My trip down memory lane this morning reminds me Ms. Taurus-Lotsa-Fun and her family where males outnumbered females 4 to 1. Her presences in my life made profound changes in my perspectives.
She was mistress of the house where many of the local teeny-boppers chose to congregate. Good food, comfortable furnishings and a housekeeping code that allowed for the come and go traffic of young people all combined with laughter, jokes and wisdom from a cheerful Mom and story-telling Dad.
The results were entertaining and comfortable surroundings for those struggling with broken hearts, rebellious inclinations and/or boredom on a Saturday night in a small town.
A garage stocked with every tool you could think of, a fridge with beer if you were old enough and a drive home or sleeping bag on the living room floor, if you overindulged , were just icing on the cake.
She knew what it was like to be a lone female in a male dominated world – hence, if you ever dated one of her sons, then you had to really screw up before you lost ‘daughter status’ in her eyes.
Due to a hubby who worked road construction and was often gone during summer vacation when remodeling projects were performed, she had also gotten pretty adept at learning how to take care of things herself. Time spent with her meant you might just learn how to run electrical wiring and hang sheetrock.
No matter how many hours she had worked, it was still pretty certain any time spent in her company would result in your ears being rewarded with the melody of her giggling and laughter. Slow to anger and a hell-hath-no-fury personality when her Taurus temper had finally blown, she was sure to let you know when you were getting to close to triggering Vesuvius. Gave you plenty of cheerful warning spurts so you could back away and re-think your path choices.
In short, a safer bet than most authority figures peppering the town.
I always wanted to pattern my home and mommying traits after her. I desired to provide a safe and fun place for the local teenagers to hang out in.
I failed miserably.
Somewhere along the line, I got it in my head that earning money and being ‘socially acceptable’ were more important than having fun. That Christmas tree decorating and applying wall texture was too important to be left to the inexperienced. That teenagers would judge my cluttered house the same way neat and control freaks do.
In short, I had been seduced into the adult world of responsibility, duty, 401(k) plans, home and garden living.
I had also forgotten how to play.
To my everlasting regret, Morgan told me he had informed his girlfriend to make sure any Christmas ornament she purchased as a gift for me better be gold or maroon, else it wouldn’t find a place on Mom’s tree….”cuz she’s anal about it…”
I faithfully hang the properly purchased and gifted gold ornament at front and center every year…and every year I wonder what beautiful thing I would have received if I had not become a stupid adult…
It serves to remind me of the love and desire to please extended by the gracious to the insane who don’t deserve it…
About four months before my son’s death, frequent clashes with him made me realize how far I had strayed from the ideals of my pre-motherhood days. Hence, I decided it was time to do something about it.
I quit a job that was resulting in me being grumpy, tyrannical and stressed. But I had left it too late. I only had 10 days left before Morgan would be gone forever. Had I known, I would’ve stuck to my initial two-weeks notice and my last day would have been in March, instead of May. Won’t make that mistake again…
Most of my Facebook friends are young enough to be my children. I read their posts and ask stupid questions, like ‘What’s mafia wars? Are they cracking down on mob crime, utilizing teen-age and 20-something informants?” and “Is Pirate Bay the new vacationing spot?”
I’ve found the young are much more tolerant of stupid questions than adults are.
Because of our mutual loss, they are also very nice when I freak out and send floods of advice after they publish posts complaining about headaches.
They don’t tell me to quit worrying, being negative, or bossing them around.
Instead, they apologize for scaring me and thank me for caring about them.
In my mind, the friendship of young people rates right up there with dogs and horses. There’s quite a bit of tolerance for the stupid behaviors of others.
I see this as a sign my choice of friends is a good one.
I’ve also found out the next generation of leaders are much more supportive and open to new ideas than those my age. They understand rebellion and the desire to ‘do something different’.
They also appreciate that I reply “Yes” when they post, “Ugghhh…work…can I just sleep in front of my computer?” instead of accusing me of luring them down the path to hell….
They also like the fact that the F-word doesn’t send me into a conniption fit and that I know how to use it too. I have freedom of expression in their circle.
I now try to do what I can to make sure adults don’t corrupt them too much. I engage in the fun and irresponsible as often as I can. I try to point out the insanity of our current structure and remind them creative solutions don’t usually come from the same minds that formed the problem. I constantly tell them not to mold their minds to current standards, else we’re all doomed.
I encourage being a Free Spirit and following your heart. I try to award the annual scholarship to those who know how to follow the rules and break them all at the same time.
I regularly publish posts to remind them just because someone is an adult, doesn’t mean they know jack…
In short, I try to live in a manner that would be met with approval by Morgan and Ms. Taurus-Lotsa-Fun.
I’ve been given Signs that’s the way to go…