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Friday, May 28, 2010

`Diff'rent Strokes' star Gary Coleman dies - Boston.com

`Diff'rent Strokes' star Gary Coleman dies - Boston.com

Brittany Murphy's husband dies - The Boston Globe

Brittany Murphy's husband dies - The Boston Globe

What the WHA????

So in a fit of procrastination from writing an article and editing a short, I decided to hit up my "Delivered to me Without any Effort at all by Me News" or the yahoo news feeder that makes you read the headlines before getting to your precious email.

And in the WHAT THE WHAAAAA???? WHAT? category (nonexistent for those scratching heads)is news that makes you go HMMMMM?



First Gary Coleman apparently has just died. Well, that's sad, but he seems to have had a troubled life, maybe he will be better in another place...who knows. I met him a long time ago, he was at a party with a friend of a friend yadda yadda and I hung out with him a bit. What was really sad was that he was ON all the time, he was cracking jokes and being his Different Strokes character, but more mature. If asked about life his face often just twisted into a pain he was trying to hide. I remember really wanting to just hug him, but I knew that would be weird. I did hug him with my eyes. I just let them pour out love, cause he seemed so troubled and sad even back then, 10 ish years ago. And today he is gone and we are the same age. I hope he's in a better place...I hope he feels free...I hope he can really smile.

And Brittney Murphy's husband has just died of a heart attack. WHAT...first it's weird enough that Brittney Murphy died...again I've met her (thank Tea House), but I can't say I know anything about her at all, just saw her from a far, however the fact that a healthy guy can just die 5 months after his "healthy" young wife....makes you go WHAT???? Really what kinda crack is everyone smoking. Cause you know they are not dropping of natural causes. It's sad. I guess that Hollywood has always been this sad, but if feels somehow sadder now. I'm sure there is an insider story to all of this, but yikes....there's something very Greek and tragic about what we are doing to our "Gladiators" these days...guess we haven't changed that much, only now we don't let lions eat them, we let publicity, insecurity and drugs do that... boo!



While these are bit players in the big arena...you just wonder how many "unknowns" and folks just die...literally from the lifestyle this business seduces them into. I know about a lot of it, I really do, and yet my little bungalow is far far from the clutches of that life...and yet how sad. :-(

On an up note (okay...how???) I am up for a hot job as a series writer and this gives me a yummy little side story (don't steal it or I will have to kill you...lucky I'm not insecure and have my own little way o' tellin' it :-) so I'll probably let ya live...um Momma Drama, you are watching just a few too many back to back Netflix, catch up episodes of Dexter...slow down a little girl.)

Okay...back to work.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

My New Kids :-) (no...not that kind of new kid...)

So I have some new kids :-) Yep. I am teaching Secondary School kids film making in their after school program. While we had only three days to shoot and edit this film, I am really proud of my new kids. They are a great bunch and I look forward to getting them really engaged in new stuff. While I don't know them that well yet, I already know that I love them. Ya know kids...especially teens are smarter than we give them credit for. Yes, they test ya and yes they are not yet mature enough to get the whole picture, but they "know" and they are still innocent.

I look forward to working with more teens and helping them find the true potential within.

Here is a look at the first video on their Youtube Channel (expect more stuff to come) this was 100% kid created, they picked the topics and shot them, made the edit and graphic decisions. I can only take credit for the cool shot at the end, the rest was me just putting together what they wanted.

Bravo guys!!!!

Pictures of camping and blog follows...

1. Chuckawalla (don't ask me how to spell that....whatever?)
2. Diva Dad and Big Diva taking a picture of the Chucka-whatever...
3. Diva Dad spots chucka-whatever-thingy and calls Big Diva over to see it.
4. Camping ala Little Princess Play Tent.
5. Yep....that's what they slept in...God Bless the Little Divas.
6. Little Diva nap
7. Big Diva contemplates the Universe. (She told me she was meditating)
8. Diva Dad in our makeshift home :-)

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Huzzah Little Campers

So Daddy Diva and I took the little Diva's out to the desert to go camping. Some would think this an INSANE thing for a single mother to do with two young children and some would be right, but since Momma Drama IS an insane mom...it works out just fine.

Big Diva has been camping since she was 5 months old and Little Diva 2 months so the Diva's are no stranger to the outdoors and they love it. They also love Diva Dad, we don't see Diva Dad that often, but when we do it's amazing.

I have to say again, I appreciate Diva Dad stepping up and embracing the Little Divas, he didn't have to. We were friends before big Diva came along, we have always been close even though life has separated us a bit from one another we have always been like family. So to see Diva Dad embrace his role in the Little Diva's life is amazing. One day there will most likely be another father (pause to PLEAD...PRINCE CHARMING GET YOUR ASS MOVING, HOW LONG YOU THINK I'M GONNA WAIT...This Princess' butt is whole lot bigger and her hair is turning gray, you probably wanna show up before Momma Drama turns into a old battle ax...okay!) in their lives (or two more Dads if Diva Dad gets married, and if Diva Dad finds his prince before Momma Drama does...well God, just expect a strongly worded letter!!!!!) BUT....

I'm happy the kids have a Dad as awesome as Diva Dad, there can be more Dads in the future, but there will always be Diva Dad.

So trip highlights....The Divas waking up in the morning, playing in the dirt singing at the top of their lungs. Getting an awesome campsite amid the huge boulders....and sleeping outside without a tent.

So why you ask did Momma Drama sleep outside???? Well simple, I forgot the tent poles to our tent. So the Little Diva's slept in their princess play tent (pause to thank God or whoever is in charge that they both fit in that thing....and LIKED IT!) and I slept on our cots out under the shade structure Diva Dad made for us. Actually it was amazing sleeping under the stars, I LOVED IT, only drawback was the wind whipping the shade thingy into my face...annoying...annoying!

So below (as I still have no clue what I am doing with this blogger stuff) are pics of our trip.

A few are of Diva Dad and Big Diva both filming a chuckawala and others are of camp. Enjoy...we sure did!

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Shhhhhh Taking the Little Divas on a Camping Trip with Daddy Diva Torrow.

We will be out of commission for a few days as the Drama/Diva family heads for the desert with Diva Dad.

Big Diva, is INSANE for her Dad, she is absolutely out of her mind in love with Diva Dad, so it's a secret. Tomorrow morning (after Momma Drama has been up all night writing a last minute series bible/episode request and editing a film...an oh packing...EEEEKKKK) I will tell Big Diva that NO WE ARE NOT GOING TO SCHOOL...she's GOING CAMPING WITH MOMMA DRAMA, LITTLE DIVA AND DIVA DAD.

Expect major joy!!!!!

Huzzah...Pleasure Faire.

So Momma Drama bogarted ye old cleaning house for party time with kids Elizabethan Style. I have say I was really impressed, there was no half assed, "I don't really do Elizabethan" pretending, everyone was really into it. It was cool. Even for an old crusty thing like me, I had fun pretending we lived in Merry Old England. I figured, with my dusty sparkle shoes, big haired brown kids, and the lot of us in enchanted clothing, we would be from the Gypsy/Fairy class.

Regardless, as always my family stood out. Gee...I wonder??? Could it be the authentic garb or the look of awe and enjoyment on ye old kid's faces. Whatever the reason here's a list of things my kids got. (ohhh pausing to add, pics of the kids are below this post...Momma Drama clearly doesn't understand the blogger format, sucks for you, the oh so Have To Jump Around My Blog, reader) So go below to look at pics of...the Divas doing a Bit of Renaissance. (Momma Drama left the camera in the car, since I realized after I had shlepped the little Divas to our destination, we only have pre-party pics in our messy house. Have fun!)

Oh and the list of stuff we got.


From the Wicked Step Sister who was French (and later found out was not French): A FAN...for little Diva (Turns out that this woman is a friend of my Sister's from work...weirdly we have never met her, nor she us, but on this occasion she remembered us...stories were told the next day around the water cooler and badda bam, my sister knows her...isty bitsy microscopic world.)

THE KING...(really there was a King) gave Big Diva a bracelet.

THE QUEEN (yeppers Elizabeth herself) Waved at Big Diva twice during the "Parade"

And another Townsperson gave Big Diva a jewel encrusted Cross Necklace.

I tell you it felt like Burningman with all the niceness and gifts.

Things that were crazy cool were all the toys, games and rides were wooden and man-powered vs. machine powered.

I have to say that being able to provide a fantasy experience for your kids (who are you kidding Momma Drama, you LOVED IT...freak, tell the truth) that was parent friendly. Is one of the many real perks of Parenthood. And hell..it cost me ye old shirt of my back...but ya know...it was priceless (oooze sap NOW!)

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Little Diva Dancer, My new Love..... LAPTOP

So since I have stopped running a daycare I have been home with Little Diva. She's my little writing buddy (coo fawn...love Little Diva). I realized that while I LOVED MY DC BABIES...and always will. The whole daycare thing was WORK WORK WORK. Don't get me wrong, I like to work, I work all day and night...but literally this was all day and all night and I almost died. Well, not DIE exactly...but close, or not close, but it FELT like I was dying. So I am back at it again, rustlin' up writing work (pause to add plea...anyone know a good agent. It's time to get one...freelancing is fun and all, but an agent would be funner.), writing the novel, preparing to teach foster and incarcerated youth how to make movies, making little movies...etc. It's fun stuff. But Little Diva doesn't think its fun. Little Diva is a bit peeved that she has no playmates, Little Diva doesn't like Momma Drama making Drama, she likes Momma Drama paying attention to Little Diva. So I can only write when Little Diva sleeps (like a big ol' nap :-) or at night.

And sometimes...I can squeeze in a word or two when Little Diva dances. :-) See Little Diva doesn't like tv. (Segue into Preacher Mode) And TV is WRONG for Toddlers, toddlers should NOT watch TV. Baby Einstein is the devil, now let me tell you folks, Toddlers need wooden toys, they should eat only whole foods grown in organic soil (Momma Drama pauses to ask a question? Do nuggets off the floor count???) Toddlers should be exposed to different languages, Toddlers, should be outside, toddlers should NEVER ever EVER NEVER NEVER NEVER watch TV!....okay, well that sucks. Cause in that 24 minutes that Baby Einstein makes a lame-o toy look like art dancing to Tchaikovsky, I get this blog written or a content article or God willing a CHAPTER closer to finishing my long awaited novel. But no go...Little Diva doesn't do drama. Not that kind at least. Little Diva LOVES to dance. Little diva is a dancer...and so we dance.

See the video below to see the Little Diva Tude!!!! Please forgive Momma Drama singing...and yet would I be Momma Drama without it??? Hmmmm one take a moment to ponder? Also YES my child did just eat something off the floor....and it is NOT clean enough to eat off of....just makes you go EWWWW!

New Laptop. I LOVE MY NEW LAPTOP...we are gonna go places. I just got rid of DESKTOP and LAPTOP and I are in love. I get to learn so many new things with LAPTOP and I'm excited. Thank you MOM and Mom's entry into the Foster Care World (Thank you agency for the incentive payment) so that I can be the owner of my newest love....LAPTOP!

Here it is, in case you are looking for a good consumer-can sorta kinda mostly edit stuff- laptop....ahhh LOVE!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

My Montage 5/18/10 at OneTrueMedia.com

They Did NOT talk about Betty White's Muffin???!!!!

Okay, on a bit of a late night traipse through exhaustion, I stumbled on this Hulu goodie....

BETTY WHITE ON Saturday Night Live....This is a must see. No really the whole thing is BRILLIANT. I love Betty White....man when I'm 88 I want to be just like her, no really.

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This is pretty raunchy but God bless Betty for doing this. Apparently there was a facebook campaign to get her on the show and she was a great sport through the whole thing.

She's 88 years old and still livin' life. While this is just a baudy romp with a good sport, it shows how vibrant and alive we can be, she's an inspiration...this sweet little ol' lady...just ain't and I love it!

Friday, May 14, 2010

KamiSama: NAO (Book 1) Chapter One




Kami Sama
Chapter One: Fairy Tale
January, 6 2716
Dearest….

Today my father died.

Today...

I am struggling with my thoughts, they hurt more than the cold or the inertia of shock. They are a battle ground where no one is crowned victorious, they rage against my brain and threaten to destroy it. You are my only salvation. You keep my eyes cast downward so that I may remain painfully unaware of the obvious. You settle me in a safe place. The smell of your pages comforts me, the rustle of their skin is sweet music and for that you are my dearest as your presence overwhelms me with peace and it withdraws me from misery. I am writing without purpose or thought, just the drifting pen, aimlessly keeping me innocent. For delivering me from this, horror...I thank you.

I'm not the kind who should keep a journal. I'm unimportant. I guess I was at one time, but that time has long passed. The novelty and atrocity of my birth is recorded in some volume of political treacheries somewhere and that now stands as the only testament of my fleeting moment of significance. When I was younger, my mother would recall the story of my birth, but now we rarely speak of it. Tomorrow is 16th anniversary of that event, my birthday and the day the earth died.

I want to feel nostalgic, but I can't feel. I do note this, the only physical evidence of my sixteen years on this earth outside of my small but growing frame is the fact that I have never cut my hair. Like you, it protects me from the outside. People call me “Kami Sama” “The hair girl”, a cruel name bestowed upon me by children of the light dwellers as they engaged in the petty torments of those less fortunate than themselves. I never cared. They didn't see my face. I am held within a veil, intact, whole; human. I was born Aurora, for the dawn that never returned to our earth. Like the memory of the sun's warm glow, my name has also been rendered obsolete. I am Kami Sama.

Glancing though thick black strands of hair, I stare at them; still stone faced. My mother cradles my father's dead body in her arms. She hasn't moved in hours, not since her haggard whisper announced, “he's gone” as she removed the tea cup to his dead lips. His passing was silent, minute, almost indistinguishable from his life which, was equally as dead. He uttered a faint groan and then his last breath escaped his body. I watched it mix with the dark, sooted air as it passed over the last smoldering ember of our ancestral fire and angrily smote it. There is nothing but darkness now. I can see glowing homesteads outside of our window, far off and distant, but they don't cast light upon us. If it were possible for another's ancestral fire to shine on our homestead, it would only be illuminating this horrific tableau; a cold room enveloped in the deafening sounds of silence; each of us fixated on one beatless heart.

My mind wanders again, floating back to more joyful times which were fat with the promise. The three of us have always shared this tiny room with it's small ancestral fire. However, I believed that we were destined for greater things. I was told that we were merely waiting for the political unrest to die away. “This darkness is temporary, my child, we are ancient nobility, don't ever forget that.” My mother would say, reverently in her unusually melodic tone. I believed her. I envisioned us as royalty with vast lands and tremendous influence over those who now oppressed us; that thought often warmed me. Once upon a time, my mother believed the fairytale, but it is she who has forgotten. For as the years drew onward, she became less enchanting and more melancholy, my father less passionate and more sedate. I think they died then when their dreams failed them, so today really isn't really any different than any other, only I hope their suffering is also terminal. These thoughts strangle me, I force my mind back to remembering...

The sound of my mother’s voice was beautiful when I was young. It was much different than it is now, more melodic, more motherly. I would lay listening to the honey tones glide over me like soft velvet warming me against the faint coldness of our room. The sound lulled me as I felt sleep creep in. She would tell me the fairytale of my birth, every year on my birthday. In these last few years, however, her care for me and the tale has waned. But back then, her voice covered me like a blanket as I fell deeper into it, strong and resound it vibrated like the wind in low, melodic tones, hypnotizing me. I would listen to each word tug and pull me closer to sleep.

“It was the last day of the world, Kami Sama…your birthday.” she would croon.

I drink in the memory and glance at her again, she looks so still, barely breathing as she clutches him to her. He hasn't moved, I don't know why I expect him to, he never will again, but he almost doesn't look dead. I push my thoughts away and struggle to remain in the past, a child, wrapped in the warmth of a mother. I consciously suck a breath inward, trying stave off the flood of tears pushing against my heart, and continue filling my mind with memories that keep my mother safe and my father alive.

“It was the last day of the world, Kami Sama…your birthday.”

When my mother spoke she would pause letting her breath escape through her lips with a sigh and then a slow and long drawn breath back inward. Then with a fleeting twinkle of sweet reflection in her eyes, she would repeat the first line, as if it held some kind of relevance for her.

“It was the last day of the world, Kami Sama...your birthday.”

The world ended as the week began. The sun was strangled by the demons of man. Poison belching from concrete towers... clouded skies and killed flowers. Apathy and industry, changed the face of history, war and hate sealed our fate. There was no longer any light...no day nor night. Darkness laid claim to the land and the people began to disband.


Her voice always stopped there. I would wonder what she was thinking and remember lying still trying to listen to her thoughts, but all I could hear was the rustle of life outside our room and the air, nothing more. I think she was willing fate to change, that by not telling the tale she would somehow escape it. Yet she always surrendered, knowing that fate is immovable, unchangeable…destined.

I glance over at her again, clinging to my father, she takes another shallow breath. A heavy sigh escapes me involuntarily, her eyes dart to mine, they shatter me with her anguish. I flinch, recoil, dig myself deeper into my memory.

Your father was a Storm God whose passion and fury brought cleansing rain. He fought valiantly until he was bitterly slain. A dark demon ripped him in half as other demons proceeded to laugh in a lighting flash his body rained down with a crash. On a blackened hill he tumbled, his fiery spirit cleaved, his proud soul humbled. The bolt of lightning was so strong it created a hairline fracture a million miles long and disrupted the keep where a water demon did sleep; upon awakening she began to sing her fatal song. Hiding deep within the earth she, a lethal demon cast out at birth, whiled her days away crooning lullabies that lured souls into the bay, where she would draw them down to her watery grave and watch them drown.

From the place where the lightning bold cracked on scorched ground, a silver maple tree was found. Its roots held your father’s frozen soul. The rest of him, his rage and shame, boiled in a dragon searching for his whole.

I think about a God cut in two, and wonder how a being can be split and still survive. I see the raging dragon in my mind’s eye, just at the corner where illusions reign. I sometimes feel his eyes watching me. I wonder what my father looked like when he was young, he must have been so beautiful. Only one picture of my father and mother has survived...a sketch of them as young lovers entangled in an embrace; they are breathtaking. I keep it folded in your cover, tucked away for remembering.

For a time, through poisoned skies the dragon flew taunted by the demons who multiplied and grew. But without a soul the dragon could do no good and finally collapsed upon the earth where the silver maple stood. Exhausted he fell to sleep in a place where dreams travel deep. There in the realm of dreams the dragon reunited with his trapped soul and once again found his whole.

A gust of wind blows in through the open window, it blows my hair from my face. I see her again, she looks like she might be crying. His face is turning to stone.

The lightning created a fracture in the ground that opened a chasm where Visola, the water demon was found. Visola had slumbered until she was awakened against her will raging and ready to kill. Dazed with anger, she flowed through the icy caverns of earth up and up to the warm spring of her birth. The spring who had mercilessly dashed her through the ice and snow so many years ago to the place she was now kept, the place where she moaned and wept and soon took up the devious art of lulling lost souls to death with the songs of a broken heart. Why was she thrown down into a living grave? Well it was true love she did crave, and the spring thought that wrong for demon to desire, so she threw her down into the abyss and hoped for her to expire. In that watery tomb the water demon's big heart grew small as she stalked victims and waited for them to fall. Visola, she was named, Visola the demon lying in wait, Visola the demon who dreamed of love but was created by hate.

My mother’s voice became softer as she spoke her own name, it flowed from her lips, liquid and haunting. Visola... She told me once means “longings are waterfalls.” She was so beautiful then, she is beautiful, still.

Visola was finally free yet the long journey up through the earth made her very sleepy so she soaked into the roots of the silver maple beside the spring and started dreaming.

I remember wanting to join them in the dream’s world. I would will sleep to come so that I could see the place which was rumored to be so magical. “You will miss the story.” sleep said and so my eyes would continue to stare, barely awake. I glance at them again, silently hoping they will return to dreaming one day.


In the roots of the silver maple, the water demon and the dragon slept entwined, the land of dreaming was loving and kind and helped them find each other and very quickly they fell in love with one another. When Storm and Visola awoke at the base of the Silver Maple Tree he no longer was a dragon and a water demon no longer was she. They were a man and a woman, a woman and a man entwined together as if they were one; the first day of their human lives had begun.

I remember wondering what it was like to be in love. Did it feel like warm wind or sugar drops? Was it something you could even taste? Or did love just linger on your skin. I knew I could never ask them, I knew that they would never speak of love to me, but they did to each other, through their eyes that never broke their soft gaze which never lost it's adoring glow.

Now love has frozen them.

The tree witnessed their marriage beneath the blackened sky and they were happy to live there until the day came for them to die. But Visola knew that within her belly a baby grew. So she fashioned a teapot out of the tree’s earth and filled it with water from the spring of her birth, Storm took a branch from the Silver Maple Tree in the hopes that someday his soul would finally be free and together they descended the scorched hill and headed towards humanity.

My mother’s voice became sweet and endearing, no longer the storyteller, but the mother. My mother. I feel them still near me and yet so far away, I want to pray for them, but I am afraid. The cold has grown more fierce. I feel it strangling my skin.

The city gates were flung open wide and people rushed and ran around inside. "The world has died", they cried. An old greasy fat man ushered them in and gave Visola water from a rusted tin. She felt her baby push to get out “I have her” she heard the fat man shout. Storm held his wife and watched their tiny child delivered into life.

“Life” My mother’s voice wrapped around the word and the word became it’s own entity. It was as if she found greater importance in it somehow, but there was a sadness in her eyes, one that seemed contrary to the word; one that screamed out in solidarity, thickly protesting the injustices of the dead.

“Life” I whisper. My fingers are turning blue, I don't dare look over at them again, it has been too long now since my father died, whatever is transpiring between them now is theirs, private, sanctified.

And then you slipped into the gatekeeper's arm and although we feared it, he did you no harm. Thus there you were born on a black and hazy morn.

“Mommy tell it again.” I remember asking her eagerly. “Not this time dear. Go to sleep.” she would whisper.

Not this time dear… Not ever again. There is a swift knock and a loud crack as the door flies open. Instantaneously the room is filled with more movement than it has seen in several days. The NAO Security barrel in wearing identical black and gray suits all heavily armed and carrying thick shackles which they unload onto the floor. Two of them leave as two others unlock the tall cabinet in the corner and remove the items into a large metal box. Having never seen the cabinet opened, I watch as they take weaponry, viles of liquid, boxes of powder, masks, clothes, hair pieces and other sundry accessories of a murderer out and throw them into the container. The Leader speaks angrily with my mother. “Visola!” He barks. My mother nods quietly. “NAO Tech has indicated the loss of Thomas Storm's bio-imprint, can you verify?” Again my mother nods quietly. “Is it really Thomas?” he asks his eyes wild. My mother looks at him dryly and speaks in a venomous whisper. “Of course it's Tom.” The Leader's rigid physique loosens, almost imperceptibly as his stern voice continues. “You are aware that you have a contract with the Office of NAO Security.” “Acutely” she spits. “You're grossly in violation of that contract, which clearly states you are to extinguish any and all human threats to NAO Security with the EXCEPTION of Thomas Storm.” She says nothing as her face curls with anger and she clutches my father's body closer. “ONS receptors indicate that you poisoned him with your own ONS assigned recipe.” Her eyes seethe, “Who else's would I have used?” The Leader's face twists in shock. “You claimed to have loved him.” She remains dry and emotionless. “Always.” A look of jealously flashes across The Leader's face. “I am to escort you to your execution.”

His body wavers slightly, his mind and spirit seem riddled with indecision. She notices this and her face melts, becoming deceptively alluring as it turns to a plastic replica of her true continence. “Let's not do this, let's not play these petty games, we were lovers for too long not to respect each other, even in this, the end. You don't have to do anything you don't want to Adrian, you practically run the show here.” Her voice is honey smooth as her head tilts towards his, her lips turned downward, making her face sad and earnest. His body tenses as she becomes more tempting. “You know I have always been conflicted. I've had regrets and I don't want to die without you knowing that. The worst is the memory of your kiss, I've all but forgotten. You wouldn't grant your dead lover one last one and leave her with a taste of something sweet before she goes?” My mother croons as a tear mounts upon her eyelid. The perfect actress in a perfect performance. The Leader looks hypnotized, held within my mother's seduction. I see in her, the professional undefeated predator who lured unsuspecting men to their demise. Even those who assumed my mother was a killer were still tempted by her. I watch The Leader, he can not resist as his biology betrays him, his words repel her advance, but his body reveals him. “The chance to reconcile Visola is long gone.” he hisses, his breath bucks in fits and starts as he attempts to temper his passion.

The Leader looks to my father's dead body as my mother continues to speak in a deceptive tone. “No kiss goodbye then?” He is stopped by her words, impaled by an invisible weapon as inert motion awakens and moves him forward against his will. There is a longing, deep and profound in his eyes and a gaping internal wound that nags at him, propelling him toward my doomed mother. “I was to be your wife after all.”, my mother says sensing his mounting desire, her words seer and entice him as he takes another heated step toward her. It is not, however, the nostalgic expression of love that motivates him, but a deep and seething anger which bubbles chaotically to the surface, confusing his resolve to uphold his high ranking position by not debasing himself or his actions. “There is a lot more than a stinking good bye kiss that I want and deserve to get from you!” She smiles, still the actor, still the seducer; an assassin at work. “Ahh” she sighs hotly. “My soul, I imagine.” He growls. “Imagine more!”

The two ONS guards return with a large metallic bag and toss it next to my father's body, then flank my mother to remove him. They wrangle his corpse roughly out of her arms as she silently lets him slip away from her. My body shivers, tears press against my dry eyes, my breath seizes in my throat. I am only pacified by the thought that my brief life is also almost over. I watch a momentary look of panic cross my mother's face as they fully remove his stiffened body from hers. They are finally disconnected, separated, ripped apart and laid asunder never to rejoin again. My mother's heart shatters under her skin, I see the quake of it, but her eyes remain icy orbs of stone.

Awkwardly the ONS Officers topple towards the floor surprised by the uneven weight of rigor mortis. My mother's acid laughter cuts the air as The Leader hovers near. He speaks in a dark whisper as he grabs her face and drags it towards his, stopping just a breath away from his lips “A kiss? Just one... last... One?” He pants, bellowed with agitation. Their lips are nearly touching when he sharply thrusts her face away. “The memory of your kisses are poison enough, you forget I'm immune to capsule-tox, it would briefly incapacitate me as it would you, so you might as well bite down on that capsule and ingest the poison you intended for me it will make my job easier. You don't think I know you well enough to see through every maneuver, I'm just surprised you used such an old trick. You were nothing but a pretty beggar before I crafted you into the a lethal weapon, don't embarrass yourself by using antiquated antics on me.” Her dark and emotionless eyes do not change their steadfast gaze upon his strong featured face, one huffing laugh escapes from her chest, “I would never attempt to use my artless skills on you Adrian of all men, I know you can see right through it. You may be immune to poison, but are you also immune to the agony of defeat?” His voice bursts into a mocking laughter. “You're the one who is about to executed my dear, I hardly see this as my defeat.” Her face breaks into a smile revealing, if only momentarily, her true beauty as her amazing features alight. “Because,” She playfully grabs his hand as she dances around the words. “I didn't chose YOU!” This last word she emphasizes with a menacing venom. Her face remains remarkable while she lightly squeezes his hand and twists it, his bones audibly cracking inside his flesh. Her honey sweet voice lilts over his screams of agony. “And never will!”

The room starts to spin as a blur of movement is set in motion. The two guards toss my father's bagged body out into the hall, the other two seize and shackle my mother. She remains calm as she is roughly contained. “Something to remember me by, Adrian.” I hear one of the guards whisper in astonishment, “Did she just use a kinetic grip?? I hear it can crush the bones and rip ligaments, all with this kinda energy thing. How could she have done that? She can’t have the strength.” The other NS guard hastily responds while tightening the shackles locking mechanism, trying to get them securely fastened before she touches him. “It's only a theory, you would have to have the power to throw energy with your body to successfully execute a kinetic grip and no one has been documented with the ability. It‘s just a crazy energy/astral transmutation theory. Pure bunk!.” Visola turns to him acerbically and lifts a finger out of it‘s encasement, she points it towards the officers, flicking once, the second officer is toppled to the ground. His body lands with a harsh thud, the wind blown from his lungs. He coughs and rights himself, stunned speechless. “It’s not a theory.” My mother says with a hiss. With that she is imprisoned, from head to toe, every inch of her beautiful body is encased in metal. Her face remains stoic.


Only her eyes glance back at mine, dark and glaring, but too much so. The venom that pours out of her stare is inappropriate for the situation as she is surely being marched to her death and this is inevitably the last moment she will ever see her only child. We never hated one another, never spoke above a civil tone. Her apathy was created within her own psyche, not by any action associated with me. The morning always began with a heaving reluctance to begin the day, but the night ended with sweet surrender and the acknowledgment that I, her only blood relation, was appreciated. While I longed for the softly spoken voice of the siren, my mother's bitterness never extended fully to my father or myself. We were after all, her sanctuary. So this facade of anger is her swiftest and deftest blow, the one that severed us from each other, mother and daughter, demon and spawn. It was her last attempt to protect me from the world, for if I hated her enough, I would not mourn her loss, or his. I would not be shattered by my new found orphancy and I would in some way find hope, in hating her. My eyes stared back through black strands of hair, the first of a million tears welling to the surface, balancing on the lid, daring itself not to fall. “Not now, wait till they are gone”, my brain screams, don't let her see you cry...don't! My mind reels in the tear and holds it steadfast, once again meeting her angry stare. And in the flash of an instant her heart betrays her yet again, our eyes connect and she softens, rather crumbles. It is enough of a glance to say “I'm sorry, I wish it could have all been different” and a twinkle of love remains, hanging in space like a suspended nanosecond of time, just for us. For that instant she and I are alone her heart engulfing mine holding me softly as she had so many years ago. The look professes undying, unending love as her life draws to a close. But it is all too quickly quashed by her anger again, forcing herself to remain loyal to her resolve. My eye blinks “good bye” and the first of a million tears fall, my mouth whispers... “I love you.” Her mouth sucks the words in...and in that breath, she is gone.

January 6, 2716

Today is the day my father died.

Today my mother killed him.

Today the assassin will be executed for killing the scientist.

Today she ended his pain and set him free. Only love can do that.

Today I lost them both.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

KS

Imma be, Imma Be.... :-) Whoot!

Imma BeImma Be So part of the plan is to give away the farm :-) Kidding, nahhhh just sellin' a few goats and chickens. I think a lot of moms face this. I know Perfect Mom next door does and I am really starting to figure out that SINGLE MOMS, face this the hardest.

(segue for suspense??? "Face what? You ask" Read on...dear reader...read on!) 

See if you don't already know and no one has cared to fill you in on this little secret...um here's the deal. Parenting is hard. Not hard in the "oooh my cuddly little divas are so dang cute I just want to chop them up and eat them with a balsamic vinegar infusion." kinda hard. No that cuteness is what suckers you in and keeps you in.  That kinda hard keeps you from digging yourself a nice cozy hole somewhere and just expiring in it. Our kids are cute, loving and perfect, in fact they are the GREATEST kids on the planet. BUT......

(onscreen car crash!)

They are hard. They make mess...many times a day. They need your love and attention...many times a day. You never get a day off or even an hour off,  FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE you are and forever will be their parent. And hey, that's amazing...no really. BUT...here's the thing (you know from the first paragraph) the thing that is the hardest about raisin' them cute little spawns.

YOU LOSE YOU!

(Pause for shock and denial).

Yeppers, "You" mostly curls up and hibernates in the back of your brain. Making breakfast, lunch, dinner, mopping floors, picking up toys, wiping noses, brushing hair, naps, numbers, no TV, organic food, shopping, college, new teeth, brush teeth, pay bills, make money, do dishes, wash laundry, fold laundry, clear out out grown cloths, buy new ones, play ball, play Playmobil, blow up pool, get milk, dinner party, talk to friends, see your self in the mirror and realize...YOU, didn't brush your hair, buy new pants, can't fit the old ones, need to pluck, shave, shower and oh my God?????? Where did MY Dreams Go???

Well let's see...

Have kids...Check!

Find Mate...um OOOPS.

Be a Star.....Oh boy....um...

And so. You get it.

Most of you who have read my blog have been painfully following this process of following dreams for four years. And well, I've made it up a few rungs on the ladder, but hell I wanna get to the top. Even if it's not the top top...I'm getting to the top.

As Mia said on her facebook out cry to the world. DON'T GIVE UP...and something to the effect of "Smoke on THAT Hollywood!" Rock on Mia...way to take the big system DOWN! No really. It's all in our hearts and minds and there in lies the win or lose. Inside. We are the only ones drivin' the bus. Not those cute little kiddies who are eatin' up your time with love and memories and all things good (minus the dog hair, dribble and diapers) it is US!!!!

And I ain't WAAAHHH WAAAHHH'n about it no more. Imma Be!!!!!

Imma BE!!! a big big star, drive my fancy car, sittin' up lookin' at that big screen...seen'n my scene. The real theen... is Imma be, Imma be ME.  (way go Rappin' Momma Drama...not!) but you get the point.

While I am not all in agreement with the Black Eyed Peas goal aspirations in this song. I get it. And Theysa There.

So...the blog goes world wide webby in a few days (we are walking out the facebook house and into the Light....yeah Imma Be....little drammy today). I'm  going to give you a bit of what will be sold. I tried this before, but didn't really do it. Now I will.

Get ready....everyone...What does this special offer include.

Chapters 1-5 of KamiSama. Right here and Ye Old Blog. So hold your pants on Chapter one is comin' atcha. Then another chapter and on for 5 weeks.

Oh yea...Imma Be!!!!! 

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Okay, that's just F'd up!!!!!! Seriously.

So as I unravel my devious scheme in the blog posts to come....I am gonna hit you with this. Back in the day I worked for a big ol' cable network which NOW makes some awesome programming, then not so much. I mean we had our favorites and every one's most lovable serial killer series, was then just a great idea bouncing around our heads. But alas my head was hacked off...and sent rolling into....um, I'd like to say oblivion since that is so much more tragic, but it actually rolled off into well, what it's doing now. Building an Indie writing career. So....

Back then at the big old Cable Network that now brings you the Happy Serial Killer who has a panache for ridding the planet of other killers and the Famous Fat King who is so not fat in the series, but oh so so hot (hint he had 6 wives...way back back in thy day!), and let's see a mom who grows and sells pot and a dude who likes a lot of sex. I'm sure there are others...but I'm not really into that big Cable Network anymore, since my head was chopped off and all. I was, back then, a little creative buddling bringing little creative thoughts to the folks, and I also ran a short film festival. And all this 1.5 paragraphs of send up was to say, I used to judge films like the one I am about to show you. Apparently there's a little competition going on at the National Film Board in Canada and this juicy tid bid is one of the entries.

I encourage you to watch it cause it is just F'd up and I like it a lot....very very very much. It is good filmmaking, great even if you wanna go there. I only saw it on a 2" x 2" screen, so great won't be a part of this review....but good definitely.

As a filmmaker it's hard to make under 10 minutes work for you and the story, it's hard to get any kind of bang in there that hasn't been "bung" already. But these folks did it....bravo.

Momma Drama will be doing more little online screenings as she gets back in the swing....pump Momma Drama pump. :-) (MD rolls eyes at her own lame-o metaphor....whatever.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWFfk4DbF-I&feature=player_embedded#at=61

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Fairy Blender and School Issues

So as most of you know Big Diva has Sensory Processing Issues, this is a down graded diagnosis from Autism...yeah. And she is seriously not in any way shape or form Autistic. And most people would grapple with me over the fact that she has anything going on at all other than Divaliciousness. She's beautiful, powerful, strong, smart loving, kind, creative...fashionable. Most of you know her and the list goes on...and on, but she does have a Je ne sais quoi, an um..."something is just not right here" going on at times.

And today is one of the times....

I have thought hard about how to express the phenomenon which is Big Diva in the throws of Sensory Processing Issues....some venture to say Dysfunction others Disorder all of which on occasion are correct, but in true Diva/Drama style...I like to call them "issues".

Once I heard that toddlers are like a blender on high with the top off...this is a PERFECT description of toddlers. And sometimes a perfect description of Big Diva who is no longer a toddler...but what Big Diva really is, when seized by sensory processing issues, is a Fairy Blender on medium. Its like some gauzy, sparkly entity clad in tulle and glitter that traipses around the house whirling and twirling mildly as things fall off shelves, scatter to the ground, crash and make loud noises, giggle, turn colors, become different things, come down and erect again. She throws her own little bit of magic on everything and nothing as it was before, sometimes that's great, but not always.

Big Diva is special...all kids are, Little Diva is also special and I can see now that I will have my hands full with both of my bright, beautiful powerful girls. But Big Diva is really special (not more than Little Diva, just in a different way). Big Diva is POWERFUL...almost omnipotent and this is good and bad. Big Diva NEEDS to rule the world, otherwise Big Diva will throw big tantrums. Big Diva is SMART, not book smart, in that way she's a regular kid. I kinda wish she was book smart then she would be a fun at parties. I could make her perform (not!...but maybe :-z)like "see my kid can play piano, my kid can write a haiku, my kid can do algebra....and she's only 4." That kinda smart is fun smart (but maybe not, I wouldn't know) but that kinda smart would be a novelity-ish you know. But Big Diva is scary smart, in a way you really don't want kids to be smart. She knows the route to any place we have ever gone including a secluded mountain road she only went on once when she was two. She remembers what you wore three years ago to her birthday party, she knows if you have been crying, she knows if your brow knits and you are trying to hide your feelings, she knows if you are excited about something, even if you want to save it to surprise her, she'll figure it out before you get the chance.

She knows EVERYTHING...you can't talk in code on the phone or she'll break the code. Example last night I was talking to Ga Ga Diva on the phone about her foster son All Boy (yes, much to blog about Ga Ga Diva becoming a Foster Mom... it's coming) anyway she was going through some stuff as all of us foster parents do and needed a much deserved rant. I LOVE rants...I was in the thick of it. In order to keep Big Diva from knowing I was talking about her, I called her "Bob" I still remained vague, knowing how Big Diva may crack the Bob code...and sparse, keeping the BD info to a minimum, but yet gettin' a little of my own rant on... which always feels good. So at the end of the call Big Diva looks at me and says..."Why did you call me Bob to Ga Ga Diva? And is All Boy sad because he wants to go back to his Birth Mom?" WHY WHY WHY WHY is Big Diva so dang smart???????

This conversation then throws Big Diva into a panic...what does Big Diva do when she panics....Fairy Blender :-(

This is how that plays out...First the announcement that she is returning to her birthmother. I tell her I love her, we'd miss her, convince her to stay. Then she leaves, it is a few minutes before bed so the eerie quiet doesn't bother me because I know that in a few minutes I will be giving her a bath, book, bed. She returns, I have no need to feel concerned and yet that look...that impish cross between "I pulled one over on you" and glee is plastered on her face. "Big Diva???" I ask..."what's going on?" Big Diva tells me she has made her tent into a beach...."Oh??" I worry...this sounds potentially dangerous...meaning there will be a lot of clean up involved. She then hands me the container to my expensive, given me as a gift, seasoned sea salt, which WAS full and is now empty. "Sorry." GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR is the only answer I can come up with.

I breathe, which she reminds me to do as well. (see scary smart) and tell her that she will be cleaning the mess....um not a good call mom, broom + Big Diva + salt + Fairy Blender....WAIT!!!! "Honey, I help you clean that!" Inside her tent..is a beach, bravo on a realistic recreation, but it is also a HOME and A FLOOR and a container of salt I didn't want poured onto it. But this all blows over. We try to finish homework, the school gave (tangent ahead) now I don't love this school, but I can afford it and it's not terrible, but I don't love it. I tell them that she has Fairy Blender tendencies and they look at me like "Well she doesn't have three eyes or anything so stop being so intense." I'm like gee whiz Underpaid Overworked Care Giver Chick I know that you think she's super cute and all, but um just watch out for Fairy Blender if it happens let's strategize shall we, so that she becomes a successful student as Fairy Blender stuff tends to lead to DIAGNOSIS and MEDICATION if not handled properly and I would like to avoid that. Underpaid Overworked Caregiver Chick not phased, and I wonder if she even heard me (cut to...) Today.

So her homework was, three pages 1) BIG DIVA spelled out...which needed to be traced 5xs, that's not too bad and I want Big Diva to know how to spell her name cause she has a slight speech thing going on and if she gets lost she will be able to write down her name, so good. I like that the "I can spell my name" thing. Tracing 5xs is ONE WAY TO LEARN it...and it is a good way, but not the only way. This school thinks this is the only way...shame on school. 2) write the number "11" 20xs. Well since it is only 40 sticks, not a problem, BD breezed through it. 3) write "12" 20xs. Well the number "2"...is what did it. Fairy Blender on HIGH. STRESS!!! She can't write 2, she can't, she tries and tries and tries, then gives up and writes flowers all over the page, she turns the graphic logo into a three story house and makes the 1's into people. VERY CREATIVE little offspring, very creative, mom is proud. BUT that's not the assignment and school wants you to do it a certain way and you are not doing it that way, so you have to do it. NOPE...more Fairy Blender...mom gives up...FAIL.

So here's the thing. I've taught kids for a long time, I've worked with special needs kids because of working in foster care and I am going to be working with more kids as I blend my careers...I know kids. I really do. And some kids learn one way and others learn another way. (tangent in the form of a musical number, feathers, big band, bright lights)I LOVE the school I want Big Diva to go to for Kindergarten because it is a charter arts school, they don't give homework, it is in a converted sound stage, most of the parents are in the arts (read film industry), they learn dance, music, piano, theater and science on top of the regular curriculum AND they let the child find their own path to learning...this does not mean they say DO IT THIS WAY, they say find a way to do it. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this school and I will be stalking them to make sure my kids get in...no really I will be. (dancers bow...return to blog) So I know that kids learn differently. Watching the stress and trauma that my 4 year old went through last night processing birth parents and the number 2...I realized that we should go a little easier on her and let her just learn her way.

So the thing about Big Diva is...left to her own devices she would be the ruler of all things. I like this school cause they are a little smack down in the ruler department and have very clear boundaries about who is in charge and who is not. This doesn't make Big Diva happy, but again I think Big Diva could go to the dark side if left to rule as she wanted. She needs a little boundaries and guidance before I cut her loose on the world. Big Diva is already the social head of the class, she is worshiped (I say this not to boast, I actually think the BD adulation is a bit creepy). But kids take her stuff and put it away for her when she comes in, they hug her, they follow her around, she is in charge. SO...if Big Diva doesn't do her homework, guess who also doesn't want to do it??? Yep the rest of the class. So Big Diva not doing her homework could cause major problems for the Overtired, Underpaid, Could Really Sorta Care Less teachers. BUT....

Big Diva has taught me a few things about life. First, (lights Dim, monologue begins)Big Diva, as I have said, is special. She's the kind of special that few people are, the kind of special that changes the world. While a lot of us will make our little dent in the world (I plan on doing it behind the stories I tell) Big Diva wants to go balls out and just change it face on. She's the kind of person who becomes a rock star or a world leader, she's that kinda special. Ya know there's the LINE most of us don't cross, the line that keeps right things from wrong ones. Some people boldly step over the line...JAIL! Some stay on the other side, FUGITIVE/MISCREANT! Some accidentally step over it, BAD CHOICES, and some never get close to the line, SAINT. Some look at the line and say, wait?! The line is in the wrong place, the line shouldn't be there, I'm gonna go and nudge the line. Some of us watch the Line Nudgers and think...wow I wish I could nudge the line. Others look at the line and say "Damn that line needs nudging" but most of us stay safely behind the line. Big Diva is a Line Nudger. Momma Drama writes about Line Nudgers, thus vicariously is a Line Nudger, but Momma Drama usually never gets near the line.

Well the Second thing Big Diva has taught me is, I'll have to change for her. I'll have to alter and shift my perspective and comfort zones to make the world a better place for she and Little Diva. When we walk into a place, we have "Line Nudger" written all over us, because the simple fact that our skin color is different from each other, would have gotten us killed back in the day. Now we are free to walk into Target, all thanks to a Line Nudger who died in the line of duty. Martin Luther King and others... were Line Nudgers who we forget cause the line has been moved and now Me and the Divas won't be driven out of town because we are shopping at Target. But I know Big Diva will force my hand to nudge the line. And today was one of those days.

(Lights up, return to blog) So I resolve myself to go into Big Diva's school and tell Underpaid Over Tired Could Give a Whooey Teacher that Big Diva didn't do her 20xs of copying "12" (mind you this is ALL THEY DO...I have hundreds of these copied papers and NO ARTWORK, no paintings, no cut outs nothing). So I say. Hey teacher chick, listen we worked last night and this morning on trying to do this homework thing and while I am opposed to 4 year olds having homework, I get your gig, so listen I have a degree in child development (LIE) and I know that kids learn in different ways, you think you might try cutting out 2's or painting 2's or making 2's outta popscicle sticks (nudging line) cause Big Diva learns THAT WAY. And hey I bet she'll like your stupid little xeroxed copies so much better if you let her try something new. Over Worked Over Tired, Doesn't Speak English Very Well, But Nice Teacher...responds with BLANK STARE. BLINK. BLANK STARE (Momma Drama makes an aside...from behind the curtain). Good thing I lied about the degree, imagine actually having put in the time to get one and have THAT reaction.

Um...Nice Overworked Teacher Lady...did you hear me???? Um can we try a doing 2's with noodles???? Answer: "We have art for Mother's Day she can do that. She doesn't listen, she has to do her letters and numbers, you want I send them home every night." Um...cough...was that a threat???? Did you just threaten me with the slim opportunity of a mother's day art project and little else or I WILL BE FORCED TO DO HOMEWORK EVERY NIGHT!!!! Bitch!...I mean ooh I have an itch. Well. humm...we are at a stand still. So (play the learning disability card) well, Mean Could Give a Shit About My Kid Teacher Lady...you do know that Big Diva has Fairy Blender right??? Like the office did tell you that she is actually a special needs kid disguised as the smartest most popular kid in your class. Cause if you forgot let me remind you that she needs TEACHING from you, not a xerox copy of something she has already done 50 billion times.

So Big Diva...I tried to move the line. I think I got them to look at the line. We did compromise you don't have to do 20xs just 10, somehow that made us losers today cause you are not capable of doing their dumb robotic copy copy copies, but you are not a copy you are and original and I guess I'll be buying some noodles and paint...come one kids....lets tackle the number 2! And as far as wanting to pack up and live with your birth mom or All Boy wanting his birth family and Little Diva wanting hers...guess what kiddo, sadly you will always miss them, it's the thing that sucks most in adoption. Adoption = loss. And gain, but it starts with loss. A loss no one should experience, a loss of a mother (and father) but for my kids and for All Boy, that is their biggest loss...their mom. So kiddo you can talk about wanting her all you want, I'm here I will always listen and if it sends you into Fairy Blender...fine, just um...next time...lets go outside and make a beach, and please no more wasting of the gourmet salt okay. Okay!

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

The Fake Mom

Sometimes I feel like a fake mom. So...follow my line of thinking here. I'm out in the yard watering Big Diva's plants that we planted two weekends ago and I watch the dry clumps of dirt flood over and think to myself, I think I have already killed them. And I, as of this writing, have no definitive proof that I have not in fact killed my 4 year old's plants. I was a little uplifted to see the tiny sprouts of cilantro growing, but the dog who was a close trot behind me squatted right over them and peed. My first thought was..."oh great, I don't have to water there." Followed closely by "Ooooh...I can't eat those now!" So while I was thrilled that my dog's relief assured that the little sprouts remained hydrated, the thought of cooking with plants raised on dog piss...well sicks me out.

So... while my Little Diva slept and Big Diva was at school....(pause for tangent) apparently boycotting her school work, which was neatly stapled and handed off to me to deal with tonight and return to school FINISHED tomorrow...hello? That's homework...that's cold blooded for preschool...evil even! (resume!) I was out watering our yard. (and tangent again) I have to admit that after the rain last month seeing the smile on my little kiddo's face when she saw that the WEEDS had grown waist high and thought it some sort of fairy miracle, I thought to myself...self I better get me some real plants cause...well that's what moms do. (resume) So I was watering the seeds we planted. Granted our version of planting was throw seeds down, throw down big bag of potting soil...water. What??? I have a one year old, who has time to plant, plant...unless I wanna watch her eat it. Anyway I was watering covertly doing the fairy gardening thing, when I heard Miss Perfect Mom and her two perfect kids next door playing in their yard. Now don't get me wrong. I really like Miss Perfect Mom, she's really nice. In fact she's not perfect at all she's about 45% as disheveled as I am and about 48% better at keeping her cool, in public at least. On the plus side for Fake Mom...I'd venture to guess I'm about 56% cuddlier and crazier in the good times, of which there are many many a day. So...in all Perfect Mom and Fake Mom (aka Momma Drama) do eventually even out.

However today, hearing them play some fantasy tea party game together enjoying the beautiful day...I felt like a phony. While me and the kids have done that a lot...in fact we are dining alfresco in the Buddha Bar these days (read: slightly cleaned up porch with a table that used to have a Buddha statue on it and will again darn it)for this particular moment they sounded like a "family". A family who does family things.

Now our yards are literally separated by a line of Home Depot reed barriers, you can see through them and hear through them, it's like we live in each others backyard so we get a lot of up close and personal with the Perfect Family. Mom Perfect is a director (insert envy and some contemplating of a deadly sin on Momma Drama's part)I always thought "Oh how great for you"....(seethe)and Dad Perfect is some uber something at the LA Times...you know when someone has a massive job and their spouse almost whispers it like "everyone knows" so you won't say it out loud, cause its so top secret the skies may start raining secret service any minute at the briefest mention of his God-like employment. So needless to say, I understood it to be big time. Their house isn't big, but they own it and well, they know enough people to know that they are "in" someone's crowd. So Perfect Mom and I became friends talking over "the wall" she came over a few times with the Perfect Kids and saw the shrapnel and destruction that was "a day of daycare" and stayed a while then politely left. I was mortified, but life is life, I can take hard knocks, brush it off. The house is mostly clean now...post daycare.

So I was eventually thrilled to find out that Perfect Mom had a "day job" and her house was equally as trashed as mine and she had a maid, a nanny and a husband....sigh...retribution. However I never knocked her off of that pedestal even though she almost fell off it all on her own.

And I have never stopped thinking that I'm a Fake Mom. I tuck my kids into bed like every other mom, I read bedtime stories, do bath time, we made Loquat jam from our tree outside tonight, I sing songs, we dance etc. I even sat next to Big Diva while she did homework, I cook, I clean, I enrich my kiddo's lives...and yet I feel like a fake. Maybe cause I'm not married and some Uber whisper-only employed man doesn't bound home at night so that I can grit my teeth and say, in a loving tone, "look kids, Daddy's here" as I shove them over so that I can get some of MY work done. Nope it's just me. When I've done all the mom things I can do in the right mom times, I send them off to do there things so that I can get my work done. For Big Diva it is a movie. She sits and watches a movie on our house-sized TV and I work. Little Diva gets her bath a bottle and off to bed. But when Big Diva and I are sitting there just doing our thing, next to each other, in the same room we are worlds apart. I am not her mom. (sort of) and she isn't my daughter...we aren't the Perfect's, we are Big Diva Drama and Momma Drama, she's lost in her world of make believe and I am making worlds of make believe and Little Diva is dreaming.

At that point we are three individuals. We have shut off the "family" and become ourselves. My love is as great as it ever has been, but I'm me for a moment. I'm the me I was before the kids and I am dreaming too, reaching for my stars, trying to move my mountains and that's when it hits me. I'm a fake. I'm not all consumed with my kids, I'm not living for them exclusively and I'm about a 20 hour plane trip, two bus rides with a transfer and a 15 minute walk away from any place even remotely perfect.

My kids go to dinner parties, but we don't play shoots and ladders (we will when Little Diva stops eating the game pieces), we are going to Burning Man, but I've never cooked a roast (and won't cause we are vegetarians). My kids know all about adoption and being chosen, but I'll never give birth to any kids. They have a Dad, but we'll never be married. They are happy and loved and live in an amazing world, but it's not "real" not in the way people think families should be. And while I love our unreal world, sometimes...when standing in a garden trying to get my crap planting to grow, knowing that I essentially gave them little or no chance for survival and hearing The Perfects I feel like a fake. And well...I don't think I'll ever be real, but I think the kids are okay with that. They have all they need and more...but one day they'll discover that it wasn't anywhere near Perfect and I hope they are okay with that, I hope it inspires them to raise their little imperfect families :-). More than anything I hope they understand that I can't be The Perfects, I can try to be the best that I can hope I will ever be, and I can reach for the stars and grab one, but they'll have to be happy with a "fake mom" who loves them dearly.