I will admit that thanks to her grandparents, my kindergartner does have her own alarm clock.  By the time I roll my butt out of bed and stumble blindly to the coffee pot, she is dressed, her teeth are brushed and she has made her own breakfast.  However, that is not the point here.

The point is that I have “arrived” at adulthood.  The days of existing as a screw-up kid cleverly disguised as a 28 year old responsible mother of 2 are over.  I am finally a bonafide grown up.

I joined the PTO. 

For the cool kids out there that have no idea what the PTO is, let me bring you up to speed.  PTO stands for Parent/Teacher Organization. In a nutshell, I – the mom who taught her preschoolers the art of headbanging – will be hosting bake sales, chaperoning field trips, and cutting out Christmas snowflake decorations this school year. 

And if you make fun of me, I promise to punch you in the mouth, knit you a doily, and sop up your blood with it.

Coming to a bumper near you…

“Friends are the family you make for yourself.” – Unknown

If Megan had been born a man, my boyfriend would be in big trouble.  In fact, if we were lesbians, I’d have it made.  She has helped me be my best, been a victim of my worst and still calls me her best friend.

Everyone should have a Megan. 

While moving some boxes around, Megan discovered a stash of notes we’d passed back and forth in high school.  We sat up giggling until 3AM Saturday morning reading how ridiculous we were.  We laughed, we cried, we cringed and we laughed some more.  Our trip down memory lane proved that a few things are certain: I did NOT have life figured out like I thought I did.  My parents really were smarter than me.  I am glad I am no longer 14.  Megan and I really are best friends FOREVER.

Like most girls, during my school days I had numerous BFF’s.  It wasn’t until I became an adult that I really understood what true friendship was.  Real best friends do not come and go with semester changes and they often stick around even when you don’t want them to.  They will help clean up your love life as well as your vomit.  Best friends have not only seen you naked, but have possibly seen you push another human being out of your hoo-ha.  The title should not be handed out lightly. 

Yesterday, my mom lost her “Megan.”  Her name was Joyce and she was my mother’s very best friend.  A car accident suddenly claimed her life and the person my mom has exchanged her life story with was gone.  It has been a blow to our whole family. 

As I lay in bed with my sweet Mama last night, I thought about how fortunate we are to be able to reach beyond the boundaries of family and truly be loved by others we encounter.  This life is too short.  Best friends are few and far between.  Mom said to me, “Best friends don’t come along often.  We’re lucky to get one.”

I’m lucky enough to get two.  Brenda, the other woman in this world subjected to my madness gave me a picture for Christmas that says, “A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future and loves you just as you are today.”

I am reminded to not take these precious souls for granted.  We may not share the same bloodline, but are sisters none the less.

Go rest high on that mountain, Joyce.  You will be missed.

My mind drifts back to when I started kindergarten.  I remember that day very well.  I wore blue shorts and a blue and white striped shirt with new white Keds.  I had a brand new Barbie backpack.  My hair was in the same cut that my daughter’s is in.  I was determined to ride the school bus so Mom met me at the school and I bought cafeteria food for lunch.  To say that I was excited was a drastic understatement.  One would’ve thought that my elementary school was actually located inside Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyworld and not across from a cow pasture in Nowhereville, NC.  Life was just beginning and I was eager to jump on the education train and take off!

Enter Kindergarten teacher FROM HELL.

I won’t call names here, even though I REALLY want to, but my kindergarten teacher was 3 shades of evil.  Rather than studying at a university, I’m convinced that this woman received her degree from an Al-Queda torture center.  She hated me.  I do not exaggerate.  From the first day of school she HATED me.  Granted, I was a colorful child.  I liked to talk, giggle and oddly enough, I even quacked like a duck for the first three months of school… but that is no reason to receive the treatment I did that year. 

Every day I was in trouble for something, whether I was guilty or not.  I never received special treats like the other kids and frequently sat in time-out during recess.  I always had to sleep in the dreaded spot by her desk at naptime and I NEVER got to be the Wake-Up Fairy.  She would scream at me until her face turned red and I started to cry.  My mother, who worked at the school, was continually in my classroom defending me from the horrid teacher.  My whole family remembers that year.

I believe that things that happen to us as children directly mold and shape the adults that we become.  While I do not blame any of the bad choices I made on anyone, I can’t help but wonder how my life might have been altered had I not had her as a teacher.  If I hadn’t been mislabeled as such a “bad kid” at such a formative age, would I have had more respect for myself and made better decisions when I got older?  Maybe.  We’ll never know. 

Two weeks ago, while at out with friends in my hometown, we saw this woman.  After telling the details over dinner, they all agreed that she even looked evil.  Of course, the teacher didn’t regard my presence and wouldn’t remember me if her life depended on it.  All the while, my blood boiled over at the simple sight of her.  She still teaches kindergarten.

Canaan’s first day of school is next week.  She is wearing blue shorts and a blue and white striped shirt.  She picked out a brand new Barbie backpack.  The similarities are coincidental and CREEPY.  I won’t allow her kindergarten resemblance to go any further than that – I will be driving her to school and packing her lunch.  Also… do you know a good bouncer for hire?

Photo courtesy of Vickie Riley Photography

In 2005, MySpace was in full force.  Being that my address was not “Under a Rock, TN” I had heard of the site but had no desire to join in.  My days consisted of diapers, HTML and PHP coding and wedding plans.  Social networking was not on my radar.  While planning my New Year’s Eve wedding, I encountered a problem.  The hotel where I wanted to have my reception was booked by another couple.  It was on a popular wedding message board that I met Jenny, the bride who stole my Sheraton Hotel.  Anti-Bridezillas that we were, Jenny and I became instant friends comparing notes, styles, colors and party favors.  It was Jenny who invited me to MySpace to share photos.  Reluctantly, after her fifth request, I signed up.

The first year of my MySpace existence consisted of reconnecting with old friends and sharing pictures of the baby with my out of state family members.  In 2006, I discovered blogging.  All of my life I had been a closet writer, making up stories and keeping them locked away in notebooks for my own personal enjoyment.  Never had I thought about writing for other people until MySpace.  In the past 3 years I have posted hundreds of blogs for what became thousands of readers.  I was humbled by the fact that anyone would relate to my senseless ramblings. 

My reasons for leaving were very personal, confirmed by the fact that blogging on MySpace has become a joke over the past year.  I will still read my favorite bloggers through RSS, but I will miss our interactions, bantering, inside jokes and Peanut Cartoons.  I hope that my friends will find their way to Impacting Journey and drop a note to say “hello” from time to time. 

What’s next for eL.?  Well, I plan to go underground for a while and focus on doing what MySpace helped me to become passionate about… writing.  Maybe you’ll see me on Borders.com or NYTimes.com someday.  In the meantime, if you’re on MySpace and you see Jenny, give her this web address – I forgot to tell her I was leaving. 

Tonight at the gym my Cirque Du Soliel-wannabe three year old decided to hide in a locker from his sister. He wanted to hide in the TOP locker about four feet off the ground. The conversation went something like this:

“Will, stop climbing on the lockers.” … “Will, get down right now.” … “WILL! How many times is Mommy supposed to ask you to do something?” … “Will, what happens when you disobey Mommy?”

He paused and looked back at me. “I get a spanking.” Like lightening, he was out of the locker and back on the floor.

A child in the dressing stall behind me gasped. Yeah, his mom was part of the 62% of Southerners too. That kid knew what a mommy-spanking meant.

Here’s my spanking disclaimer before someone gets their panties in a wad: Spankings and abuse should clearly be two different things. If that line ever gets fuzzy between an adult and a child then someone should intervene. Spankings should be rare and reserved for serious BEHAVIORAL offenses and never for accidents.

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On a lighter note… what about those moments when your children make it impossible to parent them? Here are a few real-life-of-eL. examples for your enjoyment.

I have the hardest time getting my son to eat at dinnertime. Bribery, threats, hours at the dinner table… nothing works. A few weeks ago I fixed spaghetti – a kid staple, right? The conversation with my son was the same. “Will, you may not get up from the table until you finish your dinner. If you don’t finish your dinner then you will have to go to bed.”

Forty five minutes later, I was folding laundry in the bedroom when my son entered the room. (Remember… HE’S THREE.) “Mom, I would rather go to bed AND have a spanking than have to eat my dinner.” I was dumbfounded. It was all I could do to not fall on the floor and laugh.

“Son, it’s spaghetti!”

He clamped his hand over his mouth. “I not wanna eat it.”

I dropped my head and pointed down the hall. “Go to bed.” By the time I caught up with him, he was in his bed with the light off and his blanket pulled over his head. Maybe I should take a cooking class?

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At our gym is a 50 gallon fish tank that my children are both fascinated with. Will can’t sit still to watch the fireworks show over the Magic Kingdom, but at that fish tank he will sit and stare for hours if I let him! Yesterday, while waiting for my Yoga class to begin, I let Will visit with the fish. He kept slapping his hands against the tank and yelling at the fish. “Will, stop doing that,” I told him.

“Why Mom?” he asked.

“Because you’ll scare the fish. Do you want to scare the fish?” I asked.

Do you believe in spanking?

I always used to think I’d go crazy being bored at home as a full time mom.  I realize now what a vacation my JOB really was!  I take my fictitious hat off to all you stay at home parents out there.  You certainly don’t get enough credit.

I have enjoyed the constant company of my kids far more than I could’ve ever imagined.  You really should just be jealous because I simply have the funniest, cutest and smartest children ever conceived.  They teach me so much about life and about the person I want to be.  The lessons learned through the experience of children are absolutely priceless.  There is no university that compares with parenthood.

Patience is a CHOICE.  It is far easier to laugh and get over it, than it is to get upset.

No one snuggles better than a three year old.

If you want to know honestly how you are doing life, ask a preschooler their opinion of you.

You know to pass up your Food Network dream when your kid opts for a spanking and early bedtime rather than eat.

You should always keep your toenails short, even if it means biting them.  You might trip over them if you don’t. 

I’m sure there will be many more lessons to come… stay tuned.  This could get interesting.

We ate and talked about our favorite times with Daddy.  Will chased a butterfly around our small corner of the graveyard and Canaan diligently walked around making sure all of the other flower arrangements on neighboring headstones were tidy and upright.  It was around 95 degrees in Tennessee and we’d made plans to spend the day at the pool with friends.  Before we departed Canaan asked, as she always does, to have a moment alone with her dad.  Will, of course, had to follow suit when she’d finished.

When he returned to where Canaan and I were waiting, he tugged on my pants leg and wrapped his tiny fingers around mine as walked to the car.  “Mom, my Dad says to tell you he loves you.” …and I’d held it together so well all day.

After cleaning myself up out of the eL.-shaped puddle on the grass, we made our way to the “Y-M-C-A!”  (I’m sorry, I can’t even type that, much less say it out loud without singing it in my head.)  We spent the afternoon at the pool, listening to Michael Jackson and Coldplay, bantering with close friends, and perfecting our sunburns.  It is exactly the way Robert would’ve wanted to spend the day. 

Watching my kids, I realized how much we’ve all grown since last summer.  My daughter is now able to get in the big pool without a life jacket and my son made the journey four times to the bathroom on the other side of the building.  As I congratulated him on a job well done and tugged his bathing suit back into place, he held up his fingers centimeters apart and went cross-eyed holding them up in front of his nose.  “I only peed in the pool a little bit!” Last year, on Father’s Day, there wasn’t a lot of laughter in our world.  Today we had “Oh my gosh, so much fun!” as my daughter told her Poppie on the phone tonight.  It’s been a good day. 

That’s worth repeating – It’s been a good day.

Thank you to everyone who has walked with us for the past year. 
Thank you to my dear friends who pimped yesterday’s blog/Public Service Announcement. 
If one life can be spared because of what we’ve had to endure then maybe it wasn’t all in vain.

I thought about writing this blog on the anniversary of his death, but writing about the accident would’ve defeated my purpose of ignoring the anniversary. So, I decided to save it for today. I have no idea why this had to happen to us, but I believe my words will reach out to someone who needs to read them.

May 31^st, 2008, I was forced to do what no mother should ever have to do. I had to meet my children at their bedside and tell them that they wouldn’t see Daddy again. That entire day is a blur now, but I’m sure my explanation to them was something like, “Daddy was driving home this morning and he ran the van into some trees. He was hurt really bad and he died. Do you know what it means when someone dies? It means that Daddy isn’t going to be able to come home again. He went to heaven to live with Jesus and we won’t see him anymore.”

While I don’t remember exactly what I said to my children, I will never forget the look on their tiny faces. Mortality was realized and their delicate innocence was shattered. Their father, teacher, coach, biggest fan and superman was gone forever.

I love my cell phone and I’m guilty of it too from time to time, but I can no longer check my phone or return a text behind the wheel of a car with a clear conscience. In Tennessee texting and driving is now illegal and more states seem to be heading in the same direction. 

 Don’t text and drive.

Don’t drink and drive.

And ALWAYS buckle up.

Don’t be the reason that anyone else has a KFC picnic at the cemetery on Father’s Day. Please remember these faces the next time your cell phone goes off in transit.

Robert William Huttinger III
July 10th, 1982 – May 31st 2008

If some lessons in life are learned the hard way, then this particular lesson is painfully too important to miss.

Last week I visited my alma mater for the first time in ten years to watch my niece graduate.  For those few hours it was as if I’d fallen into the Twilight Zone and was teleported back to 1999 when it was my class spraying silly string and setting off fire crackers.  The gym seemed to be a lot smaller than I remembered it and new pictures hung on the walls, but overall, the experience was exactly the same.

As I watched my niece walk the stage and accept her diploma, I realized that I didn’t really miss high school or even the people in it.  What I did miss was the girl that I was then, untainted by reality, full of hope, taking on the world at full steam, knowing nothing but invincibility and courage.  I was naïve and reckless, but I was free to take my life in any direction I wanted to go.

For a moment I mourned the loss of that spunky girl with the spiky, bleached blonde hair and tie-dyed tank tops.  Not that she would’ve listened, but I intensely wished that I could go back in time and tell her some important details about the road ahead.

1. Don’t take a year off before you go to college.  You won’t believe how long that year will last.
2. Stay away from boys named after motorcycles.  They are nothing but trouble.  Actually, just stay away from boys in general; your taste really sucks.
3. Smoking pot on federal property is a FELONY.  Just FYI.
4. Don’t eat or drink anything homemade in New Orleans.  In fact, try to avoid New Orleans all together.
5. Your mother isn’t nearly as stupid as you think she is.
6. Just say NO to Pizza Hut.
7. Save more money than you waste, but always be sure to waste a little.
8. Honor your family.  Friends will come and go, but your family is forever.
9. Take care of your heart.  It’s the only one you get.
10. Love the people around you well and never be afraid to say how you feel.

Life is nothing but a journey full of crossroads.  There are no wrong turns – only different destinations.