to what I have asked…

I’m not doing shit around here. Do it yourself.

You will receive the same respect that you are constantly bestowing upon me.

I know…you don’t care. You never do.

Signed,

Your Wife.

Posted by Melissa in my life | 11 Comments

The Public School Conflict And Why We Are Choosing Private For Our Youngest Child

Jul 27

We believe in the public school system in my home. After all, my husband is a public high school teacher. We both grew up attending the public school systems. Aside from preschool, our 4 oldest children have been pretty happily moving from grade to grade in our district.

BUT.

I’ve begun to not be thrilled with the school district we are living. In fact, I’m not thrilled with most of the school districts in our area. I don’t believe in open schools. I think that you send your children to the school district you live and if you don’t like it, then move. Sounds harsh, I’m sure. But it’s how I feel. I’m sick of the lies that people are telling to get their kids into THEIR school of choice and there are NO checks and balances.

It blows. And it’s a shame because this district ONCE was outstanding.

A lot of these kids that are coming from some less than favorable areas are bringing down the quality of our classrooms. And before anyone gets their panties in a bunch by thinking I’m talking about race or religion…I’m not. I’m talking about the quality of the families and that is color blind or prejudice. It’s rampant everywhere, in every walk of life.

Judge away. I’ll wait.

Anyways…

We are keeping our 4 older ones in the public schools that they are slated. They’ve been in this district for most of their school career and it terrifies and traumatizes them to think we may take them out. They have friends that they would die if we separated them from. OH THE DRAMA. So they’ll stay and we’ll take our chances on their education. They are smart and good kids and usually, birds of a feather. Good kids usually do well anywhere.

Our youngest. He is supposed to start 1st grade in the Fall. I can’t believe it, all my babies are growing up.

I am not excited about the elementary school our subdivision was redistricted. In fact, I’m vehemently opposed to him going there. The class sizes are increasing by 30% which, for him, is a 50% increase from the class size he had for preschool and kindergarten.

For only one teacher. No parapro. No other help in the classroom aside from visiting parents. ONE teacher for almost 30 crazy, hyper first graders. Poor teacher!

I’m not down with that and the numbers in the classrooms are too high for one teacher to effectively teach all the children.

My son will fall so far between the cracks that he’ll never be found. I’m not willing to risk it. He needs extra help. He needs some extra attention. And I don’t think it can be offered to him in our public school. Which, it’s a shame. We moved to our house not only because we loved it but because it was in one of the school districts that were consistently scoring high on tests, had small class sizes and an outstanding curriculum.

Not anymore.

Budget cuts, redistricting, shutting and consolidating schools and blah, blah, blah.

So, we signed our son up for private school. He got tested and was accepted. We just have to wait to see about the financial stuff. Scholarships and whatnot.

It’s what’s best for him. Truly.

This school offers small class sizes and a nurturing environment along with a fabulous curriculum taught by outstanding educators.

It’s the type of school that any parent would want for their child. Everything about it.

It’s just going to be really expensive. And I hope it is worth it. I hope it’s the right fit for him.

My wish for my son is that he is able to take full advantage of everything this particular school has to offer and that he becomes the most successful student that he is capable of becoming.

Or, I’m throwing him in public school with his siblings and getting myself a new car.

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Posted by Melissa in crazy family, my life | 11 Comments

Protected: Short Story: Getting Ready

Jul 25

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For Lori…

Jul 24

I was so nervous. It was the first day of school…of HIGH SCHOOL, no less. The class of 1987 was the first 9th Freshman class of Andover High School. It was a big deal.

I didn’t feel like a big deal.

I walked into the girls locker room with my new gym clothes, which would inevitably become grey and smelly.

I chose a locker at the back, closest to the door of the gym. I hoped that there wouldn’t been many others in my Aerobics 101 class that picked lockers by me. I was shy and insecure and completely out of my element because none of my friends were here to get my back.

I sat on the bench in front of the locker, or in this case, bins and stared. A tall, lanky girl with wildly curly blond hair walked over to me. Her red, cupie doll shaped lips turned into a smile as she neared. She was light and bouncy and she glowed.

I smiled back. How could I not? She was infectious.

She introduced herself. I told her my name.

She picked the locker bin next to mine.

From then on, throughout the next 3 years (she was a grade ahead of me) we were best friends.

Every single weekend, I spent at least one night driving up and down Orchard Lake Road with her, stalking the boys houses that she had mad, passionate crushes on.

We’d pass each other in the hall and exchange notes that were written to each other in lieu of listening to teachers drone on about inconsequential things like math and science.

She was the one friend who remained constant and true throughout high school. We never fought. There was never drama. It was always easy. The way a friendship should be.

Everyone in my family immediately fell in love with Lori. Her personality and warmth radiated and drew people in. She was the only friend I was allowed to stay out with past my 11:30 curfew. (I know, I told you my parents were SO strict).

When she went off to college in Arizona, we tried to stay in touch. We’d write letters, talk on the phone and we’d get together when she came into town.

Even as we got older, every once in awhile we’d still get together. She used to come over to see my babies and also hang out with me when I was going through my divorce.

We never stopped being friends.

We just drifted apart. Our friendship faded, as many friendships do. We’d see each other out and excitedly catch up and promise to get together. We rarely did. And that was OK.

I look back on my high school experience and she is there, in almost every snapshot in my mind…a huge part of my teen life, always there in my memory and in my heart.

Lori was diagnosed with cancer, over 5 years ago, 6 weeks after giving birth.
She fought a brave and fierce fight.

She died today.

I can’t even express to you how sad I am. Sad that I didn’t get to say goodbye. Sad that I will never know if she knew how much she meant to me…always.

She leaves behind a wonderful husband who took care of her like a true knight in shining armor. And a little boy who I hope will always be able to remember how brightly his Mommy’s light shined.

She was a wonderful person who touched everyone she met.

Lori,

You will be so missed. Forever.

I love you, HB. Someday we’ll hang out again, passing notes and giggling while listening to Bryan Adams.

Love,
SP

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Posted by Melissa in my life | 24 Comments

Project Mom Casting: Rock And Drool

Jul 23

This is me on a good day which, in my hectic life, are few and far between. Hair flat ironed, make up applied and dressed to the nines.

Me, on a typical day. After I’ve gotten all 5 kids off to school, switched laundry loads, swept up the animal hair and dust bunnies, emptied the dishwasher and all the other things that us moms do, I look and FEEL more like…

I am living in the modern nuclear family. Yours, mine and ours. My blog is unique in that I capture the voice of the step-mother, the bio-mother, the ex-wife and the second wife and under all those hats there are many stories to tell. Not to mention, I have a very different approach at how I write. I’d like to think that my friends and readers never know exactly what’s going to jump out at them when they land here, on Rock and Drool.

Blogging for me, started out as what I thought would be a non addictive, anti-anxiety med substitute. Turns out I was probably better off filling that prescription because it would have been less addicting! It has become my go to, my turn to, my head and my shoulders. I blog to put it all out there. To get it off my chest, give it to you and beg you to help me figure out what to do with it. I also blog because writing is a passion and the only way to grow as a writer is to do it every day. So, I try, every single day, to write. Someday, I hope to have a book or two to brag about. I’d probably have them completed already if I wasn’t always on Twitter, chatting with all my friends!

My blog hasn’t grown in numbers the way I had hoped, especially for a blog that is over 2 years old. That is pre-historic in blog years. But, many of my original blog friends are still hanging tight with me, the old fossil! I’d say that is what makes me a successful blogger.

Is my story unique? Yes. Because it’s MINE. It may be similar to many others but I have a very different way of telling it like it is though my words, my stories.

And that…is my story.

I could use all of your support, please.
if you would tweet…
@momcasting please interview @rockdrool in NYC because she rocks! #blogher10

I will love you forever. No seriously, I will. Forever.

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Posted by Melissa in blogging | 15 Comments

Self Expression, Where Do You Draw The Line For Your Children?

Jul 23

I believe in self-expression through clothing, accessories, hair, etc. I believe that children should be allowed the same privilege as their parental counterparts, within major reason. As adults, we need to guide our children. They need to know what the difference is between expression and ridiculousness.

I see the way other kids dress, have their hair done, etc. I think to myself…OMG. Quite frankly, I think most of the styles today, in particular, are horrible. Dare I say…worse than the 80′s? I still like the neon colors and the big earrings…that was SO my thang.

I, personally, try not to buy inappropriate clothing for my kids. I don’t like when my kids leave the house with their va-jay-jays hanging out of their camel toes and everything but their nipples showing. Sometimes though, I listen to my kids when they cry “BUT MOMMMMMY, EVERYONE is wearing that.” and I give in. SOMETIMES. Like…those stupid silly bandz or the very unflattering to most kids…Sugarlips tank tops.

And…I’ve allowed my daughters to get a couple of pink highlights. And blonde. And red.

I’ve let them make their own shoes on Nike.com and Converse.com while gnashing my teeth and holding my breath as I pay for the atrocities. And I let them wear them…with me…in public. OY. The shame of motherhood. They think they are embarrassed being seen with me…

My daughter has double pierced ears. It doesn’t bother me, I have double pierced ears too. One is even triple pierced. I did it when my parents were out of town when I was a teenager.

I did a bunch of stupid things when my parents weren’t looking. Because the only expression I felt I was allowed to have was through my clothing…and just barely.

So, I rebelled through other things we won’t go into. That’s another post.

Which is why I allow my children a little more freedom. There are reins but they aren’t super tight. I know what happens when a kid can’t breathe.

BUT.

There are certain things I draw the line at. Under my roof.

Body piercings.
Tattoos.
Goth.
Heavy make-up.
Those tribal disc things that kids are putting in their ears.
Spikes under there skin.
And I can probably come up with quite a few more things.

Another thing…

Mohawks.

Not in my house. I think they are ugly. I hated them in the 80′s. 90′s. And now. They are stupid looking. Especially on young kids.

I always wondered what type of parent would take their kid to get this done. Ever since I was young.

I. HATE. MOHAWKS.

My stepson has spent much of summer vacation with his mother.

Today, he came home for the weekend.

Sporting a brand new mohawk.

It’s so atrocious that even a gorgeous face like his doesn’t soften the ugliness of the haircut.

In this case though, it’s a good thing he is so cute.

L…You know how I feel about you. But, I’m very, very disappointed that you took him to do this. This is allowing the wrong type of self expression, especially for him. What next, tribal plates in his ears? Have fun up North.

Just because a kid thinks something looks cool doesn’t make it cool for him.

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Posted by Melissa in my life | 11 Comments

Obligatory Anniversary Post

Jul 21

I’m not a mushy girl. Wait, let me rephrase that. I’m physically mushy just not emotionally. We don’t need to discuss that though, it’s kind of a sore topic for me (the physical mush. the emotional one, I’m OK with).

I won’t gush on and on about how much I love my husband because that’s the type of thing that makes me hurl. He’s OK, as far as husbands go. I’ve kept him this long, so make your own assumption ;)

I won’t talk about how lucky I am to have a husband that puts up with all my “good ideas”. I will bring up how lucky HE is though, because sometimes a few of my “good ideas” include him. Man, is that guy lucky! I mean, really. Seriously.

I might have mentioned it once or twice that I “knew” on our first date, or somewhere around there. No use repeating myself.

No one needs to know how awesome I think it is that my husband likes to do the same kind of stuff that I do…flea markets, antique shows, junking around. I don’t like poker though. Or poker games at my house. That’s where our compatibility is tested, severely.

Today, on our 8 year anniversary, I won’t mention any of that sort of crap. Because that sort of post, the one that goes on and on about a wonderful husband and beautiful marriage and terrific father…

It’s just not my way to give an anniversary tribute.

So…

To my decent enough husband. You’re alright, I’ll keep you around for a few more years.

Happy Anniversary.

Love,
Me

P.S. I love you. A lot.

P.P.S. I didn’t know what to get you so you get this blog post and if you’re really nice, a little something, something later.

P.P.P.S Love you

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Posted by Melissa in my life | 15 Comments

Private Parties Can Kiss My Rosy Red Rump

Jul 20

I don’t mean to brag but, I got invited to a ultra fancy fashion show while we are in New York.

Then I got uninvited.

Technically, I didn’t even really get invited because the only thing that was in the body of the email was this: H. L (STL-WSW) would like to recall the message, “Style ‘N Smile – Back-To-School Fashion Show with Jennie Garth Aug. 5″

End transmission. Quite frankly, I’m just assuming that this is a Blogher event because of the date. But yeah, it was RECALLED. From MY email inbox.

See, I’m more specialer than you.

I can brag about the parties I got uninvited from.

All those bloggers who are tweeting and facebooking about the plethora of private shin-dig invites that big brands have wooed them to, FEH! You have nothing on me. Although, it is kind of depressing that no one loves me as much as they love you. BUT…

I have better hair than you. MWAHAHAHA!!

While I’m on the subject…

I don’t know about any of you but I’m kind of getting sick of the whole private party at Blogher thing. It’s SO high school/college. OVER IT. And yay for those who got invited into the sorority! Awesome, you should be proud of yourselves. It’s QUITE the accomplishment. (no, no sour grapes…at all!) Really, I think it’s cool. But I’m tired of all of us bloggers that aren’t popular being made to feel Unintentionally? (Or not) Like insecure shit. This is what I really am not digging about Blogher. The whole popularity contest. I turn my nose up at it.

I was never a conformist anyway.

I’m a proud, lone soldier. Waving my flag of rejection. If you want me, you can find me at the Hilton’s bar, nursing my poor ego on a Lemon Drop Martini, wearing one of my super cute dresses paired with Croc Flip Flops on August 5th. And probably the other couple of nights too.

I’m having my own private party. And EVERYONE is invited.
UPDATE
This evening I received an email from the lady who “recalled” the invite. Apparently, there was a “glitch” in their system and she apologized for the misunderstanding. I guess I had been invited to this event…although I never received an invitation…and the offer is still open. I don’t know the details but I am looking forward to finding out what they are!! I SO appreciate this lovely lady putting herself out there and contacting me! I can’t even tell you how much better I feel!

BUT…I still am not a huge fan of the private parties. Too many people are left out!! Like my mom used to say in regards to something or another that I can’t remember…It’s all or none. I get the fact that there are a ton of bloggers going to this conference though. Rock and hard place. Hmmm…

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Posted by Melissa in blogging, my life | 31 Comments

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