Secret #8 - I was a teenage runaway...

for about a day and a half.

Stupid, really. As most teenage girls figure out, living in the house with two fairly grown women wasn't easy and was often sheer torture. (I am working very hard to keep my daughter grounded and the lines of communication open so that I don't have to live in the hell I put my own mother through.) I decided that since no one understood me in my own home, I would go live with my boyfriend and his family. Idiotic! How freakin' dysfunctional do you have to be to allow some one's kid into your home who is obviously not abused but spoiled beyond belief? I should have been paddled and sent to my room like the 5 year old I was impersonating.

I did smarten up quite a bit when I had spent a weekend at the above home. It was creepy and strange and I didn't want to be with my boyfriend 24/7. But Mom-chick didn't allow us to drive. And I had left my car to sneak out as you cannot run away in secret in a VW bug! Silly bug mufflers!

So we walked.

We walked 7 miles to my house. I thought at the time that I would just drop from exhaustion. Dork! Said boyfriend even piggy backed me for some of the time. Colossal Dork! You would have thought that the blisters on my feet would serve to remind me that I was ill prepared for real life and I should be more grateful for what my home provided.

You would be wrong. I was not that smart.

I arrived home to find my precious VW with a for sale sign on it. I was in absolute shock! How could they have done such a thing??? I was missing after all! And all they could do was think to sell my things??? What a spoiled brat I was. Narcissistic and rude. I stomped into the house, forgetting how shame filled I had been moments before and demanded to know what was going on.

My parents, infinitely wise beyond my comprehension at the time, simply grounded my butt and told me unless I straightened up the car would indeed be sold. Funny, as mad as I was, I didn't think to leave again until much later.

I thank my mom and dad for their reactions to my fits of spoiled behaviour. It didn't really sink in how selfish I had been until much later in my life, and for that I am sorry. I realized later how much it must have terrified my mother to be sitting at home, not knowing (or worse yet, knowing exactly) where I was and not being able to do anything about it.

As a parent, the worst realization I have had has been to completely understand that my children have wills of their own now. They can and will make choices based on my teachings and based on their desires at the time. That is truly a terrifying prospect, one that stops my heart a little bit. I can only hope that my children were endowed with a better sense of courtesy than I was. I hope that they are inherently kinder than me and I hope that I can keep from going on a murderous rampage should the same situation arise for them. Or maybe a good rampage will be just what they need...

Mama always said...

I love that song... Mama said there'd be days like this - And there were! I love that thought. That somehow your mom could let you know, in a subtle and comforting way, that this is just one day. It might be a tedious day, filled with mundane tasks and errands and laundry, or it might be a wonderful day... One that catches the light just right and makes you smile at every turn. That's the wonderful things about Moms... They know that you need a little encouragement at critical times to keep going. My mom is pretty good at that!

My mother is a very special person in my life. She doesn't know it and she is often plagued by worries that she somehow did it all wrong. But she didn't. She got most of it so very right. There isn't anything about who I am that I don't owe to my mother in some fashion and that can't be anything but the right answer.

My mom is strong. She weathered things in her life that I hope I am never, ever, ever faced with. She not only weathered them, she was victorious over them! She rose from the rubble, pulled up her boot straps, brushed herself off... Whatever cliche you want to insert here - She survived and then she flourished! I am very proud of her for never giving up, never allowing life to frighten her into submission. She simply stood up and took the next step, giving me the definition of strength as she did it.

Mom was a single working parent for many years, before it was cool. She didn't complain about it, she just did it. There were two children (at the time) to feed and clothe and rent to pay and bills to meet. She had an obligation where men failed. She couldn't or simply wouldn't walk away. I get that. I do that too. Where there is a need, I meet it when I have the ability. Because it is the right thing to do, and it needs done. Not doing just isn't an option.

I have often reassured her that I am who I am today, that person that she loves so much, because of how I grew up. She didn't get it wrong. She got it all right! I am responsible because I earned my privileges. I am loving because I learned love from her. I am loyal and honest because she taught me sometimes your word is all you have. I am strong because I learned being weak and whiny isn't an option and it damned sure isn't effective! I am also opinionated, quick tempered and sometimes easily offended. I take it all, because it makes me a part of her too.

We share a lot of each other, Mom and me, and I am glad. I worry only that I won't get it right with my own children. I want them to know want, so that the getting is sweeter. I want them to hurt a little so that the healing is appreciated. I want them to have heart break so that they will know what true love really feels like. I say that, but I don't know what I will do when it comes for my own. I hope that I am strong like my mother and I can be the one to give a solid example to them in their trial.

My Montage

Wendy at On The Front Porch had this post that intrigued me. I have lots of random moments that crash in on my life during the week that I can't make into an entire post, so I have collected them here... Thanks, Wendy! Great idea!

• I'm in one of those incredibly obnoxious warehouse stores the other day, extremely relieved that I have only one more aisle to go, when I happen upon them... Two ladies in hair nets, obviously sample ladies, having an incredible conversation. Sample Lady #1 is firing questions at a rapid pace at Sample Lady #2, all the while sputtering around her station, tidying this, straightening that...Literally not standing still and not listening for any answers from Sample Lady #2. And Sample Lady #2 is following her around, almost as frantically attempting to answer each question as it comes, stopping mid sentence to start another response! Both women's bobbing hair nets crossing the aisle multiple times before and after I passed them. I actually smiled and giggled as I rounded the corner, relieved to know that when I become that obnoxious lady who is too impatient to wait for answers, there will still be a friend for me.
• When did I become such a facinating person that enthralls my pre-teen daughter? Girl has been so desperate for what she deems "Girl Days" she even came to town with me today to run errands and go grocery shopping! Shocking - And incredibly wonderful!
• Why is it that when I actually take the time to make dinner on a night before a horseshow am I ever surprised that Hubby will change his plans and run off to do stuff until the late hours of the night leaving the dinner cooling on the stove and his wife fuming on the couch?
• I am incredibly excited and distracted by the looming trip I leave for on Tuesday... I am also realizing that I have inherited my mother's penchant for panicking right before a trip and making myself miserable with all the mental preparation! Seriously! I WANT to do this trip - I need to act like it!
• I watched as Boy used the weed whacker today and realized that my little boy is no longer little. He is now a power tool using young man. He was covered by shredded vegetation and is tonight a weary soul. A couple of hours in the sun did more to his mom's heart than he will ever know!

Those are my pieces... Some little more than rant and ramble, but that's them!

Wisdom of old

As a child, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. It was an arrangement of necessity as my mom was a working woman and a single parent for a large part of my growing up. I say large part - that is how my mind perceives it, but it can't be all that accurate.
Anyway, in those days while mom worked, I was able to loose myself in the surroundings of my grandparent's home. It was an absolutely wonderful way to grow up. Not only was I safe, but I spent more time with my grandma (being a grandma, not a surrogate parent) and grandpa than most kids ever get to. I was there at least 10 hours a day, spent many nights there and came away with a love and respect for my grandparents that I cherish deeply.

In their way, they imparted a certain wisdom to me that I couldn't have gotten any other way. And because I received it from them directly, I have held it close to my heart as each has passed on.

My grandfather used to tell me with a seriousness I didn't truly understand until much later, "Poor folk have to buy the very best things they can. Don't skimp on price!" It wasn't until later in my life (after all, Grandpa died when I was 16 and knew it all) that I understood fully what that meant. When you don't have "extra," make those important purchases once. Spend the money once to get the very best, so that you don't have to spend money multiple times to replace shoddy equipment. This goes for cars, homes, appliances, furniture-just about anything you can buy. I have assimilated this philosophy into my life and sometimes have to roll my eyes loudly at Hubby to get him to apply it as well.

My grandmother was a resourceful woman who lived through the depression gaining all kinds of knowledge about how to make ends meet. It is from her quiet example that I learned to learn. Nana made it plain that all things are not possible if you are poorer, but the library was a wonderful place to start researching how to do it yourself! I learned how to type at her dining room table, I learned to heat soup on the stove, I learned that the library was a vast, unexplored paradise that could take me away and bring me down to earth all at the same time! I could learn how to make cookies, explore other countries, travel back in time or just sit at an old library table and people watch. The library was only a two block walk from her door and I was almost always allowed to go there. In fact, I think I only remember one time that she grounded me from the quiet, cool building one summer, and I am pretty sure I deserved every bit of my punishment.

Grandpa was unaware of the next thing he taught me, as most men blissfully are. I learned to try to leave a little bit behind for the next person. It might shock you that a man grown up during the depression era would leave anything behind, but my grandfather always left me a little something in his black metal lunchbox. He would pick me up as I ran to meet him, returning home from working at the Transit Mix plant. He worked hard and drove a concrete truck in the days when that was not a safe endeavor. He could have easily snarfed down his entire lunch every day, but he didn't. He always sat me on the metal counter of the rolling cabinet in the kitchen with that round-top box and smiled as he kissed his wife and watched me dig in. It was rare that there wasn't something saved back for just me. A cookie or two, a slice of apple, some sweet crackers... And always the smell of oranges. He always had an orange in the box, but he always ate that. The peels would be there, stacked up neatly in a corner, scenting the box with a sweet citrus smell that still wafts me back to that counter top.

My grandmother also contributed one more nugget of information that I cannot leave here without telling you. She often told me, "There will always be another load of laundry, another sink of dishes, another phone call to answer... Your kids will grow up and move away and you won't get that back." She reminded me often, before her death, that taking care of my family was paramount to any other endeavor I could possibly take on. The memories I leave my kids with are lasting, even the things I think are small. They can be good memories, or I can leave them with that empty spot that has those troubled memories in them. I can take time out of my day to hug and cuddle and talk, or I can spring for therapy later. She used to say, "Unless you are going to walk around naked and very thin, those things will always be there waiting for you." And so, my house is not a clean house, but like my daughter says, "It looks like a family lives here," and isn't that what I'm aiming for?