My Girlfriend loves…

As the holidays were approaching my thoughts began to flip through memories. My parents did an exceptional job creating traditions and experiences that not only gave the five of us a great time, but also taught us the significance of the day. I think ultimately the most important piece that I took from their efforts was that we were a unit and that as long as we had each other, everything else was gravy.

As time passed and siblings married and had families of their own, traditions changed, as did the experience of the day. Being the youngest, and last to marry, what I really loved was watching the newest member of the family get deluged with love and attention; not to mention gifts, even if it wasn’t Christmas or their birthday. It was unbelievably wonderful for me when our children were born and became a part of the holiday frenzy.

Years ago, before they moved away to Moscow, Idaho, friends used to host an annual Christmas Party. Everyone showed up wearing their best, hors d’œuvres were served, people mingled, music played quietly in the background. Pretty upscale and controlled of us, considering most of us were in our twenties and quite a few of the attendees were what I would consider to be the ultimate Microsoft geeks.

My boyfriend and I fancied ourselves up and headed to the much looked forward to event. I offered to drive, so after I turned on the ignition music came screeching out of the radio at a fairly high volume. If I could type the look on his face I’d have bazillions of dollars. He first looked irritated (he hated loud noise), then he looked confused (he only listened to classic rock), and then he looked horrified (he had listened long enough to know it wasn’t classic rock or NPR).

We had lived together for six years at this point and in all that time I had carefully kept the secret that I loved country music. Too many people associate country music with “My Achey Breaky Heart.” (To this day I think all country music fans owe a debt of gratitude to Shania Twain. She made it cool to listen to.) So, I let out a deep breath and answered the question, “What was that?” bravely. I held my chin up, looked him square in the eye and said, “I Try To Think About Elvis, by Patty Loveless.” I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway wishing the song had been Independence Day by Martina McBride.

I swear he walked around the party telling everyone we knew, “My girlfriend loves Country Music.” Having been outted, I proudly admitted to anyone who said, “Really?” with “Yes, I do.” To make a long story short we were more than halfway to the end of our relationship and that single confession convinced me that I would never deceive anyone ever again about my love of country. (I quit Trick or Treating so that I could go Square Dancing; while others got candy, I do-si-do’ed.)

Other than confessing my secret all night, I spent the better part of my time trying to convince my now husband that he really ought to give a mutual friend a chance. She clearly had a crush on him and was doing her best to catch his eye. MacGyver and I had been friends for several years at this point, and I fear I had too much influence. He did in fact date her for several months. Considering my own relationship was meeting its demise, I was a bit irritated with myself for having encouraged him.

Life has a way of turning out as it should; one year later my man MacGyver proposed and we announced our engagement at the same friends Christmas party. We now we go to parties together and he never asks me, “What was that?”

Leaping a little forward down the timeline, our daughter was in First Grade and I was patiently waiting with her for the door to her classroom to open early one Fall morning. Her lovely teacher greeted each child and after my pink and purple fluff ball said good morning, the teacher said to me, “Your pink and purple fluff ball told me yesterday that you celebrate Rosh Hashanah and I was wondering if you would like to come to class next week and explain the holiday and its traditions.” Stunned, I said, “Sure.”

I was stunned because we aren’t Jewish and I didn’t know anything about Rosh Hashanah, but I had my daughters back and decided to go with it until I could discover what had happened. I immediately called my husband and told him the story. After sharing confusion and laughter, I immediately set about researching Rosh Hashanah and found out “what to do.” I then called a Jewish friend to make sure I was on the right track.

At the end of the day, tucked snuggly in her bed, I asked my fluff ball why she told her teacher we celebrated Rosh Hashanah. It was all logical. The previous two summers the kids and I had attended a week long Jewish Summer School that my parents were involved in and our daughter had made the leap that we were Jewish. The next morning at drop off I confessed our lack of Jewishness to the teacher and told her the story. I offered to pull a Rosh Hashanah experience together, but suggested that someone who was actually Jewish might do a better job. The teacher quickly agreed. That Christmas and several following we celebrated Passover by lighting the menorah.

That very same year MacGyver and I woke up Christmas morning, not to the alarm clock or excited shrieks of our children, but due to sufficient sleep. We went out to the kitchen, made coffee, turned on the Christmas music and plugged in the lights. We stared at the tree and sipped coffee while quietly wondering when the children would wake up. Somewhere around 9:30 we heard the sounds of their stirring.

With giggles and feet pounding, the two made their way down the hallway and gasped at the sight of the spread under the tree. Christmas morning mayhem ensued followed by our family tradition of a massive breakfast. After all the excitement of presents and food we were scattered around the living room playing with toys and examining other items with more care when a little voice made a hesitant confession.

It turns out that our sneaky Kindergartner woke up during the night and convinced his older sister, with very little encouragement, that they should see if Santa had come. Once they saw the gifts it was more than they could resist, so they had apparently rooted under the tree and found their gifts, and proceeded to unwrap several just enough to see what they were receiving. The more dexterous of the two replaced the tape and their night time caper went off without a hitch… until the guilt set in.

Looking at me with enormous brown eyes, I could only do what any parent would do (I think). I chuckled. I could only imagine their excitement and sense of accomplishment and it was impossible to feel anything other than happy. To me it was the ultimate childhood caper. To the best of my knowledge they’ve never done it again… but I allow for stories to unfold in the future.

I began this blog just before Halloween and have mulled over why these three stories stand out in my mind. The invisible link is honesty. When I began writing the blog, the intent was to practice writing styles, to give myself short story writing prompts, to gain confidence in sharing my writing. While I still achieve all these goals, I also know that the stories are more personal and my feelings are much more involved. The other writer is me too, the person who pursues the history of mascara and hair plucking. However, life happens to us and we cannot shelve who we are and what we are feeling, and so other stories are written.

In an earlier blog I mentioned that I was taking this year to learn to live in the present and not be so busy. The results are that I am exploring all kinds of thoughts, feelings and experiences that have been on the back burner for a very long time. I think that in living life this way, one has to be more honest. There is nothing to hide behind. No looming PTA decisions, no major conflicts or crisis, no busy, busy, busy.

So, what have I learned? Well, I’m a bit bored! I feel a bit Eeyore’ish at times. I feel adrift when I think about the future. I’m definitely hermity. But, I also know that I laugh more, have a deeper understanding of my family and myself and am firming up the blurry edges of myself. I love living in the moment. I have to be honest and say that I haven’t perfected this and I tend to fritter time away. But, I will find balance, eventually.

Not long ago a friend told me about a yoga website. As I was contemplating taking up meditating, I read a blog that had to do with a method called “Catch and Release.” While I cannot say that I meditate, I have included this method into my life and I think it is powerful and useful. The idea is that thoughts and feelings forge their way to the front of our minds and want our attention. It can be at inopportune times, such as when we are trying to sleep, concentrate on our children, or have some one on one time with our significant other. So the concept is to acknowledge the thought and then let it go once you’ve scheduled a better time to think about it. You say to yourself, “Okay, I need to think about why this is bothering me, I have time tomorrow morning, so I’ll get to it then.” It takes practice to remember to think about it when you’ve scheduled time to do so, but it eventually works. I can think of no better time than the holidays to give this idea a try.

So, back to Country Music! I will share part of the lyrics to a song that has great meaning to me and makes me laugh and cry:

Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Bug:

Well it's a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it's back you go
You're standing on the throttle
You're standing on the brake
In the groove 'til you make a mistake

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

You gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
Because you're gonna know lonely
And you're gonna know sad
When you're rippin' and you're ridin'
And you're coming on strong
You start slippin' and slidin'
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you're a diamond and then you're a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

(For Linda, with much love.)