Marigold

When someone calls me Marigold, it makes me immediately feel small and safe. I've always loved the nickname- it was the very first one I ever had! It represents the most original and primary facets of my personality. Maybe getting this nickname even shaped who I am. It has always seemed to fit me. A marigold flower is tough,  it adapts to almost any environment, it reproduces abundantly (ha), and it's not always the prettiest or most expensive flower in the bunch, but it can be exactly what someone wants or needs in a flower. It was given to me by my dad, and my brother also adopted it later in life. Perhaps my dad thought to call me Marigold because our last name was Flowers, and he actually loved the marigold flower. I used to lie when I was a kid and tell people it was my real name and I only went by Mary for short. I loved imagining myself as the child of two hippies who would have named me Marigold Flowers.

An Open Blog to my Ex Husband

I remember the cringey moments we had together.

The time you told me there was no one less fun than me, and I responded by saying nobodys penis was less small than yours. I mean, it was the best thing I could come up with at the time. I promise if we were to fight now, 10 years later, I've matured just enough and just not enough to come up with some insults that cut much deeper.

I had forgotten about the moments that shouldn't have been forgotten about.

We loved music together. Sometimes it was different music and that would lead to some shouts. Lots of shouts. Other times, we'd hear an album for the first time together and suddenly our relationship was meaningful and healthy and we agreed about every perspective that existed until the end of the last track.  I remember the first time we listened to Coldplay's album, "Parachutes". We didn't do anything else but just lay on your mattress on the floor in that $320 per-month apartment and listen to every song. That was my favorite album of that decade, and yet I can't bring myself to listen to it. It brings up so many dark moments of what I have always seen as my wasted youth.  Wasted on a man that couldn't have been further from a man. Not wanting to tear myself away from my wonderful new life, I have hid from "Parachutes" for the last ten years.

Our son was just shy of his 1st birthday when I decided to leave.

Now, he's 11 years old. He has started to understand relationships and love, and the complications that surround them. He can make jokes about how his Nana has his Papa wrapped around her finger, and that basically means he'll still go get her a milkshake at 9 o clock at night, even when he's grumpy. I can no longer make hilarious sexual innuendos when he is in earshot, because he understands every bit of them and shakes his head with laughter/disgust. He knows it feels good to make a pretty girl laugh. He already knows what rejection feels like.

Along with all these new perceptions, he has discovered a deep love of music. He has a longer attention span than I do and will listen to music he has never heard before all the way through and give it a real chance. He introduced me to Queen, which I had never gotten into and now is one of my favorite bands to jam to in the car when I am with him.

He jumped in my car the other day and plugged in my phone.  "Have you ever heard of 'Coldplay'?"

His fingers were flying along spotify to find the song he wanted to play me.

"Actually, yes. Your father and I went to see them in concert at least 3 times. They were one of my favorite bands"

"Wait, my real Daddy?"

"Yep"

"You guys went to concerts together? Just the two of you?"

"Yes, Adrian. We were married, we were like a normal married couple that did things together."

The song "Yellow" ended, and "The Scientist" started playing.


We were both staring out the window and quietly singing along.


"Did you love him, Mom?"


"Yes, Buddy, I did. But one day......I didn't. We've never really talked about this."



I pulled into the driveway and he kept staring out the window, I kept nervously talking until I noticed tears were streaming down his face and he was wiping them away, embarrassed.

I went to turn off the damn song that will make ANYONE cry, and he told me not to, that he wanted to listen to it again.

"But, Adrian, it's making you cry and we need to talk about this before we go inside! Don't be sad that we stopped loving each other! We were in a horrible place, we fought all the time and neither of us were comfortable being ourselves! We were so young and so different and just think about-"

He cut me off by interrupting me, a shocked expression on his face.

"Mom! I am not crying because I wish you and my Dad were still married. I am crying because I am so happy you AREN'T. If you were still married to him you wouldn't have married Mat and I wouldn't have have two dads or Ellis or Collins. It would be like they had never existed and thinking about that makes me so sad that I can't stop crying. And Sarah, I wouldn't have Sarah, and my Daddy wouldn't have Sarah and nothing would be right and -"


He held his face in his hands and heaved sobs into them.

I didn't even know how to respond to that except to cry a few happy tears of my own.

We passed on something bigger than a love of great music to our son. We have given him a life that he can't bear the thought of losing. Where some might see  a broken family, he sees the benefit of having twice as many dads to love and twice as many moms to hug. We have never involved him in our disputes, He has only known that when he looks to the sidelines he will find both of us.

We'll always be bound together because of the amazing son we are raising. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

9 Grudges I have Against the Lost Ogle and Their 9 Grudges

I have always loved the local blog, The Lost Ogle. Mostly, because I love making fun of people due to my moderately low self-esteem.  Making fun of people feels so good, like, every day. 

I keep making New Year's resolutions to be a better person and then I lose a board game or eat a giant cookie and I lose my will to be a good person. 

Reading this article for me was like standing around with a group of my friends, laughing and playing with each others hair when one of them steps out of the friend circle long enough to head butt my mother in the face. HOW COULD YOU, THE lOST OGLE?!?!?!

Today, I read an article by Marisa with The Lost Ogle. Marisa is apparently a former Edmond resident who moved away and now thinks Edmond is just awful. She could come up with 9 reasons! I'm so glad she got out when she did. I think she worked at Bennigan's but I am not entirely sure. Do y'all remember Bennigans? MMMmmm

Anyway. Marisa wrote this article about 9 reasons why she hates the town that made her who she is. Some of them are valid, even though she SUCKS AT WRITING ABOUT THEM. Sorry about that. See paragraph 1. (Moderately low self esteem/Lashes out at others when feeling threatened). So here's my list about why her list is dumb. 

Marisa's #1. UCO knocked down my great-grandparents’ house

This isn't a real reason she hates Edmond, right? Well, guess what. Granny's house was knocked down so we could have an affordable 4 year university, centrally located. UCO employs almost 1,000 people.  We all have to make sacrifices. I wish I could have afforded to go to OU, but we couldn't all have $100 prom dresses so some of us had to go to UCO. Including me, my brother, my sister, and my parents. My parents even got married there at the little chapel!  UCO has the Jazz Lab! UCO has Mitchell Hall! UCO has Liberty Fest, which I KNOW you used to go to as a kid and loved the ABSOLUTE SHIT OUT OF. 

Marisa's #2. $100 senior prom

Marisa's mad that she only spent $100 on her prom dress and everyone else spent $2,000. I'm mad that I wore glitter on my cheeks and corn rows and the darkest of dark mauve lipstick. Jill is mad that she wore that 2 piece dress.  I'm still mad at the girl who had hair extensions before they were even a thing.  It's prom. It was fun. I got my dress at Dillard's during "friends and family night" for 60% off and I'm fucking awesome.  Why are you mad at fun? 

Marisa's #3. The “Honda Civic”

She's mad that her friend got a Lexus. I can't even address this dumb grudge. My brother drove an old dented van and he was loved and has more self esteem than me. Or you. 

Marisa's #4. Kickingbird Theater sucks

She's right on this one. But it was $2.25 and let me claim to be 11 years old until I was 19 so I could save a dollar. I loved this movie theater so much, it was always my alibi when I was really going to trench parties. Yeah, I partied in trenches. EDMOND. 


Marisa's #5. The Lord does what now?


This has nothing to do with Edmond and everything to do with Oklahoma. She spotted someone getting in a fancy car saying the Lord had provided. This is EVERYWHERE. It's pretty much the only socially acceptable way to brag about yourself in this state. The Lord is providing for everyone in Del City and Chickasha, too. Promise. 



Marisa's #6. People make assumptions about me Yes, I’m from Edmond. No, I’m not rich


Isn't it fun to be like, "No I'm not who you assume I am! I am a hardened writer from the streets and I live THIIIIIRTTTTTYYYYY miles away from that godawful place!" I bet it is so fun. 



Marisa's #7. The Pills are Scary

I'm going to need some kind of proof on this valium in the bathroom story. One time, I got in a car accident and gave a cool druggy  guy that I wanted to like me one of my pain killers. He slept through the next 4 classes. And he was the real kind of druggie. Like, the ones who didn't go to OU. Also, they don't get more blonde or peppy than me, and I can assure you- there was a lot more talking about how blessed I was than there was popping any kind of meds. 

Marisa's #8. Traffic on Santa Fe

Another valid point of Marisa's. Let's widen it. Oh, we are? In 2015? K, moving on. 

Marisa's #9 The Edmond “Ghetto”

The picture she took of the ghetto is from the neighborhood I lived in growing up and it did have a certain ghetto sparkle to it. The neighborhood had crime. It had a murder, Just one, though. but YOU DON'T GET TO CALL IT THE GHETTO UNLESS YOU LIVED HERE WITH US. And you didn't. You didn't get bit by a stray doberman and have to sit on your van all day, holding your rabies wound and waiting for help, You were never there on the days we would ride our bikes down the street and jump off, and whoevers bike went the farthest won. We dug up an old animal body in the fields and I carried around a lizard on my shoulder for a day until it died. I broke my vagina on a fence, I broke my neighbor's nose with a softball pitch. I broke my brother's spirit with my incessant selfishness (see paragraph1).  IT WAS THE GREATEST 10 YEARS OF MY SIGNIFICANTLY AWESOME LIFE. 


The moral of the story: I live here and I love it. My three little Edmond spawns will grow up here- eating at Zarate's mexican on Broadway and going to Liberty Fest every year. They're going to play at Rocketship park and it's going to be rickety and unsafe and fun. They'll go see children's theater at Mitchell Hall. I'll take them to the Jazz Lab and to Sara Sara cupcakes. TLO,  go back to making fun of actually awful things.