Freedom Choreography

Strange. My overly verbal mind can only come up with ONE WORD...really? It is strange to be alone, for real, for the first time in 5 years. I've dreamed of this day. I've pensively cherished this day. I've mentally choreographed dance moves to this day, and all I can come up with is one word, strange. This day, this time has always seemed sort of elusive to me, like anticipating a solar eclipse-CRAP wait, that's happening next!

Anyway, this morning has been something along the lines of surreal- The laundry is caught up, the dishes are in the dishwasher, he's worked HARD all summer long! I say "he" like a boat is supposed to be called "she" because that dishwasher has worked as hard as a spouse on Mother's Day for the last 3+ months. HE is grateful that the kids are back in school, and occupying "his" time probably chatting up the refrigerator, as "she" has been opened no less than 164 times a day over the summer. Don't even try to talk to the washer and dryer, the happy couple has already left for their well-deserved spa day, as most of my kids changed their wardrobe like they were on tour with Beyoncé over the summer, 50 cities-83 shows-NO JOKE...I never knew they had this many clothes and changed their underwear so little.

Flushed with independence this morning, I'm still stunted. I filled out the MOUND of back-to-school paperwork, signed my name enough times that it is nearly illegible and still know I have one more kid's paperwork to muddle through. I found myself wondering, what now? Do I write? drink? take a nap? For the first time in what seems like forever, the world is my oyster and I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt. Ululating like a wild dog seems a little extreme, but I imagine today would be the only day where I could completely get away with it. But I am charting peculiar waters, and I have found myself shaking my head in utter disbelief, as the silence is so thrilling and newfangled all at the same time. My mental to-do list resembles something like a scroll, there are projects, closets to clean, things that you can only throw out when your kids aren't there to lament and secret unoccupied mom WOMAN time that will be dooly accomplished. But today...I'm starting slow. I go at everything with a game plan, a mental goal more than anything. I know how this afternoon will be with the kids get out early. I've made promises for popcorn, and hopefully if it isn't raining a play-date with the neighbors.

While I come correct- but I didn't expect to see that look in my youngest eyes this morning. The others took off and went into school or lined up with their friends. I sort of stopped him from doing this because I "thought" he would want me to walk him in...Turns out? Yeah, I think that was mainly for me. Thus, I walked him in, dropped off his lunch box, gave him a quick hug (no pictures-that's how secretly wrought I was at the time) and he walked off to the gymnasium.  I looked back one last time, horrible move on my part, took one last look at his face as he walked behind me, and I had hoped it wasn't as if I was looking into a mirror.

Slightly frightened, slightly exhilarated, slightly constipated, he turned left and I turned right and walked out the door. It was a moment that I probably will never forget, that moment when you know "that phase" is over. He's moved onward, he's ready, he's eager and he needs to learn from someone else, grateful that it is someone (not a sibling) who isn't bent on teaching him fart jokes like he has learned all summer, but I digress. Even three hours later, it still sort of takes my breath away. We've crossed a threshold, a milestone and a turning point onto the next phase of Atticus J Hunt's life. . .and really mine as well. Here is to all the parents doing this either for the first time or/and the last time, let me know if you need any "freedom choreography," it's fairly simple step work and no doubt will be perfected in years to come. Happy first day of school and first day to the rest of your life!

..it's going to be a good day...

That moment when you catch yourself smiling, for no real reason. When everything around you suddenly takes on a new meaning, looking at something rather simple and getting a warm feeling. You know the feeling, you've felt it before, but it has been so long it is like staring at a strangers face and instantly knowing them. You want to suppress such feelings because in the past they have been fleeting, artificial or stilted.

Like completing 1000 piece puzzle, you know it is more about the feeling of accomplishment and challenge than the picture that is revealed at the end. The glory is in the process. With the pop of warm sun kissed spring days, everything is in bloom. The dark winter days have faded away disclosing the beauty that was forgotten. The tree's blossoms are starting to show their vibrant color, and it all seems to make sense...like an old forgotten friend.

This time of year used to be my third favorite...this year it is taking top billing. There is no better feeling than looking out the window and seeing the beauty that the season brings. The blooms that decide to open a little more with every minute of the day, cleanse the soul and put into perspective things that you never knew they could. And then you get a phone call that darkens your view with terror, grief and the notion of what you might not have said.

So, there I was, packing suitcases. Never mind that it was just a few days before Easter. Never mind that I was so completely turned around I could hardly think straight. Never mind that I was packing a variety of clothes from "waiting room comfortable" to "funeral". I stood there looking at what was in the suitcase and I couldn't get my head around what might happen. I couldn't understand the notion of someone you love possibly dying, even though I had been in this exact space in the not so distant past. No matter the kind of love you have for someone, when you are smacked in the face of the notion of mortality, the slightest interaction starts to take on an elevated emotion. Did I remember my last conversation with my mom? Did I reaffirm the authenticity of how much I loved her? Could I contemplate the concept of losing her? The answers were: yes, yes and NO. So, scared and afraid, possibly naïve, I decided that this wasn't the end. She would die someday, we all will, but that day wasn't going to be today. She is a tough broad and she is wise beyond her years, this was not the end of her story, not even by a long shot.

Driving seven hours alone gives a lot of time for the mind to wander, and seeing that it is a rarity it was slightly exhilarating. I could actually think, blare the music of my choice, stop only to pee and not have to quell any disputes besides the ones that were scurrying around in my head. I thought about the things I wanted to say to her. I thought about the stories I wanted to always remember about her. I thought about the last conversation that we had, and how she said a few things that were poignant and prophetic. I thought about how lucky I have been to have the parents that I have, and what good role models they have been on parenting. I worried about my dad, knowing that he not only hates hospitals, but has never had to see my mom in such a vulnerable state, ever. I wondered how 50+ years of marriage can bring two souls’ together, fusing two lives in such a way that without one to inhale can the other ever exhale? My father was very scared, but tried desperately to disguise it...his heart was missing a piece and he had no way to fix it.

Fear and sorrow can not only open one's eyes, but also open one's heart to the things that they might have been too stubborn or foolish to admit. It can bring people together just out of the sake of loving someone collectively. It can alter the window that your mind's eye has been peering out of, and then suddenly things all make sense. Thankfully, my mother is a fighter, and she is currently recovering from a very serious heart surgery. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but she is one of the strongest women that I know, and I only hope to appear to emulate her, as that is possibly the closest I could get. I am grateful daily for the things that she has taught me and the advice that she has given me, not only as a mother but also as a woman.

My takeaway from all of the above is to remember to be grateful not only for what I have, but for the possibility of having more than my heart could desire because at the end of the day, life is too short. You get this brief blip of time in the world, what you do with it is up to you, and wasting it shouldn't be a viable option. Live life to its fullest, give yourself permission to be crazy happy and wake up every day knowing it's going to be a good day...

...uncomfortable segue...

"But life doesn't often spell things out for you or give you what you want exactly when you want it, otherwise it wouldn't be called life, it would be called a vending machine."

 ~ Lauren Graham, Talking as Fast as I Can

 

I read this last night, and I found it to be possibly the most profound analogy on life I had ever heard. How many times a day to I hear one of my kids complain about most certainly nothing? Um, well four kids x 24 hours x the distance of the sun from the moon x the dew point/ barometric pressure...this is starting to sound like a calculus question I do not have the brain capacity to answer. In short, A LOT. But really, they shouldn't know any better, they haven't dealt with as much hardships as an adult...who knew adulthood could be spun into such beautiful splendor? Too many questions not enough answers.

Life really isn't that cruel...you can usually glean a silver lining, somewhere. That is until you find "the sock" on the floor, which belongs in your brother's drawer...in the other room. UHG. Do I have time for this? Could this be just one of the mistakes of the house keeper? PLEASE LET IT BE SO....please let it be so. Or, could this be my "Road Not Taken"? I found it interesting, even mentioning to another mother and great friend, that I walked into the room and found a sock, the aghast reaction from her. No other details than, “I found a sock..." and she too knew where the rest of the story may be headed...no folks, you won't hear this ending on Paul Harvey.

So, I am there. I am at that smelly, hairy, confused, rank, self-conscious, voice-cracking cross road of PUBERTY. I knew it was coming...but I sort of hoped that it wouldn't happen until my kids moved out of my house or I could have afforded military school. Just sort of emailing Dr. Ruth Westheimer, I need to get my ducks in a row. I need to prepare my conversation segue (as if there actually IS one?). I need to stack my deck. I need to make sure I know what I am talking about and have the ability to be audible. I need to do some research, because I am in way over my head. I don't even have these parts and let's face it, he is a smart kid and probably could correct me if I tried to start the conversation today. How much is military school really?

So...flushed with the enthusiasm of THAT conversation, that will have to happen in the not so distant future, there are of course a few others. I am not a health fanatic, but my kids would eat a pile of dirt if it was fried and in nugget form or some strange orange color not ever found in nature. NO. No longer. No longer will I have to actually listen to my children try to debate that ketchup could really be considered a vegetable. No longer will I basically feed them a meal based on the argument/gag ratio. It is a new day, and dammit you will eat a color found in nature. Not just on holy days of obligation, but every fracking day you live under my roof.

The other conversations? Well they vary but are not limited to the following: No, Nora, you cannot have your best friend who is a boy spend the night. No, Abe, brushing your teeth last night does not take the place of this morning. No, Atticus, you cannot get on the PS4 at 6:30 a.m. These days filled with questions, most of which asked knowing I didn't just drop acid, yet the utter disgust of my inevitable response leaves me but one answer, "I know, it's horrible. I'm not a vending machine..." Don't live for the vending machine, learn from it and the uncomfortable segues.

...turning a cell...

DO YOU HEAR THAT? It is a splendid noise, like the first birds of spring, chirping their little hearts out or a gentle breeze of a new season playing the wind chimes that hang by my back door. It is me, doing TWO LESS PEOPLE'S LAUNDRY...of course, they don't really know what has hit them yet...meanwhile, I lie in wait.

Taking a page from Sun Tzu's Art of War, I have waged a silent war in this quiet house in little Canton, Missouri. The war is being fought in the name of all adults who painstakingly perform the task of...laundry. My rage, slightly less seething, has reached its plateau. While I have not so silently threatened the "laundry strike" before, today I am carrying out what countless others have dared to threaten before...I'm finished.

Of course I have threatened before, "Where was that stuffed? That's it, you are doing your own laundry from now on, maybe you will understand why my eyes are yellow and the vein is bulging in my neck!!!" All spoken on deaf ears, with a look of, yeah sure...she's a control freak and will never let it get to that. Well, that day has come my friends...and it has been a long one coming.

Laundry has ALWAYS been my nemesis. At times it has quieted my mind, given me a reason for being or just been another bullet point on my unwritten resume that I can fold a fitted sheet. In a house with four kids, the laundry is something that always has to be done, always collecting and something I'm always trying to get ahead of. It is a love hate relationship, laundry and I. While most women take a secret moment with something they really desire at a clothing store, cut to me at Home Depot where I want to whisper sweet nothings to a shiny new washer and dryer package. I know, I need to get out more.

I found myself, last week "Turning a Cell," so to speak. A tiny bit of fear strikes into the heart of my children when I get that look in my eye, knowing their room really needs cleaned. It's akin to a prison show, where the Warden decides the start "Turning Cells" to find any contraband. So, I decided that I needed to check up on the Talls' room to get some things picked up. It was there, as I was putting away their clothes, found jammed into every corner of their dressers, which I found a few articles that I had ironed. Really? I ironed this, for what? I ironed this, told them that I did, and told them to hang it up so the twenty minutes it took to do it wouldn't be wasted. Wow. That...well, that sucks! What the hell was I doing with my free time besides making sure they didn't look as if they had gotten dressed in a van down by the river? Then, besides a few choice swears that I muttered under my breath, I said three words. I. Am. Done.

So, like Sun Tzu, I have silently waged my war on laundry. What the Talls are blissfully unaware of is that I stopped doing their laundry. Done. Finished. I have done laundry, trust me when I really say it never stops...but not theirs. When I warned last evening about my strike, Oscar eluded to the notion that he thought that was some sort of child abuse, to which I almost spit out my coffee with laughter. This morning, Abe was looking for something in the dryer. I said, you're not going to find it there...He looked at me. After informing him that I no longer did their laundry, he looked at me. I told him that if he didn't want to be wearing his bathing suit to school by Wednesday, he had better collect the laundry and get to it.

The next battle will be the pissing match between the Talls of whose turn it is to launder their unmentionables...but that isn't my fight. My battle, forever ongoing, experienced a small victory today, flushed with the notion of a lesser load of laundry and a mom's most important aspect of warfare...sticking to her word.

...a bat in the house sucks...

...constant: regularly recurrent; continual; persistent...

 

There are a few things in everyone's world that are a constant...something you can always rely on happening, cringe worthy or not. These are a few of mine...

 

...only being 'alone' when you are cleaning the house...the only time no one cares where you are...
 

...some child always walks in when you are putting on/taking off your bra
 

...brothers always pick on sisters
 

...raising boys, you are bound to have to tell someone to do something with their penis
 

...raising girls, you are bound to have to tell them that they are over accessorized
 

...drama will always follow wrestling...
 

...creativity is beautiful, but not on the kitchen floor...
 

...laundry is the never ending job of a mother...
 

...knowing 'nothing' as a mother is perpetual and persistent
 

...seeing pain in your kids eyes is never easy...
 

...a 3yr. old's ability to speak openly, and while you may be used to it, no one else ever is...
 

...explaining why you have the body parts you do to a child...
 

...a bat in the house sucks...
 

...brushing teeth isn't a chore, it's a necessary life skill...
 

...responsibility looks great until you have it...
 

...game night is always looked forward to...
 

...no one ever turns down a doughnut...
 

...boys rooms always smell like a science lab...
 

...tampons are not toys...
 

...kids will repeat everything they hear...at the worst possible times...

Then there are those constants that you take for granted. Those things that inevitably happen, but remind you that there is purpose in life. These moments are what lift you up when you are down...put a smile on your face when you want to cry...revive a weary soul at the end of a day. These are a few of mine...

...listening to a child read for the first time...

...hearing someone say I love you...

...watching four kids dance around the living room to Lawrence Welk...

...laughing with friends...

...having someone understand your flaws...and still appreciate you...

...watching your kids nurture each other...

...knowing your kids are going to be amazing humans...even if they're wearing an orange jumpsuit...

...knowing someone who can make you smile with your eyes

...watching your kids become independent...

...everyone eating their dinner...

...traditions everyone wants to keep...

...looking at someone and feeling blessed to have them in your life

...watching a plan, one you've obsessed about in your head, actually work...

...when opportunity arises, no matter if you are ready, go for it

...understanding that life can prove you wrong over and over again

While some of these constants you wish would go away, others are there to show you that you hope they never do. The unvarying occurrence is something you can depend on, when you have little else to depend on. Life is full of things you might not be ready for, at least you can depend on your constants.












 

...safety word

Sometimes lately, I feel like throwing in the towel and I hate it. I'm not sure if I was mentally unprepared for the start of school...or unable to get into a routine again once school has started? Lately I feel like I am seemingly at the brink and out of ammo. Wishing sometimes I could just schedule a mental breakdown in advance, be it for me or my children, just to know it's arrival and departure...Tuesdays at 2:17? Sure that will work. But life doesn't give you the luxury of doing that, I guess I can dare to dream.

In two days Atticus starts preschool. I've been asked numerous times, "...what will you do with your free time?" I always find it funny that people say that. It's not like a week's vacation. It's not like I'm being sent to an island paradise, with cabana servers and a fruity cocktail...It's only four hours a week that I will be alone. But to be honest, it is just as foreign as a vacation...time alone. I don't normally get that during daylight hours. I could count on one hand the times that I have been alone in my own house. It is going to be odd, wonderful, strange, exciting, and bizarre all at the same time. I've waited 11 years for this...sounds unusual to say it like that but it's true. With every other child that has started school, I was pregnant with another one, and the notion of being alone was, well, and alien concept. Right now I'm just happy I have four hours a week that I won't have to worry where Atticus has escaped to...

That's right. I have a little wanderer on my hands. He asks to go outside, and I tell him he has to stay in our yard until I get out there with him. He looks up at me with those big blue eyes, smiling with his dimples deep enough to swim laps in, and he says, "...yes Mommy, I will stay in our yard." Cut to me 4 minutes later, I'm outside looking for him. I wondered if he wandered in to go to the bathroom when I wasn't looking. The next thing I know, he's walking out of the neighbors' back door. The same neighbors (sainted by the way) that he just walked right into their house and started playing with their son. HOLY CRAP! I'm THAT mom. The one who's kid wanders away and into people's homes! Thankfully, I can also look at it like my neighbors are so nurturing Atticus is comfortable to be in their home...either way, the kid is going to give me a drinking problem.

I despise giving up, giving in, or throwing in the towel. There's no shame in it, knowing your limits means knowing yourself...understanding your strengths and your weaknesses. But admitting these things to yourself? Seeing them pointed out to you by your children? Or having to remind said children that there is only one adult living in this house, therefore life is different than "so-in-so" here. We have limits financially. The mental clock-out time of this adult, and the only one in this house, is possibly earlier than they would like to go to their room at night-I cannot wait for the time change in the fall. I guess I should be happy that they don't see the differences that we have with most families they know, but having to admit defeat...makes me feel already defeated.

Then tonight, while the Talls and the Smalls were wearing off their dessert, they started playing this bizarre game of dog pile. Clearly, it wasn't their first time playing it. Oscar says he'll be on the bottom first, but as soon as he says "get off" everyone has to get off of him. Abe immediately chimes in and says "No, no! You need to say PORK CHOPS!" I was like what? A safety word? And that's what they did. They all piled by age order onto Oscar. Nora was squealing the loudest, as this was the closest thing to a hug she gets from her brothers, and Atticus strategically using the coffee table to jump off of to land on top of the pile. There would have been a time when I would not have been able to watch them do this. There would have been a time when I would have been too worried that they were being rowdy and rough. But, fascinated by their use of a "safety word"...it put a lot of things into perspective in an instant. When you're getting ready to loose your shit, throw in the towel, or just give up...maybe you just need to yell out PORK CHOPS?! Maybe...

...This week, on a very special episode of The Hunt Family Ranch...

...separation anxiety, masturbation, summoning of spirits, puberty smells, potty training, a slowly breaking down dishwasher, and a notice that it will cost $2000 to fix my mini-van (ugh, I hate those last hyphenated words)...No, your leg is not hurting because we are not having dessert...No, you have asked 6 times in the last hour to go to Steak-N-Shake...No, we are not going to Disneyworld...No, you have no need to drink coffee, you haven't suffered enough of life yet. This...was...my...week.

Potty training...while crossing my legs and fingers, is working...Thanks to some very beautiful friends who steered me to the use of THE MOON. It has been hilarious to watch the rest of those who wear underwear step in and manage situations before I can even get to them. The best was when Abe said, "...Mom, you are not going to like where Atticus went to the bathroom..." Thankfully, comforters can be washed. Gratefully, 20 pairs of tiny underwear take little to know room in my washing machine. Delightedly, hopefully, optimistically, we are on the road to the toilet forever...probably should start teaching him how to clean it next...

Separation anxiety is a very real thing. It's more real when you've lost a parent. It's hard to tell a child the slight lie of "nothing is ever going to happen to me", because let's face it- I don't know that. Harder still to have to lie and say that when in your head you're thinking even if you were with me every minute of the day something could still happen to me. The fears my kids have aren't the same of their friends, thankfully they don't really understand that, and I hope they never will.

The discussion of masturbation was interesting, terrifying, and I thought quick on my feet for responses. Somehow I parlayed it into the notion of eating ice cream for every meal, it wouldn't be good for you to do all the time...? It won't be the last conversation about the topic, but I'm armed with answers for the next time it comes around- here's hoping never...and that's all I will say about that.

I had a very consoling conversation the other day. We were talking about the phrase, "...everything happens for a reason..." My friend said, and nearly read my mind, that's crap. Why in the world would some things happen? Do you think God wanted that to happen? She went on to say, she never says that to someone, she just tells them "...you know what? Life just sucks sometimes. Sucky things happen to good people for no reason, and that sucks" I loved it. I love her for her honesty and her ability in that moment to bring together what was going on in my head. I needed to hear that because it broke it down to the very core. So, with this knowledge you take what's thrown at you, hope to duck and move on...

The fact that I am a mother, I will never begrudge. The fact that I get to see these people who came from me grow and flourish, I will never begrudge. The fact that I have had some very real conversations this week, knowing full well each one of my words must be chosen carefully and tactfully, has had my brain in overload. It's like we are an afterschool special in this house this week. I'm waiting to see the promo on TV, "...This week, on a very special episode of The Hunt Family Ranch..." I think I need to buy bigger bottles of vodka...

...those fellas are trouble...

...why the hell did I schedule this appointment so damned early? It was a reflex I guess. Still, even before 8 am, I find it oddly soothing in the orthodontist's office. It's a time I can catch up on social media, reading and sort of tuning out...all the while the kids are entertained by the kiddie table. I can't be certain, but I think the receptionist has grown to love us. The volume changes when we walk in the door. Today I made sure to reinforce the notion, "...do you see how picked up this area is? When we leave it should look the same way..." But in all honesty, I didn't really care. It's just the sort of public-service-announcement that has to be said when you walk into a quiet office with what would appear to be four contestants on Lets Make A Deal...

While my best friend was visiting last week, we discussed... a lot. We have these chat sessions all the time, but when we are together, they seem to be more intense. We talked about where our lives were going. What we felt we wanted to do next. How our lives had changed. She reminded me that not two years ago, we sat, at times crying, but still discussing the same things...boldly (perhaps naively) thinking that we'd have it all figured out by now. But, the harsh reminders are, when you think you have one thing figured out, everything else grows and changes around it. Some of the things you worry about, while they are no longer on the surface anymore, they sort of morph into something different. I told her that I wished I could talk to Jason sometimes. I found it interesting that she asked me why? So, I told her that I wanted to talk to him sometimes to ask him if I was doing things right or what I should do next. Her answer will never leave my memory...She simply said, "...what could he tell you that you don't already know yourself? Why would he have all the answers? I think you might be giving him too much credit..."

I had to hold back a chortle today when someone asked pointing at the kids, "Are they all yours?" Now, in all honesty, in the summer, these kids look very different from each other. We have a wide variety of skin tones represented. I told someone the other day that my kids resemble a UNICEF advertisement. Nora answered first, "those fellas are trouble (pointing to her brothers, strangely sitting very quiet next to each other)"  I turned around and said, " Those kids? Yes, every minute of every day...unless they were touching the mannequins, in which case I've never seen them before in my life..." As a mom, I constantly question where they are emotionally. I worry I am not maybe giving them the support they need when they freak out and do something completely asinine...I question what I  need to do. I guess if I didn't I wouldn't be doing my job...

But, I'm beginning to realize that their antics might not have anything to do with the reality they've been given. It might just be that they are kids. Is it wrong that I find that oddly reassuring? I got a little sass talk the other day from one of the Talls, and it dawned on me, PRAISE JESUS, THEY'RE JUST BEING ANNOYING KIDS and nothing more. I actually started laughing. It was exciting to me that my "precious-gifts", this time being represented as an annoying 11year old, was not having an actual emotional crisis...he was just being a kid. And I'm beginning to realize that there no oracles on parenting. There are no books that can really help, because no one has all of the answers. For once, in a very long time, while knowing who my kids are, being clueless as to what they are going to try to pull next is just the kind of simpleminded cocktail that I will take...on a side note, laughing at a dramatic tween is actually kind of fun.

...indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight

"...so, there's this 'puberty video' and I need you to sign a consent form so I can watch it...", said Oscar. I knew the time was coming. I knew I would have to choose my words correctly when I answered this statement. I knew that like everyday that passes, we were now going to be entering the rare and wonderful world of puberty...gulp.

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. We were at Oscar's spring music program. I was noticing things... Admittedly, boys are easy to go unnoticed when it comes to puberty, and being that I have mostly boys, I hadn't noticed. But then, when the girls started stepping onto the risers to sing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We were needing to be nearing a time for 'the video'. In between Atticus puking all over my lap, I pondered the differences that I saw. The girls were developed, and there was a VAST difference between the 5th grade and the 6th grade boys, a few of which looked like they had already started shaving...it was starting.

So, when I was handed the permission slip, I started to skim through it...I noticed that there were dates and times, and read the words practices...WHAT THE HELL WAS I READING? Thankfully, he unknowingly handed me an archery notice from his P.E. teacher first. I nearly fell over laughing. He immediately started discussing what he'd be watching, "Boys...how our bodies are changing...". I quickly tried to quell it, at least at the dinner table. In my best mother-code (with eyebrows and head tilts towards Nora) I told him that we all weren't watching the video. There WAS a reason why his grade was watching it, perhaps he should keep some information to himself. Oscar was, and as always, un-phased by what I had said. So, again, I gently mentioned that if he decided he needed to share his new found information, say with Abe, we would quickly be looking at the business end of a hissy fit. Another discussion will be forth coming...

The whole thing got me to thinking. I know I'm not delusional to believe that these boys are going to think I know anything about growing up. I know that even though I WENT THROUGH PUBERTY, I will still be a mom who grew up in the dark ages...you know the 1980s. I got to thinking about how hopefully with Nora, maybe things would be different? Maybe she would take my advice on the smallest of life lessons to ease her way into the same stage. It got me making a mental list, a guideline really of things as a girl...the one I possibly wish I had growing up.

#1...while the boy might be nice, yes you should judge him on his friends; if he hangs around morons, chances are he is one too.
#2...if you ever walk into a room, get into a car, or are generally alone with a boy, and Keith Sweat is playing- get out of there! NOW! That boy has plans, and it's not homework.
#3...if you go on a blind date, get into the boy's car, and he has platform shoes higher that any heel you own, fake sick and go home.
#4...if the boy listens to music that is disrespectful to women, chances are he is too.
#5...if a boy you are with gets cold and asks for YOUR coat, he's not a gentleman, he's a wimp and not worth your time.
#6...if the boy might not spend a lot of money, but takes the time to do something special for YOU from his heart, he is someone worth spending time with.
#7...watching a movie is code for "making out"...know what you are getting yourself into.
#8...anyone who tells you you're beautiful isn't a bad thing, as long as he is genuine...if you have to tell him he is, he is not confident enough to be around you.
#9...never let anyone tell you that being smart isn't beautiful.
#10...you are perfect the way you are, anyone who can't deal with that isn't worth dealing with.
#11...lying to your mom is wrong and she will know when you have done something wrong, at times before you even do it.
#12...loving someone means you don't have to spend every waking minute with them even though you might want to.
#13...what you have to say matters.
#14...one bad decision can effect the rest of your life.
#15...if you can't handle/aren't comfortable with it, it's not a scarlet letter, it's your conscious telling you to think.
#16...girl friends are few and far between, but you don't want those that stifle you.
#17...remember what is going on around you when you are with someone you like...one song years later can bring back memories as if you are still in the moment.
#18...treat yourself, but letting the other person treat you is okay too.
#19...being yourself will ALWAYS be better than trying to be someone else.
#20...personal hygiene is important, if he doesn't smell good now, chances are he never will.

I know that some of these aren't large revelations. Hopefully I might be able to pass along to more than Nora...but my expectations of any of my children wanting to know my opinion on such matters are low. Just tonight Oscar said he doubted the married Duggar kids ever "frenched" their spouses...I quickly changed the subject. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this whole topic gives me a feeling of indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight. I'm not going to pretend I've read any books on the matter. I'm not going to pretend that I will know the right things to say when the time arises. Blind faith? Maybe. From the hip is how I plan to roll. Luckily for my ill fated kids, I have a new one...