Mentoring

One of the most adult things I do is mentor a fantastic young lady.  She's currently an 8th grader and I've been privileged to be a small part of her life since 3rd grade.  We've talked about a lot of things over the years - grades, career plans, Halloween costumes, etc. But she also asked me why everyone was sad on 9/11 when she was in 4th grade and we had to talk about terrorism and try to find words to explain to a child that bad things happen sometimes but you are loved and safe.  We've also discussed hair color options and the brilliance of hoodies - in other words, we cover whatever life has thrown at us at the time. 

Mentoring has been one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.  I've been honored to watch her grow and mature.  I'm so happy to be part of her village.  I can't tell you how thrilled I am when the grade goes up or the band award happens.  I clapped pretty stinking loud when she bowed at the end of the elementary production of Aladdin.  There's something absolutely amazing about investing in a kid and then watching her turn into a young lady. 

I think this is pretty meaningful adulting.  Having perspective enough to realize that spending 30 minutes every couple of weeks with a 13-year-old really matters is adulting.  It matters to her and it matters to me.  She grounds me and reminds me what's actually important.  She keeps me as hip as she possibly can, and I try to keep her focused on school.  We're good for each other. 

I asked her if I could blog about her and she said yes, but not to say anything embarrassing.  I asked if I could include a picture and tried to take the second one here.  She asked if I'd include the SnapChat one above instead because she looks prettier in it.  We then talked about the "real" her being the prettier one.  I'm including both with the understanding that we both still have some growing to do. 

I share this story not to tell you how awesome she is (even though she really is that awesome), but to encourage you to find a kid who might need a mentor and be that person for them.  It doesn't take much and you will gain so much more than you give. The world needs people who care and love loudly right now.

Old Timer

I was notified this evening that I haven’t blogged in a while. (Thanks for the reminder Mr Cook!) I’m learning that adulting, like checking the mail every day and actually putting away laundry, is wildly time consuming. (Kidding - kind of)

Some of the adulting I’ve done lately is old timey - I’ve been sending out hand written notes to people. Like I literally get a card or piece of paper and use a real (not Apple) pen and write a note to someone who I think deserves a little old timer joy. It doesn’t take that long, my penmanship is improving, and people seem to really love it.

In a time when it’s so easy to text, email, private message, and Snap, maybe a little ink is just what the world needs.

20 years

My mom died by suicide a couple of weeks before Google launched. The iMac came out the same month she died, and the first Harry Potter book was released that same year. That means my mother never Googled anything, she never saw a MacBook (couldn’t have dreamed of an iPad), and died not knowing who Voldemort was or if he won. 

It was 20 years ago today. I’d been 21 less than two months and Amy had been 19 less than a day. Our worlds stopped, and we grew up in a heartbeat. Nothing forces adulthood on a child like helping make decisions about caskets and burial locations. In 1998 no one I knew talked about suicide. So when people asked me how long she had cancer I generally stared awkwardly and said “she didn’t” before walking away. I never felt the need to lie about the way she passed, but I always felt uncomfortable when people didn’t seem to know what to do in front of me with the facts.

20 years later and we are all wiser and braver. We not only share her story but we also share her truth. We share that her depression hid from most everyone for years and that she was an incredible mother and friend to us.  We share that all the goodness in me comes from the upbringing I was gifted from her and dad. The light of her life is much more important than the darkness that proceeded her death. My memories of her are vivid enough to wash away any lingering darkness. 

Am I still sad I lost my mom before my life really started?  Desperately sad. Do I mourn all the amazing things she missed when her depression finally won out?  Absolutely.  Am I a better person today because of the strength and tenacity gained through that hell?  You betcha. She taught me to see the best in every person and in every moment. Today, 20 years later, I honor her by seeing the good. That’s probably the most important and amazing adulting I’ll ever do. 

One headlight

In the last few months I’ve met two very nice Keller police officers. You might think I met them through work or at a city event, but no... I’ve been pulled over twice for a headlight being out. You’d have thought I would have taken the time for the repair after the first “bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do” moment, but no...  In my head, getting the headlight repaired/replaced was a big deal. It was going to take hours and I just don’t have hours when the school year is about to start.

Yesterday I got the headlight fixed. 5 minutes and $21. Thanks Kwik Kar of Keller. Sometimes adulting isn’t even a fraction of the hassle I make it out to be.

Prime Time

I have learned some odd adulting skills over the last two decades. One that I believe is wildly interesting is delivery of groceries and other items  to my door from Prime Now. For a little over a year I’ve had everything from toothpaste to ground turkey and earrings to zucchini delivered to my front door in about two hours. It is incredible. The quality is good, the prices are generally competitive, and I’m way less likely to impulse buy as I don’t wonder aisles.

This adulting reached new levels of awesome a couple of weeks ago when I learned that I can get beer and wine delivered to my front door. Like a box of Pinot Grigio and a bottle of Malbec. I have to show the delivery person my license and sign for the delivery, but like unicorn-glitter-magic, it shows up!  This, my friends, is an adulting win!  Thanks Amazon Prime Now!

PS I checked the mail today. Bam!

Box Full

I've shared an adulting success, so I'm going to keep it real and share a big ol' failure.  I have a red brick mailbox right in front of my house.  It's not down the street or at the post office - it's in front of the house.  It's literally 28 steps from my front door.  I cannot seem to check it regularly enough to keep it from becoming so overstuffed that the poor postal worker has to put a nastygram in said mailbox to alert me that the contents of my mailbox is now housed in a plastic crate at the post office.  Much of it is junk mail and some of it is bulky packages, but 100% of it stems from my inability to walk 28 steps and get the darn mail at least once every 2-3 days.  This last time (July 27) the note proclaimed: "box full AGAIN."  Ugh.  I'm sorry mail-lady.  I'll try to do better.  Again.

Home Making

This is the second year I’ve participated in the House of Shine “Year Of” program. This incredible organization does tons of amazing, life-changing work, but I’m particularly fond of the Year Of. This program walks you through an exercise where you name your year. One word. It seems like something you could just think about and choose, but Year Of forces me to dig a little deeper.

I was committed to making my big goal this year to clean and simplify my house. I tease that I was one handbag away from being a hoarder, but I really was drowning in stuff. I had managed to stack and pile things around me in an embarrassingly materialistic show. While the clutter didn’t bother me, the mess had started impacted my willingness and ability to share my house with others, and that was simply unacceptable. As I began marching down the Year Of path I really wanted my word to be SIMPLIFY. Digging deeper is dangerous....

Why did I have all this stuff?  Because I wanted to have anything I might need right there with me. Why did I feel like I needed to keep it all?  So I wouldn’t have to depend on anyone else to help me should I need it. (We’re getting into scary deep secrets now.). Why don’t I want to depend on anyone else?  Because I don’t trust that people won’t let me down. Why haven’t I developed that trust since I know people love and care for me?  Because I’m afraid to ask for help. Why?  Because asking for help means I can’t do it on my own, and that scares me to my core. It isn’t about simplifying at all...  it’s about accepting that I’m not blazing through life alone. Asking for help isn’t a declaration of weakness or an invitation to codependence. It’s a willingness to be vulnerable and humble and to accept that others love me just as much as I love them. I needed to admit I needed help then accept it.

With that profound kick in the ass I set out in 2018 with the word “help” as my mantra - specific emphasis on asking for and accepting freely. I took a baby step when I asked my brother in law Matthew to change a light bulb. I tiptoed further when he told me he was going to clean out Keaton’s room at my house and I let him. But I wasn’t really living HELP until Kim Blann gave me a push in the most amazing way a friend can push. She simply told me we were going to deal with my house this summer and needed to pick some days. She didn’t give me a chance to say no or back up. She forced help on me like only a best friend can.

This summer has been a tornado of friends, memories, family, vulnerability, and soul clearing. My house is an incredible, lovey place full of peace and space to breathe for the first time in my life. I value the things in my house more now because I see them and love them and have created a space for them. I have built memories with precious forever friends through this process that makes every inch of this place more special.  But as meaningful as this house transformation has been it pales in comparison to the change in my spirit. I’ve asked for and accepted a lot of help over the last few months, and my relationships have improved exponentially. It’s not enough to give - I’m learning to accept so that others can also know the joy of it as well.

I’ve created a home. With the help of Kim, Amanda, Matthew, Amy, Pam, Lori, and Josh, I’m home. And home, I think, is where my adulting begins.