Today in the locker room I was in the midst of routine and practically required locker room chatty chat with a pal when I just mentioned the word “triathlon” in casual conversation she changed expression. Her face dropped and she stopped applying her makeup simply to offer her condolences to me. There’s not a lot we stop barreling through getting ready for in the locker room. The fact that her face dropped in a moment of sincerity was enough. But that she put down her mascara, and turned away from the mirror, faced me, and took time out from running late, pretty much said it all.
And so today _ it hit me pretty hard because up to this point _ I thought I was doing a pretty good job of putting on a happy face and bucking up. But the sincere expression of her “being sorry for my loss” _ it just showed that I have some good friends who are worried for me because I’m losing my friend. It showed what a powerful friendship I have with JulzHOLLA!
JulzHOLLA! and her family are moving away.
I have hope that they will move back eventually. But deep down, I know we can’t will everything to fall into place _ particularly to serve my BFF needs.
It’s a very bizarre feeling. Most of my oldest dearest friends live far away. I’m not sure if we’re close because we are far away or what. But I know I’m fairly good at maintaining the long distance friendship, no problem.
When JulzHOLLA! and I started our friendship, our kids were babies. Once my kids started Kindergarten, as JulzHOLLA! likes to say, it messed up our schedule a little bit. Then the kids started sports and activities and her babies went to school and then came Margaret to liven the rest of our lives up. Not to mention between the two of us a few other extra curricular activities: PTO, Church boards, Choir, Football, Dance, Gymnastics, Softball, Track, work, family visiting, visiting family, swim team, Spanish class, birthday parties, dodgeball tournaments, and knee surgery (hers, not mine).
That’s all the stuff we do separately _ we don’t get a lot of time together anymore. And that’s okay. Our kids don’t see each other as much either. Which, as Lucy explained to me the other day, is not okay. But that they are moving away, if we’re not seeing each other as much anyway, it should be okay. And yet, it doesn’t feel okay.
I’m going to miss my partner in crime. We really are a dynamic duo and we play off each other very well. In short, we crack ourselves up. We are our own built in comedy schtick. I’m going to miss watching her kids grow up. The other day, they came over and climbed a tree for the first time. I’ll miss seeing their faces light up with pride because they tried something new. I’ll miss Margaret keeping me in line.
It’s just such a bittersweet because I think (I hope) that even though it’ll be long distance, I think we’ll probably carve out more time to talk than we can here, right now. On top of that, I’m more excited than sad because I’m so proud of Sven. This is a big career challenge for him, and as his Wife B, I am simply happy and proud for him.
So, I’ll be okay, because JulzHOLLA! has changed me for the better, and for good. But as the moving date nears, and y’all see me in the locker room, you better be ready to hug it out with me. And then promise me she’ll be back. Since the pal in the locker room expressed her condolences for my loss, I’ve had a lot of people ask how I’m doing. As a couple, we have some really good friends here, who I know will take good care of me.
Besides, JulzHOLLA! doesn’t know this, but I’ve already google_mapped her new place and mapped out a few road trips. We’ll all be okay. I’m sure of it.
There are so many things JulzHOLLA! has given me. One thing for sure, she’s shown me that it’s possible to parent kindly. When she leaves, my kids are in for it. JulzHOLLA! has shown me a lifetime supply of kindness, hilarity, that sharing really is caring, and compassion. For me, I’m just scared I’ll morph back in to the insensitive asshole I was before she came along. But something tells me I won’t. She’s changed me for good. And they WILL be back. RIGHT, Sven?
That’s how I roll. If you haven’t already, follow the pink links through the JulzHOLLA & Leslie Experience. It’s fun because we’re fun!
Song of the Day: For Good from the Wicked Soundtrack
Happy 8th Anniversary of Momontherocks. For eight years, I’ve been writing about all the crazy that happens to me as a mom. And it all started with a mass email to my friends for Mother’s Day. Here is the original Mother’s Day blog. Thank you for reading. I hope you take something from every post _ even if it’s a great lesson in what NOT to do. If you’re really interested, I have all the Mother’s Day posts here.
Thanks to my kids for giving me endless content for this blog, it’s been therapy for me. They have been therapy for me. They don’t make me need therapy, they are my therapy. This blog is also very cheap therapy. So, you’re welcome, Max and Lucy. The kids and this blog, I’m convinced make me a better writer, humorist, and mother.
What better way to celebrate Mother’s Day than realizing I’ve signed the kids up for a track meet on Sunday, and can’t go to church? The one thing I love to do on Mother’s Day is lug everyone to church. By virtue, it’s how this entire blog got started, was my first Mother’s Day experience. Quite frankly, I’m a little more overwhelmed that this blog is still going, I’m able to still write about so much mothery stuff, and that people still read it than I am about Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day to me is a fun day of reflection. I love the homemade cards, and the sweet gifts from my kids and my family. The gifts say a lot to me, almost like a report card _ “We’ve assessed your mothering skillz and we think you’re doing so well, we got you this.”
This year, I woke up earlier in the week with a serious crick in my neck and back. It was awful, so I announced that I’d be getting a pre_Mother’s Day warm_up gift of a very necessary massage. And I did. But I kind of regret telling them what I was getting for Mother’s Day. Next year, I’ll just get the massage and let them pick out their own gifts for me.
We ended up missing church because apparently I think there are two Sundays per week. We had a unique opportunity to sign the kids up for a track meet when the football schedule got moved back. So, it was my big fat idea and nobody else’s to sign them up for a track meet. I’m fairly new to track schedules, and so, I kind of forgot the part where it takes all day, and also, it starts at 8 a.m. And it was in Lincoln, NE, so a road trip necessitates leaving an hour early. I wake up every day at 6a.m. but everyone else doesn’t. And there’s a reason for that _ it’s too much. And it was Mother’s Day, so instead of my breakfast in bed, my sweet Ricardo brought me coffee in the bathroom while I hurried to get my track mom face on which must have been a little weird, because I had no pants on yet.
At breakfast, Lucy brought me a homemade card. We packed up as many snacks and sandwiches as you can fit into a Costco insulated bag and we went. What better way to spend Mother’s Day than cheering your kids on? Lucy tried high jump for the first time. It is daunting to jump over a bar onto a cushy mat. If you miss and knock the bar off the standards, you land on the bar on the cushy mat. And who cares how cushy the mat is if you’re landing on a metal bar? I mean, really. Earlier in the week, Lucy had landed on the bar. But she got back up and jumped again. So, to watch her jump on Mother’s Day _ to try something new with a little doubt, but moreso, an eagerness to simply try it _ well, I was lucky to see that in her eyes. She also did long jump and landed (pun intended) in the finals.
Max won high jump and then jogged across the field to check in for the 400m run. Meanwhile, I got to take pictures of it all with no whining about Mom taking too many pictures because it was indeed, Mother’s Day. And I took full advantage.
On our way home, I requested one last advantage taking of Mother’s Day _ mama needed a nap. I don’t really take a lot of naps. But the drive, and all, and it’s my day and such, so, you know, let’s do this. As I was falling asleep, Max very quietly slipped in and placed his homemade card on the bed for me and then slipped out. I didn’t know he could be that quiet. I guess he has been practicing his ninja skills, so, there’s that. In the mad rush to get to the track meet, he’d forgotten to give me my card and the sweet boy wanted to make sure I got it but didn’t want to wake me. Lucy, she would have shaken me till I woke up and read her card. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Max, kind and thoughtful like his dad, let me sleep first, then open the card.
A few years ago at the discussion of Mother’s day and Grandparents day and Father’s day _ one of the kids asked _ real whiney like and while demanding more cheerios _ when it was kids day. What I wanted to say was “eff you kid every day is kids day. Get your own damned Cheerios!” But instead I simplified it and said in my best Disney princess voice “Every other day is kids day.” And then a bluebird landed on my finger, and I made a fresh loaf of bread and gracefully frolicked through an open field of imagination, whimsy, and stink. But, that’s the truth for my kids _ every day is kid’s day. For other kids _ not so much.I know better, and sadly my kids are starting to figure out that some of their friends don’t have it as good at home. Maybe their parents are divorced, or worse, maybe they’re staying together and screaming at each other all the time. Maybe one of them is drunk. Maybe they are poor. Maybe the kids have no support, or positive influence, or they don’t feel safe.
And so what I celebrate is that I have kids and that I am able to make every other day kids day for them. I am exposing them to things like track meets and football and dance and swim team and orchestra. They are safe and happy and healthy smart and kind kids.
Now, someone make me some breakfast in bed already.
That’s how I roll.
Song of the day: Thank You by Dido