Sunday, May 17, 2009

Sticking My Nose in Other People's Business

It's recently been brought to my attention (thank you Scoot and others) that I have a tendency to stick my nose in other people's business. Who, me?

So I thought, where better to address my problem, then on my blog. Let me start out by saying that this only happens with people I care about. If I don't care about you (you being the entire human race, except for a select group of people), I could care less about what you do. To each his own as my good friend, Gil, would say.

But, if you are a good friend, and someone's either hurting you or about to (history repeats itself) I just can't help but add my two cents. But, for doing this, I get the "stay out of's not your place" all too often.

And, the recent circumstances have all had to deal with friends' romantic relationships. When do you step in and when do you say "OK, throw yourself back in the fire and of course, yes, I'll be here when it all goes awry AGAIN."

Now, I know that people can change. I've seen it in my own relationship. I know people make mistakes. I know when you're young, both people in the spoken relationship can do stupid, stupid things to hurt one another very badly and regret it. Then eventually forgive and move on. It's happened in my life and I've seen it with friends. But, when it's not your heart on the line, it's the heart of a good friend's, why is it harder to just sit back and see what happens?

And, in another circumstance, what if it's someone whom you don't know that well, and you know that what they're not seeing (what they don't know) is what's hurting them? What do you do then? It's not your best friend, it's not even a "good," friend, it's just someone, being hurt (who doesn't know) and you just have to sit there and act like nothing's going on.

Has anyone else struggled with this before? When is it your place to say something? And, if you do say something, will it just end up hurting you and your relationship with the inset couple? I'm trying really hard to live by "not my pig, not my farm" motto, but it's just not that easy. At least, for me it's not. 

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Peace and Quiet

Last weekend we took our annual BD reunion trip to the Lakehouse. We've been going every year now for awhile. For some reason we always go around Cynco de Mayo. I don't know why. I guess it's a good excuse for bottomless margaritas, all you can eat tacos and usually too much sun (I'm still peeling). 

Aside from the beautiful house situated right on the lake in a gated South Carolina community, I love going there because of the memories it brings. My senior year pre-season our entire soccer team went down to the lakehouse for some "bonding" in between 3-a-days and our first game. We actually split the underclassman into groups, made them pick a song out of a hat and perform a dance it while we seniors judged. I'll NEVER FORGET Jess Hartman as B. Spears or Tina doing Baby Got Back. 

Now that we're "adults"(I use that term loosely), we go to the lake to relax, get some sun, act a little ridiculous and bask in one another's company. We hadn't seen one another (except for Red and I) since Emmy's wedding in August. But from the minute we all landed in ATL, it was if time had never passed and everything stood still. That's the thing about our "family"....we always pick up right where we left off.

Night one was filled with lots of wine and lots of laughter. Emmy, Lacey and I stayed up to almost 6am...outside on the rocking chairs, talking about things we did, things we're doing, things we hope to to do someday. It's so interesting that we're all in such different places (figuratively speaking) as we head into our quarter life crisis'.

We spent the entire next day diving, flipping and twisting off the dock. We had a quart of vodka, a boom box blaring country music, a lake that was all ours. 

Every night was filled with cocktails, more talk of life and love and lots of laughter as we circled around the table to tell stories, and play games (I'm officially obsessed with Cranium and Loaded Questions...if you don't own them, GO BUY THEM NOW). 

We watched the sunset, hugged one another tight, talked about things we don't talk about with anyone else but one another and listened. Listened to how quiet it is there at night. For one weekend there's no one else in the world but us. No cell reception, no blackberry checking, nothing. Just us. 

So, to a wonderful year at the lake and to the girls who are my insides, my soulmates -- may there be many more to come. 


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Here’s to you, Mom

My sister and I used to ask my mom which one of us she loved more. She would say you’ll never understand the love a parent has for their children until you have your own. My sister and I thought it was a cop out.

As I get older, I’m realizing that it’d be impossible for my mom to love one of us more than the other. Hate me if you want, but I had (and have) the type of parents who put all of my sister and my needs before their own. I won’t go into detail on the woes of how they ate spaghetti and tuna every night to put my dad through law school, but it’s true they’re the most selfless people I know.

I remember going through my “dark stage” in middle school (you know the Jenko, Airwalk phase) and my mom wasn’t thrilled about it, but she never judged me. She’d let me wear my big, baggy, black Jenkos if I wanted, but she would make me wear a Limited shirt with them. Compromise she’d say.

I remember how fuming mad she’d be after soccer games when I was little and the coach wouldn’t play me. BUT, she was never one of those moms to walk up and embarrass me by screaming at the coach – she wouldn’t put me through it.

I remember my mom working 12-14 hour days and then driving miles just to take me to gymnastics practice or soccer an hour and a half away. We didn’t have very many dinners at home, but she always made sure that we were doing everything we wanted to do -- ballet, soccer, softball, swimming, you get the drift.

But the thing that sticks out most from when I was young is that my mom always trusted me. She never read my notes that she found in my pockets when doing the laundry. She never read my diary. She never listened in on my phone conversations or checked on me in the basement when I had a boy over. She trusted me and because of that, I trusted her. I told her things and confided in her.

In college my best friend Emmy used to make fun of me for missing my mom so much. I actually used to drunk dial my mom. Some call their high school friends, or a crush, I drunk dial my mom. But, regardless of how many natty lights I’d downed, my mom loved to hear from me and listened to my gibberish for as long as I went on.

I remember going through a very, very hard time in my life and I remember my mom being there in the middle of the night, early in the morning, whenever I needed her. I remember her crying with me on the phone because she truly felt every little inch of pain that I felt. I remember her telling me that it would get better, and it did. But most of all I remember that I would have never gotten through it all if it weren’t for her.

My senior year my mom came to North Carolina from Ohio for 8 home games. Whether she flew in for just the night or drove 8 hours, she was there, for as many games as she could be. My mom loved watching me play soccer and even though she’d frustrate me at times by saying things like “couldn’t you have kicked the ball just a little harder,” or something along those lines, I knew she was my biggest fan.

And even now, in my professional life, there’s no one I depend on more than my mom (and dad). She’s the businesswoman who can do it all – she’d work all day, but never miss an important meet, game or race. She instilled in my sister and me the importance of hard work, but always let us have fun. She’s responsible for the successes I’ve experienced in school and in my professional life. She is and always will be my mentor.

So, here’s to you mom. For loving me, accepting me, guiding me and for being the best mom a daughter could ever ask for. I love you and Happy (late) Mother's Day.