Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Finding Your Rock

Headlines:


What is a Rock? 

Everyone should have one.

I feel blessed to have mine.

Where is yours?



Life is hard.  It's full of crap.  Bills.  There's bad grades.  Fires.  Game losses.  Extra weight.  Evictions.  Divorce.  Teasing.  Pimples.  Feelings get hurt all the time.  Sickness.  Death.  We all get embarrassed.

But if you have your Rock... it's okay.



I met mine a long time ago.  Didn't know it at the time of course.  From the first minute... just a quiet strength from the man.  Soft, kind, good.  Not perfect.  Far from perfect, he was an occasional barker.  But who is perfect?  Rocks aren't.  For some reason, however, when life was (seemingly) falling apart... this person somehow had this effortless way to put it back together.  It was his demeanor during "crisis," his knowledge, his ability to handle things, his way to calm me, maybe it was even the fact that he could deal and lead me in exactly the right way.

Example.  Just this very morning I had a bad work deal go completely south.  AKA:  I got screwed.  He was upset too.  Yet he found the words, to calm me down, to explain, to assure me everything will be alright and by doing that... he makes it great again.

Where do Rocks come from?  I have no idea.  I think some people are just born that way.  Something inside of them makes them strong, sturdy, assured.  Then, at least according to BP (that's the husband, aka: my Rock), I stepped into his life and made him even stronger.  He says, that me being by his side gave him the ability to do things better.  Again, his words not mine, he could BE better.

So maybe, even though he is MY Rock, I'm HIS Rock right back.

Wouldn't that just be ideal? You may feel weak, but they see you as strong.  Where you fall, they catch.  Your cracks are filled with their crevices.

Sigh.

Turns out, as I learned today, sometimes people don't want to find their Rocks.  Or at least that's what they portray to the world.  It never really occurred to me that some would just prefer to wander aimlessly from lame relationship to the next broken one.  I was talking to a friend of mine, who happens to be on Match and Vine and Swipe Right.com... or whatever it's called.  Sorry, I know not the websites.  Anyhow, she has bumped into many a men who are far from looking for something that makes them better.  Instead, they're looking for Mr./Ms. Tonight.  Stunning to live like that.  Simply because I guess they don't know, when you find your Rock, it's no longer what you're capable of doing today... it's more about what you can do forever.

Your Rock makes anything possible.

But maybe some people are just invested more in the now than the always.  Or they're afraid of losing their Rock once they find it.  That, is a real fear.  It can be devastatingly tragic of course.  But having it and losing it, is certainly better than never having it at all.  Nothing is forever in this life.  No matter how tight you close your eyes and wish it.  But you are now both better off for having it during that time.

If you're wondering, no one knows when, where or how you'll meet your Rock.  Of course, it's not on your schedule, that's for sure.  Maybe you're ready but your Rock isn't.  Or vice versa.  Of course, it's typically when you least expect it.  The day you're sick at the doctor.  On a golf course.  The time you trip in front of twenty people.  In the middle of a yoga class.  For me, it happened during Cheerleading practice.  I met my Rock about 20 years ago.  He asked me to a dance (pictured below).


This week, decades later, is our Wedding Anniversary.   No big, significant one.  Just another year.  What am I getting him?  Nothing.  Everything.  Does it matter?  No.  Yes.  Of course!  Not.  What does matter is what he gives me, what we hopefully give each other, everyday.  Of every year.  And every moment in between.  There are fights.  Here and there.  I don't always like him but I do always love him.  I admire him.  Yep, he's way too good at too many things.   That's kind of annoying by the way.

With my Rock, I feel stronger than the first woman who climbed Mt. Everest.  I am happier than the woman who invented Spanx.  I am more proud than the First Lady.  I'm luckier than a Lotto Winner.  Because I have my very own Rock.

My hope... is that you do too.





  

Friday, October 13, 2017

Your UnCOOL Mom

The Headlines:


When I was young(er)

I was cool(ish).

I wish my daughter knew that.




Once upon a time, I was cool.  I think.  Hmmmm... it just occurred to me that by using the word COOL, maybe I'm not.  What should we be saying these days?  Sick?  Or Sic?  When I was young(er)... I was sic!  That doesn't sound right.  Not from old, unCOOL me.

Hopefully, if you're reading this, you get my drift.

So, let's face the facts ladies, no matter how cool you were back in your day, if you have a little girl (at one point) you will be cool no longer.


When that point comes, a little part inside of you withers away.  You are not the Wonder Woman you once were... you're just kinda lame.  You know the lame look, right?  It's the thing she does with her eyes from time to time.  It's something like this:


I've seen that look, plenty.

It's weird, this cycle of life, isn't it?  I remember some things like it was yesterday.  For instance, when I was in middle school... I would lay down in the car as my Mom drove.  I was embarrassed.  Of her car.  Of her.  Of myself.  But, I thought, she just wasn't cool.  Never did I know I would be stuck in that same position with MY little girl.  But, alas, it has arrived.

To be fair and understanding of that above look... I know I can be embarrassing.  I kind of grew up embarrassing myself.  On purpose.  I used to sing in front of people whenever I got the chance.  I occasionally tripped in the mall, because it was funny.  I would stand in front of a crowd and yell really loud.  I've always danced like an idiot.  And now, not much has changed.  I jump up and down and wave to my kids across the school yard.  I sing crazy songs.  I talk a lot.  Sometimes I laugh goofy.  I  stumble over my words.  I use the wrong words.  I don't know what outfit to wear with my uber hip white Adidas shoes.  I could go on and on.

Sound familiar?

Hopefully it does.  Why?  If you know you're being embarrassing then you might not really be embarrassing at all.  You're just being yourself.  Enjoying life.  Having fun.

Yes, hard for pre-teens to understand.

Mine made it clear she doesn't like me to speak in funny accents.  NO dancing.  Laughing is allowed, just not too much.  But she doesn't like me asking questions.  She doesn't like it when I look at something in a certain way.  She doesn't like my hair styling ability.  She does like me, if you're wondering.  Cause I've already asked.  I was worried for a while.

I wonder, is it just the time in her life?  Is it her hormones?  Or is it just being a MOM.  Does it simply come with the territory?  If I think back to the height of my Mom-embarrassment... I know it came when I was at my lowest "self confidence" point.   You know, the pre-teen time.  Once I got through that,  my confidence started to soar and so did the tolerance with my Mother.  If I was cool... then she was too.

So maybe it will just take time.  I have a feeling she'll have to grow into her own skin a little longer.  Then someday, maybe she'll look at me as if I'm her Super Mom again.  Until that day, I wrote up my own, "I used to be cool" Resume for her:


Now that is sic.
Wait, no it's not.
She was right.
Maybe I'm just her unCOOL Mom after all.
Fortunately, I'm oddly okay with that.






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