Memory Lane - My Pink Shirt

I was pretty young. 7, 8, 9 years old maybe?

The boy down the street died. He was in his 20s, very young, newly married I believe, and he had been in an accident at work. From my recollection, something about a machine being turned on and a piece of it flying out and lodging in his head. He never woke up. His poor parents and young wife had to make the decision to take him off life support.

This is the first funeral I remember going to.

After the fact, I tried to remember what I was wearing the day he died. I feel like it was my favorite shirt - it was like a pink baseball shirt over a long sleeve black shirt. It was very comfy, and I loved it.

Soon after, maybe it was months, maybe it was years, but I was about 10 years old, my best friend from my neighborhood's dad died in a horrible car accident. He was a police officer and had been traveling to drop off some documents and was hit by what I always thought was a car hauler. I guess I don't know for sure, as you only hear bits and pieces of things when you are 10.

From that day on, I won't drive anywhere near car haulers. They make me sick to my stomach.

I still sometimes see his dad's truck drive down my street.

I visit his grave site sometimes. I'm not sure why. He was a big piece of my childhood, I guess.

He scared the crap out of me.

I broke his garage window once with a basketball. I ran home, freaked out, and hid in the bathroom for hours. He came looking for me, and my grandma told him I had diarrhea. Embarrassing, yes, but it bought me some time! When my parents got home, they forced me to go down and apologize. I did, and he gave me a big hug and told me not to be afraid of him.

I used to think he would be my father-in-law someday. He even talked about it with my mom, how fun it would be for their kids to get married one day.

The day he died was one of the most traumatic days of my life. And to think, if I was that upset, I can't even imagine how his son felt.

His niece knocked on our door crying, and I swear she had said that my friend had died. It took me a minute to realize it was his dad. I was paralyzed. I walked with my mom next door as she went to tell the neighbors, and I stood there, trying to force myself to cry. It wasn't happening. I stood in my best friend's house, watching him sobbing on the couch, and I had no idea what to do to make him feel better. Watching his mom sobbing as she held him broke my heart. The funeral was one of the saddest I had ever been to. My friend's mom kept begging her husband to get up.

I finally cried.

On the day he died, I was wearing my favorite pink shirt.

Even at a young age, I had this obsession with numbers and symmetry and patterns. The first young man who died lived two houses from the corner. Two houses down from him, lived my best friend and his family.

So death was skipping a house.

I looked at what would happen next.

Two doors after my best friend was a very sweet older couple.

Two doors down from them was our house.

I couldn't let that happen.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I took my favorite shirt and tied it up in a plastic bag and through it up in my closet on the top shelf where I kept my stuffed animals.

I never wore it again.

When we moved from that neighborhood, I threw it away.

The pattern broke.

I'm not sure why I remembered this today.

It feels like just yesterday and our family was part of that amazing neighborhood, before everything fell apart.

A moment.

I stood on my porch this evening as I waited for my sweet husband to back our vehicle down the driveway for me.

It was cool, a bit breezy, but very comfortable.

The sky was a bit cloudy, but a few stars were able to find their way through.

I sighed.

It was a happy sigh.

Today we celebrated the life of our beautiful girl.

We had family and friends from both of our lives, all mixed together in our tiny house.

It was beautiful.

Such love and laughter.

I stood on my porch, gazing into the sky, and just thinking about how sometimes everything feels just right.

First day of school!

She made it! First day of kindergarten. Success!

I was so proud of her. We struggled for the better part of last year with tears in the morning. About half the time it was fake, but the other half was definitely real. I'm not exactly sure what prompted it or why it lasted for the entire year.

So far, this year, no tears!

She was visibly nervous. You could see it. We talked a lot about going to a new school, and how she won't be the only "new kid" since most of her class hadn't been to school before! We talked a lot about making friends and fun things she can learn. We've spent hours talking about the myriad of choices she has for lunch.

She was ready.

My little girl, all grown up and heading out into the world!

Okay, not quite, but gosh, it sure feels like it!

We made it to the school years.

We made it through the nighttime feedings and the diaper rash. Through the spit up and the uncontrollable crying. We made it through sleeping through the night (okay, so that might still be a work in progress...) and learning how to walk. Through all the "firsts" a new baby brings.

Now we have a whole new world of "firsts" and exciting things. And a whole new world of problems and conflicts she has yet to experience.

I'm pretty darn glad that I get to be the one to help her walk through it all.

She's my best girl.

I'm a mess.

I'm on edge.

My stomach is in knots.

There's just so much going on, it all gets to me when I have a second to sit and breathe.

Things to order. Homework to do. My daughter starts school in the morning. Practice plans to work on. Cars to fix. Laundry and dishes to do. Rooms to switch. Floors to clean. Meals to plan. Groceries to buy.

And no time for any of it.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I'm trying to relax.

Waiting for the washing machine to be done so I can throw my clothes in the dryer, and take a hot shower, and get some sleep.

It's hard to relax and sleep knowing that there aren't enough hours in the day tomorrow to complete everything I have to complete.

Oh, goodness.

Life Lessons.

I've been thinking this morning.

I started off angry. Somebody made judgements on people they had never met based solely off of their looks. I think it was some kind of veiled attempt at flattery, but the fact that this person thought making comments like that was okay really shocked me.

Weren't we all raised with the Golden Rule?

You know, whoever has the gold makes the rules...??

Okay, sorry, watched Aladdin yesterday, I couldn't stop myself!

What about not judging a book by it's cover?

What about treating others as we want to be treated?

What about just being NICE?

I thought that was a universal concept.

It amazes me how some people don't think like that.

I'm not angry anymore. I'm just very, very sad.

Part of what I want to change in this world is our perspectives on other people.

I want to help the homeless, the poor, the orphan, the disabled or the disfigured.

In our fun Disney viewing this past week, I also introduced my daughter to The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It had been awhile since I had seen it, so I wasn't sure if it was really age appropriate, but she begged and I was watching it with her, so we did it.

We had the most beautiful conversation about differences in people and how wonderful it is that we are all different!

We talked about how mean and cruel it was that people were yelling and making fun of Quasimodo.

We talked about how strong Esmeralda was to stand up in front of so many people and tell them to stop.

We talked about how what Esmeralda did was the right thing to do.

We talked about differences in appearances between people we know in real life. People with different color skin, different color eyes, different color hair. We noted that even her and I have different color skin.

We talked a lot about how people who look different than she does, especially in Quasimodo's case, are just the same as we are. They are people with feelings, and making fun of them is never okay.

Loving them is always okay, and is the right thing to do.

We talked about how calling Quasimodo ugly was hurtful. We talked about how calling anybody names was mean and hurtful.

We talked about what was different about Quasimodo. We talked about how nice he was, and she thought he was a good singer. :)

We talked about how those qualities were more important than what he looked like.

She grasped it, a little bit, anyway. But she's not yet five years old.

This is how it starts, however. I might not be able to change everybody's perspective of people all over the world, but I can do my best to raise my own children to be loving, kind, and accepting of all people.

Welcome, September!

September is here. And by the feel of the air outside and that wonderful breeze blowing through my windows, so is fall! The high tomorrow is in the 60s. Love it.

Goals are my thing. It falls into my obsession with list making. I'm attempting to set some goals for September.

Maybe not even goals, plans of action. Or something like that.

I returned to school this past week. It was such a great feeling.

One of my goals this time around is to actually GO to class. Regularly, even! Crazy, I know, but hey, apparently that's helpful! I'll give it a try, at least.

Going off of that, I really want to do well. I'm already a little overwhelmed with the amount of reading I have to do, but I REALLY want this. So I'll do it.

My girl goes back to school next week. It's a big year. I want to work hard to make sure she has all the tools she needs to do well. I don't want her feeling rushed, which happened a lot last year. This year her school is closer and starts at a later time, two things that will hopefully work to my advantage. I want her to succeed, and to love school like I did.

More than that, I want her to be happy. School makes her happy so far. I want that to continue.

Juggling everything is going to be the toughest part. My coaching job, school, the husband's job, the daughter's school, the boy being at home. It will be rough. I want to make sure that we each get to spend quality time with everybody. That includes me with each of the kids, the husband with each of the kids, and the husband and I.

It's so easy to lose sight of that connection when there is so much going on.

We've been doing so well. We're pretty happy. Enjoying each other's company. Making us a priority is important.

So, September, with it's new beginnings, it's crisp air and changing colors, it's apple orchards and bonfires, it's precious family time on the weekends - bring it on. I'm so ready for you!

I feel lost.

A month and a half later.

Life happened. A lot of life, really, and not so much.

We've had an exceptional summer. It was happy and lazy and man, was it hot...

It was our first real summer "vacation", as it was the first break between school years for my little girl. It was interesting, and exciting. School starts back up for her next week. I'm going to miss her desperately.

I have been catching up on my blog reading and Facebook stalking and have been finding myself constantly thinking, "I wish I had that" or "I wish I had done that" or "I wish I was a better mom like she is".

My little girl whispered from her blankets, "Mommy, can I have just four grapes?" To her surprise, I came back with four grapes. She gave me the biggest smile and declared, "Mommy, you are the best mommy ever!"

Sometimes I don't think so. But I'm glad she does.

I'm watching friends and past acquaintances do things with their life the "right" way. Graduate college, get successful jobs, get married, buy a house, have kids.

It makes me feel like I missed something.

But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I just wish that sometimes I would realize how my life is the right way for me, no matter what anybody else says.

I have a lot I want to do and change. Things have to. We need it.