Daily Prompt: Fight the Power

It seems like most of my life I’ve gone against the grain when it comes to people in general, but I’ve always had good reason:  

I once slapped a boyfriend for making fun of people with cleft pallets. He hadn’t met my mom yet, who just so happens to have one. 

Another time in high school, I was riding home in a car with a group of friends.  It was a beautiful warm spring afternoon close to the end of the school year. As a girl got off the bus in front of us, the guy sitting next to me yelled, “you f@ck!ng retard!” She really was mentally deficient and my heart broke for her. Before I knew it, my 3″ thick history book had jumped from my lap to the side of his head with great force. He asked me “why in the hell did you do that?!?” I had no problems letting him know my opinion and he learned a valuable lesson that day. 

I promise I’m not a violent person. 😀

As for authority, the time that immediately came to mind when I saw this prompt was when I was in fifth grade; ten years old. There was a younger boy with Cerebral Palsy. He wore a helmet. He used a walker. We couldn’t understand him most of the time when he spoke. He drooled. His name was Timmy and he had a beautiful smile.

On this particular day, I had asked and been granted that rare middle of the day non-break bathroom pass. The hallways were empty and quiet as I entered the bathroom. When I came out, I saw my Principal and Timmy down the hall. She had him by his upper arms and was shaking him so violently that his head was being thrown around like a bobble head doll. 

I didn’t even think about it. 

Before I realized, I’d ran down that hall and thrown myself at that Principal, tackling her, screaming “YOU CAN’T DO THAT TO HIM!!!” at the top of my lungs. She let him go. I never found out why she was so mad at him. 

I didn’t tell anyone about what had happened. But Timmy did. To this day (Timmy has since passed), each time I see his mom, she hugs me and thanks me. 

I’ve been bullied. I know what it feels like. I stand up for those who can’t defend themselves. I’ve taught my children to do the same. 

On Being An Adult

“I Can’t Wait To Be An Adult So I Can Do Whatever I Want.”

As a kid, I envisioned adulthood as a kind of nirvana – a place where I could go to bed and wake up when I wanted, eat what/when/where I wanted, do what/when/where I wanted.  It would be an awesome, happy place of complete freedom.  No one to tell me what to do!

As mother of a 13 and “In 2 weeks I’ll be 12” year old, I now hear this phrase from my children.

As an actual, card-carrying, certified, dear-God-I’m-40-years-old adult, I still hope to one day to become that adult who can do whatever/whenever/wherever person I dreamed of so many years ago.  Sure, I could now, “theoretically” do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, but it comes with strings:

If I eat/drink whatever I want, because I’m now an adult…
* My metabolism has slowed down.  Thus, I have to watch my calories or I watch my butt get bigger.  I also have to watch cholesterol, trans fats, and a myriad of other things for health reasons.
* My digestive system just isn’t what it used to be.  Seems like everything (and I truly mean everything) gives me heart burn, acid indigestion, or an upset stomach of some type. Antacids are my friend and constant companion.
* Caffeine is my friend.  Until it isn’t.  This means I have to stop drinking caffeinated beverages by 3:00pm every day, or else I won’t sleep that night.
* Alcohol is not my friend.  Sure, I’ll enjoy a rare glass of wine or maybe an occasional bottle of Woodchuck, but, at my age, I have no desire whatsoever to have a night of stupidity that I don’t remember, nor do I wish to endure the agony that is the hangover.

If I go to bed and wake up whenever I want, because I’m now an adult…
* As a teen, I’d stay up all night watching cheesy old movies until 2 in the morning (it was before satellite TV, when we only had 3 channels), then sleep until noon the next day because I had no responsibilities.  Now, I have responsibilities; big, sometimes scary, adult responsibilities.  If I stay up too late, I won’t get enough sleep or worse, I’ll miss the alarm entirely.  If that happens, I could lose my job.  No job = no money.  No money = well, a whole lot of bad stuff would happen.
* If I don’t get up in the mornings, the kids don’t make it to school fed, dressed appropriately, with all homework/textbooks/lunch, or ready for their day.
* As the Adult Parent, it’s my job to make sure they get to AND from where THEY need to be.  This includes school, practice, doctor’s appointments, dental cleanings, haircuts, sleepovers, academic team meets, a plethora of sports games/events/tournaments, shopping for that “perfect” pair of jeans, picking up a gift for a birthday party, the actual birthday parties…  you get the picture.

If I do whatever/whenever I want, because I’m now an adult…
* The world would spontaneously combust.  Just kidding, but you never know…
* As an adult, I’m inundated with responsibilities:  Marriage, kids, work, home, etc.  These items dictate my time and resources. I am required to be in specific places at specific times in specific states of lucidity and dressed in an appropriate, specific manner.

In conclusion
Adulthood requires a lot of concessions.  If you want to live on your own, you have to have the essentials of life:  Food, shelter, clothing, transportation, medical care, etc.  To have these things, you must make decisions as to what level of each you desire.  To make those things happen, you have to find a way to support yourself.  This usually entails a job.  Sure, we’d all love to be freelance (insert dream job here)s and earn a bajillion dollars whilst living a life of complete freedom, but only a handful of us actually achieve that dream.  Those who do are rarely truly financially secure.  The majority of the world has a job.  We all have bills.  This is reality.  Reality sometimes sucks.

And then you find someone who you think you might actually love.  You get married.  You buy a house.  You both work on your now-two-of-you adult life and its responsibilities.  You have kids and the responsibilities multiply tenfold.  It’s a never-ending circle.

And then, one day, you look into the eyes of your child and you realize you won’t be on this earth forever.  You realize material things are just THINGS.  You realize that you like to wake up early to enjoy a spectacular sunrise, even if this means going to bed early the night before.  You remember that day you were so down and someone smiled or said a kind word that lifted you up.  You think of your grandmother and wish you could go back and talk to her just one more time.

You grow up.

True adulthood doesn’t mean we get to do whatever/whenever.  It means we not only have the means to support ourselves and our families; we also realize we’re not the center of the universe.  It’s not about us.  Growing up means you realize you’re put on this earth to help others.  Whether it’s financially, emotionally, spiritually, or physically, we’re here to help our fellow humans.  To make someone smile.  To lend a helping hand.  To put a hand out to help someone up.  To teach your children to be responsible and ready for the world.  To say an encouraging word that brightens someone’s day.  To be the shoulder someone cries on.  Just to be there for someone else in the best capacity you can manage.

When this life is over, I won’t take any material things with me.  The most important things I’ll leave behind won’t be things at all.  I’ll leave behind family and friends and memories of laughter, smiles, achievements, holidays, adventures, and even tears.  In my “free” time, I choose to make as many of those moments as possible.

As adults, we take our responsibilities seriously because Life is a serious business.  But there are moments when the sun is rising, when our children’s laughter rings through the air, when we look into the eyes of our life partners to see love, when we are filled with pride at the achievement of another, that we are truly… free.

Daily Prompt: Prized Possession

I grew up in a rural area.  The nearest small town was around 1,000 people.  On that fateful day in July, my mom and I had just left the funeral home (I don’t remember who) and were walking down the sidewalk towards my mom’s boyfriend’s garage (y’all remember those, right?  That place where you took your car and ONE guy could fix ANYTHING?).  And then it happened….

As we’re standing on the corner, prepped and ready to cross the street, I looked to my right into the flower shop window and beheld one of my future prized possessions:  A St. Bernard stuffed dog.  I was immediately drawn to him.  He was MINE.  It was a few days before my 6th birthday, so I begged and pleaded with my mom to buy him for me.  “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, Mommy!!!!”  As an adult I can look back and realize we were poor and she probably didn’t have the money, I know why she told me a resounding “No.”

I crossed the street in tears, knowing I would never see that stuffed dog again.

When we walked into the garage, Harold (my mom’s boyfriend for the next 27 years and my “person” – watch Grey’s Anatomy for explanation – whom I could depend on through thick and thin until his death in 2007) said, “Why is that baby crying?”

My exasperated mom explained, “There’s some stuffed animal she wants and can’t have it.”

My Hero Harold replied, “Go get that baby that stuffed animal!” and handed her the money.

OH!!!  The JOY!!!!!  I was in little girl Heaven!

We walked across the street where I met Bernard (his name tag told me this).  Bernard quickly became my bestest buddy.  He went everywhere with me.  He slept by my side each night and I KNEW with ALL MY HEART, MIND, BODY and SOUL that, should an intruder break into the house and try to “get me” that I would wake up and go “GRRRRRRR” and they would see Bernard and they would be convinced he was a real dog and they would go away and leave me alone and I would be safe.

For many years Bernard protected me and gave me peaceful sleep.  He was slept on, written on, puked on, tugged, pulled, tossed, hugged and given many, many kisses.  He was a great dog.

I grew up.  I moved out.  I went to college.  I got married.  I had a child.  In the bustle of every day life, Bernard was lost.  I always wondered where he’d gone and hoped he was happy and loved.

Again, it happened…

After the birth of my first child, we moved and decided to clean out a storage building.  As my mom and I were going through bags, she opens one bag FULL of stuffed animals from my childhood.  We were conversing as adults are apt to do… She’s pulling out stuffed animals as she’s talking….  I’m keeping up with the conversation, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking…  “What if…..?”

As if by magic, she pulls out Bernard.  He’s a little worse for wear.  His stuffing was squished and shifting all around his little body.  His fur all worn and matted.  His right ear hanging by a thread.

He was beautiful.  I was 28 years old and let out a “woo hoo!” to rival my six year old self.

This year, I’ll be 40.  Bernard is still my faithful companion (although I’ve replaced him with a very cuddly, snuggly husband in my bed).  He sits in my closet and I pet him every morning on my way to get my clothes.  He was a good and faithful friend and I owe him so much for keeping me safe all those years 🙂

I’ve told the story to my kids and they know how much that silly little dog meant to me as a kid (I was afraid of the dark and lonely).  They also know Bernard is very fragile and treat him with respect when they ask to hold him.  Once, when my son couldn’t sleep because he’d had a nightmare, I asked if he’d like Bernard to sleep with him.  His eyes grew wide.  He knew I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t big.  He accepted and slept the night soundly.  Bernard stood as Guardian over my son that night; a Sentinel of protection in the land of childhood dreams and fears.  He was returned to me the next morning with a “Thank you, mommy.” after a good night’s sleep, held gingerly and respectfully.

Sometimes, it’s the simplest things in life that mean the most.  Yes, I realize Bernard is just a stuffed animal.  He possesses no powers.  He’s an inanimate object.  He’s a silly piece of fluff that serves no real purpose other than collecting dust.  But, in the Land of Kiddom, he’s my Knight in Shining Armour.  He protected me unerringly.  He was my friend.

Like all good things in life, I appreciate Bernard.  He reminds me of a time when I was innocent enough to truly believe a stuffed animal could protect me.  That was a magical time.  He’s not just fur and fluff – he’s a part of my life for which I am very thankful.  In return for his years of faithful service, I keep him.  Yes, I know it’s silly.  My kids are now too old for such nonsense.  But, one day, there will be a grandchild in my life and he will take up the shield once again.