Sometimes, it takes a village....

The hubs & I were talking this morning. 

We do that a lot. 

Talk, when we have the chance that is. 

When you've got three other people running roughshod over your life & your home, sometimes it's really difficult to get a word in edgewise.  But, either way, we were talking about the boy's baseball game last night which led into a talk about parents and then onto our youngest daughter's graduation and then onto the middle daughter. 

(as I write this my two girls are swatting at each other:  One with her graduation cap from pre-school graduation and the other with a dishtowel as she's taking an untimely break from drying the dishes and putting them away)

But all of this talk of parents, teachers, loved ones, etc got me thinking about how it truly does take a village to raise our kids.  And while we're not always so receptive to certain 'teachers' in their lives (Ie their peers, the media, social networks, disgruntled/pessimistic influences), there are lessons with every person they encounter.

This past week our youngest graduated from preschool and had a major dental procedure done.  She came through both with flying colors but not without a few bumps and bruises.  People asked, people were concerned.

Our middle child, who doesn't always have life's easiest row to hoe (she's the quintessential middle child, honestly, and boy do we have our days) and has had a tough week, but there are people who give her rides home from school and listen to her.  I can't say how awesome it is to have this woman listen to my daughter and be a great influence on her and that she cares to listen.  It's amazing.

The boy.   That kid.  He's getting bigger and older and his problems aren't something I can put bacitracin on along with a band aid and shoo him on his way anymore.  But, he has people around him who listen and enable him in the best ways.

I guess my point is, sometimes throughout life I've closed myself off to people because it was easier to insulate myself against experiences that I didn't want to be in.  There are negative and hurtful people that don't want anything but you to be unhappy too.

But in the past year, I've found a group of women who have done nothing but remind what it is like to be part of a 'village'. 

They engaged, they were present, they listen, they share, and they make my heart feel better about having a group of friends that I can go to with problems whether they be something as small as learning how to make cinnamon rolls or something as frustrating as parenting teenagers.  They make me laugh when I don't wanna laugh.  They make me smile.  They make me cry.  They share things; their secrets, their fears, their joys, their sorrows.

And they remind me that with all of the bad things out there, there is so much good to be had too.  We just have to have the courage to let all of it in.  The good and the bad.

I don't want my kids to miss out on some awesome people because they were too afraid to try, ya know?  This is their time and this is their 'village' and while it's not always the best one, it's still a good one. 

I'll leave you with something I heard not too long ago while I was lying on the couch watching a movie with my daughters and it brought a tear to my eye. 

From the movie Lilo & Stitch:  "This is my Family.  It's little and it's broken, but still good.  Yeah, good."

Just remember, it doesn't have to be perfect.  It just has to be good. 

It comes back around....

Currently, I'm eating some lasagna and bitty garlic breads while pondering my day. 

Earlier today after venturing into the Voldemarts to get some groceries (honestly, it was closer than traipsing across town to go to Aldi's - where we normally grocery get) my teen tried talking me into going to McDonald's.  Now, lessee, it was lunchtime (a little after Noon) and the line for the drive through was EPIC - or so I spied across the way - and there was no way I was going to spend more time in public (repeat after me PUBLICK PUUUUUUBLICK) than strictly necessary.

I love people and loathe them in equal measure.  I believe that a lot of people are inherently good and I love 'em for it.  On the flip side there are some very simple folks that drive me looney tunes (and not the fun daffy duck kind if you pick up what I'm putting down). 

So, a quandry.

The boy - THE TEEN, Heather, THE TEEN - offered to buy lunch.

I offered Wendy's as a compromise. 

We rolled on over there after Jude's nineteenth request for chicken nuggets and put in our order.  Driving up to the pay window, we were greeted by DeShawn who told us our total.  I held out my hand waiting for Arik to pony up the dough and laughing told our young cashier that I was making the boy pay. 

Laughing as he took the twenty, DeShawn looked at Arik, "It's all good.  It comes back around, man."

I busted out laughing, took the change, and told young DeShawn to have a good day. 

Arik had no idea what DeShawn was talking about and I tried to explain to him in a roundabout way that being good to your mom has a way of being paid back ten-fold.  Moms just roll that way. 

It made me smile long after I drove away and quite some time after that junior bacon cheeseburger was long tone too. 

Good things really do have a way of coming back around.  Maybe not the way we think they should, but they still do.

It's like finding a friendly face in the middle of the plumbing aisle at Lowe's last night.  A really nice older gentleman took me around to find the hoses I was looking for that we needed for the washer.  And then also, chatted along with me as we walked over to the dryer vent pipes.  I told him that I would've been lost for quite some time without his help and thanks so much.  He quipped that they usually try to shoo everyone out before nine.  Again, I laughed.

It really is the best medicine for all that ails you. 

Oh I'm all for sad music and Steel Magnolias when life hands you a sack of shit for a day, but sometimes there's just something about sharing a laugh with a stranger.

In both of those situations, I was flustered (today, after chasing Jude around the bulk of wal-mart with the chant of MOMMA LOOK MOMMA LOOK MOMMA LOOK ringing in my ears; yesterday, trying to walk through the plumbing aisle without a penis is intimidating as eff) and a little short on patience. 

And along came a laugh just when I needed one.

So, today, smile at someone in the grocery aisle.  Joke around with your cashier.  Tell someone that the yarn they're picking out is beautiful. 

Take two seconds and make someone else's day.

I'd like to thank DeShawn for making mine.

Bless your heart, kid. 

Secondhand Love

"I love your sweater. Where'd you get it?"

"The Gap."

Source

That's a conversation I heard on Glee last night.  And as much as we all know how much I love Glee, this got my little brain thinking away. 

I've always been very up front about my love of all things thrifty/goodwill/yard sale-esque, etc, and have never ever wanted to deny where I got my sweater for pete's sakes.  Seriously?  There are better things in life to fib about.  Like my weight, for instance.  But, that's a subject best left for another discussion or post. 

This episode got me thinking about all of the second hand items in my life. 

I'm not only surrounded by furniture and glass wear that is second hand, thrifted, or garage-saled, but the better part of my life has been 'second hand' for lack of a better word. 

Growing up, as I did, with my grandparents gave me that one-degree of separation.  They loved me, goodness knows they did, but there was that little bit of distance between our generations and while I'm wholly thankful for a lot of my beliefs and values that came from them, it felt like that second-hand sweater:  A little frayed, with a string hanging off the sleeve, and pilly. 

My child hood, I believe, gave me a unique perspective on love. 

Don't mistake me.  Because when I was a teenager, I wanted that kind of love I saw on Sixteen Candles.  That new and shiny Jake Ryan-esque version of everything where the really hot guy came in and saved the day. 

Who doesn't?  For those few years of junior high and high school, everyone wants that kind of shiny perfect love. 

I don't think anyone was more shocked than I when I found out that stuff doesn't exist. 

It doesn't mean I didn't stop looking or believing for a long period of time. 

And then in my early twenties, my path collided with my hubby's. 

Looking back, if I had to liken us to a second hand item, I would say that we were both like these flower pots on the back shelf hiding behind the really shiny, pretty lacquered up Pier One cast offs.  We would've been the serviceable terra cotta with the chips and small cracks down the sides. 

Source

We'd both been through a world of life at our young ages due to life experience....in flower pot speak, we'd weathered many a long hot summer. 

Did I know, did I see how we would become?  How over the years we would take on this gorgeous patina?  Nope.  Not even close.

But isn't that part of the deal when you take on something that's been given away/donated/consigned?  No refunds, no returns.

Are we still those pots with the cracks and chips?  Sure enough.  And as we grow older together, I appreciate those 'imperfections' more than ever.  I really like it that way.

Source

Our love, second hand though it might be, is still the best bargain I've come across in all my years of being a 'thrifter'.

Letter to Me....

I was really struggling with what to write about this morning.  It's gloomy outside, you see, and that makes for my internal 'Remus Lupin' to want to be all morose and to sigh meaningfully.  (And if you don't know who Remus Lupin is, I'm really not sure we can be friends any more.  On second thought, go and Google him.  If you don't have him in your life, you should.)

I woke up late this morning after staying up too late and there's just really not enough coffee in the world to straighten this out but I'm determined to get on with the day - Monday or no - and make the best of it. 

So anycrap, I was chatting away - courtesy of Gchat - with my gal pal, Susan, when she suggested this 'List of Lists' that she had tucked away in the bowels of her 9200 journals.  Seriously, some day soon I might devote a blog post to each of my gal friends who make my life go 'round.  SERIOUSLY.  They're amazing and so unique in their own ways.  Oh lord, sidetracking like crazy.  Back on topic, Heather.  Okay, so I'm blindly picking out one of her topics from the Listy List of Lists and adding my own particular spin to it.  Here goes nothing:

What Would We Say to our Future Selves?

I'm going to do my own take on that.  I know some of you are country music fans and when I read this the very first thing that I thought of was Brad Paisley's, "Letter to Me". 

(Embedded for your listening enjoyment)


Dear Heather (at seventeen),

It's me.  That me that you see in the mirror only a slightly older version.  Prove it?  Okay, you've filled the last half of your diary about a certain Washington High School basketball player.  Yeah.  Now you believe me?  Good.  With that, I just wanted to stop and give you a few pointers on upcoming events in your life.  It might seem daunting or impossible that you'll survive and live through the things that you think should break you, but you won't break.  It's a close thing, but you won't. 

Trust me. 

1.  That annoying habit you have of thinking the best of people?  Don't lose that.  People will prove you right more than they will prove you wrong.

2.  I know you think you won't ever find 'the one'.  You do.  He's amazing and not what you expected at all.  Which just goes to show you that life is full of surprises.  He will be just what you needed just when you needed him. 

3.  I know that you wrote down in your Senior Memory Book that you'd have four kids jokingly.  You're right.  They're amazing.  And that first one?  You'll love her because she's his (that awesome guy from the number above), but you'll grow to love her for being herself.  The Boy, will give you the reason to put aside your own luggage as you pick him up.  He's a turning point for you.  And the next two...*shakeshead*...Oh, just you wait. 

4.  Friends.  Less is more.  You don't have to be the Prom Queen.  Quality over quantity, babe.

5.  You will get to see your mom again.  And after the first twenty minutes, it'll be less awkward and more like that piece of you that was missing will go sliding back into that slot like it was never gone. 

6.  Lay off the Pepsi, shortie. 

7.  Losing your grandma?  You live through that, kiddo.   It sucks like hell but she's left you a wonderful legacy of becoming a lover of words.  Although, you will never figure out how to make her homemade noodles.  Might wanna just let that one go. 

8.  You'll get to meet folks from all over the world eventually and will travel out of the great state of Iowa to meet them.  I know you don't believe me because you hate even driving on the interstate and won't do it unless pressed, but you tackle that particular fear, too. 

9.  All of that stuff you learned in Government and Social Studies?  Completely useless.

10.  Even at 39, you still love The Beatles.  Some things are just timeless, hon. 

In closing, I want to tell you to sleep less, smile more, let it go, and look for peace.  You are going to have some great adventures and there will be moments when the very core of your existence is shaken....but, kid, you survive. 

Love,

Heather



Now....what would you guys tell your seventeen-year-old selves?  :CHINHANDS: