Dear Popular Kid

Dear "Popular" Kid-
You think you're too cool for my kid. Your mom probably tells you that, because my kid is a little different and not terribly athletic, that it's okay not to be friendly towards him- that it's okay not to respond when he speaks to you or invites you to hang out on a Saturday.  Maybe it's because my family hasn't lived here for a generation or because we don't belong to the right clubs or maybe it's because I work full time and don't volunteer at school all that much.  Or hell, maybe it's because of the political sticker that was on my old car.  You probably think you have enough friends- that you don't need anymore.  Maybe your mom thinks the same thing- that she doesn't need any more people in her life so there's no payoff in trying to accept a new friend in your world.

But you're both wrong.

'Cause there's no payoff for being mean.  None.  Kindness is the most important thing, always and always.  See, before you got all "too cool," I didn't have an opinion about you.  Not one way or the other- you were just another kid on the playground.  Now, though, I know you.  I know who you are and what kind of person you are and, should you ever need something from me, I'll...

Help you. Of course I'll help you.  Because you may not be kind, but I. Am.

And that makes me way more Badass than you'll ever be.

(But your mom? She can totally suck it.)

Boobs- Pt 2

For the record, during a mammogram, snarling at the person handling your boobs to "Stop shoving me around like a piece of meat," is not a good idea.

Nor is asking her how often people tell her she sucks.

She gets vengeful.

Ouch.

Jesus Bugs

Jesus Bugs (aka water striders) are those little bugs that skim across the tops of ponds and streams.  You've seen them, I'm sure. I sort of love 'cause the idea of Jesus as this little bug, about to get eaten by a fish...I don't know.  I'm pretty sure there's a joke there somewhere.  

Anyway, I've always wanted to be like a water skater- metaphorically speaking. Skimming across the top of life, not making a dent in anyone's life.  Zero impact- except for the positive.  That meant always being agreeable, always smiling, always saying yes, sure, I'd be happy to...

That got me nowhere, but it took me almost 40 years to figure it out.

This week we got some news of the "mixed blessings" variety.  My darling TMOTH needs surgery. It's good news because 1) it's possible to fix this thing we've been dealing with for 2  year and B) it's not what they categorize as "major."  The mixed part comes with the words "Six Weeks of Recovery" and "Two weeks of absolutely no weight on one leg."  We're a busy family- the kids are totally over involved and my work is going crazy (I know-  "Just be happy you have a  job, just be happy you have a job...") and having TMOTH totally out of commission for 6 weeks is going to be, um, tough.

Really tough.

One the one hand, I want to call out the cavalry.  Casserole brigade, please?  someone to schlepp my kid hither and yon?  Yes, thanks! On the other hand, though, my internal Jesus Bug still lurks.  Zero impact, remember?

Put all of those things together and they come out in this weird cocktail of mad and sad and scared which, to the naked eye, look like Cranky.  Grumpy.  Crabby.  MEAN.  That's how I spent yesterday and I think I scared TMOTH and the kids and my folks and the dog.  (I'm most worried about the dog, to tell you the truth, 'cause she's usually pretty fearless.)  But today, in the bright sunshine with a fresh cup of coffee and a fully night's sleep behind me, I'm feeling...better.

Now part of me wants to go around apologizing for my mood yesterday- and I probably should at least check in with folks to let them know it was a passing thing, not my new outlook on life.  But there's this other part of me that looks at the big dent that I left yesterday and say...yeah.  Those were feelings, you know?  Big as they come and damn inconvenient at times, but hey-

it beats getting eaten by a fish, right?

Remember the name...

My friend K asked me a really good question the other day. 


"Why are you so terrified that someone might remember you?"


It's a good question.  Without meaning to, I work very hard to be nondescript- to be on non-memorable- because it's safer.  "Keep your head down and no one will shoot it off," you know?  (Granted, that might be better advice if I lived in a war zone (as opposed to Groovy Land), but I've always taken it as a basically Good Idea.  Well, at least since high school.  I think I was wicked memorable then.  The stakes were lower somehow.


I don't think it's in my best interest to stay hidden in the weeds anymore. I think the badass is about making sure that people always remember me for better or for worse and not being so afraid that they won't like me. Because you because really what's the worst thing that could happen? They remember me? They think I'm fabulous? They think I'm horrible? 


More likely, I won't even be in their heads at half an hour after. I maybe I will. So today, I will strive to be memorable. I will not censor myself. 


I will be afraid to be remembered.

Win

http://tinyurl.com/6lh2k9y

Somedays, I think the most Badass thing I can do is get out of bed, let the dog out, and smile at my family before I've hooked up the coffee i.v.   If I can manage to get through the ensuing 10-14 hours of drop-offs, pick-ups, technology snarls and bad frozen lunches without snarling at strangers, throwing things at my co-workers or bursting into tears at an inappropriate moment, I consider it a win.  If I can do all that and everyone I'm responsible for is still alive when I go to bed, it's a giant win.

A mega-win.

And if, on one of those mega-win days, I also manage to blog something? After months and months of life-and-stress-related non-blogging?  Then I'm freaking QUEEN of the Win.


You'll notice I said nothing at all here about quality.  Quality is the enemy of Win- and Win is the essence of the Badass.