A couple of our friends are getting married in a few months. Great friends. The type of friends who help you move, or help your family put the dock in the lake summer after summer. The type of friends who come to your house with dinner and a movie to keep your mind off of terrible things, like loss.
My husband and I are in the wedding party, happy to be so. As I've said, these are great friends. So why is it that I'm so petty as to whine about needing to dye shoes or alter a dress? Certainly, I never heard a squawk out of my eight bridesmaids when they had to squirm around in their strapless little numbers.
Maybe it's the hormones - ugly, make-you-cranky, hormones - but earlier today, I was directed to their wedding site, where they have a listing of their wedding party. A who's who, so to speak, listing how we know the couple and interesting information about each person. For most of the people - it lists school's graduated from, degree's in process, goals attained - for me? "We all met in college. Mel married Vin. She lives with him and her two kids."
Huh?
I know I shouldn't be petty, and as far as the site is concerned, it's hardly important. It's just the idea that this is how a very good friend of ours knows me. I'm a wife and I'm a mom. Forget that I'm weeks away from finishing my MFA, that I work 20+ hours a week outside the home, and am finally having some success as an emerging writer.
Nope, I just live with my husband and change diapers.
Like I said, it's probably just that time of the month (I wish I wasn't a walking cliche in that regard, but it's true) - and it's not important how a bridal registry website has portrayed me. It's just me - being petty.
Now, onto the impatient part of this post.
I am not cut out for a writing career. It requires a well of patience that I simply do not have. Knowing this when I first decided to submit, I specifically chose magazines with records of expedience. Now, nearly 70 days later - I'm still checking my inbox and mailbox daily with anticipation.
At this point, I'd just like verification that they even got my submission in the first place - forget acceptance. I just want to be free from this burden of waiting.
Adding to the list of things I'm impatient for, my thesis reader (an author that I greatly respect) is due to have my thesis returned to me with her notes and comments any day now (but not today - I already checked.)
I feel like I'm standing in line at the DMV - the sort of raw, irritable impatience that comes from florescent lights and people sneezing in your bubble of personal space.
And on that note, Ms. Petty McCranky-Pants who lives with her husband and changes diapers, needs to go...well... change a diaper.
My husband and I are in the wedding party, happy to be so. As I've said, these are great friends. So why is it that I'm so petty as to whine about needing to dye shoes or alter a dress? Certainly, I never heard a squawk out of my eight bridesmaids when they had to squirm around in their strapless little numbers.
Maybe it's the hormones - ugly, make-you-cranky, hormones - but earlier today, I was directed to their wedding site, where they have a listing of their wedding party. A who's who, so to speak, listing how we know the couple and interesting information about each person. For most of the people - it lists school's graduated from, degree's in process, goals attained - for me? "We all met in college. Mel married Vin. She lives with him and her two kids."
Huh?
I know I shouldn't be petty, and as far as the site is concerned, it's hardly important. It's just the idea that this is how a very good friend of ours knows me. I'm a wife and I'm a mom. Forget that I'm weeks away from finishing my MFA, that I work 20+ hours a week outside the home, and am finally having some success as an emerging writer.
Nope, I just live with my husband and change diapers.
Like I said, it's probably just that time of the month (I wish I wasn't a walking cliche in that regard, but it's true) - and it's not important how a bridal registry website has portrayed me. It's just me - being petty.
Now, onto the impatient part of this post.
I am not cut out for a writing career. It requires a well of patience that I simply do not have. Knowing this when I first decided to submit, I specifically chose magazines with records of expedience. Now, nearly 70 days later - I'm still checking my inbox and mailbox daily with anticipation.
At this point, I'd just like verification that they even got my submission in the first place - forget acceptance. I just want to be free from this burden of waiting.
Adding to the list of things I'm impatient for, my thesis reader (an author that I greatly respect) is due to have my thesis returned to me with her notes and comments any day now (but not today - I already checked.)
I feel like I'm standing in line at the DMV - the sort of raw, irritable impatience that comes from florescent lights and people sneezing in your bubble of personal space.
And on that note, Ms. Petty McCranky-Pants who lives with her husband and changes diapers, needs to go...well... change a diaper.
5 Comments:
Very trying, absolutely. D's best friends misspelled his first name on their wedding invitations Turned out their mother addressed them.
Blame the hormones, then when you feel better and see how funny it is, you can completely recant.
I'm sorry your feelings are hurt. You are so much more than that. But isn't that the best roles to highlight really? A wife and mother. How wonderful to have those roles.
But I see your point. And I can emphathize with your frustrations. I'm just too chicken to write about that stuff on my own blog for fear that someone who I'm referring to might actually read what I wrote.
Big hugs to you, Mella dear.
I hear you, Mella! I could have written an almost identical post myself.
-Petty McCranky-Pants II
I should clarify, that the site with the little blurb about me was edited by the groom - and he didn't even put a whole lot of thought into what he wrote about his fiancee either. So, I can't be upset.
And I'm not, really. Just moody. And find it interesting to see myself summed up in my marriage and motherhood.
A former coworker noted that Family Circle Magazine focused a lot on my being a mother too. She found it odd, I found it appropriate, being that it's a magazine devoted to family-types.
Ok, missy! Stop with the talk of not being cut out to be a writer! Stop! Stop! Stop!
So, when is the book signing? I need to make reservations you know!
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