Monday, August 8, 2011
I am seriously annoyed with "a" daughter of mine right now, and it has nothing to do with cookies, and so I absolutely have to write something good to offset the taste of sour milk in my mouth. Children have a way of occasionally having that effect on us. And so I write...
Some of the greatest moments have been spent basking in life with my friends and laughing with the people I love. Even looking back on those really crappy days and being able to laugh about them later....because even in the worst of times, humor can be found. Like when my girls were little and I waited in my car while I sent them into the post office with a box of clothes and told them to send them "book rate" so it would be cheaper, and Nicole came out freaked out because the post office police were standing with Monica and had threatened to OPEN THE BOX while they told my girls that if they were lying it was a federal offense; And all I could say was "See girls! Let this be an example of why people should not lie." Fortunately, we didn't do jail time, but it is in fact, a federal offense to lie to the United States Postal Service about what is in the box.
Those are the moments; the only moments that give life color, and humor. Then again, this is redundant because I write about humor a lot and I will continue to. It's the only survival mechanism I know.
But back to my friends...in the moments when you need back-up, you really do find out who has your back. There are the "consoling friends" "Oh, I'm soooo sorry to hear that happened to you" (you know, the ones that stroke you when you need it whether they agree with you or not); and then there are the "running friends." The friends that hurt our feelings because we needed them momentarily, and they were just too damn busy or didn't care. Let me compare that feeling to an emotional bee sting. It hurts when we find out who they are.
Come to think of it, my own boyfriend just pulled a "throw Renae under the bus" moment just this weekend. He will be my "running friend" example. Now, if you know me as well as my family and friends know me, you know that your sweets are not safe in my kitchen. Hide them. If you don't, I am not responsible; and if you offer them to me, don't expect to find any left anywhere, ever; I simply took you up on your offer. So on Thursday my (unnamed daughter who rents a room from me) so generously comes home from work and says "Mom, I have cookies for you." Now, I don't know how anyone else would feel about this statement, but the "for you" part meant FOR ME. Not for me to leave any for anyone else. FOR M-E. Me. And so, as Richard and I were on the couch watching a documentary on Saturday night, I figured I would spice up the excitement of this eventful 52 Saturday nights a year evening watching documentaries with..."the cookies". I pulled out the bag and really, there was only like three cookies which were broken into big and small crumbs; there wasn't even a whole cookie in the stupid little plastic bag -- but we got milk and dipped and dunked and dunked and dipped and licked our lips while watching the old people documentary. Harmless right? Wrongo. The "daughter" walks in the door, goes straight to the fridge and declares angrily "MOM! YOU ATE MY COOKIES!" Well no $hit Sherlock. (I didn't actually say that). What I said was "I left you a piece." She was furious. 22 is the new 15 so I hear. I stuttered, I stammered, I said "but, but, you GAVE me the cookies!" "Not all of them!" she replied....and in the background cowering like a scared puppy was my boyfriend, and in this meek little voice while simultaneously holding up his index finger reflecting ("one" as in "one cookie) like a five year old he kept repeating "I only had one....I only had one....I only had one...." What the? In the face of fear, he theoretically ran! He threw me under the bus. Coward! Then "the daughter" does the throw of her long hair behind her shoulder move in conjunction with the stomp off thing that teenagers do and I sat there like "Wow? Really? You just threw me under the bus." A good boyfriend would have saved me. A good boyfriend would have taken responsibility, would have said "No ("daughter x") I ATE THE COOKIES. But he didn't. He ran; and now I have to put some serious thought into what I plan on doing about that. Ouch. Bee sting.
But back to the consoling friends. Now THEY are THE GOOD NEWS. I recently wrote a post called "What Would You Do If I Sang Out of Tune" where I confessed to being the one in our 7th grade group of carolers that couldn't carry a tune and so I lip synched. If you read it, you know how the story goes....well, here is THE GOOD NEWS.
Just after the post Christel, the friend whose house we were practicing the carols at sent me an email declaring that she loved my post. Not liked it, LOVED it. She thanked me for the memory and warmed my heart with her words. Then...
LORI emailed me, one of the other carolers in the group, claiming responsibility. She said she "wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have an out-of-tune partner...ME!!". Those were her exact words. Oh how I love Lori.
And then today, I get another email from DAWN. She adamantly insisted that it must have been she all along that was out-of-tune. Little did she know that Lori had already claimed responsibility. Truly, how did I get so lucky to have these friends in my life?
What makes this really over the top sweet, is that none of us have been together as a group since the 7th grade, and I haven't seen neither Dawn nor Lori since the early 1980's - but it was as though time had stood still and the power of the friendship, the laughter, the sharing of memories was in full force.
Now for Liz, she isn't on Facebook and doesn't even know I have a blog so she's off the hook, but Darcy? Where art though Darcy? Any chance it might have been you that was out of tune? Or shall I introduce you Richard the "it wasn't me" guy...
A toast to the friends that enrich our lives...
Sweet dreams and always, GOOD DREAMS