Gratitude for the Plans I Didn't Make

This year I was asked to be part of a writing team for my church's Women's Ministries blog. I get to contribute, along with some amazing women and writers, three different times this year, and I'm honored to have been asked. Here is my first post:

November is the month we are reminded to be thankful. At the top of this year’s November list is my thankfulness that God’s plans far exceed anything I could dream up for myself. In short, I’m thankful for God’s sovereignty.

When Jon and I first got married, we had plans. I was teaching and Jon was a bicycle mechanic. We weren’t going to have kids for at least five years. We were going to travel the world. Open to missions, we assumed God was going to call us to use our talents serving in another country.

In the middle of my first year as a full time classroom teacher, I received an e-mail from my sister-in-law, Danielle. She and her husband, Dave, were spending their first year in Guayaquil, Ecuador. Danielle was teaching at an international school, and Dave was along for the ride. They were living our dream.

Danielle’s e-mail informed me that her school was in need of a 5th grade teacher for the following year and that I should really think about applying for the job. Jon and I immediately assumed this was our calling. God was going to use my teaching credential to get us into another culture, and Jon was going minister to the local people by fixing their bikes and riding with them.

Jon and I knew we shouldn’t get too excited yet, and that we needed to pray. We prayed together, and separately, for weeks until deciding that the next step was to apply for the job. We asked God to let us know if we were making the right decision, and to open and close doors, as we began down this road, as He saw fit.

About a month went by, and I was contacted by the principal of the school. He had filled the position, but he would keep my resume and information for future school years. Ok, God, you made that one clear. We’re not going. We get to stay in our comfort zone, I will continue teaching, and Jon will continue to wrench on bikes. Here.

Two months later I received another email from the principal. He unexpectedly had an opening available and wondered if I’d be interested in teaching 2^nd grade at his school? Jon and I were confused. Hadn’t God already told us no?

We prayed even more. We went through the necessary steps to proceed down the same road we thought we’d been steered off. After a handful of Skype dates, countless e-mails, and more prayer, I was hired. By the swiftly approaching summer, we were scheduled to move to a foreign country, barely speaking the native language, separated from most of our family and friends, and teach in a brand new school. Preparing for all the changes was an emotional bungee jump.

Next came the logistics: collecting paperwork, notarizing documents, getting blood tests, buying plane tickets, selling most of our belongings, packing, and finding a place to live during the interim phase between an expired rental agreement and our departure date.

Summer came and we were ready. We had turned in our keys and stored the few belongings we had left in my parents’ attic. As a married-for-almost-two-years couple we were living in my old room, under my parents’ roof. Waiting.

Four weeks before our scheduled flight to Ecuador, Jon and I had just returned from a dear friend’s wedding in Mexico City. We had both gotten rather sick at the end of our weeklong trip, blaming it on too many carnitas tacos. But we’d been home for a week and I still didn’t feel good. In fact, I started throwing up. Somehow I knew in my heart what the “problem” was, and tested my theory. I was right, and I was pregnant.

To put it simply, my boss told me not to come. His wife was informed of our situation and she told him to tell us we didn’t want to have our baby in Guayaquil. The decision was never ours to make. So… we were both unemployed, living at my parents’ house with one car and hardly any stuff. And I was pregnant.

Sometimes I wonder if Jon and I weren’t listening to God’s direction five years ago. Were we so set on our desired traveling lifestyle that we missed the “no” God was trying to tell us? Were we praying for what we wanted, instead of what He wanted, and assuming He was leading the way?

But my hopeful idea has more depth than that. Is it possible that sometimes God is simply trying to see just how far we will go for Him? We say we surrender all, and we will follow Him anywhere. But will we? Even if it leads us right back to where we started?

How this experience has strengthened our marriage and faith is immeasurable. A short list of God’s provisions in the confusing weeks following our unexpected news includes: Jon getting his job back; me getting a new, more local teaching job; finding an affordable and reliable car; the perfect apartment opening up the same week we found out we were staying…

And a short list of the opportunities which would have been impossible had we moved to South America: me mentoring a HUB group of teenage girls at ABC through their four years of high school, creating eternal bonds and relationships; Jon opening his own bike shop and becoming a well known influence in San Luis Obispo; me becoming a mother and spiritual teacher to two little girls who I love more than life.

My in-laws are still living our dream. But it’s not my dream anymore.

Jeremiah 29:11 – “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Passions

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #8:

What are 5 passions you have?

In a way, some of these prompts overlap each other. Things that make me happy may be passions. My dream job may be a passion. What I spend my time and love on are obviously passions.

So I may describe some of these briefly since I've written about them previously.

#1: My marriage. Being a wife that my husband wants to come home to and spend his time with is something I'm willing to work hard to do. One of my priorities in life is to protect my marriage. There are many reason for this. To make living together bearable -- preferably fun. To do my part to contribute to the circle of love and respect that marriage requires. To know that I am always trying to do what I can to make our relationship strong, which in turn makes it less and less likely that it will break. To be an example to our girls what marriage should look like. I want them in no uncertain terms to know what is an unacceptable way to be treated, and how to treat their partner in an acceptable way. To prove that being married is fun, not a joke on a sitcom that is to be mocked or bitterly complained about at every opportunity. Most importantly, when I decided to marry Jon, I made a promise, and I won't break it. Jon is a passion of mine, so my relationship is a passion.

#2: Raising Kealani and Leila. I pour myself into my girls every single day. I fail miserably sometimes, but I am trying to be an example of love and forgiveness while attempting to teach them to become respectful and productive members of society (not entitled imps) every waking moment. I do my best to show them the grace of God through my own actions. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained at the end of most days, yet I wake up excited to do it again each morning. If that doesn't constitute a passion, I don't know what does.

#3: Children and young people. Aside from my own daughters, I love other people's kids. From teaching preschool/elementary/middle/high school, tutoring, counseling high school girls through my church -- I get attached to kids. I want to see them become better people, learn from their mistakes, gain knowledge, and in some cases even become their friends. I can't help it, I just love them.

#4: My relationship with God. I don't pursue Him like I should all the time, but I've experienced enough highs, lows, and big decisions in my life to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He exists. That while He allows me to make my own decisions, He cares what those decisions are, and He's with me every step of the way. I couldn't be a mother without trusting Him with my daughters' lives. There's not enough room in one blog to list all the ways I've seen Him work in my own, and others' lives, so I won't try. But extending His love to others and hoping that they also see Him at work in their lives is a passion.

#5: Writing. I was always the student who loved the literature/history side of academics as opposed to math/science. I devour books and enjoy writing. I started this blog about two years ago because I felt that there was an untapped passion in my life that wasn't getting utilized. I felt unfulfilled, and it took me a while to figure out why. I don't need people to read what I write. I enjoy hearing what people think, especially if they are entertained, and I truly hope my girls take interest in what I have to say when they are older. But if no one ever read my writing, if my girls never care, I would still enjoy it. It's a creative outlet for me, and it makes me happy.

My Dream Job

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #7:

What is your dream job, and why?

Lucky for me, my dream job is exactly what I'm doing right now... but I never would have known it was my dream job until I got to do it. Motherhood is exhausting, thankless, terrifying, around-the-clock insanity, and it is the hardest thing I have ever done. But it is also the most rewarding, loving, and eternal job anyone could ever have.

That being said, my dream career (as in I-get-paid-for-what-I-went-to-school-for-and-am-actually-qualified-to-do-it) is being a school teacher. Again, lucky for me, I got a chance to do this in my lifetime. I went to college and earned a Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies from Westmont College in Santa Barbara. I then moved home and attended Chapman University to attain my teaching credential in elementary education.

I spent a total of almost three years substitute teaching -- in between classes, observations, and my own student teaching. Then I won a third grade position in King City. The following year I taught fifth grade at Atascadero's Fine Arts Academy until the end of January 2009 as I anxiously awaited the arrival of my first beauty, Kealani.

That's all the teaching I wound up doing. To be perfectly honest, it's all I believe I will ever do, at least as an official classroom teacher. I loved my job. Now that I have done both, I am convinced that being a teacher (of any kind) is the closest position anyone could have to being a parent. (I assume being an aunt could shimmy its way in between the two, but that is something I've yet to experience!) The time, love, encouragement, instruction, counsel, entertainment, frustration, and desire to see your student achieve his/her best comes only second to that student's actual parents' own. (And unfortunately, sometimes it's first.)

Teaching is not a job you can "leave at the office". My concerns, as well as pride over my students' accomplishments, followed me home each night. My grading and planning followed me home. My desire to give my students the best I could reached into my own pocketbook. When you are influencing other people's lives, especially young people's, it burns its way into your consciousness and never leaves. I still think about my first set of students and it's already been five years since I taught their class. I wonder what they're doing now that they are in eighth grade. I hope that they have stayed away from their city's gangs, and have managed not to become too friendly with the opposite sex.

I loved teaching because I was good at it. I'm not bragging, I just firmly believe that there are specific things we are created to do. While there are countless jobs I would be horrible at, I was created to teach, and I felt comfortable and successful in it. I commanded a room full of 20-33 students at a time, kept their attention, got them to do what I asked, instilled knowledge in their tiny brains, and loved every minute of it. There are aspects of teaching that take away from the students. I hated these, as every teacher does. These aspects are only growing worse, which is why I don't for a second wish I was back in the classroom as opposed to being at home with my precious 4 and 1 year olds.

Sometimes I wonder why I went through all the school and training I did only to end up being a classroom teacher for 1 1/2 years. I don't regret it, I just wonder what it was for. I hope and pray that it was for the influence I had in those classrooms of students' lives during the time I was their teacher. I hope and pray my experience dealing with kids of all ages helps me to be a better mom, and gives me compassion for my girls' teachers when they begin school.

I'm a mom. I'm still a teacher. I get to do both of my dream jobs every single day, and I am immensely thankful for that.

Three Wishes

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #6:

If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?

#1: Good health for all my family and friends. It's one of those things I didn't used to think about. But as I get older, I know more and more people, even my own age or younger, who have had cancer, struggled with diabetes, or whose precious little babies and children have been born with unimaginable & difficult conditions. I am beyond thankful for my family's current good health, and that my friends who have dealt with, or are dealing with, painful or scary diagnoses are getting the treatment they need. But one of my wishes would be the guarantee that those I love most would be healthy until the day they are done here.

#2: To be able to travel as often as I want, to any place I want, without cost being an issue. We travel a whole lot more than some, but when Jon and I discuss our wish list for future trips, I find myself wondering how we will fit it all into these short, fragile lives we live. A quote I found a while ago that describes my wanderlust perfectly: "I am in love with cities I've never been to and people I've never met." Another one, describing my thoughts on prioritizing travel into our budget: "Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer."

#3: This one's silly, but it is on every woman's wish list. To eat whatever the hell I want while still fitting into my clothes.

Happy Makers

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #5:

What are the five things that make you most happy right now?

Baking treats. The planning, the shopping, the execution of a delicious recipe, the anticipation as I wait to taste the finished product, Kealani helping me mix, eating half the batter/dough before the product is finished, the smell. All of these components make me happy. And the best part is being excited about later, when Jon comes home -- after dinner is served, cleared, and the girls are in bed, we get to enjoy a tasty treat together, relaxing in each others' company.

Reading. A fresh book, a digital edition on my Kindle, a magazine, it doesn't really matter. Letting my brain take time off from the reality of being a full time mom seven days a week is a vacation. It improves my memory, vocabulary, and writing skills. I grow attached to characters and stories so much so that when a book, or even worse a series, comes to an end, I have what I've heard referred to as a "book hangover"... it's the state of depression entered knowing it's all over and you're done hanging out with some of your newest, closest friends. Luckily I can go back to a favorite book any time I want and start all over again. Which is what I do.

Listening to my daughters laugh. There's not much to explain here. In general, a human being's laughter is a pleasant sound, 99% of the time. That sound is infinitely more enjoyable when it's coming from your children. Multiply that a few more times by infinity when they are laughing with each other.

Running. Specifically, racing long distances. If you'd have told me ten years ago that running would end up being my workout of choice and something that I actually enjoyed doing, let alone something I would get pretty proficient at, I'd have snorted my Wild Cherry Pepsi out of my nose all over your shirt. Running has become my reboot time. It has helped me lose baby weight, stay healthy, and gain energy needed to keep up with my young girls. I'm competitive by nature, and since running is a solo sport, it allows me to challenge and compete with myself in a way that I couldn't experience playing team sports. It's hard, and many days I just don't want to do it. But I have never regretted going for a run. I've only regretted not going.

Date night. Any time spent with Jon makes me happy. Family time is priceless, but there's something unique about the time I spend with him alone. Our conversation is different, because we're not filtering ourselves, or being interrupted. I am transported back to our dating days and instantly remember why I love being around him so much. Also why I want to continue being around him.

Sixteen-year-old Self

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #4:

List 10 things you would tell your 16-year-old self, if you could.

#1: Some of your truest, closest friends are your best friends right at this moment. Some of your closest friends right now will simply be acquaintances in adulthood. And a select few, you will never talk to again after graduation. It's ok. Priorities, commonalities, and people change. Distance and inconvenience will show you who those true friends are, because they'll still be there after college, marriage, and kids.

#2: No one is staring at that "huge" zit on your chin. You know why? First of all it's not as noticeable as you think (sidenote: applying half a bottle of concealer to it makes it  more noticeable), and secondly, everyone else is too concerned about the zits on their own chins to give yours any thought.

#3: Mom and Dad don't really like you driving over the grade. Don't worry, in about 13 years you'll live in San Luis, and you'll get to drive it all the time.

#4: Being a girl, you find things about your physical appearance to demean and compare to others constantly. Try not to do this. You are in great shape. Your body is going to keep changing, so what you complain about now will go away, only to be replaced by something else. Focus on what you like about your physical self, but focus even more on what you love about your character.

#5: You think Leonardo DiCaprio is hot now? With his bowl cut? Just wait fifteen years.

#6: You get sad sometimes about not having a boyfriend when all your friends do, or not having a date to a dance or on Valentine's Day. It's truly not a big deal. Most people don't end up with the person they dated in high school (which a good thing). You'll fondly remember the crushes you had each year, but you'll be thankful that you didn't actually date them, and in turn give any of your valuable self away to those clueless, adolescent boys. (You're still friendly with many of them, most are great guys, but you're better off without them.) Those dances you went to with your best guy friends? So much more fun than going with a boyfriend -- no drama or hurt feelings.

#7: On that note, the one boyfriend you do have in high school will end up married to your best friend. And you're all still great friends!

#8: Be nice to other girls. You don't like drama and never will, but you're a teenage girl and there are things we girls just do. Don't talk about other females or put them down. Instead of competing all the time, try to be as friendly as you can. Give compliments on their appearances, talents, intelligence, sense of humor, athleticism or even schoolwork. It won't be expected. But it's a pretty amazing feeling to make someone else's day. Especially a fellow girl. You both win.

#9: Enjoy the competition and camaraderie you have with your teammates. Never again will you play in a league the way you do now, never will you play on teams consisting of athletes who all take your sports seriously and have as much talent (and that magic ingredient: youth) as they do. You will have fun dabbling in beer league softball, and when you're lucky you'll have enough people around to play beach volleyball. But it won't be the same. Don't take the games for granted, or more importantly, the relationships you're building with your teammates.

#10: Don't be terrified to make a fool of yourself. There's nothing more attractive than a confident woman. Don't be cocky, but if you trip, laugh. If your underwear is showing, laugh. If you say something idiotic, or even fart, in front of your crush, laugh. These "humiliating" experiences will not break you as a human being. If anything, they will add to your classiness and compassion when someone else experiences something embarrassing in front of you. When it does, help that other person laugh it off, too.

#11: (Because I couldn't just follow the rules and leave it at 10.) Listen to your mom and dad. You're in a weird transition phase. You're more of a responsible adult than a child, but you're still at home and your parents will always think of you as their kid. When they won't let you do certain things, make you check in often, and ask questions when you get home, it's because they care and because they love you.  It's that simple. Humor them and be considerate. You will understand instantly when your daughters come along in ten years.

My Relationship With Jon

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #3:

Describe your relationship with your spouse.

I've written stories about how Jon and I met and when we got engaged. I like this prompt because instead of writing a description of an event, I can detail the connection I have with my husband.

Jon and I met when I was in love with someone else, and firmly believed that I was going to marry that someone else. Because of this, Jon's and my budding friendship was allowed to develop and flourish without any pressure couples may feel when they are knowingly dating. There came a time when we did everything together, from walking Jon's dog-sitting charge on Morro Strand to sitting in the Coldstone parking lot, to driving down Vine Street the week after Vine Street to look at the Christmas lights without the crowd. We did these things together because we loved being in each others' presence. We have similar personalities, the same sense of humor, and enjoy the same things. Being together was easy.

So when feelings actually started to thrive, beyond friendship, for both of us, we were already tried and true best friends.

I can tell Jon anything. Anything. He may laugh at me or think I'm ridiculous, but because of the respect and love he's shown me for the past 11 years, I'm not insecure, nor do I feel embarrassed when he gives me a hard time. I see myself better because of him and his view of me.

We respect and support each other. Getting married, having two kids, moving several times, and starting a business are all things that have to be done while respecting the other person. While it's easy to treat those closest to you the worst (knowing they're "stuck" with you), Jon and I have done our best to treat each other with the simple courtesy and politeness we would show strangers. We say "please" and "thank you". We do things for each other without being asked. We keep our home neat and respect each others' space and things, as one should do with any roommate.

Jon has backed me up through career decisions, whether it be taking a teaching job in a district with a two hour total commute time, or leaving the teaching profession altogether in order to be a homemaker and mom. I have backed him up in the same types of decisions: leaving certain jobs in the bicycle industry because he wasn't fulfilled, and ultimately starting his own shop so he can do things his own way. We believe in each other and want to see each other succeed. When one of us succeeds, our whole family does.

Jon is genuinely the person I want to spend my time with. We have regular date nights and even weekends (thanks to our own selfless and generous parents) and I look forward to them every single time. I get ready as though it's our first date (as long as the girls let me... sometimes it's an all day process, straightening my hair here, applying makeup there, getting dressed in my planned-out attire at the last minute), because I still want to "impress" him. He doesn't make me feel like I should, and tells me I'm beautiful whether it's on date night or after a sweaty 10 mile run, but I want to.

We both love to travel. Some people miss out on traveling and seeing the world because they get married too young, then life takes over, or they marry someone who isn't as interested as they are. Jon and I traveled a little, separately, before we got married, but since we both have the Travel Bug, we have enjoyed more trips together than apart (as well as with each of our girls... if anyone tells you you can't travel once you have kids, it's an excuse). Seeing new places for the first time together, or taking each other to see places we enjoyed before we met each other has formed another layer of kinship to our relationship.

It's become cliché to talk about "marrying your best friend". While I believe people who say they married their best friend believe they did, I think it's a phrase that's thrown around too casually. If you've only been dating for 3 months, he's not your best friend. If you still tell your girlfriends more than you tell him, he's not your best friend. If he makes you feel in any way insecure, or doesn't back you up in all situations, he's not your best friend.

Jon is undeniably my best friend, and he was long before we got married, not afterward. This is my twelfth year hanging out with him, and I look forward to the next twelve, and beyond.

Three Legitimate Fears

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me #2:

Describe three legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.

This list may end up seeming silly because I'm truly just not afraid of much. The first two are things that give me the heebie jeebies, but I know I don't really have to worry much about either one.

#1: Getting a tooth/teeth knocked out. Being a third baseman in softball ages 12-18 made this one very real to me. All it would have taken was a line drive at the precise height, and I would look like a character from Joe Dirt. One of a handful of reoccurring dreams I have is that I'm going about my business (anything from hanging out with the Gang from whatever show I'm watching at the time, to flying over my home in Paris) when all of a sudden my teeth will start cracking. It's never a full tooth that falls out, but pieces of teeth. They're usually molars, which makes me feel better in the dream, but there's always a foreboding sense that my condition will eventually move to the front teeth, and people will know. I read somewhere in college that teeth falling out is a common dream. It means you're insecure.

#2: Floating aimlessly in cold, deep ocean water. Especially if icebergs are involved. Speaking of icebergs, this picture freaks me OUT:

Watching the movie The Abyss in my 7th grade science class traumatized me as we watched a diver fall helplessly into an ocean trench. The darkness, the cold, the unknown creatures in that cold darkness. Terrifying. What's ironic is that I've had opportunities to swim in deep, middle-of-the-ocean locations, and I've done it. It's one of those things that I'm afraid of, but not enough to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime chance (swimming with poisonous snakes in the South Pacific off the islands of Tonga). I think I'm fairly in control of this fear... as long as I don't make a misstep off an Alaskan cruise ship.

#3: Losing someone I love. This is a fear I simply didn't think about very much until I had my daughters. I knew people who had lost parents, friends, and siblings, and I myself lost an uncle when I was 12. But the thought of living life without someone I love incredibly deeply didn't really sink in until my maternal instinct was activated seconds after giving birth to Kealani. (I am blessed to have lived almost 31 years without losing an immediate family member or close friend.) I pray differently, say "I love you" more, and am anxious about things I never used to be. This applies to all my loved ones, especially my girls. But it took having them to open my eyes to the reality that life is fragile, and we don't know when we will see anyone for the last time. As a mom, if I let myself sit around and think of everything that could possibly happen to my daughters, it would be crippling. I refuse to live in fear, but I do believe it's important to treat people kindly and with abounding love (especially my loved ones) simply because I want each interaction with those I care about most to be one that would be remembered  fondly.

30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me

Recently, during one of my daily Pinterest breaks, I found this blog:

http://www.babymakingmachine.com/2012/11/30-things-my-kids-should-know-about-me.html

Since I love prompts and finding inspiration for new writing projects, I decided I'd go through this list by simply answering the questions. Most of the time, I write because it's therapy for me. I love putting my thoughts down to "paper" (computer screen) so that I can revisit them later. I also write much of what I do with the possibly delusional idea that my daughters might be interested in their mother's life one day.

I don't plan to go through this list exclusively while writing for this blog, but I plan to one day have answered all 30 prompts.

So here goes: a series of 30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me...

#1: List 20 Random Facts About Yourself

1. I'm an introvert. While I've become more outgoing the older I get (out of growing confidence and as a survival tactic: I don't want to come across as snooty or socially retarded) my preference is to stick with my small group of close friends and family, and just hang out in my house.

2. I hate olives and mushrooms. This makes sharing pizza with large groups of people interesting.

Ew.

3. My favorite body part has always been my legs. They've never been thin, but they're strong, and I've known this since my earliest softball/volleyball days.

4. I love to sing, and I have a silly fantasy of what life would be like if I was good enough to be a professional.

5. I'm very liberal, considering my background, family, and faith.

6. I told myself in high school that the cutoff height for any boy who had a chance with me would be 6'2". I'm no Amazon woman, but I'm tall, and wanted to be able to wear heels without towering over my man. Jon is 6'5"... I can wear whatever shoes I want.

7. I barely made the cutoff for Jon in the height department. Being a tall woman herself, Jon's mom told him he couldn't marry anyone shorter than 5'8"... tall girls have less of a selection, so she wanted to save her own son for one of them. I'm 5'8 1/4". (I know this because every fraction of an inch mattered when listing your height for the volleyball roster. I'm pretty sure I rounded up to 5'9".)

8. I love cooking. When Jon and I got married I had no idea what I was doing. Now I'm proficient and even love to invent my own recipes.

9. I considered myself a "boys' mom" and was totally convinced I'd have three boys of my own one day. Then God gave me girls, and I love it more than I ever could have known.

10. My dream car in high school was a Jeep Grand Cherokee.

11. The first thing I notice about people is their teeth. Not their smile, their actual teeth.

12. I obsess over the 1960s. Due to the nostalgia now surrounding that particular decade in books, movies, and TV shows, I get the highly romanticized view of that time and sometimes wish I'd lived then. I'd have been one classy broad.

13. I only started riding bikes to impress Jon. Now I'm pretty good at it.

14. I read books like they are food and I am starving.

15. I don't ever want to live somewhere far from the ocean.

16. I love painting my nails.

17. I can't not bake treats when it's raining outside.

18. Matt Bomer is my gay crush.

Bonus: He wears suits from the '60s

19. I love running. I used to hate it.

20. My one regret in life is not going abroad for at least one semester in college.

Horrific Childhood Birthday Parties

*Due to my failing 30 year old memory, I may not have remembered events or people involved correctly unless I had the help of photos. If you read this and you can actually remember who was there, what grade it was, or you weren't there, please tell me. I'll change it!

My parents are the coolest. Every year I could choose pretty much anything I wanted to do for my birthday and they would make it happen. Having an early April birthday, the fortune of my big day falling during Spring Break was a special treat, half the time. Being a girl, these parties were sleepovers 100% of the time.

(Sidenote: Parents of girls who have sleepovers should receive medals.)

Throughout my childhood and teen years, there are four particular parties that stand out in my mind.

Psycho

Earlier in the school year, my best friend Jasmine's mom had introduced us to the black and white Hitchcock classic, Psycho. Neither of us were especially fond of scary movies (and still aren't), but the fact that the blood is black, no violence is shown, and it's from 1960 tones it down several notches. (That's not to say I didn't have an issue with showering for weeks... Or that the image of Norman Bates in the last scene, staring sociopathically into the camera while he thinks, "I wouldn't hurt a fly", isn't burned into my brain for life.)

Frightening, no?

I decided that watching the same movie at my 11th birthday slumber party (1993) would be just perfect. After strategically arranging our sleeping bags in the TV room -- birthday girl in the middle, of course -- and popcorn being made, Jasmine, Anita, Tawnya, Sarah, Lauren, Joni, and I all settled in for a good spook.

Anyone who has seen Psycho knows that very early in the movie, there is a driving scene in which it begins to rain. Very early. Like, probably in the first 15 minutes.

As the six of us stared at the screen, enraptured by the black and white images, terrible background effects, and already terrifying soundtrack, another sound caught our attention. Future discussions about this party would reveal that there were several theories as to what we were hearing. I thought the movie had just gotten louder, and we were somehow hearing the rain pouring down in the Eaton Family's nonexistent Surround Sound. One girl thought a loud truck was driving by, and another thought a human being was actually trying to pound the windows in so he could murder us all.

It started as a faint drumming sound. As it grew louder and more intense, we all realized it wasn't part of the movie and that now was probably a good time to panic. It had become a very distinct pounding on the windows right behind the TV, and was only getting louder. Horrified, some of us were paralyzed with fear, unable to move from the "safety" of our blankets. Sarah bolted out of the room (a very effective fight or flight response, good for her) and ended up locking herself in the guest bathroom, while Joni actually had the balls to stomp over to the locked front door, OPEN IT, and yell, "Who's out there!?" (I don't recommend this. Norman Bates himself could have been waiting on the front stoop, ready to snatch Joni and replace his dead mother with her.)

You know who was there? My dad. With a hose.

For the rest of the night, not a one of us would have the guts to go to the bathroom without a partner.

Tea Party

My mom is classy. As far back as I can remember she has always been an excellent cook and baker, as well as a talented quilter and seamstress. She can craft just about anything, appreciates the theater, and enjoys hosting fancy tea parties and luncheons for her friends. She's basically Martha Stewart without the convictions or prison time.

I am realizing every day how much like my mom I have become, and while I thoroughly enjoy some of these things now (I haven't jumped on the sewing train quite yet, but I'm sure I'll get there), as a kid I wasn't all that interested.

It was my mom's idea to have a tea party and see a play for my 12th birthday party. I invited three friends, Jasmine, Lauren, and Shauna. (If you've read my story about Shauna, you may wonder why she was invited to this party... well, I wonder the same thing. Middle school girls are mysterious creatures.)

My mom made us tea, along with other tea party necessities like cucumber sandwiches and fancy cookies.

We then made the drive down to Santa Maria to watch the PCPA Theater put on an entertaining stage production.

Two reasons this birthday party is so memorable to me:

1.  I had been nervous about inviting my middle school friends to a tea party, and wasn't so sure I'd enjoy it myself. All of us were served delicious food and entertained, so there was nothing to complain about. We were quite sophisticated.

2. It was Easter time. It was 1994. So we wore these dresses:

Frightening, no?

Murder Mystery

My group of friends and I went through a "boxed murder mystery" party phase that lasted years. I can't remember who started it, but once we knew about the games, we couldn't stay away from them. Ever intrigued by a quality who-dunnit, and being females who took any opportunity to dress up like someone else, these games were the perfect solution to the 'tween years' what-should-I-do-for-my-party? problem.

One of the funniest parts about these game-oriented parties was that it required up to ten or twelve people to portray the characters involved. At least for me, this meant inviting way more people than I normally would to a birthday party. While I was friendly with most girls from my class throughout childhood, I always had (and still have) a very small group of close friends. I preferred a small group of true, trusted pals than a huge group of people who didn't know each other all that well. (This has served me well considering I'm still very close to my best friends from elementary school!)

I am almost positive that the title of the game we played for my 13th birthday (1995) was The Grapes of Frath. It had to do with a murder among the grapevines of some winery. (I believe this was an adult version of the murder mystery phenomenon that my parents had lying around. At the time there were Jr. versions that probably didn't involve stories centered on alcohol, but how fun would that be?) Maybe. We hardly had the attention span to play the game when we were living it (many of the parties ended with us confused and bored, or never actually finding out who the murderer was), so I can't really remember the storyline 17 years later...

(Sidenote: Lauren threw one of these parties last year for her 30th birthday called Murder in Margaritaville, for old time's sake. It's amazing what an adult attention span can do for these games.)

The most memorable character in my mind was the opera singer, who my friend Anita portrayed. We'd borrowed a viking hat from our Slavic math teacher, Mr. Indvik, so she would be as authentic looking as possible.

At the last minute, one of my girlfriends had to back out of attending my party, which left a character open. Having each player/character present was crucial for these games, or else evidence and clues might be left out when trying to solve the murder.

Remember how awesome my parents are? My dad disappeared for awhile early in the evening, only to emerge and surprise us all as the understudy for my missing friend:

Frightening, no?

Surprise Gorilla

My sixteenth birthday (1998) happened to fall during the same week as Templeton High School's Sadie Hawkins dance. The tradition was for the girls to ask the boys, and then dress like twins. This was the year I had met Jordan on the winter camp bus (see A Short List of the Boys I Have Loved), and we were still talking, so I invited him. Our breathtakingly creative twin outfits? Jeans, white t-shirts, and UCSB sweatshirts (thanks, Uncle John!). 

My family planned to take me out to dinner before meeting a group of dance-goers at our house. We went to Lolo's, a popular Mexican food place. On the way home, I can remember getting annoyed at either my brother, or one/both of my parents. I probably thought we were going to be late and that people were already waiting for us at the house. 

I pulled our light blue Mercury Villager into the driveway as speedily as I could without making my mom whiteknuckle the armrest (of course I was driving -- I had my permit, and was two days away from getting my license), jumped out, slammed the door, and huffily stomped up the walkway to our front door. I was probably muttering some disrespectful expletives in the masterful teenage girl way, as I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and was greeted with a chorus of "SURPRISE!!!"

Frightening, no?

My first, and only, to date, surprise party was thrown by my family and a large group of friends, most of which were matching their respective dates to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I had not suspected a thing (hence my increasingly bad attitude with each stomp up to the front door). But the biggest surprise would come a bit later, when the doorbell rang, and a full sized gorilla entered the house with a balloon, waiting to sing me Happy Birthday. I couldn't believe it.

Katie, Tawnya, Jasmine, me, Jamie, Derick, Jordan, Jen, Steve, Gorilla

Lauren, Amy, Ryan

Alec, Anita, Tarah, Nick, Brad

I'll always remember how awesome my birthday parties were growing up. My parents made a point of making my brother and me feel special and loved on our big days. My psycho, cross-dressing, tea partying, gorilla infested memories are treasured ones. Even if they are a bit frightening. 

Saturday School

I've always been one of the "good kids". I think it's a combination of being a first-born girl, my withdrawn personality, and being parented well. In elementary school I was only sent to the principal's office once, and that was only because I'd witnessed someone else's infraction (standing on the toilets in the girls' room so she could talk to her friend without the visual interruption the stall presented). I think my heart may have beaten faster during my walk of shame after my name was called over the school's loudspeaker than any of the regular offenders' would have.

Over the years I would have one or two friends that persuaded me to get into more trouble than I was used to, but nothing serious.

When I got to high school I experienced the wrong side of the Templeton High School law, and it was all my own doing. During the fall of my freshman year, a sophomore boy had taken notice of me. When my curly-haired, freckle-faced friend Sarah from the volleyball team, told me about his crush, I didn't even know who he was. But once I knew about him, I decided Jacob Rodrigues couldn't be such a bad guy. He obviously had impeccable taste.

Slowly but surely my own crush on Jacob developed. We'd call each other a few times a week, I'd sit on my bed with my green telephone, complete with a two foot long ringlet cord, as we talked about absolutely nothing. (Not in a cute awwww-they-don't-even-have-to-say-anything sort of way. A we're-tying-up-our-parents'-phone-lines-by-sitting-here-not-saying-ANYTHING sort of way.) We'd pass each other in the hallways at school, he'd smirk at me, oozing Older Boy appeal, I'd blush and giggle to whichever friend was unfortunate enough to be stuck with me at that moment.

Jacob played football, and he was #78. My friend Jasmine had a crush on a boy named Casey, who was #49. We'd attend the games like we would have anyway, but when you have someone to watch, it sure makes a sport in which I had zero interest as a 14-year-old girl a whole lot more engaging.

Jacob also worked at a classmate's family owned Pizza Place on Main Street in Templeton. I managed to talk my parents into going there for dinner on a night I knew he'd be working, becoming conscious too late of the fact that my dad would most definitely humiliate me. (Let's be real, being within the same fifty-foot radius as, having to acknowledge relation to, and most definitely allowing my newest flame to converse with my dad was horrifying. I was fourteen.)

Looking back, I can't remember if my dad actually said anything ridiculous, but simply sitting there with my family, having him serve us made all the blood in my head burn. What a stupid idea I'd had. We left the Pizza Place with my dearest dad having coined a new nickname for Jacob: Duck Man... due to the slight waddle in Jacob's pace.

Back to my brush with the THS disciplinary office.

Jacob had a last period guitar class. I had study hall the same period. Since the dawn of study-hall-period time, I would venture to say that if a high school student can get out of class, she will choose to. We had excuses ranging from needing to check out a book at the library to working on our newest ceramics project in the art room.

For the better part of my freshman year, I left every single 7th period class to listen to Jacob play his guitar. He probably wasn't very good yet, but I didn't care. I was spending "quality time" with my crush, and everyone knows a man who can play a musical instrument (or dance) is 5.2 million times more appealing to any woman.

We'd sit in the quad while he played Blind Melon and Wheezer songs, and I'd try not to drool. Our arrangement worked out pretty well until the day I decided to just not show up to study hall. How hard was it to wait for the required 20 minutes of silent reading to be over, then get a legitimate excuse, if not fibbed, written on a hall pass? Not hard. But apparently this particular day I just could not hold in my feelings. I needed to be sitting with Jacob for the entire hour and a half period or I would just die. 

That same day the school called my house to report my absence from 7th period. Since I didn't have a good excuse (I can't even remember if I tried to pass it off to my mom or if I just told her), I was issued a Saturday School.

Saturday School was one of the best punishments ever concocted for the typical never-does-schoolwork, sleeps-late-every-day, hates-setting-foot-on-campus teenage delinquent. It required you to wake up early, go to school, and sit in a cold classroom with a grumpy teacher for 2 or 4 hours, depending on your crime. I was just pissed off that I wasn't in my warm bed, and missing out on part of a Saturday that I could be socializing with my friends.

But as I sat there, in the portable classroom, actually doing homework (hey, I missed out on study hall, after all), and taking breaks to daydream about my rockstar Jacob, all I could think was...

It was totally worth it.