Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

It ignored me and did what phones do. Glad to see someone around here has a work ethic, because this week I want to crawl in bed with a hot man and a bowl of soup and watch The Golden Girls while I lament about how our bodies break down and it’s not fair that mucus comes out of so many orifices of the body at a rate that is unequal to the rate of liquid I’m putting into my body.

I picked up the phone and saw that it was mom, which was good because I’ve been wanting my mommy for days. I answered and was immediately accosted with the accusation that my son was NOT responding to text messages.

Let this sink in for a minute.

My 9-year old…is not responding…to his grandmother’s text messages.

Now I get to explain why this is a huge deal.

AJ has a cell phone. He’s had one for almost 2 years of a 2 year deal. He does extra chores, beyond his regular ones, to help pay for the $10 his contract costs us every month. He takes his phone with him to his friend’s house and it has come in very handy. His phone has music on it and games and it keeps him from getting too bored.

Recently, Leon and I had made the decision to allow him to have text messaging. He is only allowed to text me and Leon and those who are in his address book. Those people include family and close family friends. He may only text them with their permission and ours. This is a strict rule. He is learning sentence structure and proper communication skills as well as spelling and it seems to be helping.

When I told my mother that AJ was getting unlimited text messaging (to avoid any potential charges and because we have it on a family plan), she groaned. My mother has held out on text messaging for years. In fact, when anyone would mention text messaging, she would groan, glare at us and say “Well, don’t you dare text me. That costs money!”

My mother is not an old woman. She is not yet 50. However, she is incredibly frugal and does not buy anything that is not on sale. She gets angry about how Abercrombie has their name on all of their shirts and that my sister and I do not necessarily share her ideas on thriftiness. She has held out on the peer pressure for text messaging from friends and other family members for ages. My sister and I have begged her to get text messaging for years.

Nope. It wasn’t happening.

3 weeks ago, I mentioned that AJ was getting unlimited messaging and that he would be sending her messages.

Say what you want about the woman, but she’s a devoted NeeNee.

She called last night TICKED that she’s been text messaging AJ like crazy and he won’t text her back.

Love. It’s a funny thing.

It never occurred to me that the people I’d left along the way weren’t really gone. For the longest time I was such a black and white thinker that I’d written those relationships off as lost to me.

And then I found Facebook. Because I’m an introvert, social networking draws me like flies to honey. I can speak to people quickly and efficiently, which also hits my firstborn tendencies, and feel like I’m connecting without losing the energy that I lose in face-to-face interaction.

And then I started exploring.

And found the little girl from down the farm road that I used to play with often. I road my green bike with the banana seat to her house frequently. And not only did she remember me, but she was delighted to hear from me. We still had the connection that we had even then.

And I found the first friends I had when I finally started elementary school. And then those when I moved to a new town.

I found my first group of friends from middle school. We were so close for those four years. It was like we picked up where we left off. The best friendships are always like that, aren’t they?

I found my high school best friends and my college best friends. I found people who weren’t best friends, but that I like more as adults than I did as children. They have grown into amazing people that I love.

Through other social networking sites I have found people that I love more and more each day.

For me, I think it was just a reminder that, though there are times I feel alone and have certainly felt alone in the past, I never was. They were with me. They missed me. They were there.

And they still are.

Livvy was born three weeks before my junior prom. As such, my mother didn’t have time to go dress hunting with me or even see me before my junior prom. Thankfully, my aunt stepped in and green eyes and I had a fine night. I think. I don’t remember much of it because there was so much emotional turmoil around that time, both with his absence and Livvy’s health.

Livvy eventually came home and green eyes eventually drifted away and a new normal came to me. It wasn’t without much resistence on my part, however. I lost 30 pounds simply because I wasn’t interested in eating. I was depressed and had lost interested in most everything and everyone around me. I was starting to finally feel like myself when I developed what felt like the worst cold ever. My nose started dripping like a faucet and I’d rubbed the thing raw. My best friend, at the time, was a boy we later determined was related to me somehow. He and I went to Wal-mart, where I worked (I have SO many stories about that place) and saw the new guy stocking the shelves. A cute new guy. One I’d only seen in passing while we were zoning the area at night. I’d been lucky enough to help him a couple of times.

I’d never been a forward kind of girl. I’m shy, especially where my looks are concerned and even with the weight loss, I was sure he wasn’t interested in me. Nevertheless, I went up to him with my dripping, peeling nose and started talking to him. He talked back and seemed amused by what I was saying. Eventually we made a date. One date turned into several and we dated on and off, though mainly on, throughout my senior year of high school. He was a few years older than I was and was very different from the guys I went to school with. He introduced me to “No diggity” (which is still one of my favorite songs) and was probably one of, if not THE nicest person I’ve ever dated. He also took me to Olive Garden for the first time in my 17 years.

I don’t know anyone that didn’t like Aaron. He made friends with all of my friends and the people at work adored him. The girls at work really adored him. He kept his eyes on me. I felt adored. His sister and brother felt like my family. I thought a lot of them and still do. I have no idea what my senior year would have been like if his kind spirit hadn’t been a part of my life. My family was dealing with a lot of issues, not just a new baby. He was there for me and I will always appreciate that about him.

He was also my prom date that year. Strangely enough, I remember most everything about that night. I remember sitting in the chair at my salon and watching my stylist place mini-flowers in my hair and wondering if they looked Asian enough. Would Aaron like them? Was it too much? Were my bangs too high? The answer to the bang question was YES, THEY WERE TOO HIGH.

I remember the moment he saw me and the smile he gave me. I remember that his hands are really strong and when he held mine to walk me into the convention center that I couldn’t stop smiling. We sat with our friends and there was much dancing and laughing. When prom was over, we went to a friend’s house and, in my typical party animal fashion, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.

I’m a winner.

Three weeks later, I broke up with him for a guy who truly believed that there is a dark side and he was a jedi knight. I still have a lot of guilt about this and I’m so, so sorry, Aaron. It was among the most stupid decisions I’ve ever made. I’m a firm believe that things turn out the way they should, though, and I’m really glad that we are still friends. You were the best prom date ever.

He was into alternative music and she loved mainstream pop. He embraced the baggy clothes style of the mid-90s and she was a prep through and through. He was quiet and sweet-natured and she was outgoing and acerbic, though, later, she would realize that her true self was also quiet, as well. What they had in common, however, was their ability to just be together and enjoy the company of each other.

The girl liked the boy, but because he was friends with the boy she’d dated, she didn’t allow herself to feel everything she wanted to feel for him. One night, they drove around their small town and stopped by a store. There were beaded bracelets that came with the comment that if you made a wish on them and placed them around your wrist, when they fell off, your wish would come true. The boy, with a sparkle in his eye, suggested that the girl get the one in green. It matched his eyes exactly.

She shyly bought the bracelet and made a wish. Not for him, but that she would feel loved. There were many days in that time that she didn’t. She placed it around her wrist and waited. It was October.

A month came and went and the two remained friends. She showed him the places that she liked to go when she needed quiet and they did the things teenagers do. They went out and explored private property that had warnings like “If we catch you, we will shoot first and ask questions later.” They weren’t the smartest teenagers in the world. They explored places like cornfields and lay on their backs looking at the stars. He gave her piggyback rides through the rows and she laughed like a child.

One day, the two were at a school assembly and were, of course, sitting together as they always did. They were the best of friends and their other friends had noticed that they had become consumed by one another. In the middle of the assembly, she felt a tug on her wrist. The green bracelet fell off her wrist and she looked up into his bright green eyes. He smiled his easygoing grin and removed his hand from her wrist. “Now,” he said, “whatever you wished can come true.”

She blushed, because she was the shy sort at that time, and looked away. She may have mumbled something like, “We’ll see” and left it at that. He asked her to come over later that night and she replied that she would after her homework. When she got to his house, he was going down the hill on his makeshift snowboard with one of his friends. The powdery snow coated everything, like a wintery fairyland.

As she watched them go down the hill, she began to grow cold and couldn’t prevent her teeth from chattering. He walked up to her and softly moved the hair from her face and put his arms around her to pull her close. This wasn’t something new to her. He often held her close, as friends do. Something felt different about this time. He put his head into the small of her neck and told her that after the last run they would go inside and talk.

However, as anyone who has tried to snowboard realizes, the inexperienced often fall and he tumbled hard. As the wind was knocked out of him, she was already sliding down the slippery hill towards him, as was his friend. When she got to him, he laughed. She took his hand, helped him up and they went inside.

These are not the instances that I’m addressing. I’m addressing the first loves, the best friends, the close friends, the soul mates, the people that you meet on the street that do a kindness for you. These are the people that allow you to have a piece of their heart and with that you, in turn, share a piece of yours with them like a puzzle only the two of you have any hope of completing.

When we give this part of ourselves away, we do so at a large cost. There really isn’t any going back from that point. I remember my first love quite fondly, as he was a good friend before he was anything else to me. He was sweet, funny and shy. We talk online now and then, but what strikes me so much is that it has been so long and our feelings have healed to the point where I genuinely want his happiness in a way that I wish for what he wishes for himself. I think of old friends that I haven’t seen in years and wish the best for them.

I think this is where the popularity of social networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace come in. Of course there are people that want to “stick it” to the people that hurt them so long ago, but, overwhelmingly, the feeling I get about these sites is that it is more about healing and caring than anything else. We want to know how these people are doing and if they are well. Our reason for that is not always because of them: It’s because of us. It’s because they hold onto a string attached to our emotions that we haven’t quite clipped.

I can think back to my first real crush and smile fondly. I can think of my first best friend and laugh at some of the things we’ve done in our lives. I can think of the first time someone hurt me beyond repair. There are many spots that aren’t healed and there are many that will never heal. It’s up to me to decide whether I’m going to allow those strings to continue to move me like a puppeteer or clip them and free the strings up for new events in our lives.

The man who held the door for me the other day…the old woman who smiled at me when I was stressed out about finals…the way my dogs know when I’m sad and will just lay silently next to me…the way my sister hugs me when she hasn’t seen me in a while…

If you can’t see the video, please click here.

My great grandmother as a young adult.

One of the things I remember is her piano. She never played it for me, rather she allowed me to plunk away on it as my mother made excuses for me and begged me to stop “ruining the piano.” My great-grandmother, in her love and her excitement over my musical happiness just blew it off and allowed me to slam, bang and make some horrible noises from that poor piano that played some beautiful hymns when her gnarled fingers would touch it’s aging keys.

As I got older, I recognized the importance of visiting her often, but it never felt like enough. When I moved away from home and got married, she was one of the few people in my life who supported me and my decisions completely. The first time she met Husband she gasped and blushed and said, “Oh my, he is a LOOKER, isn’t he. So tall and handsome.” She continued to gush until she made us all quite uncomfortable. Now, almost 10 years later, I grin and am glad she approved. See, at the time, it was impossible for me to realize that she had once been a young woman.

In Lucille’s later years, my Aunt lived with her. In 2007, after my Aunt’s passing, we found an old photo album of Lucille’s in my Aunt’s belongings. The pictures of my great grandmother and her life, in the late 1920s and early 1930s, simply took my breath away. Besides being amazing and bold, my great grandmother had such spirit within her, even then.

Lucille in Berlin on her honeymoon

My great grandmother had not been doing well for years. Cancer was overtaking her, but I was unable to visit her because I was 9 months pregnant and couldn’t make the drive to go back to my hometown and see her. I got the call that my great-grandmother had passed 3 weeks before AJ was born. I couldn’t attend the funeral, so I think there will always be a lack of closure. I carry her and her messages, with me, however, including the wisdom that, in my youth, I’d always tossed aside as something from the “old people.”

One Easter, I remember she came for dinner and under the table passed me a beautifully wrapped box. She whispered that I should wait to open it because she didn’t bring one for everyone. I’ve rarely felt so special in my life because everyone knew Lucille didn’t play favorites–she loved all of us immensely. Later that day, I opened the box and found a gold pin with the word JOY in cubic zirconia stones. At the time, I liked it because she gave it to me, but didn’t wear it because it was something of an “old person gift.” I would give anything to find it now. Anything. She taught me that joy can be found in the little things in life: The smiles of my child, a late night with friends, a cuddle from a sweet puppy, fresh lemonade. With all the things in life I strive for, joy is the one hope she had for me. I find it when I think of her.

This is the part where, if little believing eyes are around, you ask them to go away for about 10 minutes. Why you are letting little believing eyes look at my blog, I have no idea because this is an adult blog.

Last night, AJ was away from home at a sleepover that he’d looked forward to all week. When I say looked forward to, I mean that when I told him he could go after dinner, he was trying to get us to eat dinner at 2:30 in the afternoon. At 7pm, he was allowed to leave and when I say he practically flew out the door and down the street, I don’t think I’m exaggerating too much. As such, Husband and I had nothing to do.

Can I communicate what a rare occasion this is? The last time Husband and I have had time without AJ was for Husband’s Christmas party, which was 2 hours. Prior to that it was my birthday dinner, which was 2 hours and prior that that, it’s beyond my memory, but it was likely something similar. A whole night is unheard of for us and while we were thrilled we were also….well, bored. What do you do when you are used to only doing kid friendly things? Bar hopping? We aren’t the type. Clubbing? I currently have a bum knee and Husband won’t dance if I pay him (and I’ve tried paying him). Toilet papering the neighbor whose motorcycle keeps waking me as he drives to work at 4am? Well, you know we’re in a recession and toilet paper is expensive. We decided to take advantage of the opportunity to actually pick out his basket together as opposed to the whole “I’ll run to the store and pick it up, you stay here and keep him busy, routine.”

Those that know us personally know that we have been on a journey of “healthful eating” that leads to eating properly and restricted caloric intake 6 days a week and anything we want one day a week. AJ has done well with this and is actually quite a stickler for the rules. He’s never believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny (again, another topic for another time), and since Saturday is our “eat what we want” day, we decided that we’d let him have his basket early. The dilemma here was what to get him being that I was not going to allow him to go into sugar shock after restricting his candy/soda intake for 4 months. This is what I came up with:

There are a lot of personal stories behind the items in this basket, but I was looking for a small mixture of decent candy that he can eat over a long term period and enough sugar that he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out. The items I included were items that AJ has expressed interest in over the course of about a year of shopping. Overall, I spent about the same amount as I would have on a candy basket and this is mainly stuff he can use again and again. I also don’t feel guilty about giving him a little bit of candy and then telling him to eat healthy meals this way. Husband and I patted ourselves on the back for our ingenuity and waited to see how AJ would react.

He came home tired from his sleepover, but happy. I explained the situation about how Easter is tomorrow and everyone else would be getting things tomorrow, but that since his free day was on Saturday, it might make more sense for him to get it today. However, if he didn’t want it today, that would be fine and it was his choice. AJ’s a rational little guy and said “Gimme the basket.” At first, he didn’t understand that the bucket WAS his basket. When he did, his expression was hilarious. He kept going through the items saying “this is the best Easter basket ever” and “I will never forget this day.” He’s a little melodramatic. I don’t know where he gets it.

The fun wasn’t over, though, as Husband had decided that we were all going to see Monsters vs. Aliens in 3D after some necessary afternoon shopping and a leisurely dinner. I’d never seen a 3D movie and I was pretty excited about the whole thing. When we got to the mall, I found jeans (in a smaller size! YES!) and an adorable old-fashioned looking dress that I’m looking for excuses to wear. One place we always stop at is Brooks Brothers because Husband has become something of a BB addict. Look, if he won’t take the first step and admit it, I’ll do it for him. I’m assertive that way. They were having a sale and while he and I looked at things, AJ made friends with the salespeople. He really did. He talks to everyone. He made friends with the man fixing our central heat the other day, too. He loves people. I couldn’t hear what he was talking about, but saw him talking to the man and looking at the women’s jewelry and asking questions.

As we were about to leave, he asked me to try on a bracelet to see if it would fit because he wanted to buy a bracelet for “someone special” with the money he’d gotten from his grandmother for Easter. After having me try on about 20 bracelets, he chose one that was so tight on me I think it cut off circulation. AJ is a loving little guy and I wasn’t sure if this was for me or for someone at school, but either way, it was far too expensive for anyone and he didn’t need to buy it. I tried to be sneaky and said, “AJ, you know I don’t wear pearls, right?” Total lie. I do wear pearls, regular pearls, not the ones with silver that he’d chosen. He winced and said, “But I want to buy these for you! I’m going to buy them for your Easter present. I want it to be special.” Husband looked at him and mentioned that if I wanted the bracelet that we had the funds to purchase it and AJ didn’t have to spend any money to buy me a bracelet. AJ looked at him like he was dumb (I’ll admit, I do that a lot to people and it’s not a good trait) and said “I have money and I want to buy it with my money so it will be special.” Leon had him ask me if it’s the bracelet I wanted and I pointed to one that wouldn’t require an amputation of my hand. I thought that the extra $2 it cost might deter him because he tends to be thrifty with his money. Not today. He had his heart set on this.

My 8-year old bought me a silver bracelet from Brooks Brothers so I could have a special Easter present “just like his.” With his own money. All the money he has. He insisted upon carrying it out of the store and said, “Mama, this is for you. Happy Easter.” I hugged him tightly, got choked up and kissed the top of his head. He grinned at me and whispered, “You’ll never forget this day, will you?” No, AJ. I will never forget this day.

Around 9 years ago, Natalie and I were pregnant around the same time. Natalie was pregnant with one of the most gorgeous dark-haired, gypsy featured beauties I’ve ever seen in my life. Bee (as she will be known), is a precocious, tell it like it is, intelligent girl child. She’s a mini-Natalie and is amazing. I was pregnant with AJ, a sensitive, athletic, science-minded, all-american featured boy child who is currently sporting a pumpkin grin. From the time they were womb fetuses, these two were jokingly betrothed. Natalie and I greedily planned grandchildren and enjoyed the idea of not fighting over the rights to grandchildren.

When AJ and Bee met, it seemed all plans were falling into place. They were like two peas in a pod and AJ and Bee’s little brother, Mee, are best buddies. Our plans for world domination by living vicariously through our children were imminent.

However, today I hit a snag. One I never saw coming and the ton of bricks didn’t fall at once, rather one at a time they fell on that sensitive spot. Someday, AJ, Bee & even little Mee, will all GROW UP. In order for betrothed to get married, THEY HAVE TO GET MARRIED. To have grandkids, they have to…well, YOU KNOW. NO NO NONONONONONONONONONO. MY CHILD WILL NEVER YOU KNOW!!!!!

Ok. Ok. I can handle this. He may or may not you know. We aren’t Catholic, but he could decide to be a priest but then I don’t get grandchildren. This doesn’t seem fair.

So the question is, how does one of my very best friends factor into this? Well, Natalie recently had twins (Holy wow!) and she took a picture of Bee holding one of the babies. Bee is sitting in a hospital bed holding the baby and for all purposes looks like a new mother. Our babies are growing up and it’s happening sooner than we ever intended.

It occurred to me that children are doing things more quickly now. Statistics are showing that children engage in non-penetrative sexual contact as early as 12-13 years (7th grade). AJ and Bee are 8 years old. We could be forced to deal with this stuff within the next 5 years. NO. Children can be parents as early as 13. Our children will be adults in 10 years. This is all overwhelming. I know that we can handle this stuff as it comes, but that seems so FAST.

The only thing I know about all of this is that I thank God that Natalie and I will be going through all of this at the same time because there is no way that I would survive it without her. Of course I have Husband, but he’s not as sentimental about this as I am. He’s a BOY. Natalie will get it. She always does.