Who doesn't like surprises? Me!

Just the other day, it dawned on me: I don't like surprises. I was standing over the stove cooking dinner at the time, and the thought hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"What kind of person doesn't like surprises?" I thought to myself in shock. "And how could I have not known this about myself?"

What brought this realization on was that my mother had written to my husband to ask what I wanted for Mother's Day, hoping that he'd keep the request a secret so she could surprise me with a gift. The problem is, there's not much I want in the way of possessions, and I'm notoriously picky to boot. My husband knows this, so he doesn't waste time trying to read my mind. He asks for a list. And, usually, it takes me anywhere from 2 hours to 2 months to make that 4-item list (depending on the occasion). At my house, the word 'spontaneity' exists somewhere within the realm of little green men. And it's hard for me to accept that.

See, it's not popular or socially acceptable to be a giant stick-in-the-mud (or, in my case, a tire iron in concrete). Most of society loves outgoing, spontaneous people--the kind who make surprising fun. It's a personality trait that's celebrated in nearly every lighthearted Hollywood film. The stuffy librarian with the granny glasses meets Mr. Popular and suddenly transforms into Miss Life O' Da Party. That's the woman every guy wants to date, every employer promote, and everybody envy. She has the most fun and lives life to the fullest--or so everybody thinks. I thought I was her.

Several years ago, I ditched the geeky glasses, cut my hair dangerously short, and bought a more form-fitting wardrobe. I'm very happy with those changes. I feel like a mature, attractive woman now--not the gawky teen I once was. But personality has not necessarily followed. I'm probably a little more spontaneous and fun-loving now than I was back then, but not much. Parties exhaust me, peppy people wear on my nerves, and most surprises leave me mumbling blankly into space. My favorite conversation topics at dinner are religion and politics. It doesn't help that I've been deeply disappointed by past surprises, mainly because people have a tough time understanding what I like. I have a tough time understanding what I like. Sometimes, I don't even like going outside. The life of the party? That's not me. Just give me the one book I want--the thick one with all the big words I can't pronounce correctly. That's all the surprise I crave.

Happy Mother's Day!

Blogging about anything other than Mother's Day today just didn't seem right. So, I thought I'd write a little about my own mother.

At age 19, my mom gave birth to me. My dad was just finishing up college at the time, but he wanted to be a minister. After struggling for a few years, my dad was finally hired to pastor a small, country church. Pastoring a small church, however, rarely pays well, so my mom managed the family's finances very carefully. She worked when she could with just a high school education, clipped coupons, learned to cut and style our hair, and rarely purchased anything for herself--though she very much wanted to.

My mother was never the easiest person to live with. She had suffered through a poor, abusive childhood, and thought that adulthood would eventually grant her all the things she wanted for herself. Therefore, it pained her to work so hard and still not be able to afford some of the nice amenities other preacher's wives enjoyed. As a result, she was often bitter and resentful. However, my mom decided that she would encourage her children to make better decisions than she made. And that's what she did.

Granted, my mother isn't the most understanding woman. A hard life has given her an extremely practical mindset, so though she recognized my ability to write, my decision to strive almost solely for authorship perplexed her for a while. In her mind, becoming a teacher or journalist offered a steady paycheck, which is the most important outcome of any effort. So you can just imagine her response to my brother, who said he wanted to forgo college to become a musician and has so far ended up waiting tables at a restaurant with a wife and baby girl to feed. (He's actually doing very well.)

Despite her shortcomings, my mother really is a loving, compassionate woman. For years, I watched her give to others, even when she had little herself. She is overjoyed to finally be a grandmother and loves to buy little outfits for my niece. She can also balance a checkbook to the penny and make almost anything with scissors, paint, construction paper, glue, fabric, and assorted cardboard tubes--including giant backdrops for church productions and beautiful wedding receptions. She can whip up a mean Hamburger Helper soup and make a budget stretch beyond belief. She can purchase a new wardrobe for just $250. She can out-wrestle most men. And she is always available when I need her.

Thanks, Mom, for everything you do. I love you.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone!

Umm...Yeah

Scratch what I said in my last post about my writing. Since I found out that I'm pregnant, I've done NOTHING. I've been lying around the house in a restless stupor, feeling vulnerable and anxious. I don't know what to do or think.

I don't even know if I can take an aspirin if I get a headache.

Yesterday, I pried my backside off of the couch long enough to buy some Mother's Day cards for all the special women in my life. I promised my mom several months ago that I would get her one even though I treated her to a shopping spree for her birthday, which was two weeks ago. Thankfully, finding the right card kept me out of the house for a good half hour. I went down to the mini Navy Exchange on base and was treated to the most retch-inducing Mother's Day cards money can buy. Thank you, U.S. Navy! Not only did the cards feature some of the worst sentimental embellishments in existence (i.e., "You are the best mom in the world!"), most of the drippy poems didn't even rhyme!

Being the closet feminist that I am, I don't exactly feel conscionable about telling my mom or anyone else that "motherhood was your greatest accomplishment." In my opinion, any fertile woman can squeeze out a baby. I guess if your influence inspires your offspring to cure cancer, you could possibly make that claim. I realize I'm being terribly cynical.

On a more personal note, I think my mom makes a better banker than a mother. She can balance a till to the penny any day of the week, but she can't always show understanding when one of her children does something disappointing or out of the ordinary. I've just learned to accept it and love her anyway. I have to find a card that expresses that sentiment.

As I began rifling through the awful cards, I was struck by the realization that I, too, am going to be a mother. Shocking, I know. Right now, I just hope these Mother's Day cards improve before my child has to buy one.

So far, I've only told some of my family and a couple of select friends--and you, dear readers!--that I'm pregnant. I'm still processing the news, and I don't want to get too carried away. After all, I'm only four weeks along. Something unfortunate could happen between now and January, and then I'd have to tell everyone about that, too. I think I'll just let the news leak out gradually.

When is my husband coming home today?