Belated (but not undeserved) Mother's Day

It's time to introduce you to a little of my family.

I have six older brothers. Even the sixth one, my twin brother, is older than me (by five minutes. He won't ever let me live that down).

Because I have so many brothers, people often forget about my sister. 

She's the third oldest. I'm the baby. There is enough of a gap that I feel that she is another mother. And yes... that is a very old picture of her. 

Apparently, my crib was in her bedroom. She and I shared a room. I remember many a night when we would push each other out of the bed. I usually spent the night on the ground. We shared a queen sized bed. We were grateful when we each got our own bed.

My sister and I haven't always gotten along. Mostly when I felt she was mothering and I felt like I only needed one mother (that's a total lie... I definitely need 2 mothers to keep me out of trouble). But as I've gotten older, I've seen that she simply wants to save me from heartache that she has known, keep me from experiences that have caused her pain. And for that, I'm grateful. 

When I was living abroad, I would receive letters from her. They were few and far between, she was in graduate school, getting her Ph.D—it was a busy time. But her letters were always timely and poignant. She had had similar experiences to me and I drew strength knowing that I was becoming like my big sister.

Even now, I sometimes wish I could be her. She is strong and happy and successful. She has a house and can do handy work. I usually end up stabbing myself with a screwdriver and then freaking out about getting tetanus. We've gotten into the habit of buying one another Christmas gifts. It's a nice little tradition that I really enjoy.

So, although it's been over a week since Mother's day, I want to simply give a little shout out to my sister for being the best non-Mom Mom. I've needed her, and I'm sure I'll still need her. And I'll forever be grateful that I have at least one other girl in the family.

Saturday Stories: The One When I Went 4-Wheeling

Saturdays are my day to kick back and tell the funny stories that happen in my life. 

The stuff that make my sister-in-law gawk and stutter and not know how to respond because these things don't happen to normal people. 

They happen to me.

There used to be this guy who attend church with me. I'd talk to him at activities, text him when I knew there was some function or gathering planned, but all-in-all, I saw that a) I definitely wasn't interested in him and b) he was pretty much using me to meet the girls at church. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for organizing gatherings, giving my friends courage to talk to the boys. But I really do hate when boys use me to get to my friends. 

So, this guy—we'll call him Ryan—had planned a fantastic date with a girl from church (not one of my friends) and lined up his roommate with her half sister. It was set for Labor Day. 

Ryan texts me at about 9:00 AM asking if I would be interested in going 4-wheeling. Having no plans for the day, never having been 4-wheeling, and since I rarely go out with a boy, I said yes. Apparently, his date called him up that morning and canceled because the sisters had been in a fight.

[source]

The dune buggy was too loud for much conversation to happen. He didn't bring a water bottle for me at all. We mostly drove around this mountain side. Up and down. No talking. And all I could think of was how I wish I had a book with me. 

Periodically, we would stop... but it was always so that he could go off into the bushes and relieve himself (seriously... one time he was so close, I could hear it and another time he took a phone call while doing his business). 

The ride home was my favorite part. We were in his truck and he talked about his previous girlfriends. Ryan said something to the effect of "If she never gets married it's because she turned me down. All because I still haven't gotten a bachelor's and she has her masters."

I wish there were words to describe how I felt. I had just started my third semester of my masters program. I certainly didn't look down on him for still working on his bachelor's, but it was his arrogance and his seemingly condescending attitude that any girl dare say no to him. And on top of that, he talks to me about all of the girls at church who he is interested in and asking me what I think about them and his chances with them.

Although I didn't have any inclination or desire to further this relationship, at that moment I thought, "You have absolutely no respect for me, because if you did, you wouldn't be talking about these girls as if they were a piece of meat while I'm here on the date with you."

Needless to say that after that, I barely ever spoke to Ryan. 

Maybe I was mean. Maybe I was judgmental. But my self-esteem is very soft, so I can't allow myself to be surrounded by guys who don't treat me well. Even if it is a mercy date.

Hence my new rule to dating: I refuse to go out with a guy last minute.

Wednesday Letters: The Chief (Mom)

Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.

Dear Mom,

I hope that you had a good Mother's day. Of course you did—Dad took off leaving you to a quiet house. You could relax.

I want to take this opportunity to thank you, Mom, for everything. I guess I took for granted that not every kid's mom got up at 5:30 AM to make them breakfast or at least hot chocolate for those cooler-than-normal San Diegan mornings. Yeah, you were a special mom.

I still remember coming home from high school one day in frustration because the girls who I thought were my friends had spilled about the crush I had on a boy. And you said that maybe I shouldn't spend so much time talking to those girls, but that I could talk to you because you would keep my secrets. I know I still don't always tell you my secrets, but you're usually on the list to know about things happening. I'd rather tell you than anyone else. 

Your laugh is my favorite thing about you. Maybe because I have the same laugh. On Sunday, we laughed about the recent flirting business with a guy and you laughed right along with me as I recounted the stories. And then even while you laughed you gave the best advice: "Be patient and let him work up the courage." When I told you my reasons for questioning whether or not he was even a viable option, you listened, and agreed, and understood. 

Basically, you're my best friend. 

And so I just have to make this one request of you:

I need you to stay well until I get married. Maybe a little after.

Getting sick, going to the hospital—I don't know if I can handle it again. I'm sure you can't either. But I need you to keep hanging on for a bit longer. Cause I'm not ready to lose my best friend.

Love you!

Emery

Saturday Stories: Dating a Co-worker

My co-worker once told me that my life was like a Jane Austen novel... 

For the record—it's definitely not Pride and Prejudice.

But today is another story from my life.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl, making her way in the world with a semi-decent job and progress towards a masters degree, is in want of a husband.

Right?

Okay... maybe only in Salt Lake City, Utah.

The truth is this:

I'm a 29 year old. The number of ways I can meet single guys is severely limited by not only my work schedule (sometimes, I think I'm in an extremely difficult relationship with work. Not good.) but also the lack of boys that I can interact with on a daily basis.

About a year ago, one of the single guys at work and I began to flirt on a more consistent basis. I'd make excuses to call him and talk about projects which would lead to other discussions. He would do the same. Three minute conversations turned into consistent 10 minute conversations.

The game was played for a good solid three months. 

Three months of questioning EVERYTHING.

Three months of asking random questions.

Three months of dropping hints and getting soft invitations and then him rescinding offers.

Finally, I had enough of the games. I wrote him a Facebook message. And told him: Stop playing and spend time with me if that's what you want. Otherwise, leave me alone.

He took me up on the challenge. We had a date to discuss dating (I think it was more of a hang out session, he said it was a date.) Our first official date was to go to see a movie. It was awkward. 

After another date, there was a drought. Holidays came and passed. He came to my birthday. I wondered if this was normal, while deep down telling myself that I was holding onto a nice fantasy.

He finally took me out to tell me that he had decided to get back together with his ex. In so many words he explained that I was meaner than he expected, I teased too much, and I wasn't the prettiest girl (because he never goes for the pretty girls). 

And don't worry, he told people at work that he made me cry. For the record? I didn't cry... in his presence. 

So, now I have dating rules. Well, currently only three. They are:

1. Never ask a boy out. (This rule may be broken but only in these ways.)

2. If a guy is not asking you out, he's not interested. MOVE ON!

3. Be nicer. Sarcasm can be sweet, but notice when I've turned it mean. 

Of course, I haven't had success yet, but I definitely am happier. 

But I wonder if that happiness has come from NOT dating...

It's possible.

Wednesday Letters: Future Husband

Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.

Dear Future Husband,

I don't want to dance at our wedding. Please don't make me.

I will dance while I clean the kitchen. 

I will dance when I'm back from a run and a good song is on. 

And I will dance with you every day after our wedding.

Just don't make me dance in front of everyone.

I don't want them to see my lack of rhythm.

It's vain and selfish of me, I know.

But I am who I am.

Love, 

Emery

Mother and Rosa

Perhaps this post is more appropriate for next Sunday.

But patience is not ones of my strong qualities. (I'm not even sure it's one of my qualities in general...)

This is my mother:

I think this was taken around the time she got married which was... when she was 24. Mom is so pretty. I often wished that I inherited her beautiful black hair. Unfortunately, I'm the blond. One of two blonds in the family (there are 8 of us kids).

My mom loves roses. 

I remember her always having rose bushes and every spring and summer she would go out there on Saturday morning and cut roses to bring inside. She would also cut them and have me deliver the roses to neighbors or to anyone who needed a bit of cheering up. They were beautiful roses. 

When I was 23, I stopped disliking Mom so much. I grew out of my teenage angst and attitude and I actually loved spending time with her. I realized that she was growing much older. And she probably wouldn't be around for much longer. 

That year, I lived at home for six months. And during that spring and summer, I would go help my mom cut the roses. She taught me about their names and the differences. Her favorites were black magic. They are red that deepen the color towards the ends of the petals so that they look almost black. Or at least, I like to say those are her favorites. Maybe they're just mine.

When I went back East a couple of weeks ago, I ran into the U.S. Botanical Gardens. It was on my trek through the National Mall and I thought, "Why not?"

Of course, the roses were blooming. And I found a new favorite. Prairie Desert.

I loved the pink (I never like pink so that was a bit of a surprise), but I also loved the yellow. It was just... pretty. 

One day, when I have a house, I want a line of rose bushes. And you can be sure that there will be a bush of Black Magic and a bush of Prairie Desert.

Saturday Stories: Dating and Work

I should've written more this week. Last week I was traveling. No posts.

This week, I was working on finishing my semester. Did I ever explain that I'm working on a masters?

No?

That's something for another post.

But today, I have a new story. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so innocent.

***

Before I left for my vacation to the East, there was a new boy at work who started to flirt with me. I have dreaded talking to him because I naturally flirt back, but I'm not sure how much I like him. I have too many successful brothers and they have pretty much ruined any and all men for me because deep down, I hope that the man I marry is just as successful as they are—or at least in the path to become such.

When I returned, we've seen each other a few times. Yesterday, I went to drop some stuff off with him and then head to a meeting (for which I was already late for! I just HAD to do some shopping during lunch and purchased an adorable green skirt. Pics to come later). 

Of course, he wanted to chat. Get to know me.

 And I stayed because:

a) I like the attention. 

b) I need to give him a shot.

c) I really didn't want to go to my meeting.

So, we chatted about our weekends. My desire to go see The Avengers but without all of my crazy friends who are taking their boyfriends. 

That's when he piped in. 

"I saw it last night at the midnight showing. It was awesome..." Long pause. "If you want some company, I'd be happy to go with you tomorrow night."

I smiled and thanked him. "I'm sorry. I already made plans with some other friends to avoid going with this group."

But then the question was just hanging out there in the universe. I didn't want him to think that I was rejecting HIM... Just the offer for tomorrow night because I REALLY do have plans. So I threw him a bone. 

"I was thinking about going tomorrow morning. You can come if you want to... But you are working on a house."

"That's only because I had nothing better to do. I'll come if you want me to."

It's a volleyball game. He kept volleying it back to me. And I kept sending it right back to him. 

We exchanged numbers.

And then last night, I realized that unfortunately, with my schedule for today, there will be no movie. And so I had to make that call. 

He answered it while riding his bike. I don't know how I feel about that. I told him that probably wasn't safe. And then I explained the situation. And again, he said "We should do something sometime."

I had practiced the line so many times. I was supposed to say, "Yeah. I'm free next Saturday if you want to plan something and get back to me." 

What came out was: "Yeah. That would be awesome."

*facepalm*

I realize that this is practice. Practice interacting with boys since my ability to do so in a dating setting is nil. But I'm nervous how Monday is going to go. 
And so continues my life...