New year, same-ish you

I am ashamed to say I had a conversation with myself yesterday morning that I've had every New Years morning since the dawn of time (because if you don't feel 1000 years old on any January first, are you even real living?).  And, no, I'm not ashamed of the fact that I was talking to myself.  It was only mostly aloud and the shower was running so I could've been talking to Poseidon - no one will ever know for sure.

Anyway, I'm ashamed that I seemed to be talking myself into a predetermined narrative.

I wanted to say this year should be better.  Better than last.  Better than what I got for working my behind off all of last year.  Better than the last twelve months I spent loving my girls and striving so freaking hard to make their lives better.

But, honestly, the last year wasn't so bad.

There were some absolutely awful parts.

I lost someone more important than most.  Not a single day has passed since May that we haven't talked about her and missed her and wished we could call her.

I also lost a lot who turned out to be less than important.  I started this year with a fairly wide circle and ended it with one I can reach my arms around.  And, I'm working on accepting that this is just fine.  My people and I are just fine on our own.

I let go of relationships that were beyond repair by learning to stop giving before I empty myself.  Some people simply aren't worth the gifts of patience and loyalty.

I realized some lessons had been forgotten...so I'm trying to relearn the scars.  This is the biggest struggle for me.  I tried so hard to get to a spot where I could say I wasn't so bad, that realizing I'm back to watching others spotlight my flaws feels like I'm at the bottom of the mountain again.  But I know this mountain and I've clawed my path to the top before, I can do it again.

Really though, 2015 wasn't too bad to us.

We have each other, day in and day out.  Sometimes we even like that!  

The girls are learning and growing and becoming so much.  I am so grateful to have the front row seat for the greatest show on earth (circus reference intended).  

Sofia and I had our first major war this year, and I truly wasn't sure we would make it.  But she held that hug just long enough last night (even though I thoroughly dominated our Uno tournament) for me to believe we'll be better than mortal enemies eventually.

These people - my people - and I had a pretty good year.  And, with a few big exceptions, we'd be alright if we had the same 365 ahead of us.

So, yes, I'm ashamed that I tried to talk myself into regretting yet another year of growth and kitchen dances.  I'm embarrassed to say I almost forgot the soccer celebrations and great broccoli debates.  I should have known better than to deny the silly faced selfies and car serenades.  

Talking to myself, though?  Nothing wrong with that at all - ask me.  But don't interrupt, that's just rude.

Here's to another year laid out ahead of us - all shiny and new.  May it be nothing we can't handle and only most of what we've seen before.

The table

In good times, I ate dinner on TV trays in front of prime time CBS dramas with my grandma beside me.

And I loved it.

Other times, I ate dinner on my lap with the dog as company.

And I knew no better.

Until I sat here:

This was the first family dinner table I ever knew.  There used to be a bench down one side where I could squeeze into the space I was so generously offered for a few weeks every summer.

And I couldn't believe it.

There was conversation.  And laughter.  And time.

It was foreign and odd.

And, from that first summer visit on, I couldn't sit alone with my dog and my chef boyardee without tasting the silence.

Dinners were supposed to be family and time and love, but I didn't know until I shoe-horned my way in.

Now my people sit here:

And there is conversation (so much conversation).  And laughter (with some tears).  And time (sometimes more than there is space for it).

And they know no better.

Every night I am reminded of that table and that bench - and the family that made room for me.

And I know that I could never know any better.

Patience is the hardest of virtues

Wait.  

Please, if you learn nothing else, learn to wait.

Trust yourself but be patient.

Waiting is hard and it's boring and often it is incredibly lonely.

Do it anyway.

While you're waiting, take a look around.  See those girls sneaking off into the shadows?  They're lining up for scars that won't heal.  Those girls running headfirst into the first boys to blink at them?  They're speeding down a highway where every lane should be the slow lane.

So, keep waiting, my loves.  Even when it feels you're being left behind.  Especially when it seems you'll never get off the curb.

Because you will.  I promise.

Patience will lead you to everything.

Waiting will mean you'll be standing in just the right place after the crowd clears.  And you'll be the one with the clearest view of...well...of whatever you've been longing for.

Taking deep breaths and counting to ten (or ten thousand) will give you the clearest mind to fill with the things that matter - even if all that matters is knowing those jeans are not flattering despite what the ad said.

And, my sweet girls, patience is the only thing that will teach you that the first to ask is often the first to run.  

Don't cling to the first hand when holding is plenty.  Don't jump headlong when wading in toes first is deep enough.  And, in the name of all that is holy, don't call it love when you don't even know his middle name.

Patience may be boring, but it's the only way to be sure.

And the things to be most sure about will always wait for you.

I have always been told my obsession with words is wrong.  Weird.  Hurtful.  A waste.  Stupid.  Every time I've tried to share something that made me tremble, the eyes turned glazed and the conversation screeched.

But words have taught me everything.

"You have to learn to get up from the table when love is no longer being served" N. Simone

"We are our choices." J.P. Sartre

"Walk your memory's halls, austere supreme" E. Millay

"I want to unfold.  I don't want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie" R. Rilke

"I was more than your echo" M. Atwood

"You will always be too much of something for someone.  Apologize for mistakes.  Apologize for unintentionally hurting someone - profusely.  But don't apologize for being who you are." D. Laporte

"La vida sigue - dicen, pero no siempre es verdad.  A veces la vida no sigue.  A veces solo pasan los dias." P. Neruda

"I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself" D.H. Lawrence

"Does my sexiness upset you?  Does it come as a surprise that I dance like I've got diamonds at the meeting of my thighs?" M. Angelou

"There is always a time for departure even when there is no certain place to go" T. Williams

"You are not a burning building and pain is not the only way to feel alive." S. E.

"You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes.  You can steer yourself any direction you choose." D. Seuss

"Be open to learning new lessons, even if they contradict the lessons you learned yesterday." E. Degeneres

"Thank the Lord for my kids even if nobody else want em" T. Shakur

"Smile and wave boys.  Smile and wave" Skipper

"Listen, Linda" cutest cupcake lover ever

"If you don't stick to your values when they're being tested, they're not values - they're hobbies." J. Stewart

"Yeah" L. Jon

"I love you more than chicken enchiladas...and that's a lot." M. Romero

"When you meet someone for the first time, you're not meeting them- you're meeting they're representative." C. Rock

"You're easy to love." P. Lowry

"If your kid grown enough to talk back, your kid grown enough to get fu$&@d up." B. Mac

"Peanut butter shotgun!" S. Romero

"It's far" C. Holliday

"Good night, mama.  I LOVE you." E. Romero

Words given have taught me so many things.  Words found have filled in the blanks.  And, words withheld have taught more lessons than anything ever found on paper.

And I can't keep trying to explain that to people.  

I won't apologize again for the solitary comfort only found in the stringing together of thoughts.

I've learned too many times how to drown carefully and purposefully.  I cannot tread lightly again.

Critique

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.  You think I'm doing it wrong.  I'm not a good parent.  I could learn a lot from you.

Well, I'm sure you're right.

I could learn a lot from you.

Tell me about that time you did it all on your own.

Take a moment and describe how you got all three of your daughters to every activity known to man on time, dressed properly, and prepared for anything.

Please, describe for me how they all maintain straight A's, are each in advanced level courses, and consistently become some of their teacher's favorite students.

Enthrall me with your tales of how they always say "yes" and "no", "please" and "thank you", "excuse me?" rather than "huh?", and always "I love you".

Don't leave out how they race to greet you at the door every evening when you arrive home from work.

And please share the recipes you created to make sure they're fed better than you have ever been.

Remind me how you work a full time job, which you started after giving up any chance of a career to stay home and raise them for thirteen years, and run a very small business in the few minutes you're not at their beckon call.

And, don't leave out how not once have you been able to turn to your left and say "your turn."

Yes, please tell me again how you're an expert on these three girls.

Wait....nevermind..... that was me.  But, yeah, I'm sure you're right.

These poor girls and their successes.  

Whatever shall they do?

Messy breakups

I went through a pretty bad break up this weekend.

It had started with such promise - the relationship and the weekend, I mean. 

In the beginning of the relationship, we spent ALL of our time together.  We were completely devoted and 100% exclusive.  We could read each other's eyes and knew each other inside and out.

Then something just sort of switched off.  It was gradual before it was sudden.  Snuck up like a freight train, I suppose.

Saturday morning also came with promise.  Quality time and days laid out like a well wrapped present.  It was going to be absolutely perfect-ish.

Just the way our good relationship had always been.

Then.  BAM.

It was over.  Heart pulled from my chest, stomped on, shredded, decimated.

My oldest daughter broke up with me.

Of course, she says it was me, not her.

It's just not working for her anymore.

Now she won't speak to me.  The tension in our once-whole home is palpable.

We've been "on a break before".  She's looked elsewhere for the comfort I so willingly give (between the hours of coffee and moscato), but she's always come back by dinner.  Not this time.  I think she really means it.

I think my sweet daughter has really left me.

Which is bad enough.... but when you consider that she left an eye rolling, back mumbling (because she isn't crazy enough to back talk), door closing, whiny, cranky, full blown hormonal mess behind.... My lord.

This is why the dumpees end up on Snapped! and the dumpers end up grounded.

Tinkerbell-free zone.

I'm an adult.  I know this by more than just the calendar.  I get downright giddy over the thought of a nap.  I partake in an icy cold glass of adult on a quiet Friday night.  I drag my ample behind to the workplace without rampaging through it with a machete.  And I delight in the pleasures of the old school hip hop channel on Pandora.

So, yes, I'm all grown up.

One of the harder lessons that come with this age?  Realizing that not everyone gets the opportunity to share in adulthood.

Some, like Peter Pan, stay childish fools their whole lives.  Unfortunately, unlike the green tight-ed boy, they insist on leaving the island and invading our peace.

So, here's what we adults have to accept:  you can't meet everyone where they are.

Not everyone can put ego aside and do what's best for others.

Not everyone can take a situation, find the good in it, and move on down their path.

Some people just have to do their level best to drag you down to their wallowing mud.  

Some people are just impossible.

And that's ok.  Well...it's not really ok, but we grown ups call it ok so that we are able to keep our forward direction.

All we grown up, responsibility taking, bill paying, head held high walking, children raising, too good for this argument making people can do is shake our heads and say:

"Thank the good lord above that I got away from that".

And to you Pans, you ex husbands, you former friends, you parents:  you don't ever have to grow up - just go back to your island.

We'll just be here, sipping adult beverages and holding kitchen dance parties .  You know: adulting.