Don't Blink...indeed.

Today I walked the halls of my local high school. I was there to help a friend with something, and when my job was complete, my mother, who is here visiting, and I roamed the halls looking at the new, fascinating technology that we never had in school and the seemingly college-like gym. But as I roamed the halls, something much deeper and unexpected was taking place. As I looked at the kids, I saw the faces of those I graduated with in a small town in Kentucky in 1990. I noticed the ones who are probably cheerleaders. I noticed the jocks. I also noticed the ones who are probably less popular, and I wish I could have pulled them aside and told them not to worry, that popularity means nothing once you graduate and down the road you will realize it didn't really matter in high school either. Bill Gates wasn't popular.. enough said.
But while roaming around the high school, I have never been more aware that I am a 40-ish-year-old grown woman with two boys who are growing so fast that it literally made my heart ache. I could see my sons' faces on the faces of these giant high school boys. And they were seriously giants. There were moments I couldn't tell which were students and which might be young teachers.
Aren't the moms of these big students just sobbing thinking about how just yesterday these giants were throwing tantrums in their strollers at Target? Do they realize that soon these kids will be away at college and there will be nights they have no idea what their children are doing or even where they are?!?! Do they worry that they will move far away and that their arms will ache to hold that child for just a moment? I don't know exactly what happened to me in those halls today, but it was significant. The feeling stayed with me throughout the day.
Have you ever looked at your child and for just a moment you think you know what he or she will look like as a high school senior and it's beautiful and gut-wrenching all at the same time?
Not long after being at the high school, I watched my 3rd-grader participate in a fundraiser at his school. When I heard their precious voices sing the National Anthem, tears came to my eyes yet again.
That time...the time from when they are running laps in elementary school to when they are those giants roaming the wide halls of high school...how fast do they go? There isn't one parent who won't say it's in the blink of an eye. Of course it is. Because it seems like now is just a blink from when the doctor first handed them to me.
After today, I think if I were mysteriously summoned by the White House to write a super important document to promote world peace, I would toss it aside if my child wanted to eat ice cream and just talk.
Today was big. Today was REAL.
Some days life is just too raw. But if those days serve as a wake up call, forcing us to focus on all the things we should be focused on, then we should surely welcome them and absorb them whenever they may come. And be very thankful for them.

Disillusionment? Find a spark.

Disillusionment.

To me, this is one of the hardest parts of being a grown up. This horrible week has been full of disillusionment. Our souls are crushed with questions like: What is this world coming to? Has the whole world gone mad? How could people be so evil? Why is everyone so angry?

The questions are endless.

There are also smaller scales of disillusionment which add up and take their toll over time. And the results can be significant.

So many questions and realizations can weigh on us. Many of us can find ourselves asking things like: How could a place of worship be filled with so much politics? How could that seemingly sweet mom have done something so cruel to another mother out of spite? Why are friends turning on each other because of political differences? How can that friendship that I once cherished now have become so one-sided and distant? Why are other mothers crucifying each other rather than sticking together?

On and on the weight gets heavier. Sometimes it makes us want to isolate and avoid. But this is one case where our natural instincts are wrong. Following our instincts is the worst thing we can do. Though we may not feel like it, this is the time when we need most to connect with people, no matter how small that connection might be. This is the time when those small acts of kindness mean even more. A smile to a stranger, a shared laugh, a phone call, an invitation to lunch, paying for someone's coffee in the Starbuck's line. These are the times when these small acts become big acts.They can become the sparks that ignite something bigger. Kindness begets kindness, which can become an epidemic. A kindness epidemic would be pretty awesome. Right now things seem pretty dark, but a lot of little sparks make a bright light.

This may seem ridiculous and insignificant, but I still reflect on an incident many years ago at a gas station. There was a man, much older than I, who was clearly taking a break from a tough blue collar job that required getting dirty. He was pumping gas and I pulled up to the gas station, dressed for a full day of reporting, my radio blasting. The song was Lady Marmalade. And people, I had it playing LOUD. My window was down, and I have no earthly idea why I did this, other than the fact that I tend to be a little nutty. But for some inexplicable reason, I leaned out my window and ordered this man to dance. There are no words I can use to express how he suddenly, unabashedly, without reservation, began cutting a rug and freely and furiously dancing like nothing I have ever seen. Nor can I express how much delight or laughter this brought me. Just a random, shared moment between two strangers.

Just a tiny spark.

But I still think about it often, and smile.

Twelve years later.

Slow. It. Down.

     *I've been on hiatus, but now that is over. It is time to get back in the saddle. I will be posting on my blog once a week from this point forward, and working on getting that book published and likely decorating my computer area with rejection letters. If I'm not working on a book, writing in a blog, writing in a journal-or whatever- I'm not fully happy. So that's just that. Hiatus over now.


     Okay, so here is the deal...

     People, we need to slow down. Slow. It. Down.

     What in the flipping world are we doing to ourselves? I know back in the day people had worries too. Big worries. The crops. Illness.
     But for the love. Are we TRYING to do ourselves in these days? I am not preaching. And if I am, I am preaching to the choir-and I am the choir.
     Let me just share this texting stream between me and my friend. And I promise you, with God as my witness, this is real. Only the slightly inappropriate has been changed or left out.
     A little background info for you. I am a co-room mom for my son's kindergarten class, and I was decorating a door for Boosterthon- a race the kids run and get people to sponsor them to raise money for the school. My son's class has a puppy theme.
     Here ya go...my friend's name has been changed to protect her in case she doesn't want her name associated with my crazy. Here it is...

Me: I've taken Claire (from the show Modern Family) to a whole new level and I need you to talk me down.

Vivian (I know, just go with it): What in the world are you doing?

Me: We have to decorate a door for each K class for Boosterthon. It's a competition-need I say more? I'm making 20 dogs but now I've decided they must all be different breeds and wearing Nike's!!!

Vivian: For the love.

Me: I know. I'm sick.

Vivian: I think they need designer collars too. With quotes. Different ones. And jewels. I think they should also have on little wind suits.

Me: One- I kid you not-has a collar with a jewel. What about sweatbands?

Vivian: I was going to say sweatbands instead of windsuits but I was afraid you would think I was serious.

Me: Well, I know you are kinda making fun of me but I am for realzzz.

Vivian: I know you are for realzzz for realzzz, but I just cannot take a Boosterthon door with 20 dogs of different breeds in Nike's all that seriously.

Me: I'm laughing so hard right now that my son is confused.

Vivian: He's going to have many moments of confusion while his mom is butt-deep in construction paper and glue, I'm afraid. He needs to learn to deal with his reality and just stand back.

Me: I can't stop giggling. You do realize I'm freestyle drawing these pups too...
They are also having a finish line between two hydrants...kid you not.

Vivian: Draw one &^% dog, stack the paper up, cut them out and color them different colors. But that would be too easy. <sigh> Oh, I have no doubt it will be amazing. People may line up to look at it. Like Bellingrath. You could even integrate smells.

Me: In a second I will attempting an Airedale.

Vivian: When they ask me when I knew for sure you had lost your mind, I feel certain I'm going to go back to this conversation.

Me: But I think part of you understands this.

Vivian: Of course I understand it, but it doesn't make it normal.

Me: I'm not sure how to make shoes small enough for the dachshund and poodle.

Vivian: Now that's something you don't hear everyday. And you sure can't Google it.

Me: I need therapy. I'm attempting a Norwegian Elkhound.

Vivian: Then you can do a Rhodesian Ridgeback. That's a normal thing to do on a Wednesday night in April.

*********************

I think you get the point.

So now that the fact that my insanity has been established, I will add that I think many of us do this to some degree. At least I hope. We place pressure where there should be none. The sick part is that I had an absolute blast doing it. But that is not always the case. I saw on Pinterest the other day..."Twenty five things to say to your child other than 'Good Job.' "   Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? Are we analyzing things THIS much?

It all began with Elf on a Shelf. I'm telling you it did.

Birthday parties are out of control. Soon Justin Bieber will be rented for some of these girl parties. School valentines are now better than goody bags at a birthday party. And don't get me started on goody bags. Yes, I give them. But I also hate myself a little for it.

Thanks to Pinterest, which I unnaturally love, not only do our kids wear a new, cute outfit on the first day of school, but we must take pictures, post them, and compare them to last year's picture, and have them hold a rustic sign with perfectly placed chalk letters saying what they want to be when they grow up.

Oh, and while we are at it, we need to take a picture of them every month so when they are 18 we can put together a montage to a popular song to show the progression of how fast their noses and other features changed every 30 days.

Slow it down people. Slow. It. Down.

YES, I should be looking in the mirror as I say this.

But when I originally wrote this, I had to hurry because there was dog athletic wear to cut out.

I know. I will start tomorrow.