After a successful dinner with my mother, we told Lily that she and Arden could have a couple of Skittles when we got home as a treat. Unfortunately, when we arrived home, Mike admitted that he had scarfed up the remaining innocent Skittles in a sugar fit. Lily looked at him sternly and said, “Daddy, that’s okay. But don’t do that again ever.” Mike tried not to giggle. I’m surprised Lily didn’t shake her finger at him!
Arden also got in trouble at school today. And we thought #2 was going to be so easy. Now I think that Arden may be even more willful and difficult than Lily, if that’s possible. Apparently we aren’t the only ones she says “No” to. They are fairly strict at school about kids not saying “No” to adults, especially when it is followed by a devilish grin and a path directly away from whatever they are being asked to do. Arden’s teacher told me that they are really working with her to stop her from saying “No” all the time, but how do you explain to a nearly 2 year old that it’s the wrong thing to say? Especially when I find myself saying, “NO ARDEN! Don’t say NO!” And she repeats the No word back to me numerous times. I asked them what they do - they said they just use a stern tone and explain that you don’t say NO like that to adults or teachers, and that when she is asked to do something, she needs to listen.
In my normal way, I interpreted the teacher’s discussion with me tonight as saying, “Hey, loser mother. Do you just let your child go around being rude and saying no to you all the time? Cuz that crap doesn’t fly here . . . and we’re not putting up with your mouthy 2 year old!” I don’t think she actually was saying that. I believe that she was trying to get us all on the same page so we are consistent with our discpline, but I’m always looking for a reason to feel bad about my parenting skills so I wasn’t surprised that I immediately took the opportunity to heap some more delicious guilt on the pile.
We had a great time with Colleen although it was a very brief visit. We packed a lot into a short amount of time. Mike took care of the girls on Saturday afternoon so Colleen and I could have lunch and get some of the gabbing out of the way. We wandered around Carytown and made sure we still liked each other. I can’t speak for her, but I immediately felt comfortable with her, which I believe is the sign of a true friend. It’s bizarre to not have seen someone in that long and be able to just pick up where you left off without so much as a hiccup. The only difference is that both of us seem to be much happier and centered, and without the old bad influences beating on us. It was difficult to hear so much about the people I grew up with, like a friend I used to be close with on her 2nd (or was it 3rd) war with cancer. It sounds like she might not be winning this time, and she’s my age. A few other friends are on their second marriages already, and one has already been through 4. Another friend got heavily involved with cocaine, ruined his heart and his career, and is now on disability living in his parents’ basement. A few of them are doing well, but more than I expected ended back where we all came from.
Colleen also had a copy of Traverse Magazine with her, and I can see why so many people go back. Of course, none of the pictures are taken on the 300 days of the year that are gray, overcast, snowing, sleeting, or hailing, but still, those pictures brought back some strong memories. It’s a beautiful place, and I wish when I lived there I had been more able to appreciate it. The people there are different, and seeing so many pictures and hearing so many stories made me the closest thing to homesick I’ve been since freshman year of college. At the same time, I don’t ever want to go back - not even to visit - because it’s not the same place it was when I was there, and I’m not sure I would like it anymore. I do know that my parents should have held on to their real estate up there - lakefront property sells for around $3M.
One of the strangest things about being with Colleen was having her fill in parts of my life that I had completely forgotten. Most of the time, with some prompting from her, I could actually recall what she was telling me. Unfortunately there were a few stories of which I have no recollection. She had a picture of my first boyfriend and hers, right after we graduated from high school, in the process of building a bonfire. I didn’t even know that Philip and Dale even knew each other - I had completely blocked out or simply forgotten the entire summer following my senior year. In the picture, Colleen’s hand is shielding the camera from the sun’s glare, and half of Philips’ head is cut off, and just a tiny portion of Dale is in the picture. Who knows where I was. Everyone looked sort of brooding and mellow - two adjectives that describe most of my 4 years in high school.
She gave me the full scoop on her family, and I filled her in on mine. Part of the required me to describe in detail the demise of my friendship and relationship with my ex, but I also realized that as I told the story, I had come a long way in healing from all the damage he did to my self-esteem and confidence. It was actually easier to talk about him than it’s ever been, and I can actually laugh a little about it and feel pity for him instead of the all-consuming rage and nausea that I used to feel. Whenever I resurrected the past so I could look at it a bit more, turn it in my hand, and try to figure out the answers to a few questions that I know will never be resolved, I used to fall into a dark place. I don’t go there anymore, and I suppose that’s what healing is all about. That, plus years of therapy, introspection, very smart friends, a great husband, and a life I’m happy with.
Mike and I talked about going to the Keys to see Colleen before she moves back to the land of ice and lake trout, but it’s only another six months or so that she’s there and god knows it takes us a lot longer than that to get off our rear ends and do things. So the next time I see her, it might be when I’m visiting Michigan for another wedding or funeral. I’m glad that she bought the plane ticket and came all the way up here, and I’m glad I was able to find her after all these years. I will admit that I’m a bit sad we had trouble staying up past midnight, that one single glass of wine provided me an ugly hangover, and that we don’t live a lot closer.
