It Is What It Is . . .

Wednesday night about midnight I was shopping online.  I came across the sign below, It Is What It Is.  I loved it - so I pinned it.  I say this all the time, and b o n u s it drives my sister crazy! CRAZY!

I realized this sign was popular when over 2500 pinned or liked it in less than 24 hours.  The comments were in either one of two groups - the "I hate this saying, It's a cop out"  or "I say this all the time" group.

My sister and I - who come from the same parents, raise in the same house,and have experienced many of the same things in life  - completely differ on this saying.  We will call the side that agrees with the saying TEAM JENNIFER and the side that COMPLETELY disagrees with it TEAM JULIE.  We shall hash it out, family style!

Blessed Beyond . . .

BOY, HAS THIS BEEN A WEEK!!! 

I just received an email from my 4 year olds school.  It seems his classmate, Chloe, passed away.  Chloe had been daignosed about a year and a half ago with a brain tumor.  She and Jake were about the same age.  When I saw her in December at a birthday party she was much smaller than the rest of the kids.  She didn't have the drive to play, and didn't speak much.

I cannot go into detail all her parents felt, witnessed, experienced or the nights they didn't sleep thinking about and praying for their child.  I don't know those details.  All I know is Chloe was a sweet little girl whose life was cut way too short and her family is doing the best they can to survive.

5th Grade Girls . . .

I can recall in 5th grade my best friend Heather W. and I were not nice girls.  We would make fun of Jacob F - who couldn't tie his shoes or ever bother putting them on the right feet.  We made fun of Susan D - who showed her underwear when bending over and we made fun of Bonnie W who would pour glue in the well of her desk, let it dry and then eat it.

In 5th grade these were some of the most horrible offenses according to Heather and I.  Seriously - was there nothing better to do than see if Susan's undies were showing or Jacob's shoes were untied?  We didn't limit ourselves to just these three - we shared our special form of attention on just about everyone! We felt it was our right to put people in their place - point out their flaws.  To show them how we were better.  

In the End . . .

I recently learned a neighbor of mine had passed away.  I suspect he was early to mid 80s.  He was kind, talkative, and very well organized.  He would email our street with anything important, bobcats in the area, unapproved solicitors or holiday parties.  I never had to worry about missing something because I knew Gene was on it.

Gene was a gentleman.  He was a good guy from way back.  In fact he was helping a friend into her car when he sustained the injury that led to his death.  Gene was assisting a friend into her car when she lost her balance, fell on Gene who then fell to the ground.  He hopped back up, I am sure out of pride just like we all do, despite being hurt.  Gene said he was ok and everyone went on about their evening.

It was approximately midnight when I was sitting in my office.  I had the shutters closed but knew when I heard a heavier engine than normal coming down the street something must have happened.  I looked up just in time to see the flashing lights come through the tiny openings that was left in the closed shutters.  I hoped for the best, hoped it was just some fluke and that all was fine.

The Things We'll Do . . .

I have always been the cruise director type.  No matter where we live, social groups we are in - I am the social organizer, the cruise director.  Monthly dinners, trips to our lake house, girl's nights out, play dates, game night, swim day and so on.  I am the organizer.

We had a good group of friends when we lived in Plano.  Girls I knew from Junior League.  We were all very similar - stay at home moms, children, volunteers, like minded and extremely sarcastic - you know fun girls!

Since my husband had an online company that worked primarily in Hong Kong we operated on HK hours.  He had very few nights off, mostly Friday and Sunday.  He is very much a home body so I would organize once a month for our friends to gather at our house for cocktails & appetizers, then we would head out to dinner.

A Fun Surprise!

My husband and I were taking the boys to visit my mom, Goo last Saturday.  We had just turned onto Beltline when this cute song came on Sirius.  My husband knew the words, he was singing along.

I have mentioned before about my childhood and where I grew up.  My husband's childhood was very different than mine.  His childhood was certainly more metropolitan.  He grew up in N. Dallas.  Went to an elite all boys school.  He went to a liberal college in DC for undergrad and back to Texas for law school. 

My husbands personality is generally very even, not much shakes him to the core.  He is head strong, a master negotiator, and has a love for music. His music taste typically are rap, urban, hard rock and some pop but not the sugary kind!  He is steady and consistent. 

Bless Your . . .

I grew up in a small Texas town.  Everyone knew everyone else and most likely all their business.  My sister and I went to the same high school as our father, aunts, uncle and their uncle.  My great grandmother was one of the first residents of our small town and lived over by the rail road tracks.  By all accounts our small town was semi rural.

My sister, Julie, and I would ride our bikes, play game outside way after dark and never feared a stranger - after all we knew just about everyone.  Church was every Sunday morning and Wednesday night.  Sleep overs happened quickly and often. We would often come home and find friends playing on the trampoline or basketball in the back yard.  It was a close knit community.

We grew up in a time where you used yes mam's, and no sirs.  Where every adult was called by their last name and where children had chores and helped around the house.  I think fondly of those Sunday afternoons when we would race out of church to go have lunch at my grandparents.  The whole family together for probably one of three Sunday special meals - fried chicken, pot roast or spaghetti!

I Struggle and He Does It With Ease . . .

I recently got a text from another school mom, Pam.  It read "Please call me when you can talk."  Pam doesn't usually communicate this way so an alarm goes off for me!  I sat back to figure out and digest the text.  BTW -Thank Heavens for text messaging.  I texted Pam back that I was at swimming and couldn't talk - then asked if everything was ok.  She didn't answer my question but only replied, "no problem - just call when you can." Alarm # 2.

We leave swimming but I don't call her back.  I want to get my ducks in a row.  Over dinner I ask our oldest son why he thought James' mom would call me.  He is initially vague, but later says there was an verbal altercation and maybe James' feeling were hurt.

The next day I was up at school doing my cafeteria shift.  I ran into James and I asked him, "Hey, I got a text from your mommy, do you know anything about it?"  He said he did and he told me his side of the story.  The stories didn't match - the only similarity was that the boys had been speaking to each other.  I told James, "you know your story is very different" than my son's.  I want to talk to him again before I talk to his mom.

I spoke with my son a second time.  I shared with him James' story.  He said "but Mom, he was annoying me, every time I spoke he just started talking over me with nonsense. I asked him to be quiet and he just kept going and going."  I told my son, I do not like getting called like this.  I do not believe I should get in the middle of you boys and that the boys should be responsible enough to work it out.

He asked what he could do to solve the problem. I suggested calling James and simply telling him - it is clear we do not see eye to eye on what happened but I want to apologize for hurting your feelings. 

Now anyone who knows me well knows I don't apologize easily.  Especially to those I love. 

I am not sure when it began.  Perhaps in childhood? Perhaps at school? Perhaps it is genetic?  I cannot tell you when me saying "I'm Sorry" became so difficult.  It is like pulling teeth with no pain meds and a bulnt instrument.  Maybe I don't say it because I consider it weak? Or is it a win/lose thing? Or because I feel I am wrong so often why bother!

I      Just       Cannot       Do       It!

Seeing my son call, apologize and putting his friendship first over him feeling he was right was awesome to watch.  My son so effortlessly did what I struggle to do.  I love the man he is becoming.

Happy Pinning!