Telling Stories

If you start telling me a story that you’ve told me more than once, I will join you and we will say it together, in unison. I have a hard-enough time paying attention to anybody at any time for any reason so try to keep it entertaining. A few lovely individuals have shared some real gems with me.

These stories are not only entertaining, but they also explain why I’m friends with these women…

Let’s say you woke up late, quickly got your kid ready for school, got in the car and rushed to the drop off line. Feeling disheveled, but relieved that he made it relatively on time, you run around to his door to let him out and say goodbye. Maybe you got a few side eyes because you didn’t have time to fix your hair. Jeez. You think about how other parents can be so judgmental, then pull into your garage. As you walk into your room, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and then you see it. See through pants. This wouldn’t be so bad if you had been wearing anything underneath them, but of course you weren’t. You have now gone to third base with the Assistant Principal, the Yard Duty teacher, a few parents and their kids.

I advised her that she may need to register as some kind of offender. I’m not sure what category this falls into.

Next up, a gold medalist in embarrassing herself and sharing it with me. Why she continues to give me weapons for my arsenal even though she knows I will use it later, I’ll never know.

Equality is important. When having a gathering at your home and everyone is drinking out back, why should women have to go inside to pee while the guys just walk over to a bush?? It seems unfair so maybe it’s time you took a stand or popped a squat. That is exactly what she did. Dropping trou and wisely bracing herself against the stucco wall in her backyard, she relieved herself like the lady she is. If only she didn’t have to pee for so long. She will forever be reminded of her bravery by the long scratches, blood and bruising she incurred on her backside. Not to mention, splashing into the puddle that accumulated just underneath her. Step aside bra burners, nobody puts baby in a corner! Bless your heart.

The following story is the one I can relate to the most.

Amazon is an addiction. We woman know this, we struggle. Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that you’ve had a few adult beverages and decide to do a little Amazon shopping. What could go wrong? Everything. All the things can go wrong. Sometimes it works out and you get a lovely surprise gift to yourself from yourself and sometimes you buy personalized gifts for your husband with his name misspelled. Hopefully, one day, he’ll stop asking you who in the hell Jafon is.

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t want to hear about how having Irritable Bowel Syndrome has been a real challenge for you, but I REALLY DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. However, if you crap your pants, absolutely tell me. That’s the shit I live for.

I feel a little hypocritical because I will listen to some people’s stories over and over and never tire of them. I love these humans so it’s ok. My boyfriend tells the story of living in a cave in Spain with a donkey and something about a gypsy and it thrills me to no end. As soon as he says it, people look at me for confirmation that this is factual. I nod and say, “I know, it’s crazy, but it’s true”. Mind you, I was not there and cannot actually attest to it being true, but I oblige, nonetheless. 

This last one is not from any of my people. This is a disturbing story about a woman who clearly doesn’t know the line between just enough and too much information. By some evil twist of fate, she has come into a portion of my life. I assume this is punishment for every wrong thing I have done in life ever. When I asked how she was doing, she proceeded to tell me about her raging UTI. That seemed bad enough, but it did not end there. While making small talk with a pal of mine, she was again asked how she was doing and her response was, “you know, JUST LIVING ON VAGISIL”.

WHY??

This is information that nobody needs. What kind of response should one have to that Vagina Monologue? “Well, you’re in my prayers”? Our Lord and Savior doesn’t want to know that. The angels covered their holy ears. The devil himself is blocking your entrance to hell because it’s JUST TOO MUCH. I need you to never speak about your nether regions in the presence of others.

I’ve taken the liberty of reporting you to Homeland Security because if this isn’t terrorism, I don’t know what is.

A Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

You are forever 30 in my mind, which is weird since I’m 37. As I was cleaning my house and getting rid of so many things, I saw this photo of us. I framed it about 10 years ago because I just loved it so much.

I put it in my purse because I just wanted to have it on my desk at work where I can see it more often. We have so many great pictures and even better memories, I wondered why this picture means so much to me. Obviously, your hair and sunglasses are amazing, but I think it’s the way that you’re holding me and the way I am holding on to you. My protector, my guide and my nurturer. As an adult, I realize that what you are most is my compass. You will forever be who I turn to when I am unsure about which direction to go or what path to take. I come to you when I am happy, when I have good news or bad news and most of all, when I need to remember who I am. You are home to me.

As I have journeyed through life thus far, I’ve realized that what I have in the way of family is the exception. People aren’t this lucky, this blessed, or this loved. I often joke that I should be better because I have the absolute best parents and you always say, “no, you are so good”. You always lifted me up and made me believe that I could do anything. Thank you. I never doubted that I was capable, smart, strong, kind, beautiful and worthy because of you. Thank you.

I know that right now you would say that it is God in you that I see. His love, His grace, His compassion and wisdom. You are right, and I acknowledge that completely because the other gift you have given me is faith. Thank you.

When I think back to being a child or a teenager, all I can say is, I get it now. I used to wonder why you worried so much, why you cared so much, why you did so much. I get it now. I would move mountains and fight tigers for my kids and I worry far too much.

Even today, you are constantly giving your time and attention to your kids and grandkids. When I thank you, you say that you feel so blessed that you can help. Seriously, the world needs more of you and I think…what a different world it would be if more people had mothers like you. A mom who shows up, who loves unconditionally, who is humble and constantly evolving. What a difference that would make.

I can’t imagine I will ever be an age that I don’t need you. I will always need you. I am so grateful that I can hear your voice in my head. Before you say it, yes, it’s all good things!

A lot of parents give their kids hundreds of reasons to get therapy. Thanks for not doing that and letting me go out and create my own reasons. Ha! C’mon, you know I had to lighten the mood.

I love you with every ounce of my soul. I hope I only get better, evolve and make you proud. Lord knows I am proud that you’re my mom.

Thank you for letting me see you and know you completely. It is by far the biggest gift of all. Because you did, I know that it’s ok to:

Make mistakes

Worry

Love so hard I might actually burst

Force people to eat every time they come to my house

Make a mess

Dance in the kitchen

Have empathy

Get mad when it’s warranted

Have the second glass of wine

Make time for my girlfriends

Pick up a good book in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep

Talk to myself

Laugh at myself

Stand up for myself

Draw boundaries in life

Love myself

Forgive myself

Move on

Thank you for the loving way you held me in that swing and for holding me in your heart every single day.

I am my Mother’s daughter, and nothing makes me happier. I love you.

Love, Dolly

P.S. Pops, your letter is coming ❤