What if?

What if? We all ask it; we all wonder this tiny, yet undeniably huge question. What if I had gotten the job I applied for? What if I had stayed in my home town? What if I hadn't gone to college? What if I had gone to school? What if I hadn't met him or her? The list goes on.

Most of the people who are in my life on a personal level know this is a question I have been struggling with a lot over the last couple of years. My husband and I have made a lot of decisions, some impulsive, some not, that have led us to where we are now. I don't feel the need to hide the fact that we are facing some challenges. Not in our marriage per se, but other areas that are part of our daily life. So I ask myself quite often questions such as, "What if I hadn't made it to the concert on the night we met? What if I had decided not to sell my home in the city? What if we hadn't rushed into things so quickly? What if I had had more time?" It's natural to wonder, as hindsight is always going to be twenty-twenty. However, it can be dangerous to the soul, to the psyche, if we start to move from, "What if?" to "I wish." There is a fine line surrounded by a lot of gray that leads people to make all kinds of risky, often damaging decisions. For example, over the last couple of years I have witnessed several friends whose husbands (and sometimes wives) moved from white to gray to black, thus leaving the love they once had for their spouse, behind, sometimes leaving confused young children in the wake. More personally, I find myself wondering what my life would have been had I not lost a baby when I was so young, and again, during my marriage? If the first hadn't happened, would I have the children I have now? Would I be living here? Would I have ever met my husband? Would I have had similar experiences? All of which are questions that can never be answered.

Having essentially examined myself quite a bit lately, I have had to dig deep and try to find the reasons why I need to leave that question alone. Wondering won't change anything. It won't help me get through the day, solve any problems; it won't even help me prevent future issues. No matter what happens in life, we made the choices we made, for one reason or another, and here we sit. And some of the things that happen aren't even a matter of choice, they just are. What if cannot change what is, nor can help us to go backwards to change the future because we would, most certainly, only find ourselves asking the same questions in a different scenario. The fact is, if we let the grass look greener on the other side, it will. If we wonder what would have happened had we gone in a different direction, it could very well change what could be a positive outcome. We might miss the good stuff that so often comes from the messy. It's so hard to trust in fate, or, as some would put it, God's plan. It is like tempting fate and while high risks can yield high rewards, they can also create horrible falls from grace. The real question is, am I willing to risk it all just so I can find an answer? If there is happiness, if there is love, why would I want to go back? If it weren't for the path I led, I would not be on my current journey. There are nights I do mourn losses, things that were out of my control, people I loved and lost, decisions I made in haste or out of fear, but then I wake up the next day, hug my children and know that I love them, they love me. There is love; therefore I am where I was meant to be. Life always looks better and easier from the outside looking in, but on the inside, when you are feeling the love and the pain and the ups and the downs, well, that is life. There is no what if. There is just us, moving forward on the path that was meant to be.

Fifty Cents [By, Errin Frank]

The following essay was written by an old friend of mine. We went through a lot together as friends during high school and college, and recently reconnected. She has always had a very kind heart, and when I read her words it brought me back to a time where she helped me. Errin was there for me during my darkest hour, and in this essay her humanity has shone through again; not that she would want to receive credit for her kindness as that is not who she is, but I find her actions to be a beautiful example of giving, the way God intended. Enjoy.

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Today was a dreary little day in my mind and heart. A down and out day that needed to be flipped on its head. I had a profound experience that I thought I would share because I think there are multiple lessons, for me, and maybe one's for you too.

The first thing to say is that grandparents and parents are right. You should always have a little extra cash in your pocket for emergencies. Back in the day, it was a quarter so that you could make a phone call when you were in trouble but cell phones have made that obsolete (SP?). Later on it was having cash for a cab fare or to get milk at the store but plastic as over ruled the use of most paper money in my day to day life; always the plastic. Debit or credit, miss? Today I learned why you always need 50, real, cents in your pocket at bare minimum.

Walking in the grocery store toward all the baby food, the first thing I noticed was the most beautiful little face I'd ever seen peaking out of a white, fuzzy, hood from her coat. She couldn't have been more than 1 1/2, sitting in her stroller with big brown eyes and a mop of pretty black hair. Her mother was selecting baby food, the same stuff I was picking out.

I leaned over and was trying to decide between the turkey and noodle dinner and the turkey with vegetable dinner. Wait! Maybe I'll get the lasagna, she loves the lasagna! In my peripheral vision I noticed that the mother of the sweet little girl with big brown eyes wasn't selecting anything. She was studying the food and the price tag. Then she would dig for coins and count them. Then she would study the food again.

I made my choices and walked a couple steps away trying to decide what was going on. I dug and dug in my purse and could only find 50 cents. Look again, damn it! 50 cents! I decided to approach her and very delicately, or as delicately as I could come up with, offered her the 50 cents. I told her I hoped it would make a difference for her. Then she started to cry and said that it would really help her. 50 cents people. I was almost ashamed that I had nothing more in my purse.

I walked away, hoping I hadn't embarrassed her. Then the light bulb. I'm such an ass! If I really wanted to help, I would have bought all her groceries. I could have done it. It wouldn't have hurt us much. I've never had to think twice about buying my baby food because of cost. I had a chance to do the right thing but I only made it half way up the hill! I turned around and in the couple minutes that had passed, she was gone. I missed it. I really could have helped but I missed it. But this isn't about me. It's about a frivolous 50 cents clicking in the bottom of my purse.

Most spoiled children won't pick up their room for 50 cents. Children expect more than that from the tooth fairy. A tip for any service of this amount is laughable. Today, 50 cents made a difference and brought a mother to tears. Ok, two mothers.

I guess the lesson I will take with me today is that sometimes it takes something very small to make a big difference. That and I should always have a few dollars in my pocket so that I can really make a change.

Just my insights on a dreary day.

From Apron Strings to Punch Cards

I'm going to be completely honest; although I'm sure it may conjure up some harsh judgment. While I always knew I'd be a mother someday, I assumed I would also be working or be involved in something meaningful and beneficial outside the home. I have always been someone who really thrives on outside fulfillment. What I mean is, I always needed a goal such as getting the A, blocking the most goals, running a faster 5K, getting the promotion, etc. I'm not proud of the fact that I always desired this constant external reinforcement in order to feel good about myself, but as I said, I'm being honest.

When my husband and I chose for me to be a stay at home mom I knew it would be a big adjustment for me on many levels; the first being that I had held a job, often more than one at the same time, for twenty years. However, when we made the decision I was at least to the point in my emotional evolvement to know I loved my children more than anything else. Therefore I would figure it out and feel completely satisfied with my new apron strings down the road. How hard could it be? Well, let's just say this experience has been more like a boulevard and less like a quaint cul-de-sac. However, with the need to return to a two income home, (in other words, me working at night so we don't have to pay for childcare), I'm starting to realize the things I will miss. I have never been away from my kids for that many hours at a time. I have nearly always put them to bed at night. I have not missed a milestone, a play date, a new interest. Oh, I know many of my mom friends who work are quite possibly rolling their eyes right now, as I am well-versed in being annoyed with stay at home moms. I, too, worked full time before my second child came along. Here's the crux of that back-patting need of mine: while obviously I love my children to no end, I had to dig deep to finally feel satisfied with being home. I mean really, really deep. I had to figure things out about myself I didn't like, and had to accept things I never knew I could; such as the fact that a stay at home mom doesn't automatically translate into maid, cook, and personal shopper. At least not for me. My husband is a grown man and perfectly capable of running errands and helping with dinner. I refuse to feel guilty because he had a hard day at work and has to come home and empty the diaper pail.

As my "unemployed" status comes to a close I feel such a mix of emotions. I feel happy that I won't have to endure the inevitable daily groans of children who dislike what I made for dinner, and I am excited for the opportunity to meet some new people. I also look forward to taking some of the financial burden off our backs, if only just a little. However, I will miss being able to go to the park on the spur of the moment, or be the one who takes the kids to their activities and gets to see their excited faces when they are done. I will desperately miss their running hugs at bed time. By the same token, I'm excited for my husband to gain more of those experiences as they truly are incredible little moments. So while it took me nearly my entire stint of being home all the time to figure it out and I refuse to completely abandon the notion that hedonism in small doses is perfectly acceptable (wink wink), it's nice to know that my goals stem not from some insecure need to be outwardly appreciated, but from the inside; they are coming from the heart. It seems this road has taught me how to finally feel satisfied on the inside. Thank goodness for big lessons.

The “I” in Motherhood?

It happened quickly. The constant kicking and rolling of an actual human under my skin coinciding with the need to pop a Tums every ten minutes made it impossible to avoid. It was, quite simply, hard not to know that motherhood was imminent. I knew it when I was delirious from lack of sleep. I even knew it when we finally stopped having to watch the fruits and vegetables episode of Sesame Street. Today, however, was the first time I felt the odd sensation that while I did create people that I love more intensely than anyone else, I still exist. I am an actual, living person.

Getting caught up in the whirlwind of motherhood isn't just easy, it's the way life is when you care about the people you are molding on a minute to minute basis. Today, however, I actually remembered that there is this whole other person inside me, speaking metaphorically of course. I knew she was there, and yet over the years each time someone said that familiar line, "You can't forget to take care of yourself", I cringed. While I, like many mothers, knew that to be the case, I tended to just go through the motions of caring for myself; such as getting a pedicure once in awhile to relax, or even going out for drinks with girlfriends. All motions. I did it, I liked it, but always in the back of my mind was the agitation of what little thing wouldn't have been completed in my absence that I would have to later handle due to my need to "take care of myself," coupled with the guilt that I was being selfish by existing away from the family my husband and I had created. Let's call this what it is: Martyrdom. Or try this one out for size: Control Freak.

I'm not exactly sure what it was that brought me to the light. Maybe it was a recent weight loss or finding a great organization to volunteer with, or maybe it was the wonderful people that have come into my life recently, but I realized that while I love being a mother, I also like being a person outside of motherhood. Thinking about my children nearly every single second is something that I'll never put down, because that is how I'm wired. But the ability to finally enjoy my time as an adult woman without concerns for what isn't being handled my way while I'm not with my children is pretty great. I trust the people who take care of them when I'm not around, and know they have their best interest at heart. I know my husband is perfectly capable of taking care of the kids while I'm away (even if he hasn't mastered the art of multitasking cleaning/playing/cooking). While I'm still growing and learning, I feel a huge weight has been heaved from my shoulders. A weight that caused undue stress, ridiculous arguments, and a lack of joy. I can finally breathe because I really understand that I, too, exist.

Dork On!

I knew I was a giant dork very early on. Making dorky faces, stupid jokes, doing things that nobody else would possibly find funny but had me rolling hysterically on the floor are just a few signs that pointed in the direction of positive dorkiness. Oh yes, I'm a dork and proud of it. But, not everyone understands us dorks. They might confuse us for being weird, having a lame sense of humor, or simply just not being cool. Any true dork, however, knows not to let this bother them because the inherent characteristic to owning claim to the big D is that all any dork wants is to have fun in completely innocent and goofy ways.

You might be asking yourself how one might know if they are on the cutting edge of dorkdom? I've tried to come up with a few ideas as I have 35 years of practice and consider myself to be one of the masters of dorkiness. Let's see if any of the following symptoms sounds familiar to you:

1. You might be a dork if you find something funny that nobody else understands, and you can't stop laughing about it for the rest of the day. Out loud.
   
2. You might be a dork if you have a running joke about something totally random, such as a shovel, and just the mere mention of said object to your partner in dorkiness will set off chortles heard round the world.
   
3. You might be a dork if you crack a joke and everyone looks at you and kind of smiles just so you don't feel stupid, but you're still laughing anyway.
   
4. You might be a dork if you like to make up impromptu stories or songs after being "inspired" by just a tune or a word uttered by some poor unsuspecting stranger.
   
5. You might be a dork if you are an adult who occasionally needs to flail their limbs all around just to get the silly's out.
   
6. You might be a dork if you know you are just not all that "cool" or "smooth" because something crazy always happens when you try to be either. Such as trying to be super hip for a party and then tripping on the rug as you enter the room.
   
7. Finally, you might be a dork if you are laughing at any of these and nodding your head in agreement.
   

Being a dork is fun. It may not be hip, trendy, cool, or suave, but it's definitely interesting, and definitely something that keeps you grounded, humble, and true to yourself. So dork on, friends, it's good for the soul!

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AMENDMENT:

Due to the high amount of fabulous comments on Facebook about this post, I felt the need to share the additions several of my friends offered. They are totally dorky and totally awesome:

1. You do or say something that has never been done or said before in the history of civilization.
2. You ever read the book, "I Hate Everything But Boys" as a kid and started your own IHEBB club.
3. You know how to touch your tongue to your chin or the bottom of your nose and like to routinely show people.
4. You often feel like a social outcast in front of the "cool" people in your office.
5. You think just because the windows are rolled up in your vehicle nobody can see what you're doing inside.
6. You still try to touch your elbow with your tongue thinking that one day it will happen.

Thank you to my friends Heather and Jennifer for providing these fantastic additions to the dork list! You are definitely honorary dorks in my world I like to call Dorkdom.

An Unexpected Gift

My sister lent me this book a couple months ago that I've just now begun to read. I'm sure most of you have heard of it, as it was pretty popular and one of the writers of the book was also a writer for Sex in the City, which most of us girls watched religiously every Sunday night. It's all about how you can tell that a guy isn't in to you, and that you're worth being into, or worth having someone who is actually interested for the right reasons. While I wish I had had this book ten years ago as it would have saved me many, many nights of pondering and restless sleep, it's been kind of an eye opener for other unexpected reasons.

The older I get, the more I really see what a real friend is, who will be there for you and allow you to be there for them. Those who can laugh with you, tell you the truth, and who are willing to have a friendship that goes both ways. For me personally, I have had a few really good friends in my life, but mostly just a lot of friends who were around for awhile, but when the wind blew, they were gone. Or, likewise, I would flit forward to a new adventure and another group of friends. I see the evidence of this when I look at pictures of them going through major events in their life, and while I may have been around throughout most of it, I wasn't around enough. It makes me sad to know that I was just more of a sidelines kind of friend, and never really knew it. More specifically, about a year ago, someone who I'd known my whole life, someone who, despite distance or life change, always felt like home, let me know she didn't wish to have a friendship with me anymore. No real reason provided in the three sentence email, but nearly 30 years of knowing one another went down the drain and it hurt. It still hurts a great deal, actually. So I ask, were there signs before? How was I so disillusioned to think we had this wonderful life-long friendship, when clearly, the feeling was not mutual? Like with men, were there obvious signs, but I just made excuses because I didn't want to believe that this person I loved dearly, just didn't value our friendship to the same extent? Was my friend just not that into friendship with me?

There have been a lot of entries about relationships and how they change: some grow, some end. But they always challenge us to be a better person; that is if we can figure out how to find the good in a mess of hurt. I recently received an email with this phrase, "God doesn't give you the people you want; He gives you the people you need... to help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you and to make you into the person you were meant to be." It's so important to remember there are simply just not a lot of constants in this world, and if there are a few people, a few great friends, great loves, whatever the greats may be, they are great because they are of quality, not quantity. They are true and meaningful, and they celebrate the people we are, they don't pick at the things they would rather we'd be. Since this particular friend walked out so easily from my life, I have had to remind myself on a next to daily basis, that it's okay. I am fortunate to have the greats that I do, and I thank her for being part of this discovery, for unintentionally showing me that I can't be a sidelines kind of friend. One day she and I will sit and have coffee together again, talk about books, and laugh about our adventures, but until then, my eyes have opened to the value in the people that are right in front of me. What a great gift.

Letting Go

For the greater part of my life I have wondered if there is a right time to stop trying. With friends, that is. You know what I'm talking about, the people you feel you are pretty darn close with until things start to get in the way of regular conversations, then the drifting really happens and you suddenly find yourself pretty much out of that person's life completely. I have written before about how hard it is to let go of a friend, but my question is, when do you know it's time to just stop trying? Is there an okay time to stop casually making phone calls or sending emails their way once in awhile just so they know you are still there when they are ready to return as an active member of the friendship?

When I think about this subject I feel like a child who hasn't gotten enough attention. In my head I know that life simply happens and people move on, meet other people, change jobs, change homes, grow children, and change friends. Most of the time the loss of friendship really has absolutely nothing to do with any specific action, it just happens. Like all things, there are friendships that we are blessed with for just one season of our lives. My heart, however, aches. I wonder things that sound so childish and selfish, such as why this old friend has time to keep in touch with other people but not me? Or, if we had really been good friends, they would make some sort of effort. The heart side of these situations hurts and feels like someone stole a little chunk that I can't get back. I know how it sounds to say these things, yet it seems to happen more than I would like to admit. The bottom line is I hate losing a friend no matter whom or what I'm losing them to. So I ask when is the right time to finally say, for one's own sanity, "I'm done trying. I care, but I have to cut my losses and move forward."

I realize there have may have been people in my past that I have pushed back as life forged ahead, although a bit presumptuous to even think someone might have been hurt by losing me as a friend. I know I suck at this aspect of life; moving forward without the people who were with me during the journey, and I, theirs. If I don't check myself I tend to ride the pity train and let myself believe I'm just very expendable. All very immature feelings that would be better off in the back of my mind. I know I must not worry so much about how I feel, and be happy with the people who are on this journey now, at this time, in this moment. That's okay, right?