What is a Friend?

What is a Friend?

When you are very young blankie and teddy are your best friends. The woman at the store who hands you a cookie as you pass the bakery is your friend, the big yellow bird in the TV is your friend. (yes I am that old)

Getting a little bit older you feel the power of people NOT being your friend. Suddenly when you don't get what you want Mommy is not your friend anymore. And neither is Niles because he hogs all the Matchbox cars so you have every right to slap him with your foot. (Dude you had to see that coming) I digress, literally

Friends come and go and the requirements for BFF status change.  From 4th grade to Junior High there are major changes in what you need in a friend.  Riding bikes to the pool and playing clue in the basement or Ghost in the Graveyard after dark are so much different than cheer-leading tryouts and your first kiss.

When our life changes our requirements change and so do some of our friends.

But when did the requirements for a Friend change?

Twice this summer I have been hit with really sad news at the last minute when someone remembered that I am not on Facebook.  The text's I received said, "Sorry you are not on Facebook but..."

I am not sorry. I am not on Facebook for a reason but I will save that for another day.

My question is, When did being a Friend require that I am on your Facebook page?

I ask myself this question daily - Am I the idiot? Do I have it all wrong? I was never a cool kid and I am certainly not now.....but how can I be, because I am not on Facebook? Maybe I am the one stuck in JR High and need to "grow up" but to me a friend is someone who cares about you enough to want to talk to you, usually in person, but the phone will do. A friend is someone who wants to hang out with you and see the pictures of your vacation, hear the stories, laugh so hard about your son who got to Boston with no shoes in the dead of winter that she snorts wine up her nose and now they both have a new nickname.

A friend is someone who loves you enough to spend time with you in good times and bad. Even if that means crying over the phone. Who sends her love and energy when you get diagnosed.  Who drops off a casserole or a bottle of wine.  Who remembers your Birthday. Well, at least the Big Ones. OK so I get it there within the same year, danmit! I never said I was perfect.

Anyone is your friend because you can "Friend" them.  And then you can elevate their friend status with your "Likes". You can also tear them down - if just not liking them isn't good enough you can "Unfriend them" Ha! Take that Mrs. Stole my boyfriend in Seventh Grade.  Now not only can I carry the grudge around on my back for twenty years I can torment you on Facebook with snarky comments.

I never said I was perfect. I am certainly not the perfect friend. I haven't had many friends throughout my life and some I thought were my friends were not. That hurt badly and I know that I have never fully recovered from that.  I am guarded about getting close and quick to write people off.

The one thing that I do know is - we all need friends. And even if it's been a long time if you called me up tomorrow and said I can get a free couch but it's on a boat down at the Marina will you help me move it? I would say SURE. Not realizing what I am agreeing to and almost taking off my hand trying to get a sofa bed out of the tiny haul of a "Yacht" that could not make it on Below Deck.

(yeah, we are NOT doing that again!)

My point is that I may never be on Facebook but I will always be a Face in your book.

(That sounded a lot better in my head at 3 a.m. this morning. Does it sound ok? Really? Oh hell who I am asking - I don't have any friends!)

Have I lost my voice?

I think about how often I used to think "I have to write that down!" Let alone how much more often I sat down and wrote.

I don't do that anymore.

It's been bothering me for quite a few years now because the whole point of keeping this blog was to have at least this for my sons - if not pictures, memories, mementos, they would have their mother's words about them, their lives, their ups and downs and my joy in watching it all. I've lost my voice.

When did it happen? When did it get to hard to write?

When my oldest started Junior High? That was a tough time, for both of us.  My Junior High PTSD was triggered and his was just beginning.  My kids are still amazing and funny and brilliant and talented....maybe I'm not? Don't freak out I am NOT looking for sympathy here, I am truly just trying to dig deeper into this instead of hitting the easy button - "I went back to work".

Now that No.2 son has gotten through year one of Junior Hell I am looking into what it is that has descended upon our house. Puberty? That what the SMELL is!!

The boys are getting older, busier, more independent (in some ways, they still can't find the dishwasher).  Our relationship is changing as it should, but I've not only lost my voice, I've lost my place. I am not sure where to fit in anymore. It's not easy being Mom to a teenage boys. What are my choices?

or

There maybe more grey area than I think here.

My life at the moment...

Being the mom of two teenage boys is not something a book or friend can prepare you for, particularly the mood swings and snarky comments.

So Friday is a day going down in history when on I got an email from my now 16 year old son after he left for school.
TO: Mom
FROM: Son
SUBJECT: Hey check this out....
Mom - You ARE smart!!! Casey Niestat VLOG - YouTube
(FYI - Watch this after you read the blog it will make WAY more sense but still make you crack up)

My son just recently turned 16 and the day before his surprise birthday party he attended the neighbor girls 16th birthday party.  He was not really excited to go which he told me 100 times. He felt like she was just inviting him because they are neighbors the same age that grew up together. He said he never see's her at school and doesn't really hang out with anyone in that group. But he went.

The next morning as I am scrambling to organize the last detail of his party I was also trying to get him out of his grumpy @$$ mood.  He was in his room looking sound asleep so I went in and laid down on his bed too. I told him I felt like I could sleep for a week. He grunted a whatever noise. I asked if he was tired.  He grunted a no noise.  (I have become an expert at dis-gruntling grunts)

Knowing that the male species needs time and space to properly disgrunt I just lay there waiting.  Soon he said "I was just laying here wondering why I don't have any friends?" This is not a new conversation.  We have been having this conversation at least once a year since 4th grade.  He never really connected or fit in with the boys in his grade school and when he did finally make two good friends in 6th grade - they both moved away.

Anywho - here we were hours before I need to get him to his Surprise 16th Birthday party which three of his friends helped me organize. I gave them free range to invite any and all of the kids they saw fit. The guest list was about 30 kids.  And here he was telling me how he didn't have any friends, I was hoping that they all showed up!!

What I did say was that he had three really good friends that the knew he could count on - which is more than I can count. I explained that in life we will cycle through friends that work or don't work depending on where we are and where they are along the way.  Making circles with my hands I said you have three good friends in this small intimate circle, you have a lot more people in this bigger circle that you may not see everyday but you enjoy hanging out with them or see them doing a sport season.  Then there is this larger group of people that you know through other people, sports, the neighborhood, school in general, or maybe just social media. I reminded him gently, since I really didn't want to start a fight or further gruntle the mood, that these are the people he could reach out to more instead of just watching them on Instagram and wishing he were part of the fun.

My son is a lot like me and I explained, not for the first time, that I had a hard time making friends in high school also. That I hung out more in the teachers lounge than in the hallway. (I was NOT dating teachers I just got along better with them than my peers - let me make that clear!) I always hung out with a group of seniors and my two best friends growing up where my grandmothers. For what ever reason, I gravitate told people that are older than me.

It wasn't until after high school that several girls that I thought hated me explained that they were just too intimidated by me.  They said I was so confident. HA! When I explained that I was probably 10x more scared than anyone in the room - ALWAYS - and they were blown away. Because that is not how I carried myself.  Well then - where is my Oscar??

We talked a little more about how I think that because he is 6'4", carries himself with an air of confidence whether he is having a panic attack or not (like his mom), and the fact that he can talk to anyone - like the principal, athletic director, teachers- intimidates most high school kids.  And then I threw him out of bed and into a shower because we had to get him to his party somehow.

Well, we did get him to his party - he was totally surprised! And overwhelmed. Not just on Sunday but at school the next day by how many people that couldn't make it said Happy Birthday. I was hoping that it would have a lasting effect....I guess his email to me is proof I said something right.

To Be a Teenager - Or Not To Be. Is that the question?

How naive - how stupid of me! To think that once that you are done being a teenager, you are done being a teenager.

Will I ever be done being a teenager?

I don't remember feeling quite as assaulted or hurt even in High School (and High School was BAD for me) as I have by the words of my own teenage son.  I'm not talking about the occasional flippant backtalk. I'm talking about the comments that come out of nowhere and hit you like a stray bullet from a drive by shooting.  The kind of words that make me defensive and angry before I can even register and I start spewing back- only to feel horrible and suddenly like a teenager all over again.

My oldest son has a way of laying in wait for a long time and then like a cobra strikes without warning. Rearing up in the most menial conversation and delivering the lethal blow so casually.  My youngest son does not wait but strikes constantly like a hyena he just keeps up the barrage some witty and some with deadly.

Perhaps you have children like this also? Or is it just me?  Do my children know how to push my button because I have shown them just exactly how to find those buttons? Or because I have shown them how to strike? I think that is what causes me the greatest pains as of late.  The children I have raised are a direct reflection of me I know...and I do not like all that I see.

The parts that break my heart are those that I have to take responsibility for utterly and completely.  It would be wonderful to give up that responsibility by blaming all manner of others but alas, I can not. This is most certainly my doing - or more accurately my not doing.  I do my best to avoid all manner of confrontation unless A. We are on the highway traveling 70 mph and I will never see you again B. We live in the same house.  The old saying is that you only hurt the ones you love the most. That was a skill not only learned but honed in my house growing up. We were the very picture of perfectly dysfunctional family.

I was talking with a friend from High School the other day and we were reflecting on our families, our town, our upbringing.  Both of us raised Catholic we have long ago walked away from that church for many reasons some similar.  One thing we both said was how hypocritical it felt that so many we knew regarded themselves as Holy because they went to church on Sunday. I'm not the first person to remark that just because you go to church on Sunday doesn't give you freedom to be an Asshole the other 6 days.

But as I said those words it dawned on me, that just because I think I am a good person doesn't necessarily mean I am one.  The measure of that is what?  Well, in my opinion it's how you behave when no one is looking....or more importantly, when your kids are looking. 

Am I a good person when I never speak out, always mind others, and take it on the chin? No. Because keeping your mouth shut in all the time means blowing up like a raging lunatic in front of or worse yet at my kids.  They do not see the hurt they only get to feel it and never have a clue why. This is just honing their skill at showing the world only one face while showing your loved ones the other.

The kindness that I try to spread everyday in my life: opening a door, smiling at a stranger, letting someone by in traffic, offering excellent customer service even in the harshest of interactions, giving my time to help others in need.....my kids do not see any of it. They see the frazzled and frayed mom who had patience at 6 am but by 6 pm is throwing dinner and barking orders at them.  Who never takes time for herself because there is no time, who doesn't take vacation with them because there is no money, and who spends her weekends playing caught up on sleep, chores, and cooking.

I was lamenting the other day and a friend said "It's all teenagers. Hang in there. Besides you don't think we gave our parents this much angst? Ha.Ha" 

No Actually. I do not think that I gave my parents this kind of angst. I think I caused them worry - is she sleeping with that boy, is she smoking pot, where is she tonight partying somewhere or lying dead in a ditch.  I do not think that my parents ever had a personal or existential crisis regarding their very being.

Is it just me? Is this another weird wacky "me" thing that only I wrestle with? How will my children learn true love, kindness, hard work, perseverance, stewardship, social responsibility?  I guess it begs the question - Do we learn these things only from only our parents? Or only after our parents?  Because on further reflection I have to wonder, Where did I learn these things? And When?

This is a 50 thing isn't it!!!!  On the heels of turning yet another milestone corner will I finally get to put the teenager in me to bed once and for all and feel like a grown up.....or do I just get to feel old?

Am I in Trouble?

I've been trying to consciously keep better track of my kids funny moments so that I can jot them down. It's not easy when we are this damn busy running around. But I found one!

This fall my husband was out of town so I was the only option to work "our" shift for the Football concession stand. A chore every sports parent has to do in fall season.  Both boys wanted to go to the football game anyway so it was a Win-Win. At least for us, not the Football team as someone had to lose.

Anyway my 15 year-old took off for his band friends which I am not cool enough for. (HA!) My 12 year-old, I was trying to keep some what of a leash on, considering. This is my child that had he been lost in the airport in England at age three would have found us before we could have found him. However, I was trying to be the parent somewhere between helicopter and free range.

I never say him all night. When I did find him it was time to bug out so he waved me over to a dark corner under the bleachers. I felt like I was meeting a drug dealer. Not that I have ever done that, at a football game. Anyway I told him I was headed to the car and that I needed him and his friend to head toward the car when the clock ran down to 2 minutes so that we could get out of there before it was a madhouse. He said OK that's fine. Just don't talk to me when I'm with my friends -we are hanging out by the ticket booth.

Excuse me?

"You know, just pretend you don;t know me when you leave, cause you have to walk by us and Z said you can be a real dork in front of his friends."

I stood there stunned under the freaking bleachers as he looked both ways before running away from me. LIKE I WAS THE DRUG DEALER. or worse, like I was his mom.

Now I am not so naive to think that I am the cool mom. In fact I have never aspired to be the cool mom. When I as in high school the cool mom's where the ones that stocked the garage fridge with beer or kept their pot in their nightstand. I AM not that mom. But being called a dork by band kids?

Am I in trouble??

Why haven't I written more....

The sole reason of this blog, truly, was so that someday when my boys said "Where's MY baby book? You don't have any pictures of my third birthday?! You don't remember my first words."  I could say no, BUT I wrote down a lot of other stuff.

When they were younger it was easier. They were cute, the stories were cute. By Junior high, the stories are not so cute anymore. I seem to start to write about them and it turns into a rant about the world we live in.  A friend was lamenting the other day about these ages and the era of - FORTNITE.  Why didn't anyone tell me about this! They said, Oh babies are so hard you'll be so tired, but you will forget it and do it all over again.  No one said, This is as good as it gets. Being tired, being in control, knowing where they are at and what they are doing. Enjoy it. It goes too fast.

sigh.........................

So I'm here to write to my boys. Inhale that baby smell, everyday, even at 3 am when you have been up for 24 hours and sleep is not in the near future. Tickle that toddler, kiss that curious questioner, laugh at the laboriousness of teaching a pre-schooler anything. (because you will say it 500 times before it sinks in)  Smile at shoes on the wrong feet, and Batman in the backseat on Sunday Morning. In all fairness, you did say "Dress-up clothes".

Be patient with the I hate broccoli, I love broccoli, I hate broccoli, I love broccoli.  When you are teaching them to tie a shoe, ride a bike, or set the table.  Let them help you crack eggs, make cookies, clean the house, the yard, the car and don't worry if it is messier after you are finished. I promise they are learning.

What comes next gets messier and scarier than a skinned knee. A little cold. A tummy-ache.  Did I let you cry enough? Too much? Becomes, can he get expelled, kicked off the team, arrested? Laying awake at night to watch them breathe becomes laying awake at night wondering if they are breathing and where? Making yourself sick. What kind of a parent am I? How did this happen?

My boys haven't stopped being cute. Quite the opposite. They are very cute, beautiful, smart, athletic, kind, funny, talented. I would rather hang out with them then anyone else. They are awesome.  Maybe that's part of it.  They are awesome, they have lives that are getting bigger and mine is getting smaller. I revolve around them. They are my Sun. I am their Pluto.....but that's ok.

But what I will say to them as new parents is the late nights and worry will not end, you just won't always have them in your arms. So while  you do enjoy every moment you can. Sleep when they do, pray, laugh, and love, love love. Be a lighthouse of love beaming out to them at all times so they can always find their way home.

Ask yourself a lot - What would Grandma do? Then do that thing. Do not wait 50 years to enjoy yours kid's kids. Spoil them once in a while, play with them often, take a pictures (or 500), write a blog or a note or a post. Read to them, sing to them, dance with them no matter how old they get. Kiss them every chance you get even if they are 6'3" on Varsity and have a girlfriend.

No matter what - keep the light beaming. I promise I will.