Self Esteem

Life everyting else that requires nurturing, if neglected or allowed to happen. your self esteem will erode. It's bit by bit, a process so slight (and slightly devious) that you don't realize it until the bottom falls out from under you.

Welcome to bottomville!

In the last couple of days I found a piece of my self-esteem and I'm holding on to it for dear life. I've looked in the mirror and seen the woman that can laugh, cherish and love. I've also experienced kindness that is above and beyond the call of duty.

I will spare you the gory details out of respect for others but needless to say, I have a rocky road ahead. I forgot that you should get out of bed and look forward to the day ahead instead of dreading what may lie before you.

I vow to never forget again. The blog is not ending, just taking a turn in a new direction. At least the title makes sense again -- I am living with my oldies -- just not the same ones.

Maniac

I rarely gripe about my dad. He's my hero. Plus, he accepts me while my mom is still trying to control me. She's always right but it's annoying at this age to admit I still need her advice and counsel. It's even more scary that I seem to need it more as I age.

The other day my dog jumped on my dad. Repeatedly. She is not a small dog. It hurts. I have been on the receiving end.

Here comes the big, sassy mouth part. When he said, "You need to get that dog under control before she hurts someone," I said, "So your dog that bites everyone in her path is ok?"

Later, I was reflecting. First of all, I should not have said that to him. It was disrespectful. I am working on my mouth but I have not conquered my need to have a comeback. Will I ever learn?

We went in the back yard and I threw the tennis ball until I wore her out.

My friend Patsy used to say (about her husband,) "He may be an a******, but he's mine." I feel that way about everyone I love. The husband can truly annoy people, including me. He's still mine. My friends can hurt me but they're still my friends. My aunts, uncles and cousins put up with my quirkiness.

The maniac dog is mine. I may never control her. Sort of like the way that the husband may not control me, my parents may not control their biting dog, my friends might have to accept the person I am instead of the person I want to be.

Respect

I was taught to respect my elders and those in positions of authority. Some people think this means total wimping out. I disagree. It means you clamp your sassy tongue and speak your mind in a respectful way. If you disagree with your parents, you make your case calmly and honoring their position. If you get pulled over by a policeman, it's a good idea to call him "Sir." He's putting his life on the line every day; I think he's earned it.

Labor Day is a big, big day at our club pool. Everyone seems to want a last breath of summer fun before the pool closes. This year, I planted myself in Cocktail Corner for the weekend. (I went home to sleep.)

I am way over the fashion statement of boy's pants below the equator. I don't want to see their underwear.

Most of the children/teens are taught at a young age to obey the rules, abide by the dress code, etc.

But there was this young man ...

He had a skateboard directly behind the lifeguard chair. Lots of little kids were running around so I asked the lifeguard to have him to move it out of the pool area.

Later, his pants kept swimming lower and lower. Not only was he not wearing swim trunks -- his Ralph Lauren whities were on full display, along with half of his behind. I politely asked him to pull his pants up. I believe I said something like this:

"You may not realize it but this is a private club and we have a dress code. There are tons of children running around."

In a way that I would've never imagined, he got in my face.

"I don't see a dress code posted anywhere, Bi***." (Cute, huh?)

I decided to ignore him but our club manager showed up and asked to know whose guest he was. The young crowd he was with became extremely respectful. He was asked to leave. As he exited the pool, he pulled his pants all the way down.

This is a young man who is going places. (Maybe prison?) His parents must be so proud.

Angry at You

It's amazing to me the number of people in this world who don't understand that anger is an appropriate emotion. Yes, anger is a feeling -- like jealousy, loneliness, fright or dread -- but it's an insight into a deeper relationship.

People can annoy me or hurt my feelings for the moment. True anger comes from a deeper place. It pulls on love, friendship, trust ... and someone letting it go or letting you down.

I refuse to participate in an angry discussion that includes name calling or how I might have let you down 20 years ago. (They just escalate to tit for tat.) I have no desire to go on Oprah or Dr. Phil to resolve personal relationships gone awry.

One of my observations about love and friendship is that the true, part-of-my-heart relationships withstand this. It's expected. If I've let you in to my experiences and feelings, chances are we will disagree at some point. Another observation is men don't do this very well. Women say, "I can't talk to you right now but I'll get over it."

Supposedly, hate is the opposite of love. Anger is a partner of love. It says, "I care enough about you to express my feelings and I think our relationship can handle it."

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

Are you singing yet?

"Sock it to me, sock it to me..."

I'm a voyeur. A few years ago, a friend of mine decided to change her life. In her terms, it meant no more bullsh** and I'm not going to do anything I don't want to do. I respected it but I also kind of brushed it off as a mid-life thing. As an outsider looking in, I remember thinking the people who give her the most problems and the most pleasure are the people she values most. She married one of them. She gave birth to a couple of them. One of them gave birth to her. You cannot control these relationships. I hate this expression but, they are what they are.

When the oldies moved in with us, the elephant in the room was the alpha male position. Hangdog was used to being the head of the household. So was Big Daddy. The Belle was used to doing things her way. So was I. We worked our way through the maze and usually found compromise.

As you know, I tend to tell my parents everything. I'm not sure this is normal. We disagree on many things but Aretha would be proud, we do it with respect. (Or we just hang up.)

I'm taking a lesson from my friend. You (my friends, my parents, my relatives, the children, the husband) can tell me anything and I will listen. I will try to learn and correct my faults. There's one caveat: Please speak to me with respect. For who I am and who I want to be. For what I've given you and what you've given me. Respect our history. Respect my phase in life and expect the same in return. Actually, demand it.

Mothers get a free pass on some of these things. Every once in a while, I try to dodge a question. There's a reason Wild Bill called her, "The Prosecutor." She will get it out of me. It takes about 20 seconds.

Aretha would be proud. All it takes is a little prodding...

"Just a little bit... Just a little bit."