Living

I propped my hip on her kitchen counter and began straddling an imaginary chasm. Seemingly without effort we each contributed guiltlessly to our heretical conversation feeding off of one another's transparency like drunken sailors. We came to no conclusion and both felt slightly bewildered at the end wondering if we had just been transported to a dramedy sitcom and were waiting for canned laughter or if we were supposed to cry. 

"Here we all are in our late 30's and early 40's with one foot on the old us from our 20's and early 30's when all was right in our worlds, when mothering, scrapbooking and starting home based businesses like Mary Kay and baby slings felt exciting and fulfilling."

"The other foot slips awkwardly around on the future us of our 50's who we are told will experience the feminist awakening and travel alone for pleasure and spend every penny on grandchildren and hair."

"But do we want to dive into the present?"

"The empty transitional self stays home too much, tries to find fulfillment in social media (the Diet Coke of relationships) and no longer cares about laundry or eating broccoli with dinner or basically anything... spending an inordinate amount of time reading timehop and wondering if we used to be that happy or if we were faking it."

"While deep down we know that all of the versions of ourselves just need to draw close to God but we can't because we're so saddled with very heavy emotional baggage we are clinging to like a crazy lady carrying all of her groceries inside in one trip."

You know when men ask "Oh you saw her today, how is she? What did she have to say?" Well... Now you know.

The day I realized Americans obsess over bathrooms

I ask you a question, are you distracted by issues engineered to cause enmity in America? I am not a fan of the bathroom drama because I think it's polarizing. A quick uninformed recap: Transexual people make a big deal about going into ladies bathrooms which I presume they've been doing for years, then everyone else makes a big deal as though they can actually make and enforce laws against it and I'm over here like... What is everyone even talking about? You do know we are the most privileged country in the world to have this many bathrooms right? America probably has more toilets than people. It's insane! And frankly, I'm not nearly as worried about everyone's safety in the restrooms as I am about our lavish waste. How many stalls do they make for the men's bathrooms that stand empty while all of us ladies with our little kiddies in tow cross our legs and stand and wait? Who thought up this elaborate bathroom scenario where my husband with three daughters stands within 20 feet of 20 toilets uncomfortable with every option. I'll stop here short of announcing that all of the public restrooms in America should be reconfigured. I'm no engineer but it's dumb. 

I don't see any outcry against homosexuals going in bathrooms with heterosexuals so all of the hooplah has a very hollow ring for me. I think sex designated restrooms are an archaic, ridiculous, weird, pointless exercise. If we are worried about transexuals getting beat up in the men's rooms or just feeling out of place and girls being targeted by pedophiles through the loophole, maybe we need to think bigger. Maybe we need restrooms for everyone with fully enclosed stalls. Maybe we need a little privacy, not a million special exceptions. Maybe we should conserve and think wisely. You know, the more elaborate we all get with our restroom expectations, the more we pay for whatever we buy at these stores. 

Here's the other thing, forget all about the sexual preferences and just picture yourself in Target on any random day. Ok who do we see? Moms with their kids (boring), dads with their kids(out of control), grandparents with their grandkids (going broke), goofy teenagers way over the top with the PDA and excessive junk food purchases, single young professionals buying keurig pods, a BIKER!? Wow, that is interesting he's with a little girl in a pink tutu. Let's hope she wasn't kidnapped! Ok now go in the bathroom. Who is there? All of those ordinary people. Now enter the dastardly pedophile. He walks in... Damn there's a scary biker in the ladies room with his little tutu clad beauty helping her into the stall instead of sending her in there alone because he's welcome to do that now. The pedophile looks for an easy target but his eyes meet the steely gaze of the biker. Game over. Let's try a different scenario. Lucky pedophile enters and finds easy prey but he knows a man or woman could walk in at any second. Not so easy as it was when only women were coming in here. Let's try again, pedophile gets caught in the act by me. I scream like a girl and men run into the ladies room without inhibition. After all they are welcome here now. Men are bigger scarier and stronger than me. And most of them are dying to be a hero. 

In conclusion, this is just about the dumbest argument I've ever seen America get into and I contend that the bathrooms will be neither more nor less dangerous. The danger could increase for older kids and teens but it will certainly decrease for toddlers and small children. As long as the men keep the restroom clean and start carrying pocket knives again like any self respecting American, I say come on in. Make the pervs squirm. And about the transgender movement. I have no idea why they care which bathroom they're in because I don't as long as it's clean. But come on in! What we really need is gender neutral bathrooms with fully enclosed stalls like Israel and a neutral hand washing area. 

I will clarify that changing into gym clothes at school is a whole different ball of wax. No boys allowed! 

Hold them tight

Today Eden put her hair in a messy bun and left it. She did the same thing yesterday. It's a small step toward becoming the confident woman I see emerging. Morning after morning I have driven her to school for these two years of middle school. Her journey has been at times excruciating and at times amazing. One agony was in watching her come out of her bedroom wearing something beautiful or exotic for school and then at the last possible second retreat and change into something plain or ordinary and walk out the door with her shoulders hunched. It killed me. I couldn't convince her she looked amazing. Day after day I would watch her put her hair into a bold messy bun or braids only to jerk it all down on the drive to school and drag her fingers through a kinky mess then put on a bored expression and walk into school. I tried to see into her heart and imagine the struggle of wanting to express yourself confidently in a big school and then losing the nerve. I never went to middle school. I don't know what she's gone through. That makes it harder. It reminds me of my kids getting a virus and then catching it myself. If only I'd known how miserable they were when they caught it and not after! Oh Eden, I so wish you hadn't had to survive such a grueling experience. I wish I had focused so much more on lifting you up than complaining about how heavy you were getting. 

So I dropped her off and she said she loved me and walked inside, no drama, messy bun intact with her comfy clothes on. I have waited and waited for this day. That's when I realized something was happening with the car in front of mine. A mom and daughter were outside by the passenger door and the mom seemed flustered. The daughter seemed undecided then started to walk away and the mom stood there for a second watching then began walking around her car to the drivers door but then the girl said something and and the mom looked up. They both tried to walk opposite ways around the car back to one another and then finally the girl bumbled her way back to her mommy. She pressed her face into her mothers shoulder and the mom wrapped her arms tightly around her. I felt tears and said "oh baby" to myself just like I was that mom. The scene reached my core. Gone are the days of idle speculation, judgement and morbid curiosity. Here are the days of solidarity, support and finding the familiar in a stranger. 

When you stand at the threshold of parenting a middle schooler listen to me. Every time they throw you a curve ball, hug them and keep loving and stay consistent. They are essentially going through another toddler stage, trying everything you broke them of as toddlers and are just as desperate for your quiet solid strength and comfort now as they were at 2. Don't forget to hold them tight. 

Fist bump to the random lady in driveline. You are such a good momma.

A Product of My Environment

Yesterday I was driving to pick up a mid century dresser for Eden to resell. I guess I've passed the baton. She seems to have the Midas touch. That phrase always makes me think of tire stores... So I mulled over the man's address while observing he had been the most laid back seller in all of history... More on that later. I thought "hm Terry St.! I bet that house is a hundred years old! What's the best way to get a tour? I know, I'll be reserved but enthralled." I pulled up to the craziest claptrap old house since D. Herbert and I would stake my honor, if he had been relegated to a townie life, I'm certain he would have lived in such a peculiar contraption. There seemed to be fences of various heights and materials running everywhere with holes cut in circles for apparently no reason. My eyes darted every direction trying to discern the purpose of all of these things. Why didn't I take pictures!? He grandly swept open the most ornately carved door I've ever seen on the tiniest little cottage imaginable and propelled me inside with pomp. He expected me to be amazed and yes I was but perhaps in not the way he anticipated. The little cottage had been hacked and chopped on, removing low ceilings, creating vaults and beams...an added entry room, walls were painted colors that made me flinch and knick-knacks galore. Strange knick-knacks, like head mannequins with wigs, a bucket full of ancient umbrellas, geckos and southwestern cacti, a magenta plush couch, all of the feathers from an owl in a glass case, a small rodent skeleton and of course a chihuahua locked in a bedroom because if he let her out she would "get me." Everything in my house falls into four categories; somebody's castoff, handmade, a gift or Jody bought it. So meeting this man in his strange little home comes naturally to me. I've bought thousands and thousands of dollars worth of stuff from all manner of people just like my father before me and his mother before him. He showed me the first dresser which was crammed so tightly with belongings that I felt a sinking dread. People, buyers don't want to see what's in your drawers... any kind of drawers. My mind calculated 10 minutes to unload that thing... no way. We moved on to the Kent Coffey piece I had actually come for and it was loaded to the gills as well. My heart sank. I told him I would take it and he spontaneously decided to give me a tour. I had tried to appear politely disinterested but he was oblivious. We did the tour. Apparently every owner in its history had tinkered excessively with it while keeping copious notes in a large leather satchel which was always passed to the new owner. The clock was ticking but he rambled on with inconceivable details finally coming close enough to me for a poof of alcohol to hit my nostrils. Every friend I have would have freaked ou about their vulnerable position alone in a house with an inebriated stranger. I didn't, but I did observe that must be why he was so chilI about me changing my pickup time three times. We all have fears but that one just isn't mine because I've always been more comfortable around men. I spent most of my childhood in the company of men and I know the bad ones. I drifted in and out of the monologue until he mentioned that an herbalist had once lived there and planted the whole yard in herbs... my ears perked up. We finally returned to the dresser and he slowly began unloading drawers. I strolled out to the front porch absently waiting and he brought me the first drawer. My eyes landed on a plant. And something started humming in my brain. 

"Do you think that's a comfrey plant!?" I asked very excitedly. I have always wanted my own comfrey plant so badly. 

"Probably so!" He answered.

His answer seemed too prompt and enthusiastic but I remembered his inebriated state. 

"Does it get little blooms?!" I asked hopefully.

"Sure it does" he said carelessly.

I felt like he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. I pulled up a pic of a blooming comfrey. "Like that?"

"Yes! Just like that!" He said. 

I inwardly rolled my eyes at his effusive tipsy behavior.

"Why? Do you want to dig it up?" 

"Yes! Can I really have it?"

"Sure!" A drunk man will give you the shirt off his back.

We loaded the dresser and he acquired a kitchen spoon to dig up the plant. Apparently he had already given his yard tools to his grown kids. We tried digging but to no avail. He went back inside and returned holding a buck knife with easily an 8 inch blade. He flashed it sheepishly and said "don't be alarmed by my tool, my son gave it to me as a present... He did two tours."

I laughed and said "just don't tell him you cut dirt with it. My brother is a knife guy too. 

In retrospect, I think most women I know would need smelling salts at this juncture but enormous hunting knives have always been a part of my life and it was only in the hand of a harmless happy guy. I would find a baseball bat more alarming. He handily dug up the comfrey and delivered it to my grocery bag and I came home with the happiest smile ever on my face. 

My night wasn't over, I still needed to go to Highlands Ranch. I had no anticipation for this. Highlands Ranch is just a maze of cookie cutter houses. I drove the hour there wishing I could still call my dad and chat him up about my escapade but alas he's far happier where he is and I don't wish him back for my pleasure. 

When I turned into the neighborhood I realized it was a gated community. That's not exactly common in Colorado though I have encountered it here and there. Then I saw a sign advertising new builds at three times the price of my house. I felt a little curious but not excited. When I pulled up at the house the most amazing chandelier I have ever seen was shining through a transom window above the front door. I sat and stared. I was in love. I rang the bell and she opened the door seeming unaware of her house but my thrill could not be contained. I was standing in the middle of a DWR catalog with five beautiful children milling around. I have been in a lot of houses. Probably 75 a year, but this house was flat out my favorite. Well, Tory Bond had a close second but only because her kitchen wasn't done yet. Had it been done that old 4,000 sq foot rambler probably would have won.

(Update 6-26-16 Tory sent me this 😍

https://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/55685315/list/my-houzz-fresh-update-for-a-midcentury-ranch-in-denver)

I've been counter shopping with some friends and that is one slab. Can you even imagine? It's like 8x12.

Look what she did here.

Isn't that fancy!? I love fancy things! 

She showed me the kids new computer area and I asked if she shares her ideas on Pinterest because it's just beyond fabulous. Her husband was rolling his eyes throughout. I could imagine his thoughts. "Oh no! A crazy lady came to buy the table at 8:30 at night and she's never leaving!" But his wife was so encouraging and gracious I guiltily tuned him out.

I got a little brazen and invited myself into her dining room with a hand made walnut dining table and clicked away.

I was basically delerious with delight and she made the mistake of saying "oh you have four kids? We would probably be best friends if you lived closer." Because we ARE best friends now. It's a done deal. Don't even joke about that amazing lady! 

Unfortunately I failed to take a decent picture of her entry light. But here's what I got. See her stair railing? Love it! 😍

All of her lighting was from Restoration Hardware, you know that magazine that I always embarrassingly drip drool on when it arrives? Her family room had this crazy... oh I don't know... 8 foot light fixture that looked like it had candles all the way around. I wish I had just clicked one more time... I felt like a horrible gawker... Click click click with my iPhone so although it looks like I was on a photo spree I DID try to hold back. Fun night. Oh, and I did buy her old table. I love it. 

This morning I emailed her to ask if I could blog my pics and she graciously acquiesced. Then I got a text from the comfrey guy wishing me happy gardening. They will always be my friends even if we never meet again. 💜

Addendum:

I got an email from my new BFF in Highlands Ranch (we chat all the time) and first of all, her husband is a GC and designs and oversees construction and remodels in all of "Denver's hip zip codes" (I'll be incorporating that phrase into my vocabulary stat) and he watched me make a total fool of myself over his house never mentioning it. I find this really admirable and funny all at once. She said they only went as modern as suburbia would go. Sigh. Apparently there's all of these amazing houses all over Denver that I will never see the inside of. My life is hard. She sent me pics of her new custom kitchen nook table because we chat all the time. 😉

The Challenge

Every day someone dies without telling people what those people meant to them. No personal message from beyond to read, smile at, cry over or be inspired by. I know most people think of it the other way, after all the deceased can't hear what you wish you had said but...that person is gone and they don't need your affirmation anymore. And so I offer this challenge. Sit down and tell five friends what they mean to you in the written form. Bless them with your words. Sound scary or weird? I'll double down. Here's ten friends who sustain me and I really wanted to write five more but I doubt anyone will read a blog this long as it is.

1. 

She tipped her wan face and smiled. She always does that. It's like she's attempting to minimize her struggles without words. Exhaustion and stress etched new lines in her lovely face. I know it's lovely because she's the only woman I've ever coerced my husband into calling pretty. He ordinarily brushes off beautiful women with a dismissive critique of their large nose or mouth. I imagine it's so I never think he's comparing me to them but somehow it just makes me wonder if my nose is ok.  Her arms hung heavy at her sides; excitement had carried her here and dropped her like a package too heavy with the bottom starting to give. Here she had crash landed into a new and beautiful chaos. Everywhere I looked, I saw a flawless design choice accompanied by something incomplete her husband had decided to do himself. The weight of his "to do" list sat on her shoulders mightily, and I wondered if he knew how much she loved him. My eyes drifted to her beloved German Shepherd surrounded by moving boxes and yoga mats. Would he recover use of his back legs? He made it to the new house I whispered to myself bracingly as though that would be enough to put wings under him. I've never seen a family who loves their pet so dearly and I wrung my hands at the thought of them letting him go. My mind swam through oceans of enormous mountains this family had moved to realize this dream of the perfect house in the perfect spot with the perfect salon business and the perfect schools. "Nobody ever does this, right?" I thought for the hundredth time. Am I too complacent? Too lazy? Does this kind of drive and ambition not epitomize the American Dream that I apparently have no drive to strive for. But she looks so drained I countered to myself. So exhausted and overwhelmed with only a hazy memory of the last two years. I quickly organized kitchen drawers, knowing she would be back to fix them later but rationalizing that it was better than standing around doing nothing. I glanced over at her peaceful slightly delirious happiness as she put away her pots and pans and all of my analyzing evaporated. Thank God this girl was finally home and I was there to hug her and drink a beer and eat chocolate pastries with her and say "I can't believe it all really happened" and "this is so exciting!" over and over sounding idiotic to anyone except a sleep deprived zombie. Oh sister wife and future nursing home roomie, we've walked all of the roads together haven't we darling?

2.

"Yes! I finally found my comedy club partner" I muttered to myself as I wiped tears of laughter from my face yet again. Apparently she had been languishing in Florida for years! Just wandering around picking up turtles and taking them home as pets. She might have also been working full time and raising children but that part is a bit fuzzy. Besides, the past is in the past. 

Our opening act is just a series of unanswerable questions our husbands have asked us when they momentarily confused us with Siri. 

"What time does Walgreens open?"

"Is parking allowed here?"

"Is that my coworkers son?" 

"Is the cable box not working?"

Ok Siri wouldn't know all of the answers either. 

Then we just move straight into recreating text message conversations. 

"Are you joining me in prayer that today's track meet will be cancelled for weather?"

"Wherever two or more are gathered, there am I in the midst of them." 

"Ok what did we do wrong? Is God not listening?!"

"I think it was just a 'no.'"

We add a dash of dark humor.

"I see women who run away in a new light these days."

"Me too."

"I'm not sure I can adult any more."

"Me either."

"Jesus take the wheel."

"Amen."

Ok that's not verbatim but we should have said it all just that way. 

We pick it up and look at the bright side.

"So now I have tension tamer tea and I'm in bed for the night at 6pm."

"I think you're making good choices."

It's how we deal. 

Girl you are such a crack up. I love you to the moon. It's like we've always known each other we just hadn't met yet until recently. 

3.

"Talk about first world problems" she texted. Her frustration had again mounted only to be buried in guilt as she unfairly judged herself. I smiled ruefully and wrinkled my forehead. "I had a meltdown about the stupid kitchen and had a good cry today" she wrote. I looked at the text trying to imagine what would help. "Oh, I had a big meltdown cry yesterday! Tomorrow you will be numb."  The emoticon reply 😣. 

"Oh gee Elizabeth" I tell myself, "you always sound like you're competing when you try to relate. Give it up. You have no finesse." I could feel her achy heart sending waves of frustration straight to me. I knew so much more than she had sent in two texts. We had already tirelessly discussed every scenario, option and conundrum for weeks while I chipped in my own conundrums pschoanalyzing my kids, husband and dog seven different ways as if either of us were actually accomplishing something. We are one another's complacent sounding board to talk every situation, decision and experience over until it's been thoroughly hashed like a roadkill put through a meat grinder. Finally accepting for the moment that I didn't have an answer for her on the kitchen (I think I was having a whiskey which often reveals truth) freed me up to do what I profess to do best, don my comedian hat. It's a well known fact that I am the only person in the world who thinks I am profoundly funny and witty. It works for me in the long run though, through a back door entertainment effect on people that I prefer not to call "laughing at me." Announcing I have no solution is very soothing in a reverse psychology fatalistic kind of way. "Shoot I do not know what to do but that's definitely a real problem girlfriend, you are not imagining it. Maybe you should just make wallpaper out of $100 bills and invest in some gold serving dishes so nobody notices your granite got chipped by the philistines who used to live there and chuck the whole remodel." Ok so I didn't actually say that to her but it would have been funny.  Chum, maybe today you will finally have the epiphany that the things you judge yourself for are actually your strongest assets. You're a fabulous researcher and a detailed planner and that is a recipe for success and personal satisfaction. I can't wait for tea at the new counter as you reveal some crazy life experience that makes my toes curl like eating a bowl of baby octopus.

4.

Her voice across the line was wooden, telling me where we were heading with only a hello. My grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I can't fix it" I chanted to myself. She had combed over each grade on each paper for each course and wasn't even a little bit happy. In the last six weeks I had ridden her roller coaster of panic, triumph and dread with each challenge, victory and new obstacle. I won't deny that she in turn valiantly attempted to keep her mouth shut as I ceaselessly vented about my own problems silently begging her not to give me advice or expect me to soften my opinions. It was an uncharted territory. At the age of 38, she charged off to college never mentioning it to me beforehand. "She's doing it all" I marveled to myself as I hung up having made not the slightest meaningful contribution to the conversation but hopefully conveying confidence and support. With teenagers, a workaholic husband and a household to run, her heart begged for meaning and now her ship has sailed. My mind struggled with her decision, instinctually trying to poke holes in it to see if it was going to hold water. She stood firm. I felt a deep respect for her even as she drifted away on her big adventure. I rocked in doubt as I stood on the shore. Should I do that? Do I want to? No, I need to write and write and write. But the ride looks so amazing and unforgettable love, you will make it. I'm so proud and amazed and so are your kids. 

5.

Her sunny voice floated over the line like a springy sunflower blowing in the breeze. Always so impossibly cheerful and optimistic. Always sharing choice bits of her life painted in a rosy glow so as not to drag anyone down. I wormed under the veneer reminding her it was safe here. Even human sun rays sometimes need to let off some steam. Slowly, the big story unfolded. Hmm, another baby makes 7. Oh, a new real estate business in the works. Wow, three kids in a play with the children's theater. But back to number 7. The lucky number 7. Who do I know besides this woman and soul sister with enough energy and optimism to raise 7 happy babies? As usual I plow in going off half cocked saying whatever pops into my head. "God doesn't make mistakes but man... How's the morning sickness? You are really going all in girlfriend. I remember the burst of love for Hazel at birth and I wondered, does that really just keep happening to infinity?" Her reply was gracious and without censure "Yes, it does" she said simply. "Is it a boy or girl? I asked.  She always knows. " A girl I think." A child wailed in the background and our rapid fire 7 minute chat abruptly ended. I stood in the middle of Marshalls staring blankly at my dream food processor. Oh love, you are so regal and strong and beautiful. I've never known a harder working, harder loving woman with more resilience. Your laugh lines will be beautiful someday and more genuine than any person I know. 

6.

She had a high point and she was real, shining with joy, she skidded to a low one and she was still more real, expressing the feelings we all hide. It never seemed to fail to take my breath away. What would she say to me next that I would take weeks to process and finally recognize and accept in myself as well?

You've all had that friend... the one you love so much you just want to pretend you are besties when you know it's a stretch and she probably already has ten more? But you just talk about her all the time super familiar like she drops by for coffee twice a week even though you haven't seen her in a month aside from the time she whistled at you in front of the eye doctors office? Ok maybe I'm being a little too specific. There were a couple days where I actually laughed so hard at her Instagram posts that I felt like a stalker. "Oh goody she posted!" I shouldn't really use that term since she's the girl who had stalkers and restraining orders at one time, but I've never been lauded as a shining example of tact. She has the rare quality of exuding exactly who she is and wearing it with an air of indifference; neither shame nor pride. While many people confuse, worry and irritate me with their airs I feel like when I see her, she smiles right from her soul and I try to give the same in return but I find myself lacking. There you go love, You're in my blog. I'm sure you are so pleased and thrilled. I love you so much I wish I could shrink you down and keep you in my pocket. Is that creepy?

7.

 "Want to meet at Sweets Monday? My treat!" 

A smile lit my face. Is there any higher compliment a friend can pay than to spend their time and money on you? A friend who has seen you behave your worst but always sought the best in you. I cannot name a friendship I get more vulnerable about. I always think, "she's probably had it with me after this one." And she always gives me a weary smile and a hug and pats my little head because she's like 8 inches taller and 20 years wiser than me. Sometimes I wonder if she forgets all of my drama or what that process looks like but I do not wonder long enough to ask. After all, I've read George and Martha a hundred times and "Martha didn't say a word" speaks volumes to me. Oh girl, is 8 years a lifetime? I don't remember who I was without your vulnerable yet strong and wise influence. I love the way you face each obstacle in life and chisel away with determination. I don't know how often I speak of you as my example. 

8.

My phone buzzed with the only personalized ring aside from Jody. I don't know how that happened but it does put an extra wing in my steps to make it for her. Within seconds we were both moaning and exclaiming over the idiocy of a volleyball club, dissecting how my child discovered online school and declaring that our cups are empty, we have nothing left to give and we do not know what fills the cups... Even as we filled one another's cups with empathy.

She was my perfect neighbor with perfect children who had s'mores with us and sleepovers but never crossed boundaries. I lived it and loved it for 2 1/2 years. But It didn't end there, when I moved she brought me food and when my dad died she filled my kitchen with food from who knows who all again and when she realized I was wallowing in a sea of grief she gathered me into her arms and carried me to Costco so my family could keep on eating. No judgement, no fixing, just pure empathy like a balm on a wound. And always always she and her husband have caught us when we fall. Chum, I can't imagine how lonely and hard it would be to do this Colorado thing alone without you. You're my family. 

9.

"Ready for a puppy yet?
I want a poetic story where you take your dog to a park and meet a young widower with four precious children. And the little boy loves your dog and invites you to their house. And you and the dad get embrarrassed but neither of you have the heart to say no. So you wind up in their house and spill spaghetti all down your shirt and he's trying to clean you off and the scene freezes with you standing there completely infatuated and utterly mortified. Then the little two year old girl starts tugging on your hand and you look over and your dog is drinking out of their toilet. Anyway, that's the general gist of it."

"Hahahahhahaha! 4 kids tho ??"
"Well yeah, you're getting a late start 
Then you can have a big family and only have to endure pregnancy once. And all through the romance everything is perfect but you keep having flashbacks of all of your crazy failed relationships. And then you get scared and try to break up but the 2 year old has a life threatening emergency and you save her life and realize you can't live without them. And that's a wrap. But at the end you call me crying and thanking me for your perfect pooch because it's a Stella baby."

Say hello to my friend since childhood with the infectious giggle and cleverly referred to by my dad as my twin.

She's the friend I call my alter ego who took the opposite path. Every time we talk, we remind each other not to be jealous of the others life as though that's a command one can obey. Love, I'm so thankful for you. You lead me back to Jesus every time we talk and I get a dunking of His love all while laughing hysterically at your dry wit and marveling at your life journey.

10.

"It's a strep throat cake for Eden!"

"A what!? Oh my gosh!" I fell backward in shock and laughter. For real?! Oh my gosh! Tears pricked my eyes at the thought of all of that time spent to cheer my sick kid. 

I used to pray for a friend, any friend with a kid Hazels age who wasn't uptight, didn't have strict schedules, liked the Zoo and just a half a dozen or so other criteria. So they packed up and moved on out from Tenessee. Thanks God! I appreciate that! On with the tea parties and zoo trips and playdates while the mommies discuss the middle schoolers, preschool rates and how to lose five pounds without trying because trying is crap! Thanks for being willing to answer a prayer love! You're a blessing and hoot! Here's to the day we march these little girls off to preschool together just like I dreamed.