Changing Tires

“Are we running away from home?” I asked.
My mother had laughed. I couldn’t see her face, but her laugh I could always conjure—rich, ringing, like bells calling you to a wedding. “No, silly goose. You can’t run away from home. It’s not home if you want to run away from it.” She paused to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You can only run away from a house. Home is something you run toward.” 
― Michele Jaffe, Ghost Flower

I can't tell you how many times I say that when I was their ages the LAST place I wanted to be was home. Not that I didn't love my home or my parents…I did tremendously. I just wanted to be a teenager and live my life without a chaperone. There was some excitement in hiding from the parents and seeing what you could do when no one was watching. I remember driving to San Diego for an overnight trip only to return exhausted the next day just to feel the road under my feet and freedom. That's what kids do…they test their boundaries and carve out a niche they can call their own. Kids often think “parents are like God because you wanna know they're out there, and you want them to think well of you, but you really only call when you need something.” ― Chuck Palahniuk that's why I tell my kids the stories about my teenage years…so that they don't drive across states to feel the sand in their toes; or seldom come home to visit because they are having too much fun; or living a crazy independent life (while your parents are still paying for everything of course). I tell them because that shits dangerous. And all of this was done without a cell phone (gasp). My girlfriend Laurel reminded me of a drive home from San Diego when I was riding solo and I got a flat tire…and cried…somewhere in the middle of Juniper Springs….all alone. I had forgotten all about that day. I had no cell phone or GPS or emergency car service to locate me…I had to figure it out…BY READING THE OPERATOR'S MANUAL…and change a tire!!!!! If my kids told me this story and it had been them instead of me I would literally DIE! It would be followed with "you are never doing that again" and a long lecture on going anywhere that far alone! But I survived. Regardless, It was endless pursuit of 'finding my self'….my life without a chaperone. Howeverrrrrrrr, I am witnessing a change in this new generation, at least within my own home. They like me...they really like me! They want to do lunch and take 21st bday trips together…and have friends over (even when they have their own apartments)…and workout together…and I am not just talking about my own kids…their friends often want to hang out with me even when my kids aren't around. Ashley had a good friend come over last night. He is in town from UofA. All the college kids are back now. Everyone got so big (as my grandma used to say, "or am I just shrinking" insert monkey covering eyes emoji). So this kid says, "Ash, I wanted to come over to hang out with Parker and your mom". AND YOUR MOM. MOM. See what I mean? They WANT to be around adults these days…what happened to our youth? Or is it the parents that have changed? What came first the chicken or the egg? I joke to my kids (and sometimes say it when I'm mad) "Why are you here? You have your own places now?". Truth is I wouldn't have it any other way. Ya being awoken at 2 am to disco music blaring on the patio can get a little much, but I know where they are…they are right outside my door… right where I could see and touch them if I want/have to. They aren't on some distant highway changing a flat tire…. and I watch them grow up and their friends grow up… and I like what I see…and we talk about dumb teenager stuff and we talk about politics…and we make ramen and we make steak on the grill..and we listen to gangster rap and classic country…ying and yang…teenagers crossing over into my little adult world... and they like it there. So when I wake up and throw a blanket over the extra bodies that have crashed on my couch…clean up a kitchen of pizza and ice cream… turn off TVs and radios that have entertained the neighbors throughout the night, I can't help but feel how truly lucky I am…I know where they are…I know who they are with….and they wouldn't have it any other way. And I let them think they are living life without a chaperone as I quietly watch from the sidelines.

How Do You Like Them Apples?

“Not only is there often a right and wrong, but what goes around does come around, Karma exists, chickens do come home to roost, and as my mother, Phyllis, liked to say, “There is always a day of reckoning.” The good among the great understand that every choice we make adds to the strength or weakness of our spirits—ourselves, or to use an old fashioned word for the same idea, our souls. That is every human’s life work: to construct an identity bit by bit, to walk a path step by step, to live a life that is worthy of something higher, lighter, more fulfilling, and maybe even everlasting.”

― Donald Van de Mark, The Good Among the Great: 19 Traits of the Most Admirable, Creative, and Joyous People

I’ve thought a lot about what makes people good and what makes people bad. It seems so often that people will sell themselves short for temporary gain. We hear about people lying or stealing or hurting others for their own personal advances; without regrets or concern. So I have thought about what makes these people this way. I was talking to some friends last night and I was talking about my children and how proud they make me EVERY SINGLE DAY! There is not a day that goes by that I don’t find my mind wandering when they are telling me a story; I am completely mesmerized by the good that they have inside of them. They are GOOD people. They are KIND people. I always believed that because I was raised by a bedridden mother, who suffered a debilitating disease, that my heart was softened and my outlook on life and the fairness to others was because of the empathy that I learned at a very young age. Being raised in a family like this makes you learn how to be a FAMILY. You have to coordinate who will assist your mother during the day and at nights. You have to help them shower and eat and even go tot the bathroom. And all the while you have to be a teenager and have a ‘normal’ life. So I spent many many many hours sitting in bed with my mother and talking about life. About tv shows. About hair and nails and boyfriends. And you learn how to care for people and show them that you love them. I always knew that my good-will was learned from this exact upbringing. But what about MY kids? They didn’t have to grow up in this type of home. In fact, quite the opposite, I am strong and energetic and can leap tall buildings in a single bound (eye roll). These children of mine wear their heart on their sleeves. They care about others with so much emotion that it could bring tears to your eyes. They share stories of helping strangers. They bring flowers to the cemetery. They see yellow butterflies and know that their grandmother is with them. They are reflective and genuine. They are not liars or cheats. My friend Tameria said that my kids are good people because I put my time in. Those countless trips to the parks and museums and libraries and books we read and camping adventures and family trips; they are all pieces of the puzzle that makes a person who they are. I remember thinking when I was little that our family was to ‘family-ish’. Everything we did was done together and every move made was as a group. We watched my brother’s bmx races AS A FAMILY; we had dinners AS A FAMILY; we rarely had ‘outsiders’ in our excursions. I can now say that I am so happy that I was raised that way. I learned what is important in life. This is what my kids are learning, as well. When we talk about where the boys will go to college, we all make the plans on where will live in the next year and a half. We navigate as a group, a pack, a tribe…my tribe. Someone once said that if you mess up raising your child to be a good person then you messed up the most important job you have. Dr. Phil called it when he said “how do you fail to raise good people ON YOUR WATCH”…I like that!...”on your watch”. Well I often look around me and see all these people that were slacked on someone’s watch. I can honestly say that I am appalled by the way that some people view the world as if it owes them something; as though they can manipulate the world around them for their own personal gain, regardless of whether it is right or wrong. I am convinced that if you are good and do good, then good things come your way. The law of Karma. Karma is simply the law of cause and effect. If you plant an apple seed, you don’t a get a mango tree. If we practice hatred or greed, it becomes our way and the world responds accordingly. If we practice awareness or loving-kindness, it becomes our way and the world responds accordingly. So in summary, good people breed good people. Loving people breed loving people. When you meet a bad person, simply flip the card over and look at their parents and the people that are in their lives… apples don’t fall far from the trees….and the cycles continue generation after generation after generation. At least, if you shake my apple trees, you will see the fruits of my labor and all my hard work in raising my four kids will be obvious to whomever they meet….  Ding ding ding four more good people in the world!!!!! You’re welcome!

Who are you when no one is looking?

“We do not need guns and bombs to bring peace, we need love and compassion.”

― Mother Theresa

He wanted spare change. He sat outside the courthouse in his tattered clothes; every indication that he was in some stage of homelessness. She reached into her purse and grabbed a dollar. She could have walked past him. She was headed to her internship on a busy Monday morning. But she stopped and gave him a dollar. She’s well-known for befriending homeless people. Sometimes she tells me that they even walk her to her classes…some even know her by name. A kind gesture from a poor college student. Her duties as an intern are to assist the judge in every aspect of the courtroom. The judge even asks her for her opinion on rulings, such as “What would you do if this were your case?”. Seated next to the judge, during a busy Monday morning, she spots the ‘homeless man’ sitting in the crowd of people waiting to see a judge. Immediately she notices that he is devouring a chocolate Snickers bar to the point, which she describes it to me as, “Mom, it was ALL OVER HIS FACE!”.  The judge saw it too and reprimanded the man by telling him to “eat like a grown up”, followed by asking him if he needs a napkin before the courtroom continues. She said it brought tears to her eyes because she knew it was the man she gave the dollar to outside the courthouse and that he must have been really hungry. The man proceeded to tell the judge that it was the only thing he has eaten for the last couple of days and says (pointing to my daughter), “the girl next to you gave me the dollar so I could eat”. A thankful stranger. A tearful daughter. A room full of strangers. Nobody knew anyone’s story…where they lived…who they were…why they were there….She proceeded to recall the events to follow. He was being evicted and he had nowhere to live. He was requesting the judge allow him to stay in his apartment for just enough time to gather the little belongings that he had and to take a shower because he knew his destiny was a life on the streets. The judge, noticing the tears in her eyes, asked her how he should resolve the case. She said I would let him take a shower one last time at his soon to be lost apartment. And he did just that. And for a small moment in time their paths crossed. He was more than a homeless man outside a courtroom. She was more than an intern. They were human beings…caring for human beings. She stayed over my house for a slumber party that night. We talked about her day in court. She actually always talks about the ‘wounded birds’ and the ‘out-of-luckers’. The moms who are trying to feed their kids. The thiefs who are trying to feed their families. The people who don’t know the right way to solve their problems. We laid in bed together as she shared her stories. A show called Intervention came on. Families dealing with drug addictions and all the illegal issues that surround that disease. We laid in my warm bed with four dogs at my feet…with the heat comfortably set on 67 degrees…after we washed our faces and brushed our teeth…after we texted all our family and friends who wait for their daily ‘Good Night My Love’ texts. We watched the families on tv struggling to save their children or mothers or fathers or sisters and brothers from themselves. I said that I was so glad that I will never have to go through that with my children…she agreed…because they felt loved and they felt needed and they felt wanted and important…she agreed. And we closed our eyes knowing that we figured it out…we grew into a family that knows that we stand together…with love in our hearts...no matter what…forever. As I fell asleep I thanked God and all my guardian angels guiding my life that my children grew into the people that they are today; people who know that they are loved…feel that they are loved…and have the compassion to extend that wisdom to all people…even the guy sitting outside a courtroom…when no one else was looking.

#Life

She was bending down to play with a furry caterpillar. She wanted it to climb on her. It kept turning away as she carefully maneuvered to try to coerce it to climb onto her tiny finger. Her mother told her to “leave it alone”…”hurry up”… “gross, just stop”. The little girl stood up and continued on the path to a breakfast table with her mom. I couldn’t stop thinking about that frozen moment in time. I often think that we are affected by all the events that happen in our daily lives…not just the big ones…but all of the millions of tiny little ones that often go unnoticed. The smile from a stranger that could make your day a little brighter… the perfect sunset to end your day… the giggle of a child to make your heart happy… a fresh cup of hot coffee on a cold morning… a text from a loved one… a new song…. that perfect soft spot on the couch…. They are everywhere. Perfect moments in time. Tiny little slices of the day that changes your outlook or mood. We are always racing to the big finish…the whole enchilada…the crowd roaring events… the perfect Instagram picture posts…the greatest Facebook updates…. and missing the other pieces of the puzzle. We all do it! I’m guilty a thousand times over. I have rushed a child or two in my time to get to where I needed to be. I’ve lived an event or two through the lens of my iPhone to capture a moment in time to share with the masses. Damn it, sometimes I even get more than 60 LIKES on some of them. Where do I pick up my award? ….oh, there isn’t one? (insert sad face emoji). I saw the Pope on tv. He was doing mass recently here in the US. Thousands upon thousands of people came to worship with His Holiness…… and there they were in prayer with the official Pope…with their iPhones recording all of it…arms not lifted in prayer, but lifted so their camera could be higher than the next person’s. I remember thinking A) omg awesome Instagram pic with the freakin Pope, B) Is anyone actually watching the Pope?... I began to pan the TV screen to find a person who wasn’t filming but actually listening… Pope version of Where’s Waldo…. I FOUND SOME! Not many…but some! Living in the moment… taking it all in… When did we stop doing this? This thing we call ‘living in the moment’? I want to stop and smell the roses, but I can’t if it’s an Instagram pic. Lauren Oliver, in Before I Fall, said that “the details that are life's special pattern, like how in handwoven rugs what really makes them unique are the tiny flaws in the stitching, little gaps and jumps and stutters that can never be reproduced. so many things become beautiful when you really look.” I understand the hustle and bustle of life. I know there are piles of laundry to be finished and homework deadlines and grocery lists and dirty gutters and emails to be sent and dinners to be made and dog poop piling up in the yard and only 24 hours in a day. Yup, get it! Totally get it! But don’t you DARE rush past the little things…. Stop once a day ATLEAST and watch a hummingbird… skip a stone… watch a cloud… smell a flower… find one teenie tiny thing that slows you down and refocuses your outlook on your beautiful and healthy life that you are so so so lucky to have… here and now…without filters or hashtags…. And whatever you do NEVER stop a child from getting that caterpillar on her finger. Namaste!

“It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches.”

― Lemony Snicket

“It’s ok, because she is only going ‘down the street’”…”Thank God she’s staying in state”… “She’s 5 miles down the road”…. Does any of these things make you feel better? Does it really matter if she is 5 miles down the road or 500? Is it really the distance that they are from home base? I agree that I would die if she was going to college out of state. I already have planned on what will happen if the boys go out of state and I have two more years to worry about it. The odds that all of my kids will attend Arizona colleges are pretty slim. I don’t even want to be in Arizona. I want some sand in my toes and beachy tossed curls in my hair (wait we aren’t talking about me yet)… What it boils down to is that the distance doesn’t really matter when another kid leaves the house. It isn’t about WHERE they are. It isn’t about how quickly we can get to each other if we need to be. In a world of so many internet options is anyone ever really far away anyways? I mean I can stalk her/their Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook if I want to see what the cool kids are up to these days; I do it now and she is only 17 steps upstairs. A parent that does not have a child leaving the so-called nest will never understand that it doesn’t matter how near or far they are when they step out into that great big world. What matters is that the four walls of your home and life as you know it are tumbling down. In 17 steps I can walk into the world that defines Ashley. I can open her bedroom door and step over mounds and mounds of clothes on the floor to discover her buried under a pile of blankets in her bed. I can ask her how her day or night was and ask her if she wants breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I can see that she spent the night in a Kardashian marathon on her tv. I can see that she must have gone downstairs and made herself a bagel in the middle of the night as pieces of it remain on her bedside table. In 17 steps I can see her makeup vanity, her messy closet, her empty shampoo bottles, her curling irons and brushes, her music choices, her high school memories scattered on cork boards. In 17 steps I can see what defines Ashley. Then those walls are broken down… and life as you know it isn’t the life that you know. Distance to college isn’t the issue. It’s knowing that this is the time that you prepared for all those years. Did I teach them enough about kindness and empathy? Did I demonstrate enough strength? Did I show them the road to happiness and friendships? Did they learn to lock doors and open hearts? Did they learn the importance of dedication and relaxation? Do they know how to clean bathrooms and bedrooms? When they are hungry will they have someone to eat with? Will they be ok if they are alone? Will they be confident in a crowd? Will they make new friends? Will they find their classes? Will they participate in school events like assemblies, and sorority rush, and volleyball, and dorm meetings, and football games? Will they know how to do all the things that I used to schedule for them? Did I teach them how to do these things? Are they ready? Am I ready? So we pack up the Uhaul with pieces of Ashley’s life. The comforts of home neatly compiled into moving boxes…the important stuff goes and the life she’s leaving behind stays in her old room and she prepares to scatter herself into her new life…her new home… into new walls that will hold new memories…a new beginning…a new Ashley. And it turns out that it doesn’t matter if she were going to a foreign country or down the street. What it’s really about is change…and change can be hard. I think of it as a ‘How to Parent’ test. A parent graduation of sorts. Did I do my best at the most important job that there is? Did I fill her up with everything she needs to be a good person. A kind person. Not just a successful student or the life of the party. Did  I make a GOOD person? A KIND human? So as she steps out onto this big blue marble that we live on I can only hope that she can look back at her childhood and the memories made in these four walls and think ‘What would mom do?’…”How would mom handle this?” and if she doesn’t know the answers or it gets to hard she can look behind her and see the trails of crumbs that I’ve left to lead her back to me to find those answers….I guess THAT is one of the benefits of being ‘just down the street’.