Don’t you dare glitter

By  | April 7, 2015 |  Comments | Filed under: Feels


You always know those kids growing up who are amazing at the piano or ice skating and they tell you they’ve been taking lessons since they were two. You file it in the back of your mind that when you grow up, you want to be that mom. I wanted to be that mom. I enrolled my first kid in every lesson they made lessons for. Baby music class at 8 months old! Tiny tot gym! Twinkle Toes Ballet! I ran myself ragged organizing shin guards and camp schedules – make that times two once the second arrived and times a thousand when the third baby popped up out of nowhere.

I know you do the same thing. Momming in 2015 is spending a lot of time in parking lots and hallways.

I’m sure your kid is a wunderkid. I’ll bet that all paid off for you. My kids? None of them are especially musically inclined or taking charge on the field. Man, some of those girls in soccer were minted in a factory in Sparta. The teenage height in kindergarten, the sculpted quadriceps that could crush ice – did their parents just magically know they would be women among girls at birth, or did they try every class at the park district until they fell into soccer and the kid took off like Devin Hester?

It turns out, I’ve been ignoring my child’s passion. She knew the sound of all the letters at 16 months (message me for a link to the video of that – my voice is atrocious). She was reading at four, chapter books at five, writing them the whole time. I kept pushing soccer despite her skin that melts like Powder when she goes outside for more than three minutes. I pushed her into ballet even though she complained about the tights and never knew the moves at the recital. Why didn’t I see that one coming? I never knew the moves at my dance recitals. One time I just started doing ad lib somersaults on stage because it was all I could do.

Something about this sudden move across the country has been so eye-opening. When we got here two months ago, it took all our power to cram ourselves into school and a place to live. Finding soccer teams and sussing out a ballet class mid-season is next-level settling in. It’s had to wait.

We are so free!

Bee devours books all afternoon and even got her own library card. As for me, I’m over blogging every second. I’m over Facebook. I’m even over wine every night. I’ve got a new master – a passion for gemstones. What?

It turns out a change in scenery has had a change my expectations of all of us. It’s like the sunshine and freedom have given me permission to pursue an interest I’ve long buried out of fear. I never even faced how much I love gemology and jewelry out of fear that I’d be criticized for being materialistic or vapid or stoops. Why am I so scared of loving what I love? Who are these “people” to me who would say nasty things about my character because I love jewelry? There are plenty of people who love gems and they don’t get any flak for it. What’s not to love about our Earth’s most beautiful, natural treasures?

I don’t know if I can really blame the whole midwest, but I can say there is a certain lasso effect there. Don’t get above your raising. Don’t do anything that might make people think you think you’re all that. Don’t be a snob. Go ahead and be awesome at baseball or soccer and by God, push those square pegs into sporty holes if they don’t fit. But don’t be “fake” or pursue any wild or vain interest and don’t you dare glitter.

I like jewelry. I like diamonds. I can’t play sports. My kids can’t play sports. We like to write and wear pearls and wear long sleeves in the pool. Nothing has ever felt more right for us than being in southern California. We’re just doing whatever the hell drives our passions without regard to what we “should” be doing or what “people” will say. So, I’m now pursuing a Graduate Gemology diploma and in 15 months (or less, if I speed!) I should have the credentials to be a gemologist. Go on. Make fun of me.

I’ll still be happy like a baby gnawing on a computer charger. Life is delicious!


Seriously, why are these so delicious?

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