Taco Bell, Old Folks, and the Pink Slip

Taco Bell, Old Folks, and the Pink Slip

disclaimer: no senior citizens were harmed, died, or were even unhappy during the events that took place in this story. If anything, they were sad they no longer had someone to sneak them out of the retirement community.

I would like of think of myself as a loving person. That I care about all humans equally. But truth be told, I don't really like kids all that much. They are weird and demanding and way too new to the world to make any sense at all. I realize I have many children, but they get me. I am more of an old soul kind of gal...I just prefer the company of my elders (seniors to be exact). They have interesting stories, they wear what ever the hell they want all the time (think black socks with crocs), and they quit giving a fuck what people thought about them long before I was even born. Old people rock.
And they love tacos.

In high school I walked out on my job at Waid's Diner in an epic fashion. Like EPIC FASHION....I loved the customers, even the oldest, grumpiest, chain smoking, liver eating, endless cup of friggin' coffee drinking Larry...but I had a bit of a run in with a fellow employee of the male persuasion. My complaints fell on deaf ears and I could take no more so I walked out in the middle of a shift....though not before adding some questionable ingredients to the coconut cream pie in the back fridge.

So here I was...jobless, which just wouldn't do.
My bestie Sarah, happened to work at (name omitted) retirement community, that happened to have a dining room, that also happened to be hiring. Everyone and their mother (literally) loved Sarah. She was the perfect employee and gave me a fantastic recommendation.
That is how I found myself employed at one of the best jobs a kid could ask for!
Great hours, above minimum wage pay, and all the pull my finger jokes a gal could ask for. I had a pretty basic job description that included setting and busing the tables and serving the residents the meals in the main dining area. The fine retired folks had a limited menu each evening prepared by the most amazing kitchen manager/cook, -we shall call her- Georgia.

actual dining hall from (name omitted) retirement community

Georgia made each and every plate for each and every resident with a joy and attention to detail that was equal to what would be found in any fine ding restaurant. She kept pictures of her kids and her grand kids on the line. Georgia remembered birthdays and anniversaries, favorite foods and specific dislikes by every one of the residents. She snuck extra gravy on the mashed potatoes of the gravy lovers, peaches came out on pudding night to the folks who didn't like pudding...hell, she made chicken fried steak crispy and savory for every person who ordered and did it in record time! She made homemade goodies for the staff and sang and hummed the entire shift when she wasn't telling us a story about her yesteryears down south. Her hair was always styled beautifully under her hairnet and against all health code regulations she kept her nails long and painted a deep magenta. She wore holiday pins on her apron all year round and kept flowers in the room where she did her ordering.

There is a reason that I have gone into great detail to tell you of the lovely woman Georgia, and that is to show that in no way were the residents lacking for delish diner delights. They were doted on....truly! We all loved them and did everything to make every meal something as close to home and home cooking as possible.
There was a community room that had comfortable seating, board games, and a central television. A lot of the gentleman there liked to hang and chat and tell old stories to each other....but not a one of them could hold a candle to  Mr.-Old Guy that is Responsible for my Employment Demise- (though not really)we will call him Mr. Guy. Mr. Guy was a jester, a huckster. Always telling crazy stories and one-upping the other residents. He had crazy hair all white and fuzzy and giant ears and the weirdest nostrils. He always wore the blue cardigan and would do that gesture where he would pretend to hold a cigar to his mouth and lift up his bushy gerbil sized eyebrows while saying eh eh eh...giving a nudge to the nearest human when he thought he had made a funny joke. He loved the ladies and the scotch, and if they would have allowed it he would have loved the ladies and the scotch and a couple of cigars every night while everyone looked on and he smiled. He was awesome.

One night after diner Mr. Guy was in the central room telling a joke when a Taco Bell commercial came on. Taco Bell. Well, as I was headed out the door at the end of my shift Mr. Guy called out my name. It seems that he and some of his other pals wanted to have themselves a bit of Taco Bell. Great, I say, next time your families visit, have them bring you an order in. I bet the front desk would be happy to give them a call and arrange it...

That was not the answer they were looking for. In hindsight, I think that maybe they already knew that wasn't happening. You see, I was that kid that would sneak in cheetos and twizzlers. I had no problem sharing my latest copy of Self magazine with the gents...and we all knew they were not reading it for the health tips. And on occasion I had looked the other way when someone snuck someone else's dessert and I may have even slipped a few out myself.
But Taco Bell? 
"Why the hell not", I thought. I could sneak out the side door be back in 10 minutes and no one would be the wiser.
This is when it got a bit more complex.

They elderly bullies didn't want me to bring them Taco Bell......they wanted to go there. Shit, they even tried to bribe me with like 3 dollars and my very own taco. Well, I tried to bow out gracefully because there was no way I could take 8 of them. That right, 8 friggin old people, 2 of them women who absolutely were not taking no for an answer. 
I tried the whole, my car would only seat 3 of them comfortably, but that is when Mr. Guy was all like, your mom has a station wagon.
Ah hell no. I was not playing Driving Miss Daisy with some escapee residents in my mom's station wagon and driving their half crazy asses to Taco Bell. This was getting out of hand. So I politely but firmly said no.
I was not prepared for the tears...yes tears...and pleas.....and begging. Some day I would be old...some day I would want Taco Bell instead of Salisbury Steak. Some day I might be stuck in a retirement community with out my own car (because I couldn't see dick to drive) and have limited interaction with the outside world except in the occasional field trip sponsored and controlled by the center......oh the guilt of it was eating a taco sized hole in my soul. Geesh. 
So against my better judgement I agreed that on my next shift I would drive my mom's car and I would take 5 of the 8 (so they had to draw straws...coffee stirrers actually) and we would go to the great and mysterious Taco Bell on Barry Road once my shift was completed.
On the day of our planned getaway, those old folks wouldn't shut up. They giggled and nudged and hovered everywhere I worked. Sly winks and knowing nods, they were acting like a bunch of damn teenagers...except those who couldn't go who were clearly pouting. As the witching hour drew near, deep down I knew that some way, some how I was going to get caught. We all were going to get caught.
The plan was easy. I would leave as usual then pull my mom's car up to the side door. They would sneak out and hop in and we would be back as quickly as possible. The retirement community was only two exits away from Taco Bell. I was guessing a half hour at most and hopefully they would sneak back in quiet as mice on Christmas and no one would be the wiser. Not fool proof, but not complicated either.

They got out of the door without getting caught...then it went down hill fast. First there was serious argument over who would ride in the front seat. Obviously the ladies vied for it as well as Mr. Hip Hurts, but in the end....of coarse Mr. Guy won the prize and became the single most annoying passenger in my driving history, bar none. We had exactly 4 tapes to choose from for our listening pleasure. ABBA, the Moody Blues, the Mavericks, and Arrested Development's Mr. Wendal single. We listened to that, and the entire time Mr. Guy kept complaining about how fast the lyrics were and how he couldn't hear all the words and why were they singing about Mr. Window. Geesh....

Mr. Wendal<------click here

He touched all the knobs, fucked with the windows, complained about my driving and in general was a huge pain in my ass. Then in between his complaining and adjusting he would sing along with Arrested Development but totally different words and tune. I have no idea how the others fared in the drive because my entire focus was on keeping Mr. Guy from killing us all by constantly reaching for the steering wheel because he was sure I was "veering". OH woman drivers.
Upon arrival, I decided that we would pull into the drive-thru but first I would run in and see if they had a carry out menu or something so we could make decisions before we got to the speaker. So I put the car in park, grabbed they keys (cause Lord knows I wasn't leaving them with those crazies), and ran in. To this day, I have no clue how they did it, as it took them like 15c minutes to get into my mom's car, but before I could exit the Taco Bell, they were all filing through the door.... NONONONONONONO...just No! This was going to get ugly if I couldn't get Grizly OldFart and the Kick-the-Bucketeers out the door and back in the car. This was not in the plan.

But they didn't care. They stood in Taco Bell beaming at the other customers. They walked the place like it was some piece of real estate on the market, touching backs of swivel chairs and pushing open the swinging trashcan lid. The soda fountain was a thing of magic (and still on the other side of the counter back then)...but there was SODA!!!! We all stood staring at the menu for like 10 minutes before I was so frustrated I asked if they needed help reading it since none of them were wearing their reading glasses. Smiles and that would be helpful and then I proceeded to read the entire menu about half a dozen times.

Once we finally ordered, it was like we were ordering for 20 people. Seriously. I knew they were bring back to the 3 left behind, but this was ridiculous! And just like old people do they all wanted to order separately and pay separately. Fun. so we were in line and waiting for all this food forever. Once everyone had their bags and the 3 additional (and separate) orders for the others, we headed to the door. Strangle, they got in a lot quicker than before...I guess the order and seating was all arranged and worked out. Mr. Guy didn't torment me at all on the way back because he was too preoccupied with talking about the amazing smells coming from his bag to the others, all completely full of joy. Even I was starting to feel like we had indeed gotten away with it and I was going to get them back and dropped off and I could head home and hope no one ever found out about it. We listened to ABBA.
As we pull in I am careful to avoid the circle drive and come up the back driveway and park outside the side door. I climb out and start to open doors and get them all unloaded. Once everyone is out and accounted for and the extra bags are also in hand I pull to open the side door.

I pull again. I pull again. I pull again and start cursing. Pull again. Again....nothing! NOTHING BECAUSE IT IS LOCKED! 
The stupid door is lock! NOOOOOOOOOO! So I turn and look behind me and I say. I think we need to get rid of those bags and try to get through the front door.

OK....that was not even kind of an option for them, so I park my mom's car off to the side and walk them around to the front door.
I am hoping that whoever is normally at the desk has had to take a potty break or a coffee break or something. There was still a chance for us to get away with it.
It took us, what seemed like forever to finally get halfway around the building to arrive at the front door in the circle drive. No one was out front. Cool.
I stuck my head in the front door and looked around, saw nothing and made my way to the second of the glass doors and still....nothing. No one at the front desk, so I motion for the oldies to quickly and quietly make their way through the door and into one of their rooms. I didn't care whose, I didn't care how, just please don't let any of the staff see you.
Quietly was going ok, but Mr. Hip Hurts was seriously draggin' up the rear, man...I was practically tapping my toe! I literally considered dragging him in or possible carrying him....I'm a pretty big girl and he was made of pretty much parchment and Mr. Rodgers sweaters. But he made it through. Finally.

So my gang of 5 made it exactly into the entrance AND EFFING STOPPED AND STARTED OPENING THEIR BAGS. So I am making shooing motions through the door and they are just totally ignoring me. 
Then as if pulled in by the smell of the tasty nacho supreme, the front desk nurse walks in. Right on in. 

"Is that Taco Bell?" she asks. Well, duh. But she asked so they would be forced to answer to her. Now don't get me wrong, she was just doing her job, but she could have let it pass....maybe if she was 16 like I was she would have....but NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED, and she knew better. So then she asks "Where did you get it"?
Well hell. I am still undetected on the other side of the glass door. I knew that in that moment....these guys would lie for me. They wouldn't throw me under the bus. And suddenly I knew I was going to have to go in and confess my crimes. The night of Taco Bell debauchery was over and somebody needed to pay the piper.
Shit.
Well, before they had a chance to lie, I walked in the door and said I was the one who took them....
At which point Mr. Guy chimed in and said "Yah, it was all her fault!" Then snickered. 
Well attention diverted off them, they knew well enough to scoot on in and to their rooms. I, on the other hand, was not quite that lucky.

Turns out sneaking a bunch of old folks out of a retirement center is frowned upon. As is giving Taco Bell to folks with special dietary requirements....you know, like diabetes and shit. So the supervisor is called in and has a sit down with me telling me all the horrible sins may or may not have committed while out that evening.
So now I am a kidnapping poison monger and danger to the elderly at the retirement community. 
That just seemed plain unfair. 
In the end they had to let me go. 

Not because they wanted to or because I didn't do my job. But because of damned Taco Bell. I didn't even really get a pink slip.
Now the typical rule there was upon termination you had to spend 90 days off premise. I was the one exception to that rule and was there the next weekend to visit my partners in crime and sneak in  a magazine or 2 and some skittles.
So the moral of the story here is again, like above.

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED and DAMNED IS THE PERSON BETWEEN OLD FOLKS AND A SHITTY TACO.

That's a Wrap

 

After 5 and a half years....Stephen finished his last final in his last coarse for his degree in electrical engineering and computer something rather... He did this while maintaining a full time job, taking care of 7 kids and as of right now, a couple of houses. It was long, grueling, and tested us several times along the way.

After it is all said and done, he came home with flowers for me and said "thank you for always supporting him...."

and I got him this t-shirt...

(It seemed like a good idea when I ordered it)

Well, we love you Stephen!

That's a wrap.

We're Going to Need a Bigger Boat

We're Going to Need a Bigger Boat

As a parent I think we spend a lot of time wondering if we are doing things right. Or maybe that is just me. As much as it pains me to say it, in recent months, I have become overwhemed. Shit has hit me from every direction. Where I usually keep a cool head, I had found myself full of stress and worry, second guessing every action and sure that missing Winter Extravaganza at the Elemenary school or failing to run the 5 K with  Piper would irriversable fuck them up for life. Maybe it has, or maybe, just maybe, for the first time in my parenting career......I was in over my head....on a sinking ship...if you will. 

Just like everyone else in the world...I have my own amount of pride, but the pressure had become to much. I was anxious and stressed. I wasn't sleeping and my hands and back and joints hurt all the time (a side effect of stress)...I couldn't open jars and holding my guitar frets down was too painful. Then my chest started to hurt on and off and I realized...I needed help. 

I made an appointment with my doc and was medicated with an anti depressant. It has helped amazingly...thank heavens because what came next couldn't have been handled without it.

My son was arrested. Now I  only share this (without detail except to say that it wasn't a violent crime) because it is what has made me reevaluate life completely....it is his story to tell some day, but because everyone knows...and even the youngest of my children have been forced to answer to teachers and peers due to this event, I state that is has become a catalyst for change. 

You know the iconic scene in JAWS when Deputy Brody and Matt Hooper (Sheider and Dryfuss) are out in the water and they finally see the shark...and Brody, with that stunned look of disbelief on his face, realizes the problem shark is much larger than the boat he brought to tackle it.   

All he can say, cigarette in mouth is "We're going to need a bigger boat".... well...that is how I felt to a tee.

IN OVER MY HEAD ....

As a parent of a teenage boy, there are a lot of calls I expect to receive at some point or another.

Mom, I tried drugs.

Mom, I am drunk at this party can you come get me.

Mom, I slept with my girlfriend.

Mom, my girlfriend is pregnant.

Mom, I got caught cheating on a test.

Mom, my girlfriend is actually a boyfriend.

Mom, I wrecked the car.

Mom, I don't want to go to college.

Mom, I am going to travel the country following the Phish tour.

Mom, I think i want to be a professional skate boarder.

all reasonable....what I wasn't prepared for was a call that said...

Mom, I have been arrested....then a detective telling me he was taking my son downtown.

It broke me into silence. I didn't even have the capacity to ask questions.

Here's the funny thing about life.

Good news moves at a snails pace. But bad news, bad news my friends, has wings on the wind.

It wasn't long at all before the phone calls and text messages started. What can you do?

So we have hunkered down. Done all we can for now and are sitting in limbo. You cancel your dates and take up family game night. You ask more questions about school days and best friends. You give haircuts and read more books, hold more hands and offer more "I love yous". What else is there to do when it is completely out of your hands.

This is where I would usually make a joke about how "I fought the law and the law won"....

hell, why not. 

I like to tell my kids daily, especially when they complain, that they are not victims. They are the owners of their destiny. We all choose our paths...sometimes we choose wisely. Just like Indiana Jones we drink from the right cup.

 

other times....well, there is just hell to pay.

But at least my eldest won't have to pay with his soul.

Now all joking aside, it does feel like we are moving through slush right now. Our feet fighting suction and muck to take every little step forward. But plod on we will. A unit, though small. Our little tribe. And though it hurt and we all feel betrayed in our own way, I think we all have started to realize, that it isn't personal. It really isn't about us at all. Every one in the world that ever has been and ever will be is given free will from the moment they are born. Some have it stolen...but here in this house...we make our choices. Right or wrong. Then we pay for them. We are not victims.

We will always need a bigger boat...but we nine, we will row as one. Better or Worse.

that is just what family does. 

Let Me Pepper Your Heart

Let Me Pepper Your Heart

So for the last week or so I had been working quite diligently on a post about the top 10 foods in my home and why...Ranking them for calories, nutrition, quality, taste, and price. This was coming along swimmingly until I became annoyed. Last night I almost completely shut down my blog site all together. I don't want to be a snarky writer. I don't want to pretend I have any fucking clue on how to cook or shop or what to buy. I am not a nutritionist. Quite frankly, I don't actually give two shits about that kind of thing. I have a method, I have recipes, I like to cook....It works, but I don't think anyone really wants to here about a thousand and one uses of a target red card and how grass fed beef is better than grain fed beef when it comes to taste and texture...if you do then check out the food babe as she is both snarky and annoying and as under-qualified as I am to discuss food and so forth and so on.

So instead I am going to talk about what I have been thinking about for a long time now. 

DIVORCE. (don't cringe in horror!!!)

Not mine, geesh (wipes brow)...but in general.

I have more housework daily than just about anyone I know. This is not in any way a brag or whine, but a statement and fact. I clean more hours of the day than is healthy and so even with babies in tow, who think cleaning is a game, I have a lot of time to think. Now 100 percent of the time if a subject is giving me a particular hassle, I will text the hubs. And to his credit, he will follow up with me with within the hour...which really is impressive considering his schedule. 50 percent of the time if I need further advice I will call my father who 90 percent of the time has good feedback that I use about 75 percent of the time. 10 percent of the time his advice is pure rubbish, but I consider this favorable odds. 
I decided to work through this one on my own.

DISCLAIMER>>>

this is my blog and so I get to write about what ever I want how ever I want. But I promise that under no circumstance, will I write about anything other than my thoughts on a subject...I am not a counselor or therapist...I don't like them either.

I have my kids and I have my kids friends and I also even have some friends of my very own. (weird)...this subject has been slammed home for a lot of people in my life recently. It has stirred the pot in my soul a bunch...for so many obvious reasons.

My parents were divorced, I have been divorced...twice!...my grandparents were divorced...my ex's parents were divorced...several times. 

So to say I have a bit of experience on the subject is at least a little fair.
Here is my first go at the fancy and terrifying word DIVORCE.

I grew up the first 12 years, 11 months and 24 days of my life with married parents. My life was ideal and bla bla bla bla bla....fast forward to the meat of this.
It was my brother's birthday and I had just played in a winning softball game. My dad and I had just arrived home and my mother and brother were literally waiting on the front porch to see how I had done...there were no cell phones then.
My dad stated in a matter of fact tone that he wanted a divorce. My mother had no clue.
My mother was and still is one of the most saintly of people. She sees the best in everybody. She turns the other cheek over and over again. It is both beautiful and frustrating. I have never again seen anyone so caught off guard.....

Now before I continue with this story I would like to state that both of my parents are happily remarried and in love...and well matched. There was a happy ending, but that in no way could prevent or undo the tragedy of the circumstance....carry on...

(for those of you too young to know that is Ebert and Roeper ( thanks jared(sigh))and they give the outcome of this story 2 thumbs up)

As a tween soon to be teen this rocked my fucking boat. I remember my mouth drying up. I remember that I still had dust all over the front of my jersey and I was holding a coke can. I remember starting to sweat and then my mind shut down...and I did what half of every animal does when faced with a fight or flight scenario....I RAN.
I ran like I had never before or since ran....I ran through the pain of running in cleats on pavement, into blisters, into numbness....I ran until the disbelief wore off and the tears started to come...and when my dad found me and told me to climb into the car, I thought, and maybe even said.
...
"I hate you".

I didn't mean it in my core, but I meant it in the way that traversed hate into betrayal.
I felt betrayed.
But no 12 year old says ..."you betrayed me"...
Well, maybe some do, but I had never felt hate or betrayal before. What I did know is that it hurt. My guts hurt. My breath hurt and my lungs felt deflated. I panted trying to catch a real breath...trying to form thoughts into words...real words, pleading words...
I wanted to speak the right words to fix it...or travel back in time and undo it...really, what ever it took.
So is the mind of any child living in a happy home and watching everything they ever knew dissolve into a milky unknown....with unpredictability, the fog-covered paths that take them forward into uncertainty.
I also grew. I grew a tough outer shell. I grew a strong personal code. I grew a sharp tongue. 
I cannot speak for the others that were involved in this situation. I have siblings and they all dealt with this in their own way. And I am certain that each and every one of us grieved and mourned and moved forward. That is what kids do. But I was never fooled. I knew that behind smiles and passive aggressive taunts that siblings share, we all carried a very real hole in our tiny hearts that had been peppered too hot. We had all been burned.

As I grew older, I started to let things go and I realized one very important thing.
Divorce is sort of a blameless crime...seriously. What it is is a practice in accountability. 
Kids never ever want to hear that "your mom did this...bla bla bla"...or "if only your dad bla bla bla"...
Strangely, I don't think kids even want to hear "it's not your fault"...at least I never did.
I wanted to hear "I will do everything in my power to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible for you".

Ahh life, I think I block out the next 2 years because they blew. Seriously. They blew hard. And I acted out. I spent a couple rides in a cop car. I broke some shit and snuck out and did all the things that angry misunderstood kids do when they have no idea what to do next. My path was indeed foggy and on steady decline as it were. I made two very large mistakes that could have taken me down all together and escaped by the skin of my teeth. Those 2 things I will never blog about.
But then suddenly I started to realize something quite mature for a 15 year old. At least I think it was quite mature.
I realized that love...maybe it didn't last forever for everyone. I realized that just like me, my mom and dad deserved happiness. Even if it wasn't together. 
I also had the realization that leaving and being left were both equally tough when you wanted what was best for your family. 
Because guilt is carried on the shoulders of every divorced parent. I know, as I speak from experience.

Fast forward into my own series of bad relationships and shitty endings. I have had to hold my tongue many many times when talking to my children about divorce. I would be lying if it hadn't crossed my mind to throw my ex under the bus. To do what I could to justify my own shortcomings by bringing him down...

Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!

also, it is not a coincidence that that is a jackass

I sort of feel like I am sending out that vibe sometimes to my children and I am disappointed in myself and know I am acting this way because I want (selfishly) for them to identify with me more...to have more in common with me.
Lame.
What I am getting at here is divorce sucks big. Sure it is hard on the parents...but whatever, we are grown ass peoples. We usually understand that we have incorrectly married and maybe even mated. God forbid we possibly ever cared or even loved the person that may have left or been left. Tap into that.
No seriously, that is what I have had to do.
At one point I chose that person. On purpose. I loved them. On purpose. I had a child or two with them. On purpose.
I can guess most of you are seeing my pattern.
Every single time I want to lose my shit over an ex. I look at the kids. I did that...ON PURPOSE.

The other thing I realized is that I get just one life. JUST 1.... That sank in hard recently while seeing some of the ones I care about most go through what seems like old hat to me, (though I know it shouldn't).
If you have but one life, do you martyr your happiness if you are sure there is no way ever...and I mean ever to get it back if you stay with your mate...what if you know it is time to move on? Do you stay if you have kids? Can you fall back in love? Can you overcome the urge of loathing you have for your partner...
Yes, I used the word loathing...or boredom, or annoyance.
Seriously, what does it take for a person to leave?
I am not touching on the subject of abuse here. I am not that brave...but in a normal divorce...it is usually just being "done" with your partner.

I have no answers or right and wrongs. I also don't have a God argument. I don't think it matters. What I do know, is as shit hard as it is for the grown ups....the real burden will forever fall hardest on the children. They are not as resilient as people say they are. They do harbor resentment. They will have trouble with trust and question their value. They will remember.
So in closing, there is no point to this blog. It id just something that has been riding along with me in my heart for a couple of weeks now. Peace

Objects in the Rearview Mirror

Objects in the Rear view Mirror

Today I ran by Walmart off Barry Road to grab some chips and stuff for the house. Usually I hit up the market, but for what ever reason I went straight when I was supposed to turn onto the highway. I wasn't paying attention.

As I was leaving the parking lot there was a man by an old van with a dog holding a sign that said "Stranded".

I rolled my eyes and thought, "Aren't we all"... And drove past.... But I looked back at him in the rear view mirror. I felt weird. So I drove to Smoothie King  and got a Hulk smoothie and decided to bring it back for him. 

But everything was taking for ever. Traffic was crazy and I missed all the lights and I was certain that he and the dog would be long gone by the time I got back. Which was cool because I love Smoothie King.

He was still there.

So I parked my car by his van (just as beat up and old as he was) and walked over to him. 

So now I am also standing on the side of the road. I am wearing old jeans and a t shirt and I actually have the thought that people may assume I too am begging for money.

But I say hi and ask him his name. 

He shakes my hand and says it is Brian and his dog's name is Amos. Amos has got to be the oldest dog I have ever seen. He was more grey than black, about the size of a large very very hairy goat, and  was super happy to have someone else to pet him.

I tell Brian that I brought a smoothie and that I saw him but acted like I didn't. 
I said I was sorry...to a complete stranger.
He didn't really mind because he said most everyone was like that. Then he tells me I am number 2 for the day. I have no clue at the time what that means.

About then a lady in a navy minivan drove up and one of her kids in the back seat handed Brian 5 bucks. He smiled and said thank you and gave a thumbs up. So I figured as long as I was out there I should talk to him. 

I learned a lot about Brian.

Last night he and Amos slept in Mound Missouri but were on the road before light. They always sleep in the van. He grew up in Michigan and went to the University up there. He has a masters in Psychiatry and worked at the VA hospital in Macomb County and then at Ann Arbor for over 20 years. He is an Army vet. He worked as a counselor for vets who were transitioning from the military or were discharged for different reasons. It took a toll on his physical and mental health and so he, under the advise of another counselor decided to go back to school in New Mexico.
He went into child studies but realized that he was so messed up from all he had listened to in the 20 plus years that he sought help himself. He dropped out of school with out retirement and without a job. 
He bought a van and eventually had to live in it.
That was over 5 years ago. Amos has been with him since Michigan. I listened in shock.
About that time a black shiny new pick-up pulls up next to my SUV. It has an Army sticker in the window.
A kid (about 20ish) hops out and says 
"Hey Brian. Grab your dog and your gas can. We will get your van to the gas station after that and fill it up. You can stay with me for the next few days....or as long as you need."
Brian looks at me and says "he was number 1".
I make a confused face so he says..."The first person to talk to me today".
So the kid smiles at me and Brian gives me a hug and says for at least the 10th time..."this is a really great smoothie Tammy. I once dated a lady named Tammy".

The Thing We Don't Say Out Loud

The Things we Don't Say Out Loud

When I was younger I was really good at speaking my mind. My grasp of political correctness and empathy had yet to become fully established and so I had opinions and thoughts that flew out of my mouth like word vomit, unsullied by the future consequences. Then I started to understand that I was accountable for every word I said. That others remembered them. That words carried weight and regardless of how they were intended they were open for interpretation by every ear they touched. 

So I shut up.

Obviously not completely, but I started to hold my tongue and think more and speak less. Two ears and one mouth for a reason as the saying goes. Here is the problem. The internal dialect never stops. Ever. And sometimes I really needed to say things, but was afraid to. Afraid of what saying something out loud would do to me. To others. So here are a number of things I want to say but don't. (on a side note, I still put my foot in my mouth a lot)

My kids are average. So are yours. Even if they do something awesome...so do all other humans every now and again. I think being average is ok. I don't think being special is actually a title very many deserve. I think telling your kids they are special creates a deluded sense of self worth. I think it would be better if we told them they could do things to help others feel special. That their value as humans goes up when they improve things for others ....in what ever capacity they are able.
I sometimes struggle sitting on the sidelines as they develop...I want to tell them who to be, how not to screw up, who to aspire to become. I forget that every human has the right to chose who they are.

Also...they can't be whatever they want to be. That is a lie and it sets them up for failure. Let them lose. Let them be disappointed. It creates character. It also creates empathy. a child in the center of the universe is only looking at everyone else...not living with them.

(insert angry thought here if you have one)

I hate pinterest. (oh yeah) it is just cheating. but you know I have an account.

There is true greatness in the world.
and it has zero to do with cars or houses...jobs, money or even personal accomplishments. I have been privy to watching greatness through prayer and faith creating true and real hope in a hopeless situation. I have been privy to witnessing greatness in strangers on a street corner as they gathered together to take a stand for a common goal...everywhere I turn greatness is abundant, even in the darkest shadows. It has never had anything to do with a single person. I think that is the key to greatness....I could be wrong, but I am starting to believe that to become part of something great you must become selfless.

I think many things that are frowned upon are ok in moderation. Including smoking, drinking, and red meat. But not soda. I think it is bad in every way. Really. (snicker) Small notes of pleasure are wonderful. But moderation is super super tough....it does lend a hand to keeping vices at bay for me.

I have body issues. I think most women do. I think we compare ourselves to each other all the time. I know we do. We also judge each other....even when we say we don't. I don't know if this will ever change. I glare at my thighs when I sit down and they squish out. I use anti-cellulite cream and whiten my teeth...sometimes I use padded bras. I have cellulite still and my personal habits keep my teeth from being as white as I want them to be. I am just SOL on the boobs. This will be an ongoing battle.
I skate with an awesome gal who referred to her stretched out stomach (post children) as her skin fanny pack....I love that. She is a better skater than me in every way...faster, stronger...her body works amazingly.
Wrapping my mind around the fact that the function of my body is not linked to its aesthetic is difficult for me...and most. Strangely, the mind and heart have nothing to do with the body and in my personal experience those of sound mind and heart have less body issues. I guess I will keep working on that.

I no longer love Gwyneth Paltrow. this upsets me greatly.

I am terrified of the suburbs...and then I moved there. My kids have neighbors who got on the bus with them this morning. They love it. I will reevaluate this thought in the near future, but for now I will continue to closet smoke my morning cigarette behind a bush so I don't get caught.

Self help books are lame. They teach people how to forget they have common sense. There are very few circumstances where people actually need an entire book to help them do something. For the most part, we all just like for people to give us answers so we don't have to come up with them ourselves. Maybe there is amazing insight in these things...I am sure there are benefits in them that I cannot grasp.  

I believe people are innately good. I know there are examples of this being false, however...as a whole, I believe we are good...somewhere in that core. We Are Good. 
I quit watching and reading the news about 6 months ago. This was the best thing I have ever done for my psyche and state of mind. I am completely disconnected. I have no idea what is going on in the world or politics or anything else. I am okay with that. I have Facebook and Humans of New York to give me trending titles and political insight...bwahahahahah.
But seriously...I was tired of hearing and seeing all of the horror that is portrayed in the media....most of it just smut and glorified hatred caused by a single human or circumstance.
I know it sounds like I am burying my head in the sand but if you are still reading, bear with me.

When one or a few humans do something terrible and we put them on the front page of every Internet news source and on the headline of every talk show...we GIVE THEM POWER. We give badness power. We give hate power. We live more strongly in the presence of fear and we lose hope in humanity. Eff that. We need more rainbows and unicorns. We need more hand holding and long chats with those we care about. I needed to unplug and reconnect. I think a lot of us do so we can see humanity for the beauty it is, not the ugliness we see in few. There is more good (much more good) in people than bad. I believe that whole hearted. Take the power and attention away from the few that destroy us and invest it in the good being done by so many. No...I have no clue how to make this happen, but what if we just all said "enough"...
There are things in the world that cannot be ignored. Atrocities that are beyond reason. But prime time coverage on the bigass new channels are not solving problem or finding solutions. They are fear mongering. And for this they do not deserve us.
There are real life humans with helpful ideas and solutions. There are really smart people out there with innovative and pro-humanity ideas out there. Give them the coverage. 
I know shit happens...but do I really need to hear graphic details of the horrible things some human are capable of on every news channel?..in line at the coffee house? while in the locker room at the gym? Do I enhance my life and those around me for being privy to the crap being broadcast as news?
Garbage in and garbage out. I will now try to reduce my waste.

I have too much shit. While moving I realized that I had accumulated a lot of crap that I didn't need. Like so much stuff. Why? It wasn't contributing to my happiness. I didn't need to for any purpose. I want to simplify, and yet I find it difficult in today's lifestyle. 
So I just started loading up things and dropping them off at Goodwill. Lots of things. I have a long way to go. 

I am on a spiritual journey so I took my kids to church.

And no, this is not a plea to be saved. 
I have struggled with my faith or lack of my whole life. I think that is totally ok...Seriously.
I call it a journey because I am actively seeking spirituality in my life. I always have been. I have floated between every church and religion you can think of. I have taken much away from all of them. I don't believe there is only one way. I tell my kids that. I tell them to seek it out for themselves. To listen. To observe. To question. I think faith makes people stronger. I think it can be honed and developed through out a person's entire life. 
I was raised Catholic but rejected confirmation at 15. I did this for one reason only. I was not comfortable defining my faith at that time. 
Who was I to know what I believed at that age. I think some people do. But I didn't.
Now about that church thing.
Last week for the first time in years I actively brought my children to a non-denominational church. They loved it (except Gogo because he ran out of things to destroy). They went to children's church with kids their same age. It was fun for them. They came home with ideas and new questions about themselves.
I think that was a good thing. I will do it again.
I have a daughter who actively seeks biblical teachings. Man oh man, she can be strong willed. That is good. I have a son who wrote a recent book report on Buddhism. He questions everything and anything. He reads Stephen Hawking. He wonders about creation in the cosmos. That is good.   
When asked where we go when we die. I say I don't know yet, I am still here, but I think it could be some place good. What do you think.
Some believe you should be strong in a faith to teach your children to be strong in that faith. I am not one of those people. We have told all of our children that if they find a church they want to attend, we will take them at least once to see what they think. We will never prohibit their right to faith or religion of choice.
There has been mentioned concern for my immortal soul. To that I say, all thoughts and prayers are welcome. 
But in all seriousness, what I want to rub off on my children is that I am willing to continue to grow. That I want to never become stagnant. That maybe there is not just one truth for all of us.

and finally, I have a bone to pick with parents.
Teach Manners and Respect by having Manners and Respect.

Manners are not out of style....ever. And I am talking about more than please and thank you and yes sir an no sir...ect....
There was a point a couple years back where I ripped my sons phone out of his hands and threw it out the front door. He was terrified and my husband was already calculating the cost before it was recovered. (not my finest moment)
He was on his phone texting while speaking with a human, and I had had enough. I had to get his attention. I did it the wrong way. I said I was sorry. But the problem wasn't just his.

It was mine. 

While at the store, my check out gal was texting instead of greeting me. She was in her 30's. Kids emulate what they see.
WE expect kids to know how to behave, but we aren't showing them. We expect kids to respect us, but we don't respect them. 
And yes, I am being serious. 
You must respect a person to earn their respect...it is  gift given to you. You must help them to grow into a well engaged member of society. You must help them to be gracious and humble....by being that way too.
I struggle a lot with understanding tiny humans. They are weird. They like to do weird things. They aren't quite capable of doing it all on their own and so I have to help them.
But I respect my kids. I respect their growing identity. I respect their desire for independence. They emulate me and my husband. Both good and bad. 
We are working on the cussing issue....all of us.
I hear parents speak hatefully to their children and I am confused. Why do you talk that way? Don't you realize you lose credit in her eyes every time you act like that. She knows that is not how you are supposed to treat people. She has been told that over and over by others...at school, in church, probably by you. She gets in trouble when she talks that way. 
I want to hold myself to the same standards that I hold my kids too. They deserve that.
I want to adjust how I view parenting. I want to earn the right to parent my kids. I want them to be proud of me. I want them to respect me because they have faith and trust in me, not because I am bigger than them and tell them too.
I wish nothing more than for my children to be happy, healthy contributing members of society. I want them to be my friends when they get older.
Now, don't get me wrong. When any of my kids is acting out of line or disrespectful, I let them know so. We all need to be reminded every now and again. WE ALL DO.

So as I get off my soap box and close out my post here, I want to say one more thing.

I want to be a better person. I want to consciously become a better person everyday. I want that to be my life goal. ..
To live up to my potential.

As always, thanks for reading....and my next post will totally be a top 10 if you haven't decided to flush my blog off your feed altogether!

  

I will be 35 in a month....

Well. I have not had time to post for several weeks because of all the awesome changes going on at the farmhouse...

Mainly that we are moving out of it.

So to keep it rolling here is what I thought about when I woke up this morning.

I will be 35 in a month. 6 months ago I took up a sport called roller derby. Last night I rolled in about 1145 in pouring rain and got in bed without showering. This would gross my parents out so much as I used to do this when I was a teenager. 

I am achy everywhere and have a bruise the size of a softball on my hip (no clue how it even happened). I smell like ass and somehow the 2 year old had managed to get in bed with us and had usurped my place in my pillow so I have a kink in my neck. My house is covered in packing boxes.

I just made a cup of coffee out of Keurig (don't judge me... I can still pull a shot) and snuck out the mudroom door to smoke a hot pink cigarette... (Yes they exist) in my t shirt and undies because i live in the middle of no where for a couple more weeks...

So in closing. No, I have not grown up....

Thank goodness

!