Tag Archives: Friends

You Too?

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One of my favorite quotes of all time is by C.S. Lewis.  He was so wise.  He said, ““Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”

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Isn’t this the truth?

We write of our pain in the midst of our relationship woes, or the joy in our once-in-a-lifetime moments, and we find suddenly that there are others who have walked this same road.  Share this same pain, or joy, or confusion, or desire to get it right.

It was that – the desire to get it right, that drew me to Jen.  We were about as different as different could be on the outside.  But, we were both fresh out of college with our Teaching Degrees clenched tightly in our fists, ready to strike out and become the  Best Teacher Ever! And then, reality set in.  We quickly realized that we would need to do a little ladder climbing to get that coveted Classroom Teacher position.

We were teacher aides in classrooms next to each other.  We bore the same burdens of caring for the particular student in the elementary classroom’s we’d each been assigned to, as well as providing the support that the classroom teacher needed to carry out his or her duties for the other 24 students in the room.  The days seemed overly long at times.  The wait for our own title of “Classroom Teacher” seemed to stretch out even farther.

But, in the lunchroom, over my can of Spaghettios with franks and devil dog, and her neatly made sandwich and apple, we bonded.  She laughed as I regaled her with stories of the day’s goings on.  I listened intently as she rattled off a list of lessons she daily learned.  And we re-fueled each other with our camaraderie for the last half of each day.

But when we really hit the deep layer of our friendship was when she invited me to her Bible Study.

Not long after that, we became more than friends.  We became sisters.  Bonded not only by vocation, but by our heart’s home.

Jen moved on to a private school.  I moved on to “Classroom Teacher”.  Then Jen moved on to assistant Headmaster.  I moved on to Educational Director at a non-profit.

I married and she was my Maid-of-Honor.

We still spilled stories of laughable moments and lessons learned.  And leaned on each other for support and encouragement.

She married.

I had my first child.

We still shared and encouraged and bolstered one another’s spirits.

And then, she moved on… to another state.  Far, far away.

Too far, friend!

I live my life now in the Post-Jen-Era.  I still get that needed encouragement or share that silly moment that makes us both laugh or cringe.

We just do it long-distance.

You too?

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I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker and the beautiful community of writers for her Five Minute Friday writing prompt. Click the button below to add your own thoughts on “Friend”, or to read what it brought to mind for others.  

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Just. Like. That.

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I don’t have a skinny gene in me.  Thus, I don’t have a skinny jean on me.  Or in my closet. Or on my clothing “wish list”. Or… you get the idea.  And you know what? I’m okay with that. Some fashions are meant for some bodies and others are meant for other bodies.  Deep, huh?  My calves dictate the inability to wear anything less than a bell bottom pant.  True story.

I’ve been reading a bunch, around the blogosphere, about the power of investing in yourself – how you look and feel.  It’s gotten me thinking.  Dangerous, I know.  One of the best pieces of advice I ever received as a brand spankin’ new mama was to get up each day and shower.  Earth shattering news, for those of you who’ve been there done that, I’m well aware.  However, to those sweet women who are new to this Motherhood Road, I wanted to share it.  Feeling clean and “put-together” single-handedly held me together, emotionally, in those first few months of new motherhood.  Don’t misunderstand me, though, I was no fashion plate.  Oh no!  My mom jeans and I?  We were tight. Skin tight.  My yoga pants, however?  We were no longer friends. Those forgiving, flattering, wear-with-anything dear friends?  They were discarded like yesterday’s news.

And then blessing number two came along and I. Were. Tired.  My yoga pants and I?  We became inseparable again.  And some days, we were so inseparable that Sweetman begged me to go take a shower, for-the-love-of-all-that-needs-to-be-laundered, just so he could snag my yoga pants and throw them into the washing machine.  Yep – it got thatbad.

yoga

yoga (Photo credit: GO INTERACTIVE WELLNESS)

But, alas, every yoga pant has the harrowing moment where it’s owner wakes up and thinks, “HEY! These pants are for… YOGA!  And I don’t even do yoga!”. And the relationship is severed. Just. Like. That.

But all is not lost. Because, there also comes a day, not so long after, and sometimes altogether too long after, where the mama wakes up and declares, “I think I might just give that Yoga Thingy a try!”. Or that Zumba thingy. Or that, you know… Exercise thingy, a try.  And because I feel so good about what I’m doing in those yoga pants, I find that I don’t care that I’m running in for a quick errand in my old friends.  Or showing up at the bus stop in them, either. Like any good friend, they make me feel good about myself.

And lo and behold, we are Besties again.  Just. Like. That.

I Also Took Some Pictures

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So, at BlogHer12, I did take some digital evidence of my involvement.  I shall commence with a little treatise on each picture’s necessity. And, please, stand in awe of my spectacular photog skillz.  No, really.  Some of you could take a page or two out of my picture-taking book.  Let me present you with Exhibit A, or, The Highpoint:

Whereby… I was able to meet a woman whose work I have been reading and following since it began in the P31 Woman magazine more than a decade ago!  Lysa Terkeurst has been writing about being a woman of faith for-evah.  And her insights into our days and issues is as engaging now as it was when I started reading her writing.  She has a new book out called “Unglued”.  Check it out here!

My Eyes! They are crying! See? See? No? Look deep into the glasses.

 

Exhibit B was the low point.  I don’t believe you need any further explanation.  And if you do, please go back to this post for an in-depth analysis of why horses and I?  We don’t mix.

Horror in the streets of NYC!

 

Remember when I told you in the previous post that bowling in a dress, late at night, after a wee glass of wine or three was tricky? I present the evidence:

And the “lesson” from the “Expert” on hand? Epic fail…

I would also kindly ask you to avert your eyes from my epic rear-endicus-maximus.  It’s a work in progress. Oh yes indeedy!

 

There was a keynote by none other than The Katie Couric.  She has a new afternoon show coming out called… “Katie”.  Brilliant title, no? She also affirmed that a lot of us are Lazy Bloggers.  We certainly are a talented group whose reputations have apparently preceded us.  Here she is. Just in case you think I jest. (And I do believe that she is wearing the very same dress that I was wearing while bowling, above.  However, I also believe I may look slightly better in it.  Yes?)

Katie, being mobbed by some not-so-lazy Bloggers, after all!

 

Remember when Sweetboy asked me to snap a pic of the Statue of Liberty for him?  Well, I think we can all agree that I nailed it.

Try not to envy my physique. It will be hard.

 

And, lastly, because I know you’re just bolted to your seats in awe of the beautiful and not-at-all-blurry-in-any-way photos I have presented thus far, let me present Exhibit Something-Or-Other.

Friendships were formed. Some might even survive despite the desire to wear a bag on one’s head.  Maybe.

Bags on heads and Funny Face Paraphernalia. The stuff that friendships are made of. Can I get an Amen?

Yes, friends, let’s just say that fun was had by all. Mostly.  Mainly.

The Gospeling Hippotonomous

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Got that? Good. We’re done here.

 

No?  Let me break it down for you.  Children misinterpret words all the time. If you’ve buzzed around here at all, you know that my children are particularly good at this.  Today was a case in point.

 

In the bathtub tonight, Sweetgirl informed me that she wanted to play with her “hippotonomous”.  What’s that now?  She further confused me by asking where her “hippomamatous” was.  I handed over the hippopotamus with eyes clenched shut and hoped for the best.  It all worked out…

 

On a very serious note… Sweetboy’s Autism isn’t evident outwardly.  It’s in the inward moments, the safety of his home and the love contained within our walls, that most anyone would be able to observe him engaging in Autistic behaviors.  Once in a while, though, he encounters a situation out in public that, as processed later on at home, reveals the depths to which his amazing brain will go to work through something. We encountered that today as he wrapped up a week of two different camp experiences.  One, earlier this week, was okay. The other, today’s experience, was traumatic.  But, for an entirely different reason than I ever could have, ever would have, imagined.

 

I picked Sweetboy and a friend up from camp and asked how it went. Friend enthusiastically plugged camp.  Sweetboy was oddly silent.  His usual response to any question asking for his thoughts on a particular experience is to arrange his thumb and forefinger into the “I squish your head” action and say, “I kinda sort liked it.” (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go ask The Google about “The Kids in the Hall”.  I won’t wait, though, because you’ll be laughing till you pee.  And if you already know what I’m talking about, I heart you.)

 

At that moment, though, I got absolutely nothing from him.  And I wondered about it. But I let him be.  And he played happily with Friend at home for the next hour.  We went to drop off Friend and then visit with other friends for a short while.  We didn’t arrive back home until dinner time, but as soon as we walked in the door of our house, Sweetboy asked if I could just go upstairs and snuggle with him on his bed.  Just him and me.  He never has to ask me twice.

 

As we snuggled, he started crying. You see, it would seem that today, at camp, there was a child there with Down’s Syndrome. A child that he didn’t know and wasn’t expecting.  As he began to cry and recount the day, Sweetboy explained that this boy was older and bigger than him and that he really “creeped me out, mama.”  People, my heart is breaking for my child.  He works so hard to make faces fit into neatly structured frames he has constructed in his mind.  Frames that don’t change.  Frames that help him make sense of facial expressions and people. And he knows that there are children whose faces don’t neatly fit into the frames he’s constructed for people’s faces – but, this?  This unexpected, unstructured face?  He struggled to make sense of the child’s place in his neatly ordered world.  It was at this point that he said, “He’s not like J (our friend with Down’s).  I like J.  He’s not like him. And it just creeped me out. And that makes me feel bad inside.”  And he cried.  And I cried with him.  And for him. Then, I just hugged him.  And hoped the hug would mop up the tears.

 

Let me interject here with two things which I need to state before we go on.  One, we have very dear friends that have a child with Down’s Syndrome.  We eat meals with them, play with them; they are in our lives.  Two, Sweetboy has been exposed to lots of other children with multiple disabilities through his years of therapies and integrated classroom experiences.  He’s either never noticed the differences or he’s not been affected by them. Today, he was.

 

And then, almost like the breath of God blowing away our tears, there was this. As he cried, he explained that he didn’t want to tell Other Friend how he felt when he was there because, “It would be gospeling…”.  I was about to correct him when he added, “and I know I shouldn’t gospel.”  Sweet Moses! I giggled.  He balked.  I asked him if he meant “gossip”.  We all know he meant gossip, right? Then he laughed.  And all was right with his world again.

 

Oh, sweet child… Sometimes, there is no answer.  But, a gospeling hippotonomous will do the trick in a pinch. Oh, yes indeed.

Fish Out Of Water (And Breathing Just Fine)

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Moving to New England was a brave endeavor for a Floridian. Yes indeedy! Especially given that the pace of life is vastly different.  It’s FAST.  And I don’t mean, road-rage if you don’t keep out of the left lane, kind of fast.  I mean busy, busy, busy, kind-of-fast.  And I like it like that.  In South Florida, things move at a much slower pace. (Mostly because it’s 85 degrees in the shade.  In the dead of winter!)

With age comes wisdom. (I know, right? Even for me!)  I now see the folly in moving so far away from the people who have to help you in times of crisis simply because they share the same blood lines, (family is great that way, isn’t it?). Moving practically across the pond, as The Nana would have you know,  makes it awfully hard to find help and support.  Basically, I am the epitome of ‘Miss Independence’ because I have to be.  I’ve learned the necessity of a well-developed network.  Neighbors become lifelines, as do friends, when you need to race a dog to the ER because she’s ingested 5 red grapes and needs to have her stomach pumped immediately just to survive.  Just, you  know, for example…

And so it is that I get by with a little help from my friends. And neighbors. And church family. And, truth be told, I’ve done more than get by; I’ve thrived!  You could even say, this fish out of water is breathing just fine! Yes indeedy!