Countdown to Forty.

As my children have gotten older, the buzz around Christmas has diminished.  There is no longer the anticipation of Santa Claus, class parties, or surprises.  What you see is pretty much what you get.....and it makes me kinda sad.  Fortunately for us, we have a slew of birthdays to keep us feeling festive.

My eleven year old daughter whose birthday happens to be December 23rd has begun the countdown to her big day and with each passing day, I cringe.  Not because I don't share her excitement but rather because I'm not ready for what's coming for myself. 

Nine days from today, I will turn the big 40.  That's right, on December 25th,  I will turn forty years old and just as the buzz of Christmas has diminished, so has the anticipation of what's to come in my own life.  What you see is pretty much what you get...

One of my favorite Saturday Night Live skits of all time was the one about Debbie Downer.  Honestly, none of the actors could even seem to get through the taping of it without busting up, because she was so ridiculous.  Whether it was Christmas morning or a trip to Disney, Debbie saw the down side to everything...and it was funny.  Seriously, seriously, funny.

I think we all know a Debbie Downer...perhaps we ARE Debbie Downer but I think we can all agree on one thing.  No one likes Debbie and no one wants her at their party.  I hate negative people and vowed long ago to never be one.  I have a motto and it goes a little something like this.

If you can't be nice, be funny. 

I love to laugh,  I love people who make me laugh, and I think it's fair to say that I can find the funny in just about anything...even when inappropriate.  ESPECIALLY when it's inappropriate.  Laughing is my coping mechanism and it has served me well.  I refuse to apologize for how I chose to survive what would have killed most.  I'm here and I'm still kicking - albeit somedays I'm kicking people. 

While I firmly believe that a positive attitude and a sense of humor are the two best qualities a person can possess, the reality is that life is hard and sometimes things just aren't funny.  The past several years have had me standing in a mine field of "WTF's" all the while laughing and cracking jokes because god forbid someone might think I was a Debbie Downer.  

My mother raised me to be tough.  If I had a poor me moment, she would listen briefly and then tell me to snap out of it.  As a result,  I have never allowed anything to really eat at me and have gone as far as to bear everyone else's burdens while suppressing my own.  Upon some recent soul searching, I concluded that although my mothers strength was admirable, I also believe it's what took her down in the end and caused her unnecessary stress throughout her life.  Now that I have children of my own, I don't know how she didn't kill at least one of us.  It's funny how your perspective changes once you walk in someones shoes.  

I remember standing at my mothers gravesite where her tombstone was delivered.  Oh yes, she had her tombstone created before she passed away and kept it a secret from all of her children.  I can just see her handwritten note on yellow paper that she left for the engraver  "Just add end date".  What better way to get the last word than to have your own headstone made?  I mean SERIOUSLY? If that doesn't explain a lot about me, I don't know what would.   My siblings and I climbed out of our cars at the cemetery and made our way over to her grave and stood silently as we read her headstone.  The words were powerful, yet simple.

Gratitude is an Attitude.

Please tell me how one follows a legacy like that?  I'll tell you how.  You put everyone else first, you trust in God, and you power through anything and everything that is thrown at you.  The only other choice is to slide down a wall and assume the fetal position.  That has never been an option for me, besides, crying is for weenies.  I was taught to be grateful for everything...and everything includes my trials.  I have carried my mother with me in my strength and I am grateful for her example.  I do, however,  have some memories of my mother that I am fonder of than others and those memories involve my mother in the midst of anger and her emotions.  Those memories were of my true mother.  The mother that she kept bottled up in an attempt to protect us from seeing.  

If my mom were here now, I would thank her for those rare moments that she let her guard down and showed us her vulnerability.  Those moments made her more real to me and when I find myself in the midst of my own adult trials, I find comfort in knowing that once in awhile, she was human and melted down.  I have a memory of sitting on the kitchen counter with my then new boyfriend (who happens to be my now husband) and my sister walked in oozing coolness.  My mom asked her a question and somewhere mid sarcastic sentence, my mom backhanded her across the face.  HARD.  That's right, right there in the kitchen in front of my new boyfriend.  At the time, I thought she was insane.  Looking back now as a mother myself, I think she was probably just tired.  Or fed up.  Or both...

And I get it.

My love for people with a little life experience has grown abundantly and I no longer see people as negative but rather "seasoned" when they share their stories with me.    Our life experiences shape us into who we are.  They build character and I can't help but find those who reside in trouble free existences quite boring.  Furthermore, I feel sorry for them.  How incredibly insufferable to know that your life is going to be cushy and comfortable from this point on?  Where's the excitement in THAT?  Furthermore, how do you get to know what you're made of?  

With each passing year, the bad news seems to multiply.  While I have never been a news watcher, I can't hide from the sadness that exists in the lives around me and I'm in awe of the crosses some are called to bear. That's right, we all have STUFF and everyone's stuff is just as important to them as mine is to me.  I have grown to love my friends more and more when they share their struggles with me.  Whether it be infertility, divorce, death of a loved one, illness, trouble with a child, or the loss of a job...I have seen my friends morph from average human beings into extraordinary people who have gone eye to eye with their trials and faced them head on.  At the same time, I have bonded with strangers over their sorrows.  Some would ask why sadness exists.  I believe it exists to make us better.  I believe it exists to connect us to others.  Sadness is a universal language.

As I have gotten older, what little filter I had is now non existent.  Before you get all judgy, yes, at one time, I had one.  A very, very small one, but nevertheless.  These days I find myself saying things I probably shouldn't to people who I am sure don't want to hear it.  I feel like my life experience has granted me the wisdom to spout off when and I where I want.  (And yes, I realize that this is not a great attribute to have).  At the same time, I am more apt to listen to those who are older or wiser or have experienced something I have not.  A defining moment in my life came when I learned to say "I don't know".  I can say "I think", "I feel", or "I assumed" but never, NEVER "I know" because I don't.  When we believe we know something, we stop seeking and I don't know about you, but I don't want to ever stop learning.  My life experiences have taught me that I don't know shit.  Being able to verbalize that has been the single most freeing thing in my 39 years thus far.

I have come to accept that adulthood is highly overrated...I was duped and so were you.  I have come to accept that for right now, my job is to do everything for everyone else.  Health insurance, oil changes, interest rates, mammograms, driving lessons, teenagers, emergency room visits...it never ends.  That's right, talk dirty to me, right?  This is adulthood in all it's splendor.  Being a spouse, a parent and a grown up is NOT for the faint of heart.  It is at times excruciating hard work and the rewards don't come until much, MUCH later.  Some people throw their hands up and say "screw this" as they run fleeing from the reality that is their life...and I can't say I blame them.  The solid ones (who have endured and understand suffering) linger around long enough to pick up their prize and the prize usually is waiting for us at the finish line.  

So I never wanted to be a Debbie Downer but I do want to be real and the reality is that life isn't always fun, or easy, or rewarding.  Some day, MOST days, we punch the time clock and just do what we gotta do.  The challenge is to find the joy in the day to day stuff and embrace it. 

All of it.

As I head into this next chapter of my life, I am grateful for all of my life lessons up to this point.  I am thankful for all that I have learned and for those who have been with me through those lessons.   I  am blessed more than I deserve.  I have a husband that tolerates me (and I think might actually love me) and three healthy children.  I have had the privilege of raising sons and a daughter and have been impacted by the relationships I have with each of them.  I was raised by amazing parents who quietly speak to me from the other side and let me know that they did they best they knew how and it's ok for me to do things the best I know how.  I have a solid circle of friends who support me, make me laugh, challenge me, and allow me to say what I want without having to apologize for it.  Even better, they allow me to do the same for them.  Oh yes, I have some seriously amazing women in my life.  

I have had to confront some demons recently.  Not because I wanted to but rather because I was forced to and I realized that in order to move forward, I have got to confront just what it is that has made me tick up until this point. I have made mistakes in my life and the only way I know how to move forward is to do just that.  Move forward.  I can be sorry.  I can be repentant.  I can be lots of things but none of those things will matter if I'm not different.  

If I want change, I have to change.

Turning forty doesn't scare me.  I wouldn't trade my 40 year old brain or heart for that of a 20 year old....not for a second. I have always celebrated birthdays and New Years with resolutions and I positively love setting goals for the future.  As I face this milestone birthday, I just want those close to me to know that I have some good stuff in store.  I am looking forward to loving each of you better and am putting some closure on some not so good stuff that has consumed me and effected me in negative ways.  Every hour, every day, every year is a gift.  I intend to use my life to bless those around me.  I am embracing this next chapter of my life with an intensity like never before.  

But if we're being honest, I'll probably get hit by a bus January 1st ...

(sorry. couldn't help myself).

Bragging Rights

          As much as I have begun to hate social media, I am growing more appreciative of the red flags that are thrown up on it on a daily basis.  You can really tell a lot about a person based on what they find important and I have been spared a great deal of time sprinting from people based on nothing more than their posts and photos.
         As I have grown older and matured, I am far more interested in what people have going for them and what they have to offer from the inside.  I value transparency and friendships and the more honest people are, the more drawn to them I am.  Call me crazy.
          Because of my heightened awareness to others narcissism, I hesitated to even write this but then I thought screw it.

  Some things in life are worth bragging about…

          Tomorrow Matt and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary and in today's day and age,  I consider that to be a major accomplishment.  When you add to that the mountain of trials we have waded through to arrive at 20 years,  I can't help but feel we should go platinum.  If you think I'm being prideful….well you would be right.  
          I was 16 years old and the life of the party (if only in my own mind).   If there was a social gathering,  I would die before I missed it.  It was a typical weekend get together in the town I love to call home.  Chagrin Falls can't be described, it must be experienced.  It was (and still is) a small town and everyone knows everyone. Upperclassmen and underclassmen were one in the same and this particular weekend, we found ourselves at the home of a guy one grade above us.  The party had been growing in size and I ventured downstairs to escape the crowded kitchen.  I walked the stairs to the basement careful not to spill my drink when I spotted someone I didn't recognize.  I made small talk with the guy I knew and glanced at his quiet friend leaning up against the wall.  I then walked outside for some fresh air and that quiet friend I didn't recognize followed me out.  

I am so glad that he did.  

           I have had many defining moments in my life but never in a million years, especially at the reckless age of 16, would I have thought my basement detour would have led me to my husband.  He was an hour from home and happened to be spending the evening with a guy he hasn't spoken to since. The fact he was where he was, with who he was, was for lack of a better word, ODD.  I, however, like to think of it as divine intervention.  
           I have asked Matt before what drew him to me in a house full of that many people.  What gave him the confidence to follow me outside and sit down next to me like he had known me his whole life?  He told me that I was loud and funny and had the attention of everyone around me but he was challenged to shut me up and get my attention.  I have to laugh seeing as he's been doing that ever since.  
            We talked for well over an hour and the night ended with me writing my phone number down his entire arm with a sharpie and the phone was ringing as I walked in the door.  I tease him to this day that he could have at least waited a day or two to call.  

I am so glad that he didn't.

           The next several days were a blur and I think there was a 3 day period where we didn't sleep.  We talked all night long and even snuck out to meet one another for breakfast at 4:30 am one morning.  Still unsure of how I felt,  I continued to meet him for lunch, dinner, and day dates.   I was drawn to him as a person and connected to him on every level but there didn't seem to be much chemistry.  I was losing interest.
          He was picking me up from my sisters house one afternoon and I could hear his truck from a mile away - SHOCKER.  I ran downstairs to meet him in front of her apartment complex.  We spent the afternoon together and the day concluded with him dropping me off  
in the same spot he had picked me up.  I started to get out of the car when he leaned over and pulled my door shut.  Right then and there, he planted a kiss on me that changed everything.  
          He was in a blue rugby, tan shorts, and tennis shoes that had yellow laces.  He drove a Jeep Cherokee that had a tennis ball over the shifter.  A Christopher Cross song was playing on the radio as we held up traffic.   I can't remember what I had for breakfast this morning but I remember everything about that day as though it just happened.  Funny how that works, huh?
         He was quickly introduced to my friends and family though he still lived far away.   He had graduated while I still had a year of high school to finish.  We spent every weekend together but the weekdays drug on.  He drove the hour to have dinner with me every Wednesday. I lived and breathed for Wednesday's.  Coincidentally our anniversary falls on a Wednesday this year and we will be having dinner together just like old times.
         By the time my graduation cap had hit the ground, we were moving to Las Vegas where we knew no one but Matt's aunt and uncle.  Matt took a bus and a duffle bag and I took a car filled with everything I owned.  We rented an apartment together and I began second guessing.   I panicked and moved back to Ohio.  Shortly after the realization I couldn't stand to be away from him, I moved back to Vegas and we were married just a few months later. We were going to live happily ever after.  It was an idiotic plan and it shouldn't have worked.

I am so glad that it did.

         Over the years, I have pondered the why's and how's of my marriage.  I don't want to over analyze or  jinx the million dollar question with my over active mind - HOW have we survived 20 years of marriage?  Are we extremely committed or do we both just have extremely high pain tolerances?  Truth is, I don't know the answer to that question which is why I choose to celebrate that it just is.  
          Marriage is hard work.  Down right grueling at times… If you are lucky enough to stay in love with the same person for an extended period of time, that's not even enough.  Add kids to the mix, a pet or two, ailing parents, business and finances, you don't have a marriage on your hands, you've got a game of Wipeout.  
          We seem to wake up these days dodging, ducking, and jumping from one situation to the next. Marriage is hard but life is so much harder.  My advice to those who have a few years until they arrive at this stage of life would be to PREPARE.  It gets better in many ways but so much harder.  If your marriage isn't rock solid now, make it your mission to unify with your spouse now so you are ready when it hits you.  I hate to be the one to break it to you but you're about to get your ass kicked.  
          I consider myself to be blunt, honest, and forthright.  I try to soften those harsh characteristics with my humor which fortunately those in my circle seem to understand.  If they didn't "get" me, I'm certain I would have been arrested by now.  I've joked enough times about killing my husband and kids, that Nancy Grace would have a field day with me should someone in my family go missing. 
          I hesitate to say this out loud (for fear of the good Lord accepting this as a challenge) but I believe that what hasn't killed us, has indeed made us stronger.  We have always had a fun marriage but the past ten years has brought us to our knees.  The upside to having a good marriage is that when you are brought to your knees, you are brought down together. We love our kids deeply and dislike them as deeply at other times…but we do that together.  We learned how to balance a checkbook together, how to parent together, and how to grieve together.  We entered and exited a religion together. We seem to do just about everything together and at other times, we just balance each other out.  While we are usually in tune with one another, when we were are out of sync, we've learned to step aside while the other works their stuff out.  Space and patience have been extremely important to us and we've needed both of those things more than we could ever have imagined.
          Between the two of us, we have buried all of our parents.  We came close to burying a child and while we were fortunate enough to keep him have dealt with issues as a result of of his accident on an almost daily basis.  I suffered a brain hemorrhage that left us fearing the worst for several weeks and still scares us from time to time.  We have accrued enough medical bills to pay for a trip around the world…twice.  Most recently we watched our family car go up in flames and our family pet die accidentally at the hands of our sweet daughter.  Oh yes, it's never a dull moment at the Brady's.  I mean ever.

And yet,  I am so grateful.

          I am grateful that through all of the chaos, I have learned how strong I can be and seen my husband evolve into this amazing man who holds the pieces together when I just can't.  He has turned the other cheek in business deals where people deserved to have their jaw dislocated.  He saved the life of one of my kids and didn't leave his side for days in ICU.  He held me together when I lost my parents and allowed me to do the same for him just a few years later when he lost his dad.  He agreed to move across the country to Timbuk 2 when I presented that as a good idea.  He trusted me when I was completely and utterly out of my mind and threw a dart that landed on Georgia.
         He makes me laugh and has my back (more than I have his I'm afraid).  If I like you, so does he.  If you cross me, you're dead to him.  I don't even have to tell him why. He treats my family and friends like they are his own and won't tolerate my children being anything but respectful to me.  My friends come over to talk to him because he's fun and insightful and genuinely wants to know what people are going through.   It's always been that way.  
         Don't get me wrong.  He can be an ass (a giant one) but that's part of the appeal.  If you are lucky enough to be loved by him, he will do anything for you.  His expectations are almost impossible to meet but he will exceed yours if you can meet him even half way.  He is thoughtful and caring and I can say 20 years later that he loves me…and I know it.  How many people can say that?  I have never questioned whether or not I am loved and that in and of itself is my greatest blessing.  
         He can go for a 4 hour motorcycle ride than come home and iron all of our clothes cause they aren't up to par.  He'll go from holding a wrench to fluffing the pillows on the couch in a split second.  He is the weirdest and greatest person I know.   He's like a jacked up version of Jesse James and Jeff Lewis…and I love it.  
          He is affectionate and chivalrous and can't so much as run to the store without picking something up that he thought I'd like.  I have to tell him to shut up some nights so I can sleep because I never get bored of talking to him.  I know, RIGHT?  How lucky am I?
          Please don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love your new boobs or your bikini ready body.  They're great.  I mean really, REALLY, great.  I appreciate you sharing them with me everyday but  I just wanted to steal the spotlight for a minute  (and if you're wondering if this is you, it's more of a collection of people so don't take it too personally but if you THINK it could be you then that in and of itself might deserve some self observation).  

Ok.  Back to me.    

Tomorrow marks 20 years that I have been married to the same person.  Together we created 3 of the coolest kids you could ever imagine.  We have been to heaven, to hell (more than once)  and then back.  Furthermore, we have managed to laugh a good part of the way.  We fight hard, but we love harder.  We are fiercely loyal to our friends and to each other and are a force to be reckoned with.  We have enough history to write a book.  We are more of a couple than I could have ever imagined.   I am lucky.  I am smitten.  And yes,  after 20 years, I am totally bragging.  

I would do it all again.  Every single bit of it…..