Old Friend

I have many friends.  People I consider true friends.  I don't see them as often as I like.  We try and make plans and our lives get in the way.  I have new friends.  I have friends that I am friends with because we had children at the same time.  Friends that I am friends with despite the fact that I have kids and they don't.  Friends from camp.  Friends from grade school.  Friends from the neighborhood.  Friends from High School.  Friends from work.  And so on...

I have a few very dear "Old Friends".  One of these old friends spent the day in the hospital the other day as her mom underwent surgery.  She sent us constant updates.  I've known her since I was 3.  She is no longer in the friend category.  When you reach the 30 year mark in a friendship it is a new category altogether.

I have another old friend that she herself spent time in the hospital recently.  I was desperate for her to recover, which she did.  And I haven't seen her since.  Luckily she knows I love her and isn't judging me.


I have one friend that I have known my entire life.  I was born in July and she was born in August.  Our mothers were friends.  And we were from day one.  From the church nursery, to preschool, girl scouts, grade school, high school football games, college parties, weddings, babies, (she drove me to the hospital for my first child), funerals, and everything in between.

We don't talk every day.  We don't have to.  We never hold a grudge or have expectations.
We talked today.  She was offering my advice on something she has some expertise.  We got onto other topics.  She mentioned that it has been 30 years since her grandmother died.   30 years.  We were 7.  I remember her grandmother.  I remember her at their house.  But mostly I remember her sitting in the church pew in the hallway, waiting for the car to be brought around to pick her up.  I remember her being a tiny lady who was severely hunched over.

I don't remember the day she died.  I don't remember hearing the news.  I don't remember the drive to the church for her funeral.  Or what I wore.

I remember standing next to my old friend.  And holding her hand.  I remember that somehow we thought it was a good idea to leave the sanctuary where everyone was and head to the parlor, where her grandmothers body was.  We walked in that room, hand in hand.  Her casket was in the back of the room, open.  I remember walking to the edge.  And looking at her.
It was that moment that my old friend fainted.  I don't remember what happened next.  But somehow two little 7 year old girls made it to the bathroom, where she threw up.  I remember standing outside the stall door asking if she was ok.
I don't remember anything else.  Not the funeral itself.  Not leaving the bathroom.  Nothing.  As we reminisced today we both shared our memories of that moment.  I was surprised how they were so similar.  
I have memories of us as friends ling before that moment.  But this one is of of my favorites.  How lucky I am to have these memories of my best friend then, who is still my cherished friend today.

A Motherless Mother

Many years ago I read a book called Motherless Daughters.  Losing my mom at 12, this book made perfect sense to me.
I think I grasped this title, Motherless Daughter, and learned to live those years as such.
Even though my mother died when I was 12, she was ill off and on for 5 years.
So I learned to do laundry by 10.  I can't remember a time when I didn't do dishes.  I was mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, feeding myself, and making decisions that most 12 year olds never had to face.  I remember seeing my friends come to school in a braid that their mom braided, with lunches their mom packed, wearing clothes their mom washed and turning in homework their mom checked.  And I was jealous.  But I made it through these years.  Don't get me wrong, I had help.  There was always a woman from church, a beloved aunt, a teacher or a friends mom.  They all stepped up and filled in what holes they could.  And I think I came out just fine.  Even through all the years of my dad buying my pads and tampons.  Imagine my surprise when I went out and bought my own for the first time!  They did not have to be 2 foot long.  (that's another blog)

As I stepped into adulthood I didn't realize the effect it would have on me to not have a mother.  I pushed through the years of trying on my wedding gown, without her.  And having my first child, without her.  Filing for divorce, without her.  All those moments where you needed that one person to have your back whether they agreed with you or not....

And as I became a mother I realized I had been placed in a completely different category.  I became a motherless mother.  I attend these special days for my children, and I look around the room at all the grandmas and I wonder.  I wonder would my mom be here?  What kind  of grandmother would she have been?  I envision she would have been at those special events.  I would like to think she would have taught the teenager how to bake one of her famous apple pies.  Maybe she would have worked with the boy on his art and shared her talent with him.  Would she have made the last ones Halloween costume?  Would she still live in the same house?  Would my kids go over for sleepovers, or shopping trips, or zoo days, or afternoon teas.  Would she volunteer for their shows and help sew costumes, or attend a field trip, or pick them up from the bus stop.  All the things they don't have now.
It's easy to put someone on a pedestal who isn't here and think they would have been the greatest of these things.
But I also think of reality.   Would she still smoke?  Would I complain every time my kids came home from her house and they smelled of smoke?  Would she want to cut their hair?  How could I tell her that giving half priced perms in your kitchen in the 80's in not nearly as cool as the neighborhood salon where your stylist is pierced and tattooed.

What if....What if....What if.....


As a child and a young adult I never considered this to be a phase.  But it is.
Suddenly I am a mom who has no one to call when I am sick and the kids need to go to preschool, gymnastics, a birthday party, or wherever.  I have no mom.
And then my children start reaching the age that I was when my mother was unable to parent - and I realize something very scary.  I don't know how to mother these children.  I have no one else's mistakes to correct or no one else's greatness to replicate.

I thought being a motherless daughter was the hard phase.  However, I am struggling with being a motherless mother just as much.

Parenting Blogs

I am sitting at a coffee shop while both the boy and I sip on overpriced coffee drinks, waiting for the last one to complete her ballet class, while the husband and the teenager are training for the mini marathon.  And yes, the boy is drinking a fully caffeinated coffee beverage, in case you were still wondering.
I am surfing the internet (ok, facebook) and reading the blogs people post regarding parenting.  And I have come to believe one thing about these blogs.
None of them really offer advice.  They simply say that whatever mistakes you are making, it's ok.

All  those "mistakes" we think we made, aren't really mistakes at all.  It's simply parenting.  Parenting Survival.

It's ok - that you laid in bed pretending not to hear the baby cry.
It's ok - that you store bought the snacks for the birthday at preschool.
It's ok - that you put your three year old in front of the tv for 6 hours straight so you could sleep/shower/fold laundry.
It's ok - that you dropped the f-bomb.  Really it is.  It isn't a real bomb.  Everyone lived.
It's ok - that you bought the Valentine's Day cards instead of made them.
It's ok - that you buy lunchables.  Ok, I take it back.  It's not ok.  Those things are gross.
It's ok - that you dosed your kid up on cold medicine and sent them to school hoping to at least get through your lunch meeting before the school calls because you can not miss another day at work.

These things are all ok.  We are merely surviving these parenting years.

Braces and faces

Today is a big day in the life of Teenage Girl.  The braces come off.  She only had them on for a year and a half.  Yet they still broke the bank.  But seeing her smile today was well worth it all.  She looked so confident.

She is a lucky girl.  She got to choose her retainer and it is zebra print.

I had braces for four years.  And I still have my bottom retainer.  We've just had our 20 year anniversary.  Someone please tell me what kind of glue they used and why in the hell can't I buy it from Michael's.

First blog

Well, my blog title isn't factual.  It's all a lie really.  Currently I have a pile of laundry to fold and put away, I need to search the internet for ridiculous stories of a woman who tricks her husband into believing she is having quintuplets, there's always binge watching House on Netflix, or a 20 minute power nap before I have to get kids off the bus.
But I choose to blog.  I have heard it more than once, "you should write a book".
Facebook posts come so easy.  But this may be a little more difficult.

 I have a home of three kids, three cats, one very old dog, and my husband.
For privacy - everyone will have a title only.  Husband, teenage daughter, the boy, and the last one.  ages 14, 10, and 7.
 Typical routine, husband wakes up and feed kids.  I place the last one's clothes on the heater.  It's 16 degrees this morning and she hates two things; cold and mornings.  I do all I can to avoid waking the beast inside her.  I make their lunches.  Luckily they are all very picky in their own right.
Sometimes I have to think I am a genius to figure out what to buy and manage for the grocery shopping.  The boy and the last one like creamy peanut butter.  The teenage girl prefers crunchy.  The last one likes Nutella, the boy honey, the teenage girl likes jelly.  Of course.  But today was vegetable soup for one, sandwich for one, and make your own pizza for the other.  I successfully made lunches. I got the last ones bag ready and signed her paperwork.  I handed her a brush to brush her hair.  Then took her bags to the car to warm it up for 10 minutes.
I loaded the younger two into the WARM car to drive them 30 feet to the bus stop.  The teenager stayed home because she has a Dr. Appt at 9:20.
My youngest was mad about something.  I asked her if she was mad a me.  She said she was.  because I make her do EVERYTHING!  Meaning brush her own hair!
Finally I get the teenager to her appointment only to have the lady at the front desk tell me her appointment is not today. But Friday.  Happy trails!