Now or Never

 So, I know it’s been awhile.  Sorry. I’ve been working 2 jobs and trying to watch every freaky documentary on Netflix and trying to hold informational seminars on cleaning the bathroom.  Plus there’s this whole power steering fluid situation with my car.  Like seriously?  WTF?  I didn’t know people actually purchased power steering fluid unless they were like racing down one of those empty canals with some chick in booty shorts standing in the middle of two cars waving a checkered flag.  And p.s.   I need an irrational amount of power steering fluid.  And p.p.s.  The guy at Auto Zone has zero sense of humor.  Like I go in there and ask him if I can just get any power steering fluid and he says it goes by the type of car you have.  He points to where it is and I jokingly say, “Well I guess I need a case if I’m going to keep this car.”  To which he replies, “We don’t sell by the case.”   So I say, “Well, I guess I’ll start with this gallon jug and see if I can make it out of the parking lot.”  Then he slays me by saying “$25”.  And that was that.  

So aside from frequenting Auto Zone and trying to parallel park with no power steering fluid, I made a decision to do something I haven’t done in a long time:  I quit.  Just one of my jobs.  Of course the easy one that gives great health insurance, paid holidays and vacations and never goes home with you.  Seems stupid, right?  Don’t be shy.  Countless people have told me how stupid that was, but I had to.  I just did. 

If you know me then you know.  If you don’t, I’ll tell you.  I’ve always been a 3D triangle trying to fit into a round hole. I get pigeonholed a lot for how I look, my quirkiness and my occasionally annoying exuberance. Very often people think they know what I believe, and think I make stupid decisions.  Yeah, I’ve had my share of fuck ups and I’m sure there are more to come, but I guarantee you that my intentions are deep and multi  dimensional and every so often actually planned out.  

So I quit this job.  I started this job because the hours fit around transportation for my children.  The benefits were good, there were nice perks, and it was in an elementary school and I get along pretty well with kids.  I’m one of those people who remembers not just school and childhood, but how I really REALLY felt at that time. I can put my 80s clogged shoes into these kids Yeezys, because it’s hard being a kid in ways grown ups tend to minimize because adulting is hard, and grown ups often tell children, “Enjoy your life   It gets so much harder and more complicated.”  And yeah, kids don't pay taxes and have to take shit from some assmunch at their job,  but there is so much pressure in school and all the social bullshit and expectations, that I bet you remember some stressed out incidents from fifth grade   At 17, people are literally trying to get you to commit to your future, more years than you’ve been alive, and aside from the limited life experience under your belt, your brain literally does not stop growing until you are like 23.

Anyway, the job was often fun, and then it wasn’t. Paperwork, stupid rules, rude people that mistake kindness for weakness and spoiled bratty kids who were allowed to be rude with no consequences.  I got to meet a lot of great kids   I taught manners at every opportunity, but I was essentially powerless to change anything, so I filed papers and did a lot of clerical stuff.   And even that was fun for a while, until it wasn’t   Until one day I figured out that if I stayed any longer I would be more motivated by money than anything else   This many more years to get some small pension and insurance… I would spend the majority of my 50s living my life for reasons that don’t motivate or excite me. I would be giving up me, and personally I want to live until I die   Not just get by.  I can still learn, I can still be fascinated, I can still laugh until I cry at something that hasn’t happened  yet   Not only that, I learned a few things on my journey thus far   And no, I’m not going to be that person who’s been there and done that and thinks they know the answer   But maybe I can ease some of the stress that in many cases can be toned down significantly. And I can keep learning, and feeling accomplished, and being proud of myself.

So I quit.  It was sad.  It was good.  It was time.  I’m onto my next chapter wherever that road may lead, and I’m proud of myself for not giving up and for taking the road less traveled.   

 

 

Now I Am 50

As I turn 50, it’s hard not to look back and reflect upon the life I have lived. As I try to wrap my head around how time seems to have travelled at warp speed, I wonder:  what have I done?  What have I learned that is worth knowing?  What do I have to pass on to my children?  As I journey through this milestone birthday, here are five things I have learned so far:

1.Take parent/child walks after dinner, one on one.  Be both. You get a renewed love and understanding of your parents when you become one. 

2.  Listen. You will be amazed at what you learn.  So will other people. 

3.  Expect everyone you meet to have something to offer, no matter age, race, gender, status.  Sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes it’s exceptional.  It’s worth the gamble. 

4.  Share your knowledge.  Empowering others is so much better than doing it for them. 

5.  Be kind.  Even when you are not feeling it. Even when other people are being jerks. It can be a challenge, but you never know when the simplest act of kindness can change everything. 

Of course I have gained many more insights.  Like,  it’s ok to fight for what you believe in, just understand there may be many battles and you won’t win them all.  Fortunately for me, my kids and I spend hours together in traffic every week, affording me ample time to espouse my knowledge between 80s tunes on the oldies station. 

I don’t know how many birthdays I will have, but hopefully I will be able to keep finding value in the life I live and pass it on.  

Septuagenarian Removed From Flight in Houston

Septuagenarian removed from United Flight in Houston

Seventy seven year old Ida Billing of St. Louis, MO was escorted off her United flight Sunday afternoon by Federal Air Marshalls.  United Airlines employees reported Ms. Billings as “combative and unruly” when she was asked by a flight attendant to return to her ticketed seat.

“I don't know what happened,” Billings told a reporter .  “I was in my seat listening to Frank Sinatra.  I was wearing headphones so I wouldn't disturb the other passengers, and this stewardess came up to me, pointed to my tray table and asked me if I wanted a treat.  I haven't been in an airplane in a while, but I have enough sense not to eat the food.   I shook my head no.  The stewardess looked kind of upset but I said I was fine. Then a man came over, showed me a badge and asked to see my ticket.  I showed him I was in 34E and my armrest said 34E.  The man got all fired up and tried to tell me I was in 34F, but I know an E when I see one, and I swear I saw one line with three lines attached!  The next thing I know they were taking me off the plane!”

Billings admits she had taken out her hearing aid to wear the headphones, and although she had brought her glasses with her, she had put them in a bag with her reading material. “I was planning to read the last Harry Potter book on the plane but they said it was too big for their carry on policy and made me check it at the gate for $25,” Billings said.

A spokesman for United insisted that Ms Billings was clearly trying to upgrade her seat for free. Although seat 34F is right next to seat 34E and was unoccupied, 34F has 2.75” more legroom, and thus considered a “Deluxe Economy Space Upgrade” with an additional $35 fee.

Billings, who was returning from visiting her grandson, a US Marine being deployed to Syria, was taken off her flight in Houston, and United says they are looking into flights to get her back to St. Louis by Thursday. A spokesman for United was firm in speaking about the incident,  “People can't just sit wherever they want!  The next thing they'll want Is to sit In the cockpit!  Or free meals!  And we are certainly not about to let that happen!”

Bucket List

Bucket List

It's a new year!  Time to review all the awesome things you did… or meant to do.  Reassess your bucket list, because having a bucket list is a “thing.”  

Actually, did you know how the bucket list started?  If you said, “That movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, you are right!  Seriously!  In 1999, writer Justin Zackham was thinking about all the things he wanted to do before he kicked the bucket, and viola!  He coined the term bucket list and wrote the screenplay for the 2007 movie!  Not only that, but he inadvertently named the concept that many people had been thinking about.  Justin’s “bucket list” made it into main stream vernacular, AND the dictionary!  How cool is that??

In any case, I would need 100 pages to get into my bucket list, but for brevity, I'd like to share with you three of my more universal hopes for the coming year and beyond.  Not everyone wants to go bungee jumping, but here are some ideas you may want to try:

1. Conquer a  fear.   I never really thought about it until I texted my bff one day and asked her what was happening.  She said she was about to go on stage at a concert and sing!  What???  I've know this woman from Brownie day camp and I  didn't know she sang.  Turns out she had being taking lessons in an effort to conquer her fear of singing!  Admirable, to say the least.  For work I had to overcome the whole stage fright/public speaking thing, and oh what a feeling it is to get past one of your mental roadblocks!  The sense of pride and accomplishment are overwhelming, and unforgettable.  Go for it!

2. Go somewhere you've always wanted to go.  My dad’s dark features always made him look Greek.  Plus he loved wearing Greek fishing hats and drinking ouzo after a nice lamb chop and slice of baklava.  I always just assumed my dad would go to Greece someday and declare himself home!  I think he did too, but he never did.  I went to Greece a few times, and I absolutely know he would have loved it, but there was always some closer, cheaper place to go and a broken appliance.  In retrospect, the dishwasher can wait.  My dad should have gone to Greece.  Period.

3. Learn to appreciate your life.  I understand this is not a typical bucket list item, but I think it's important, difficult, and life changing.  It takes a lot of reprogramming to filter out life's annoyances and inconveniences.  For some reason we expect things to work out, and complain ad nauseam when they don't.  Somehow it's human nature to focus on the roof leaks rather than the roof.  Retraining and repetition can get you to the place where you appreciate going out to eat rather than bemoaning the wait time.   I'm not saying be oblivious to problems, but I am saying give more value to non problems.  It isn't about the people who blew off your party, it's about the people who came.

As I said, I could fill a book with all the things I want to do before I kick the bucket:  learn Spanish, write a book, go on safari…. And everyone's bucket list is different. I think the main objective of our bucket lists is to make us feel good about ourselves, and once we get started, there is no stopping us!

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

So it came again.  The anniversary of the moment I lost you.  I used to love August because it was your birthday month, and it is so cool how you were the 6, Bryan is the 6, and Carina is the 6.  Now it just makes me sad because honestly, August 4, 2005 was the worst day of my life.  You always joked that you would never make it to the retirement age of 65, and you were right, but damn, you were so close.  Mom had a big surprise party planned and everything.  You would have liked it.  Jim and Cathy were coming, and Bill Froelich, and lots of people you really liked.  They all ended up coming anyway, but it was hardly the same.

Thank you for waiting to get your new  heart valve until after my wedding.  I know you scheduled the surgery thinking there may be complications and you didn't want my wedding to be affected.  I love looking at my wedding pictures with you in them.  You always loved a good party, and that definitely was one.

I have to tell you that I miss you every single day.   Every day.  I never wanted to live in this world without you.  You were the one person that always understood me.  Even if my logic was flawed, you got where I was coming from, and you could explain alternative thinking.  When I talked, not only did you listen, you comprehended my intentions.   Almost no one can do that on a regular basis, but you could, always.

There is a saying I like that goes, “It's not what you say, it's how you make them feel that they will remember.”  You always made me feel protected, and loved, and understood.  And there are a few things you said to me that I will always remember.  Once you told me that the people in the world you should respect the most and be nicest to are your family.  When you are in tough times, it's your family that will always be there for you.  Another time you told me that if you can do something that will make another person happy, do it.  It may be a bit out of your way, or not even, but it will mean so much more than it costs you to do it, be it time, money, or whatever.  And you told me I didn't suck as a teenager.  I apologized for my atrocious behavior, and you were like, “I loved your teenage years!  You and your friends were so funny and silly.”  Although we were the only ones that thought it was funny to put sangria in the punch at an eighth grade Halloween party.   I remember you told Michelle's mom that Sangria isn't really alcohol.   She never got less pissed, though.

You also taught me so many things…. The basics like throwing from third to first.  How to catch a firefly, and the best way to counteract nastiness is with kindness.  People taking the low road get bootprints on their face.  You are the on,y person that ever made the surly bartender at Carlos Murphys like you.  He was determined to hate you, but he couldn't.  I mean you bought him a Christmas present!  You were impossible to dislike.  I think half my boyfriends dated me just to hang out with you, and I was lucky enough to marry a man who loved you dearly and loved hanging out with you smoking cigars and drinking scotch.

The day you died, I wanted to die too.  I would have given my life for yours, even though you never would have wanted that.  I know it's horrible to say but I remember being willing to trade my baby for your life.  I don't know if I could have done it, but it was impossible anyway.

I remember when the lines went flat on the heart monitor when they disconnected everything.  I had given my baby to a transgender nurse and I remember thinking how ironic that was since you were just starting to understand that people are people and sexuality is irrelevant.  She was kind and nurturing and she rocked my baby on her hip while the family watched your physical body turn off.  I looked up.  I've seen tv shows and read stories about people hovering over the room when they died, so I looked up, and I told you I loved you, and I thanked you for being my dad.

So today, on the eleventh year anniversary of that horrible event, I went to the beach.  It was a beautiful day, and a took my beautiful almost twelve year old daughter with me.  I wish you could see her.  She is so beautiful, and cool, and quirky like me.  At one point, she took my  hand and said, “I think your dad would have liked you to be at the beach today.  It makes you happy and I know he would have wanted you to be happy.”  She is compassionate, your granddaughter.  You would really love her.

I went into the ocean, and I read in a beach chair.  Bryan came with my little one and Mark’s dad was there, too.  We were a family at the beach, and it was good.  If you were there, we would have had a cooler of contraband beer and possibly a thermos of Captain Morgan, and you would have played in the ocean with my kids, flown kites, and taken a siesta under the sun.

I miss you, Dad.  I miss you everyday.  I try to pass on the many good things you taught me: empathy, and kindness, and honesty and helping people.  There are so many stories and anecdotes about you that I carry with me always.  Sometimes I have dreams that you are still alive, then I wake up in tears.  I guess if I could just tell you one last thing, it would be thank you again.  You made me feel valuable, loved, understood and protected.  I can only hope to be half the parent that you were.  Thank you, Dad.  Really.  Thank you.

Friends: Not The Family You Choose

“Friends are the family you choose for yourself.”  I remember the first time I read that on a poster…or bumper sticker…or t-shirt… Who knows, maybe it was on a gigantic comb in somebody’s back pocket with Ziggy or Snoopy on it.   I thought, “Wow!  That is so true!  My friends are my family!  They are my closest, coolest confidantes, partners in crime, Cosa Nostra!”

That was a long time ago.  Before my children, before my in-laws, before my sister and cousins and friends got married.  Before Mark Zuckerberg’s parents even knew each other!    And I have absolutely reconsidered since then.

In reality, you get to choose very few family members:  your spouse (most of the time.  Plenty of people still don’t get that option,) and in cases of adoption.  That’s it.  Those are your friends who are the family you choose.  The rest of your friends, well, they are your friends, and you get to pick them all. 

I totally understand the spirit of the “friends are family” quote:  You love the friends you choose.  You have special bonds with some friends and are totally connected.  You help each other emotionally and sometimes physically.  You care for their children, their spouses, their parents.  Maybe you would even take a bullet for a friend.  It is an awesome, uplifting feeling to have such great, loving relationships in your life, and you are very lucky, but friends, no matter how close, are friends.  They are not your family. 

I know some people will take issue with my revelation, and I totally understand.  Many times your friends are actually a better support system than the people with whom you share your biology.  I mean when you think about it, your friends WANTED to be there for you.  These one-time strangers put the effort into having a relationship with you because you are/were important to them.  Your brother, on the other hand, tried to irritate you in every way possible, and you STILL had to help him with his homework and sit next to him in a cramped backseat on a pilgrimage of hundreds of miles to see the Corn Palace and Wall Drugs.

The idea that your friends are your family seems to peak during a few occasions in life:  First when you are a teenager through about college.  That is probably the worst.  You are rebelling as best you can, and your family takes the brunt of it.  As you assert your newfound defiance of authority, your parents, the people who have stayed up nights walking with you swaddled in their arms, and dedicated their lives to saving yours, are the first people to get insulted, argued with, and lied to, that is if you are speaking to them at all.  Your friends, kids you just met yesterday in school, are treated like gods.  Their words are taken as gospel.  After all, these people REALLY understand you.  I remember once when I was about 15.  My dad pulled me aside and said, “Listen Kid.  You better rethink your priorities.  Your family is the most important thing.  We will be here for you long after all these amazing friends of yours are nowhere to be found.  You need to think about who you are treating like crap and who will always be there for you.”  I knew he was right even then, and I probably stopped being such a bitch for at least a week.

Another time your friends seem to get elevated status is when you become a mom.  Even though things have been good with your parents for a while, for some reason it’s so much easier to relate to other new moms.  You are in this baby battle together, and your mom can’t possibly navigate the world of baby 30 years after she last had one.  Kind of like soldiers in battle, new mom friends gain an intimate status.  Actually, that’s another time when friends are probably like family: in the military.  I’ve never been in that situation, but intense events push people together, especially when their lives depend on it.

But close as they may be, your friends are not your family.  Your family is all of your ancestors, the people who descended from them, and the children you made, along with anyone you married or adopted.  There are a billion configurations of the modern family, but generally, your family are people linked to you by your past and the choices that your genetic predecessors made, not you.  Do you have to like them?  No.  You should try because family harmony is a beautiful thing, but why would you like a guy who is constantly complaining about foot fungus and doesn’t seem to know what deodorant is?  People don’t want to sit next to him on the bus, but he is your grandmother’s cousin’s son, so you should at least try to be cordial to him at weddings and funerals.  He is your family.  And that loud gin smelling woman who always tells you to get an eyebrow wax, she is your husband’s mother’s aunt.  You don’t have to have a spa day with her, but she is your family.  Even your husband’s cousin’s wife’s adopted Ugandan baby:  family.  That’s just the way it goes.  You don’t have to like everyone, just like every apple on the tree is not that tasty, but they all share the same roots.  Period.

“Friends understand your past, believe in your future, and accept you today just the way you are.”  A cool quote that I completely believe, and if you are really fortunate, your family can be your friends, too.  There is even a special section for that on facebook.

Dear Parents of My Daughter's Friends

Dear Parents of My Daughter’s Friends,

Please let your daughter sleep over at my house.

She may be eleven, but much like 45 is the new 35, 11 is the new 13. And I’m not jumping the gun, either. Our kids are plugged into their worlds like we never could have imagined. While I spent my tenth year on Earth perfecting my backwards roller skating abilities, our kids are building virtual villages, creating commerce and figuring out how to house and feed their creatures. Don’t get me wrong, all tablets are confiscated after a predetermined time period, but there is a lot of complex problem solving going on in virtual reality. In short, our kids are still kids, but they are smarter than we think.

I get it. You don’t know me, hence you don’t trust me, so let’s meet. We don’t have to be best friends who get our nails done together every Friday. We just have to be on the same page with child safety and acceptable behavior. Who knows, though. You might really like me. I have lots of interesting stories and I love finding new, fun things to do with the kids, not to mention I make killer white chocolate chip cookies.

I get it. I’m a mom, too. When the nurse held my little girl to my face for the first time all swaddled in a pink, blue, and yellow striped blanket, my life changed forever. I knew right then that I would dedicate my life to protecting hers. My heart exploded with love that I had never known, and it has gotten bigger with each of her tiny finger clutches, first words, and first everything!

The first day I dropped my amazing child off at preschool, I sat in my car and cried for the entire three hours she was in there. As she learned to socialize and sing the “Clean Up” song, I stared at her empty car seat and called my husband sobbing. I ran into the cute little picketed fence cottage at exactly noon, and I was still crying when I scooped my most precious jewel into my arms and hugged her so tightly I squished the first finger painting she ever made.

So, let’s go to the library, or better yet, come over for coffee, or water with lemon, or a chai latte. In all honestly, I don’t think my parents ever set foot in my friends’ houses except to pick me up from the slumber party. But I get it. It’s a different world, or at least we are more aware of it with so much information at our fingertips. My mom thinks I am a helicopter parent because I see my daughter’s grades online everyday. I tell her to focus on grand-parenting and join Instagram if she wants to know what her granddaughter is doing, but the truth is, we are far more aware of our children's lives than our parents were, so please, for our daughters, let’s know each other to the point where we feel comfortable supervising each other's children.

I don't know about you, but I still remember being tucked into my sleeping bag under Carol Rodney’s dining room table giggling like a fiend with five other girls from our sixth grade class about some joke that wasn't even remotely funny in the morning. And guess what? I'm still friends with at least three girls from that party! Sleeping over with friends helped me develop my social skills, brush up on my manners, and get a glimpse into the non-school lives of my friends. It made my friendships stronger. It made me more independent. It was a rite of passage which I cherish to this day and want my daughter to experience. I'm sure it even made me appreciate my home life to some degree. I mean some of my friends had to do their own laundry! Thanks Mom.

In school, our kids have formed a very cool friendship, and in this school, they will be classmates for many more years. It's an exciting time of life for them, and it is important for them to have good friendships. I know it's sad to think about, but our daughters won't always want to confide in us, at least not at first. Sometimes kids need peer advice, and strong bonds are not forged only on weekdays. Stepping into a facet of life other than school goes a long way in building solid relationships. When your friend advises you to tell your parents, it means a lot more if your friend actually knows your parents.

So please, Parents of My Daughter’s Friends, I would like to invite you and your daughter into my home. Never mind the fact that we live in a gated community with a private police force who has been known to show up in 3 seconds at the report of a possum in the road. I will not take responsibility for you child lightly. I will keep her safe like my own daughter. I will turn off the lights after they fall asleep giggling, and I will make them pancakes with sprinkles if it's ok with you. They talk constantly to each other on their cell phones. They face time, Skype. Your daughter already knows the locations of my bathroom, the refrigerator, and the snack drawer. I know she will be just fine here.