Girlfriends

Picking up my girls from school is always an adventure.  Maya insists on being carried (and her mama is all too willing to hold her after a long day of being separated).  Eva comes out of the door on the opposite side of the building, so we trudge through the sea of kids to meet her smiling face when she races for a hug.  Then, we weave through hundreds of little people who have no concept of walking at normal kid pace... and adults with no concept of traffic flow.

As we go, we get little snippets of conversations that can at best be described as straddling the line between inane and ridiculous.  Until today.

Today, I came across a small group of 1st graders.  Two boys and two girls.  I don't know how long they'd been there or how it started but here is what I heard:

Girl #1 to Boy #1 :  "How could you say she's ugly?  She's beautiful!"
Boy #1 shrugs and looks away from Girl #2.
Girl #1  gently places her hand on Girl #2s shoulder and smiles.
Girl #1 pops Boy #1 on the back of the head.
Boys walk away.

I stopped what I was doing and watched them.  I stood and watched as that little girl straightened her back and took her friend's confidence onto her shoulders.  I wanted to go to those girls and squeeze them.  I wanted to tell Girl #2, "Hold on to this friend with both hands.  Keep her by your side and always know that she is golden."  I wanted to take Girl #1 by the shoulders and make her look me in the eye while I told her, "You are a good one, little lady.  You are the kind of friend that people like me search a lifetime for."  And, I wanted to pop both boys in the back of the head.

See, Girl #2 was beautiful.  But, that is irrelevant.  Even if she had been hideous in form and character, her friend would've knocked that boy down anyway.  And, I don't know a single girl who doesn't need a person like that on their side. 

Those little girls are going to be preteens one day, and they'll need each other even more.  They'll lean on each other in the halls of the middle school where bullies lie in wait.  Then, they'll be twenty-somethings, and they'll look to each other to navigate the long roads of guys who will say anything to beat them down and girls who will sit and wait in the hope that those same guys will choose them next.  And, eventually, those two little girls will be grown women.  Women who will be surprised that the mean boys grow into meaner men and the jealous girls grow into vindictive women.

Girl #2 is always going to need Girl #1, but they don't know that yet.  All they learned today is that, whenever a boy needs to be smacked in the head, a real friend is already warming up her backhand.  And, at six years old, that packs quite a punch.

What is one thing you would like me to know about your child?

The last space on the kindergarten questionnaire asked:  what is one thing you would like me to know about your child?

One thing?!  What is one thing I want you to know about this person that's carrying my heart around in her hand?!

I would like you to know that her favorite color was pink until she found out every other girl in the world was copying her.

I want you to know how she saw someone make her sister feel bad for being a "tomboy", so she squeezed Eva's hand and declared that she only likes boyish stuff now too!

You should know that she's especially ticklish under her chin.

I need you to know that she will feign an injury if she's losing in a race so that the leader will stop to check on her, thus allowing her to blow past the poor sucker.

It would be great if you knew that she thinks butterflies fly higher than the sun and crabs eat chicken.

I would like you to know that nothing you say will convince her that she is not the boss of everyone.

I think you should know that she loves to cook with me and considers herself my official taste tester.

You need to know that she has the sense of humor of a grown woman, and I have no idea where it came from.

I think you should be aware that she's rolling her eyes at you every time you turn around.

And, I want you to know that she is her mama's pride and joy.  She is the most amazing kid in kindergarten this year, and you should be thankful you get to spend this time with her.  It breaks her mama's heart every morning when the school doors close behind her.

Instead of these things, though, I simply filled in the blank space with:

Maya is absolutely overflowing with personality.

Everything else is for me to know and the world to find out.

Up in the air

I like gravity.  I may even love it, but I'm too shy to tell it.

Everything in my life is up in the air right now.  It feels like I'm in the middle of a broken snow globe where everything swirls around me, but nothing ever really settles down.  Or maybe I'm on a trampoline and, every time I land on my feet, someone keeps bounding in to try to knock me off again.  And, sometimes it feels like that part of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory where Charlie drinks the stuff that makes him float.  And he floats so high he almost gets shredded by the fan.  Mostly, lately, it's the scene in Mary Poppins where everyone is having such a good time that their happiness makes them lighter than air.  And, they spend all day up there having an amazing time.  Until someone makes them think sad thoughts.

But gravity, well gravity keeps my feet on the ground.  It reminds me that this is not a dream and I cannot just float away.  Gravity is the sad thoughts that always show up to ruin the party.

I like the trampoline.  And the bubble juice.  And the insanely happy times.  But gravity is my comfort zone.  It's what I know best.  It holds me down and back.  I can wear it like a barbed wire sweater, and it fits perfectly.  Because, it may not make me happy, but at least it settles things down.

Fountain of Youth

Recently, I have started feeling self-conscious about my age.  Up until a few weeks ago, I really didn't care, but now I find myself hyper-aware of the date on my driver's license.  So, while I made cinnamon rolls at 3:00 this morning, I tried to think of things that make me feel young(ish).  Here is what flows through my own personal fountain of youth:

Kicking kid butt in card & board games.  I am the World Champion at Uno and Sorry!  Some people let their kids win and some beat them gently.  I wholeheartedly whoop up on my kids.  Every time. 

Dancing in the car/grocery store/parking lot.  Much to my girls' dismay, I cannot fight the urge to show my skills when the right song comes along... even if it came along in my head.

Beating Eva in a foot race.  Anyone who has seen Eva in action knows I don't have much longer to make her eat my dust.  Until the day she passes me though, I shall flaunt my awesome speed in her eight year old face!

The way my heart skips when fingers interlace.

No, I may not remember why I walked into this room...but I can recite every single word to any song from the 90's.  And, being able to keep up with DMX takes at least ten years off my age.

Ice cream cones.

Giggling.  Laughing is good.  Giggling is better.

Every single time I see the size on my jeans is several sizes smaller than it was in high school.

Blushing.

Being able to get up after only four hours of sleep and still see straight.  It may not be because I've been out at the club all night, but at least I know I can still function without a midday nap.

Talking to "Baby" Brother.  Nothing keeps you on your toes like carrying on a conversation with a 22 year old who uses words like "playa" and "gotsta".

Margarita night.

So, the next time I'm feeling queasy about my geriatric side, I'm going to fill my cup from this particular fountain.  I may not be Young, Wild & Free anymore... but two out of three isn't bad.

Competition

I have failed yet another parenting competition.  That's right, I lost another challenge.  This one, though?  This one, I'm ok with.  See, I cannot buy my children everything they want.  Heck...on most days, I can't buy them anything they want.  And, I cannot take them to all of the places that they want to go.  There are no trips out shopping for no reason.  Lunches out are a rare treat and never where they would choose to go.  Have you any idea how expensive it is to take three kids to a movie these days?!  And, please don't let it be 3D!  So, movies are reserved for special occasions only.  You heard me right... my children are bordering on abused and neglected.

Know what I can do, though?

I can tell you their favorite colors.  I can tell you the name of their favorite books.  I can tell you about every goal Eva has ever scored (including practices).  I can tell you Sofia's favorite song to play on her clarinet.  I remember every single lost tooth and how their breath smelled when I held them all night as babies.  I know what puts butterflies in their stomachs and what makes their eyes shine.  I know each and every one of their friends, not just by name but by face and attitude as well.  Their teachers not only know my name, but also my face and voice.  As do the school nurses, office staff, lunch ladies, and principals.  I know the first boy my daughter ever immortalized on a piece of furniture.  I know the lilt in their voices when they're lying.  I know what they want to be when they grow up and that they truly believe it will happen.  I heard the first word each of them spoke and I watched them read their first sentences.  I know that Maya will try to hide carrot sticks in her shorts to get out of finishing her lunch.  I know where they keep their deepest secrets, and I know that I would never go to those places uninvited.

I also know that my children know me.  They know my favorite color and the way I dance around the kitchen.  They know the tone of my voice when I'm serious and they know the lift of my brow when playtime is over.  They know that I will always be the person they can count on to stand up for them or behind them.  And, they know that I am always on their side - no matter what.

No, I can't buy my children the world.  I can, however, make them feel like the center of it.  And, that is not available in stores. 

Words

Pathetic.
Loser.
Ugly.
Worthless.
Unwantable.
Slut.
Fool.
Embarrassing.
Sorry.
Stupid.
Weak.
Silly.
Weird.
Old.
Fat.
Poor.
Unlovable.
Deserving.
Strong.
Amazing.
Real.
Worthy.
Hilarious.
Adorable.
Good.
Hot.
Challenging.
Tough.
Beautiful.
Sexy.
Smart.
Awesome.
Sweet.

Thirty three words that have been used to describe me in the last week.  I went back through my texts and this was what I found.  Thirty three adjectives that sum me up.

Seventeen are "negative", though much more real than the rest.  They were said by those who know me best.  Those who have known me longest.  Those who I've listened to for longer.

The sixteen at the end are dismissible.  They were said, but not meant.  And, I want to say they were heard but not felt; but that would be a lie.

I felt each and every one of the words that are on this page.  I smiled or cried with each syllable.  They made my day or lengthened my darkness.  And, now they each live inside me.  Because you can't believe the good if you don't believe the bad.  They are all someone else's vision of me.

Watch the words that you use with people.  If you don't mean them... don't use them.  If you don't want them felt... keep them to yourself.

Words are power.  Whispered or written.  Spoken or withheld.  They are also irretrievable.  These thirty three words changed me, one by one.  I can't unhear truths any more than I can unsee lies.

Less

Admitting you are wrong doesn't make you less of a man.  Saying you're sorry doesn't do it either.  Neither does walking next to the woman you're with rather than ahead of her.  Or acknowledging that, as a grown person herself, her thoughts might be as valuable as yours.  Placing someone else's needs before your own doesn't make you any less important.  And, no one is going to take away your "man card" for looking her in the eye when she's talking to you.

Look at her.  The woman behind you.  That's where she always is - in your corner.  Quietly cleaning up your messes.  Always making excuses for the choices you make.  Carrying the weight of the family you chose to create while you decide, much too late, if it's the right place for you.  Look at her.  She's not perfect, but she tried for a long time to be just that for you.  She put you ahead of herself for so long that she's forgotten what your face looks like when you smile.  She knows every hair on the back of your head, but couldn't tell you what your eyes look like in the sunshine.  That woman is tired now.  Tired of living in the wide shadow you cast.  Tired of claiming to be ok at the bottom of your list.  Just tired.

Being a man is about being strong and independent, true.  It is about a strong back and skilled hands.  It is surely about force of will and depth of honor.  But you misunderstand what those are to be used for.  A back strong enough to carry your responsibilities on.  Hands skilled in holding her gently when she needs it and pulling her through the difficulties when she needs that.  The force of will it takes to not accept every opportunity that crosses your path because you know the road you chose already has everyone you need.  And, honor held deep enough to be able to look her in the eye and know you would rather lose a limb than her trust.

So, look at her.  Turn around and look for her.  She isn't where you expected, is she?  She put away her broom and stopped making your excuses.  She doesn't carry your weight anymore, and now agrees that this isn't the right place for you.  She doesn't try to be perfect for you anymore, and she now sees she never could have been.  Your corner is empty of the strength and devotion you took for granted.

And that makes you less of a man.