Buddha Redux

It's been months since the Orange Robe Episode, and nothing Buddha-related has come up in conversation around Aunt Pillowhead's house since.

But on Sunday, while out running errands, I spied a red resin laughing Buddha in the window of an antique/junk store. The little guy called to me, "Buy me for Hammerhead!" he said. So I did.

Hammerhead's reaction, when I gave it to him, took me totally by surprise.

He cupped his hands to receive it, then held and gazed at it like a father cradling his firstborn baby. "My own Buddha!" he said. "I never thought I'd have my own Buddha!"

On Monday morning, he took it with him to school, to show his friends and keep in his locker. His plan is to rub the tummy for good luck every morning, especially before tests. He held it in his hands through the entire ride there, rubbing the tummy and turning it over and over. "I used to go to Vietnamese restaurants and see the Buddha and be so jealous. But now I don't have to be jealous, because I have my own Buddha," he said. "It's so cool. It's so awesome. Man. I can't believe I have my own Buddha. It's really heavy. Will it break if I drop it? I hope I don't drop it. What happens if you drop a Buddha? Is it bad luck? Man! I can't believe it, it's so cool to have my OWN Buddha."

I couldn't really believe how much he liked it. I thought he'd be amused and maybe a little charmed, but I had no idea he'd be so overwhelmed. "I'm so glad you like it so much, Hon," I said, and I startled him. I think he forgot I was there, driving the car. He looked at me with surprise, and then looked back down at his own Buddha, smiled, and shook his head. We rode the rest of the way in happy silence. It was good.

It's Time To Get Over Ourselves

Hey, Stepmothers,


Can we talk?

And I don't mean about our selfish, difficult ex-wife, our petulant/ ungrateful/neurotic/troubled/needy/manipulative stepchildren, or our half tuned-in husband either. And most of all, I don't mean about us, and how we struggle to deal with it all, and how our sacrifices, contributions, and efforts go unrewarded, unacknowledged, and uncelebrated. I don't want to talk about how amazing we are and how hard we work and how lonely it gets sometimes. Because the truth is, it's all starting to get really boring.

Stepmothers, it's time to get over ourselves.

What did we think would happen when we married this man and inserted ourselves between him and his children?

And how did we ever forget what it feels like to be a child, to need to love our biological parents fiercely and unquestioningly, and how weird and scary it felt when someone tried to step into either of their shoes, even temporarily? How did we ever forget that one adult--that teacher, that relative, that babysitter--who took over and resented us, who didn't understand our feelings, and who stridently mandated our respect and admiration? And most of all, how in the world did we forget how much worse it was when this person thought she was so smart, funny, pretty, hip, and perfect, that if we didn't agree, there had to be something wrong with us? It makes my stomach hurt to think about it.

The thing is, it's not about us, Stepmothers. It's about our stepchildren. It's about what has been taken away from them because of their parents' divorce, what they need now, and the things we might be able to do to soften, comfort, and lessen their trauma while folding them into their new life with us.

Our stepchildren have no obligation to us. Anything we get from them is extra and hard-won. We are not in a reciprocal relationship, we are in a relationship of service. So let's get our egos out of it, stop whining, and get back to work. Let's turn to our friends, family, job, husband for devotion, comfort, and reassurance. Let's stop demanding it of these poor kids.

It's not that I don't want to read our blogs, Stepmothers. It's that I want to read less about how fabulous we are and more about our fabulous stepchildren. Who are they? What do they wish for, how are we working to understand them? Above all, how are we helping them to reassemble their senses of self, their feelings of power, success, and security, now that their lives have come apart? Now THAT would be interesting. That would be helpful. That would tell them that we really love their father, that we honor their place in our life, and that, more than anything, we are up for the responsibility of doing our part to create a happy home for everyone. Okay?

Tell you what. I'll go first:

Excellent related Modern Love piece in last Sunday's NYT.

Don't Make It Bad

Here’s something fun to imagine:


There are two sisters, one young and beautiful, one a little older, and, let’s just say...handsome. All of their lives, these sisters have viewed each other through a kind of filter, focusing more on how the other should be more like them than what they actually love about each other. Which turns out to be a lot.

Okay, so imagine this: last weekend, these sisters meet in a large American metropolis (one that maybe people in South Africa, or Iraq, or Asia might be able to locate on a map, but not many US Americans, because they don’t have maps, as such—if you don't get this reference, go to youtube, you will either thank or curse me, I promise) and they have a breakthrough, which results in an amazing bonding experience. For the first time in their lives, these two women just enjoy each other. They don’t think “I wish you were more...” or “I think you should be less..” or "Why do you always have to...", they just have fun together.

And in this wave of goodwill and newfound acceptance, they decide to go do some karaoke together.

For those of you who have not yet done karaoke, here are some tips:

#1. It doesn’t matter if you can sing or not. What matters is that you pick a song the crowd likes.

#2. Picking a song the crowd likes involves scoping out the crowd and gauging their basic demographic, plus their response to the songs others are karaoke-ing. For example, if the crowd is enjoying and singing along with fast, hip-hop songs, and you want to please the crowd, choose a fast, hip-hop song.

#3. “Hey Jude” is not a fast, hip-hop song.

#4. You and your companion karaoke-er may own expensive purses full of valuables. You may not want to leave them unattended at your table as you go up to sing a duet of “Hey Jude” together. This will not change the fact that if you are two white women in your 40’s, carrying your purses up to the stage can not, and will not, look cool, or, in any other way, appeal to a crowd of a certain demographic.

#5. The key of a song is very important (dare I say “key?”) in how well it will be sung by a given singer or singers. In other words, if you and your karaoke partner are sopranos, you will both suck when singing a song in a basso profundo key. You will sound like female impersonators. You will desperately cling to each other when you realize how bad you sound. You will not enjoy the feeling.

#6. “Hey Jude” has a lot of “na na na na” choruses, and if you suck at the first one, you will most probably suck at the sixteenth one. Prepare for that.

#7. When trying to liven up the sixteenth “na na na na” chorus which you have sucked at so far, bursting out into Paul McCartney’s background riff of “hey joooday joodayJOODAYJOODAYJOODAYJOOODAAAY!” will probably not inspire the crowd to respond with encouraging cheers. Instead, they will probably blink quietly. This will make you very, very uncomfortable.

#8. When you realize that singing a duet in this unnaturally low voice with a same-sex fellow karaoke-er may cause the blinking, silent crowd to think you are lesbian lovers, explaining between choruses of “na na na na” that “We’re SISTERS!” is awkward. Don’t do it. They don’t care. They just want you to take your expensive purses full of valuables and get the hell off the stage so they can start having fun again.

#9. When “Hey Jude” is over with, please the crowd for the first time since your turn began. Do this by running, not walking, to the nearest exit. Run, run, run! Go, go, go!

#10. If you ignore all of the above advice and choose “Hey Jude” as your song at a karaoke bar, and all of the above happens to you, for the rest of your life you will not be able to hear that beautiful song without cringing and laughing. Can you live with that? If so, then be my guest! Go for it! And good luck!