Does anybody remember that? Do you remember the cartoon character who said that? He was one of my favorites. Even if he was a pink mountain lion in a string tie!
What happened to those old cartoons? Some I have seen on Boomerang TV like The Jetsons, The Flintstones, Looney Tunes. But what about Snagglepuss? Mighty Mouse? Good old fashioned slapstick comedy, stupid jokes that still make you laugh, and scenarios that you can actually picturing happening now with our kids. And most of them are just GONE. Oh, sure, you can look them up on YouTube. The Sesame Street Martians are still hilarious with their increasing speed of saying, "Yip. Yip. Yip! Yip!" to communicate.
What happened to our kids? I use to LOVE those old cartoons when I was growing up. Now my kids are watching cartoons that I have to censor. Who would have thought television would air cartoons that advocate lying (The Regular Show), or being a brat (The Simpsons), or aren't even fit for kids to watch At All (Family Guy)! Okay, I admit, I got into Kim Possible for a little while, she was a cool teenage kid fighting crime. And my seven-year-old has a penchant for redheads like his dad. She was great! But Adventure Time? Really? Resurrecting dead candy zombies? Cat and Dog? Obnoxious and stupid.
But what is this junk that is on Cartoon Network that manages to get by the Parental Controls by not being rated? I thought Parental Controls were to help us parents so that we wouldn't have to watch EVERY show on the Cartoon Network, Boomerang, etc just to make sure it was age appropriate and inoffensive? I'm just now discovering that Parental Controls don't always work. But I just don't have time to censor everything my children watch.
Bring back Speedbuggy, Captain Caveman, Hong Kong Phooey. Bring back the real non-animated shows for kids like Isis (my personal favorite), Shazam, and even The Afternoon Special (which is where I first watched a show based on an Edgar Allan Poe story and was hooked for life). Bring back shows I don't have to worry about my kids watching. Even Scooby-Doo has been updated to the point I'm not sure about him. What do you tell your child's preschool teacher when he innocently bursts out with, "What the!" that he heard from Fred Jones.
I miss the innocence of childhood. I miss not having to protect my children from television. There is enough in this big, bad world that's going to hurt them soon enough from which I can't protect them. I'm trying to put off their heartbreaks and loss of innocence as long as possible. I thought living in a rural setting would help protect my children, but I can't protect them from technology. As hard as I try, someone out there will figure out a way to expose them to things I don't want them to see yet. Someone will figure out a way around my safeguards.
I wish I could shield my children, but even they struggle out from under my safeguards. Reaching for knowledge, but not always knowing that knowledge isn't always good. Not yet. Trust me a little longer, children. Trust me to know what's best. And stop getting angry when I change the television channel or put in a dvd for your own good. And my own peace of mind. "Heavens to Murgatroyd!" said Snagglepuss. Things could be worse. But let's try to make them better anyway.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Born in the Wrong Century?
My husband actually gave me the idea for this one, so.....Thanks J.
We were talking the other day about this and that and the subject came up about how much the world has changed. It seems like every day I see someone posting on FaceBook about "when I was young we drank out of a garden hose, came home when mom yelled from the porch, got our tails whacked if we failed to use manners...." you get the idea. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing.
I remember all of that. And my number one complaint of something that seems to have departed our new world (and a very early death in my opinion) is good manners. So many children these days, and adults too for that matter) have none. They don't say "please" or "thank you" or "excuse me". They speak to their parents and other adults in a disrespectful, hateful tone of voice that I would have been backhanded across the room for using. It bugs me. I want to pop them all on the butt (adults included) and tell them to "Mind Your Manners!" I realize (obviously) that I am in a minority, but still. Common courtesy isn't so common anymore.
Another thing is some women a few years ago killed chivalry. They beat it to near death and then suffocated it. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for equal pay for equal work, but I love it when a man opens a door for me. And other than my husband, most men don't so that I am pleasantly surprised when it happens. And I ALWAYS say "Thank you" to them. I believe in positive reinforcement.
I'm also in the minority in that I don't believe a woman has any place in certain jobs. A woman has no business being in a combat position - men raised right are too busy trying to protect her than do their own jobs. A woman has no business being a firefighter, or other dangerous, labor-intensive jobs. Most of us just don't have the muscle for such things. Besides, we know we're really the brains of the two sexes, so, Hey, let Men do all the work, and we'll tell them how to do it! Why did we give up such a good deal?
Another saying on FB lately is "The sexes will never be equal til a woman can walk around with a beer belly and still think she's sexy." I have to point out that only WOMEN see that as UN-sexy and, frankly, repulsive. Proof again that we are the brains. Let them be the brawn. And we'll remind them to don shirts in public.
I miss the old days. Teachers aren't allowed to spank kids anymore. They will at my oldest son's school (thankfully), but I have put my permission in writing and begged them at my youngest son's preschool to at least swat him on the rear when he acts up. That was 2 years, two directors, three headmasters, and four teachers ago and it still hasn't happened. *sigh* It's much harder for me to punish him at home for something he did four hours previously. I remember being swatted by the closest adult - teacher, family member, parent, or even preacher - if I acted up. My arm is tired, folks, STEP UP!
Anyway, this is my soapbox. I could go on, and on, and on.......but I won't. I'll stop. This whole subject was discussed between my husband and me and I made the mistake of saying I was born in the wrong century. Manners aside, my husband convinced me I was wrong with 4 words: "air conditioning" and "indoor plumbing."
Enough said. I concede defeat.
He was right and I was wrong.
(Put that in the record book, DH, I put it in writing that you were right.)
I was born in the barely-still-1960s right where I should have been. Thank you, God, for my a/c, my indoor toilet, hot water, microwave, and television sets. But would you help my kids learn manners? I'm trying my best, but they're a mite stubborn. And, no, sir, I really don't want to discuss which parent might have passed along that personality trait to them.......but if you insist, it was my husband. :-D
We were talking the other day about this and that and the subject came up about how much the world has changed. It seems like every day I see someone posting on FaceBook about "when I was young we drank out of a garden hose, came home when mom yelled from the porch, got our tails whacked if we failed to use manners...." you get the idea. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing.
I remember all of that. And my number one complaint of something that seems to have departed our new world (and a very early death in my opinion) is good manners. So many children these days, and adults too for that matter) have none. They don't say "please" or "thank you" or "excuse me". They speak to their parents and other adults in a disrespectful, hateful tone of voice that I would have been backhanded across the room for using. It bugs me. I want to pop them all on the butt (adults included) and tell them to "Mind Your Manners!" I realize (obviously) that I am in a minority, but still. Common courtesy isn't so common anymore.
Another thing is some women a few years ago killed chivalry. They beat it to near death and then suffocated it. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for equal pay for equal work, but I love it when a man opens a door for me. And other than my husband, most men don't so that I am pleasantly surprised when it happens. And I ALWAYS say "Thank you" to them. I believe in positive reinforcement.
I'm also in the minority in that I don't believe a woman has any place in certain jobs. A woman has no business being in a combat position - men raised right are too busy trying to protect her than do their own jobs. A woman has no business being a firefighter, or other dangerous, labor-intensive jobs. Most of us just don't have the muscle for such things. Besides, we know we're really the brains of the two sexes, so, Hey, let Men do all the work, and we'll tell them how to do it! Why did we give up such a good deal?
Another saying on FB lately is "The sexes will never be equal til a woman can walk around with a beer belly and still think she's sexy." I have to point out that only WOMEN see that as UN-sexy and, frankly, repulsive. Proof again that we are the brains. Let them be the brawn. And we'll remind them to don shirts in public.
I miss the old days. Teachers aren't allowed to spank kids anymore. They will at my oldest son's school (thankfully), but I have put my permission in writing and begged them at my youngest son's preschool to at least swat him on the rear when he acts up. That was 2 years, two directors, three headmasters, and four teachers ago and it still hasn't happened. *sigh* It's much harder for me to punish him at home for something he did four hours previously. I remember being swatted by the closest adult - teacher, family member, parent, or even preacher - if I acted up. My arm is tired, folks, STEP UP!
Anyway, this is my soapbox. I could go on, and on, and on.......but I won't. I'll stop. This whole subject was discussed between my husband and me and I made the mistake of saying I was born in the wrong century. Manners aside, my husband convinced me I was wrong with 4 words: "air conditioning" and "indoor plumbing."
Enough said. I concede defeat.
He was right and I was wrong.
(Put that in the record book, DH, I put it in writing that you were right.)
I was born in the barely-still-1960s right where I should have been. Thank you, God, for my a/c, my indoor toilet, hot water, microwave, and television sets. But would you help my kids learn manners? I'm trying my best, but they're a mite stubborn. And, no, sir, I really don't want to discuss which parent might have passed along that personality trait to them.......but if you insist, it was my husband. :-D
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Vacation Fun
My husband and I just got back from taking our two sons, and his daughter to the Alabama coast for a long weekend of fun. It started off great. I made a promise to myself and my husband that I was going to TRY (pay attention to that word -- it's important) to not yell at the children much. Remember that word "try"? Well, let's just say that some moments required more "trying" than others because the children were more "trying" at times than others.
I succeeded, which is a small miracle in itself. We all had fun. We went to the pool and the beach, we took the daughter shopping, we saw and toured a battleship and submarine, and we even rode a ferry. We came back tired and sunburned, but I think that is a rule of vacations. You MUST come back tired and sunburned or it wasn't a good vacation. No one wanted to come back, so I take that as a good sign.
However, I learned a lot on this trip. Not just about battleships and submarines, or to remember to put sunblock on your shoulders as well as your arms and legs (painful lesson learned). I learned about the differences between boys and girls -- other than the obvious.
1. Boys are messier. You would think that as a pre-teen girl, H would have wardrobe calamities, or accessories tossed hither, thither, and yon, and just be a complete tornado. Let me tell you, she was the NEAT one. Yes, there was a little mess on her side of the room, but that was due more to lack of space than her. The boys, on the other hand, covered the bathroom floor in dirty clothes (poor H had to step on them to take her showers). I'm used to the mess at home. After all, it only took 30 seconds after our return for the carpet in their bedroom to be covered in toys, clothes, shoes, and other things I'm scared to look at too closely.
2. Boys are louder. Again, you would think that a pre-teen girl would squeal and giggle and make all manner of noise to get her dad's attention. Nope. She was quiet, polite, and waited her turn to speak. The boys? Wouldn't / Couldn't be quiet if they were unconscious. I swear they are even noisy asleep. Seriously. Z talks in his sleep (usually yelling at M to leave him alone), and M snores.
3. Girls are more polite. I know, this one is obvious. But after the boys burping, snorting, yelling, and making other various noisy I don't even like to think about, H's politeness and good manners were SO appreciated. She evens knows what to do with a napkin!!!!!
4. Girls are cleaner. She combed her hair. Voluntarily. We have to chase down the boys. Her face was always clean. The boys get dirt on their faces climbing out of the bathtub. Her clothes were always neat. The boys? Let's not even think about it.
Yes, I have discovered many differences between boys and girls. I'm sure most of you know these already. I actually KNEW them, it was SEEING them that was so amazing. Startling, really. It makes me realize what I'm missing having just boys. NOT enough to make me think of trying to have a third child. Nope. Uh-Uh. No way. Not happening, unless God Himself decides it. But it's nice having her around. She helps even out the testosterone level at my house. And she even sides with ME sometimes.
I succeeded, which is a small miracle in itself. We all had fun. We went to the pool and the beach, we took the daughter shopping, we saw and toured a battleship and submarine, and we even rode a ferry. We came back tired and sunburned, but I think that is a rule of vacations. You MUST come back tired and sunburned or it wasn't a good vacation. No one wanted to come back, so I take that as a good sign.
However, I learned a lot on this trip. Not just about battleships and submarines, or to remember to put sunblock on your shoulders as well as your arms and legs (painful lesson learned). I learned about the differences between boys and girls -- other than the obvious.
1. Boys are messier. You would think that as a pre-teen girl, H would have wardrobe calamities, or accessories tossed hither, thither, and yon, and just be a complete tornado. Let me tell you, she was the NEAT one. Yes, there was a little mess on her side of the room, but that was due more to lack of space than her. The boys, on the other hand, covered the bathroom floor in dirty clothes (poor H had to step on them to take her showers). I'm used to the mess at home. After all, it only took 30 seconds after our return for the carpet in their bedroom to be covered in toys, clothes, shoes, and other things I'm scared to look at too closely.
2. Boys are louder. Again, you would think that a pre-teen girl would squeal and giggle and make all manner of noise to get her dad's attention. Nope. She was quiet, polite, and waited her turn to speak. The boys? Wouldn't / Couldn't be quiet if they were unconscious. I swear they are even noisy asleep. Seriously. Z talks in his sleep (usually yelling at M to leave him alone), and M snores.
3. Girls are more polite. I know, this one is obvious. But after the boys burping, snorting, yelling, and making other various noisy I don't even like to think about, H's politeness and good manners were SO appreciated. She evens knows what to do with a napkin!!!!!
4. Girls are cleaner. She combed her hair. Voluntarily. We have to chase down the boys. Her face was always clean. The boys get dirt on their faces climbing out of the bathtub. Her clothes were always neat. The boys? Let's not even think about it.
Yes, I have discovered many differences between boys and girls. I'm sure most of you know these already. I actually KNEW them, it was SEEING them that was so amazing. Startling, really. It makes me realize what I'm missing having just boys. NOT enough to make me think of trying to have a third child. Nope. Uh-Uh. No way. Not happening, unless God Himself decides it. But it's nice having her around. She helps even out the testosterone level at my house. And she even sides with ME sometimes.
Friday, June 24, 2011
As a (Step) Mother...
Wow......I never thought I would be a step-mother. This is difficult. When I had my boys, I knew they would love me. I mean, they HAVE TO love me, right? I AM their mother. They came and I held them, rocked them, loved them. They were beautiful. I loved them and they loved me.
Then, one year ago, we found out they have a sister. She's now about to turn twelve. Hard age for her. Difficult situation for us both. She is SO incredible. She's taller than I am, with beautiful wavy dark hair. She's smart, sweet, funny....she is all the things I fell in love with in her dad. She looks just like him. Well, a softer, prettier feminine version of him. She has a beautiful smile. She's everything I ever wanted in a daughter. And she belongs to someone else.
She and her dad bonded instantly. Same with the boys. They took to her like baseball and toy trucks and water guns. She is their sister. They are her brothers. But what I am?
I have nightmares of Snow White and Cinderella and pray she doesn't see me like that. Her mother is still very much in the picture -- she has custody -- and has done a wonderful job raising her. But where do I fit? Is she afraid to love me because she doesn't want to hurt her mom? Does she secretly hope her parents will get back together? Am I the interloper in her dreams of a happy family? I always feel a little lost around her. I hope she doesn't feel that way around me.
And what do I do? I can't force myself into her heart. I won't. I love her already. I want to consider her as a daughter. I want her to consider me as a second mom. I don't want to replace her mom. I wouldn't even want to try. I just want her to let me love her.
Then, one year ago, we found out they have a sister. She's now about to turn twelve. Hard age for her. Difficult situation for us both. She is SO incredible. She's taller than I am, with beautiful wavy dark hair. She's smart, sweet, funny....she is all the things I fell in love with in her dad. She looks just like him. Well, a softer, prettier feminine version of him. She has a beautiful smile. She's everything I ever wanted in a daughter. And she belongs to someone else.
She and her dad bonded instantly. Same with the boys. They took to her like baseball and toy trucks and water guns. She is their sister. They are her brothers. But what I am?
I have nightmares of Snow White and Cinderella and pray she doesn't see me like that. Her mother is still very much in the picture -- she has custody -- and has done a wonderful job raising her. But where do I fit? Is she afraid to love me because she doesn't want to hurt her mom? Does she secretly hope her parents will get back together? Am I the interloper in her dreams of a happy family? I always feel a little lost around her. I hope she doesn't feel that way around me.
And what do I do? I can't force myself into her heart. I won't. I love her already. I want to consider her as a daughter. I want her to consider me as a second mom. I don't want to replace her mom. I wouldn't even want to try. I just want her to let me love her.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
As a Mother.....
Most of you know that I have two boys. Z is seven, and M is four. Perfectly fun ages. They are both joys and frustrations, laughs and tears, hugs and strangle-holds.
Z is my oldest. He was my first and is the sweetest natured child. He is just like his dad. Even-tempered, calm (most of the time), smart -- WOW is he smart. He is my easy child. He can get his feelings hurt easily, so we're working on that. We don't want him picked on by the other kids for his sensitivity, and, .....well, let's face it. HE'S A BOY! He's supposed to be rough-n-tumble, rowdy, running h--- for leather everywhere he goes, and mostly he does. He just happens to be a little too sensitive sometimes. He's a leader, yet he can follow. He can run with the big boys or sit and watch television. I think he's developing mine and his father's love of reading. But he won't give me hugs or kisses if anyone is watching -- even strangers. He's growing up. I can see the beginnings of the man he will become. I love him SO much. He was born just last week, I don't care WHEN his age says he arrived. He's my baby.
M is the youngest. He is my charmer. He is just like me -- bless his little heart. He is tempermental, high-maintenance, prone to temper tantrums, and just, well, like me. I have no doubt he will stay in A LOT of trouble. But he's a charmer. When he smiles, everyone smiles -- even me, though I cringe also wondering just what it is he's about to do. When he cries, everyone cringes. He won't sit still for anything. Even when he's watching Spongebob Squarepants or Scooby-Doo, he stays in motion. He still happily runs to me every day after preschool like he hasn't seen me in a week. He still gives me kisses and hugs whenever I ask, and sometimes when I don't. He still snuggles. He's my baby. He was just born yesterday, at least in my mind.
They are my treasures. My own personal miracles (okay, I admit, my husband did have something to do with them getting here.) They are my little angels, especially when they are sleeping and not destroying their room, or asking 50 questions, or sneaking out of bed to play. When I get hugs and kisses and hear, "I love you, Mama," I swear I see their halos (appropriately held up by their devil horns). One day, maybe they will know just how much I love them. How often I thank God for entrusting me with them. How fearfully I pray I can do right by them and raise them to be men like their father. One day. Maybe.
Meanwhile, I'll love them, and hug them; yell at them then apologize; spank them and cry in my bedroom; then love them more. I'll kiss them while they are sleeping and pray to God to watch over them, to make me a better mother, and to help me love them even more. I will do things right, and I will do things wrong. I just hope and pray in the end, I will have done MORE right than wrong.
Z is my oldest. He was my first and is the sweetest natured child. He is just like his dad. Even-tempered, calm (most of the time), smart -- WOW is he smart. He is my easy child. He can get his feelings hurt easily, so we're working on that. We don't want him picked on by the other kids for his sensitivity, and, .....well, let's face it. HE'S A BOY! He's supposed to be rough-n-tumble, rowdy, running h--- for leather everywhere he goes, and mostly he does. He just happens to be a little too sensitive sometimes. He's a leader, yet he can follow. He can run with the big boys or sit and watch television. I think he's developing mine and his father's love of reading. But he won't give me hugs or kisses if anyone is watching -- even strangers. He's growing up. I can see the beginnings of the man he will become. I love him SO much. He was born just last week, I don't care WHEN his age says he arrived. He's my baby.
M is the youngest. He is my charmer. He is just like me -- bless his little heart. He is tempermental, high-maintenance, prone to temper tantrums, and just, well, like me. I have no doubt he will stay in A LOT of trouble. But he's a charmer. When he smiles, everyone smiles -- even me, though I cringe also wondering just what it is he's about to do. When he cries, everyone cringes. He won't sit still for anything. Even when he's watching Spongebob Squarepants or Scooby-Doo, he stays in motion. He still happily runs to me every day after preschool like he hasn't seen me in a week. He still gives me kisses and hugs whenever I ask, and sometimes when I don't. He still snuggles. He's my baby. He was just born yesterday, at least in my mind.
They are my treasures. My own personal miracles (okay, I admit, my husband did have something to do with them getting here.) They are my little angels, especially when they are sleeping and not destroying their room, or asking 50 questions, or sneaking out of bed to play. When I get hugs and kisses and hear, "I love you, Mama," I swear I see their halos (appropriately held up by their devil horns). One day, maybe they will know just how much I love them. How often I thank God for entrusting me with them. How fearfully I pray I can do right by them and raise them to be men like their father. One day. Maybe.
Meanwhile, I'll love them, and hug them; yell at them then apologize; spank them and cry in my bedroom; then love them more. I'll kiss them while they are sleeping and pray to God to watch over them, to make me a better mother, and to help me love them even more. I will do things right, and I will do things wrong. I just hope and pray in the end, I will have done MORE right than wrong.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
As a Wife.....
Today's blog is from the perspective of "Wife." A friend, Hello Rosie posted her blog this morning about the 5 Love Languages. (if you don't know what they are, please look them up. You'll be glad you did.) This, of course, got me thinking. My husband and I don't speak the same Love Language. Mine is Words of Affirmation with a close second being Physical Touch. His, on the other hand, is Acts of Service. This can lead to miscommunication.
For example, the other night, my husband and I had.........well, an unpleasant conversation. Not a fight, but there was certainly no laughter in the room. Sometimes it's the language we speak, the language we hear, or sometimes, it's just the timing. The conversation left what I'm going to call a marriage bruise. You know what those are. Feelings were hurt, you're both scared to touch the subject again because it's still sore (like a bruise), but it will go away (like a bruise). Eventually. How long it takes depends on the size of the bruise. Hopefully, this one is just a small one and will disappear quickly. Not one of those that turns all the beautiful colors of the rainbow and HURTS for a looooooooong time.
But as my friend reminded me with her post, maybe I should look back over the last little while (translation: months) and remember everything he has done FOR me and try to forget what he hasn't verbalized. Like a man, he can stick his foot in his mouth. And like a woman (see? I can be fair), sometimes I don't hear what is said. I hear a different version that may not match what he meant. Then, maybe, I should try to speak HIS language instead of always expecting him to speak mine.
So, this blog is about a wife. But about a wife apologizing to her husband for not being the wife she should be. He really is a great guy. I don't always give him the credit due him, and for that I am also sorry. He isn't perfect, but he's mine, and I love him. More than he can possibly understand, and more than he will ever know. I know it's cliched, but he really is my soul-mate. And it hurts horribly when things are....discordant...between us.
For example, the other night, my husband and I had.........well, an unpleasant conversation. Not a fight, but there was certainly no laughter in the room. Sometimes it's the language we speak, the language we hear, or sometimes, it's just the timing. The conversation left what I'm going to call a marriage bruise. You know what those are. Feelings were hurt, you're both scared to touch the subject again because it's still sore (like a bruise), but it will go away (like a bruise). Eventually. How long it takes depends on the size of the bruise. Hopefully, this one is just a small one and will disappear quickly. Not one of those that turns all the beautiful colors of the rainbow and HURTS for a looooooooong time.
But as my friend reminded me with her post, maybe I should look back over the last little while (translation: months) and remember everything he has done FOR me and try to forget what he hasn't verbalized. Like a man, he can stick his foot in his mouth. And like a woman (see? I can be fair), sometimes I don't hear what is said. I hear a different version that may not match what he meant. Then, maybe, I should try to speak HIS language instead of always expecting him to speak mine.
So, this blog is about a wife. But about a wife apologizing to her husband for not being the wife she should be. He really is a great guy. I don't always give him the credit due him, and for that I am also sorry. He isn't perfect, but he's mine, and I love him. More than he can possibly understand, and more than he will ever know. I know it's cliched, but he really is my soul-mate. And it hurts horribly when things are....discordant...between us.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
High School Reunions
It's been 23 years since I graduated high school (I know, that makes me older than dirt). An old friend is trying to put together a reunion. I may not have graduated from this high school, but I attended school there most of my life and I consider it home. But in trying to help her find old classmates, I have begun thinking about old friends, new friends, and what it's like to have a friend.
Old friends are great. You've known them FOREVER (or so it seems), yet after 23 years, marriage, divorce (sometimes), kids, career changes, moves, and all of those other life-changes that happen, are they really still "friends" or just people we used to know. They know how some old scars happened - first loves, first kisses, first car wrecks, the night you lost your virginity (and to who and whether or not it was any good), but what do they know about you lately? Are you still friends?
New friends are wonderful, too. They know all about your life now. They know whether you're kids are driving you crazy today and you're willing to give them away to the first sucker you find; or being sweet little angels you wouldn't consider selling for a million dollars. They know if you're rich or having financial trouble, if you are hormonal or even-tempered, if you're fantasizing about jumping your husband tonight or smothering him in his sleep. They know it all. Except what made you who you are today.
The rarest friends and the best friends are both. They were there in the beginning, through everything in the middle, and came out the other side with you. Still standing beside you, supporting you and being supported by you. Laughing with you, laughing at you, crying on you, crying with you. They've celebrated every joy and grieved over every loss.
True friends are rare and precious. They are the ones you can call at any time and they'll be there. Not with judgement or condemnation, just support and fellowship and love. Questions can wait til you feel like answering, IF you feel like answering. Secrets are kept. Details don't matter. Helping does. Like the little boy who had a neighbor whose wife had died. He went over and visited. His mom asked him later what he did. The little boy said, "Nothing, mama. I just helped him cry." That is a friend. How many of us have one of those? How many of us ARE one of those?
I hope each of you can count me as a friend like that. I will be there for each and every one of you. I'll keep your secrets. I'll hold your tears in my heart. I'll keep you in my prayers. Please know that if YOU ever need a friend, you can call me. I'll be there. No questions asked.
Old friends are great. You've known them FOREVER (or so it seems), yet after 23 years, marriage, divorce (sometimes), kids, career changes, moves, and all of those other life-changes that happen, are they really still "friends" or just people we used to know. They know how some old scars happened - first loves, first kisses, first car wrecks, the night you lost your virginity (and to who and whether or not it was any good), but what do they know about you lately? Are you still friends?
New friends are wonderful, too. They know all about your life now. They know whether you're kids are driving you crazy today and you're willing to give them away to the first sucker you find; or being sweet little angels you wouldn't consider selling for a million dollars. They know if you're rich or having financial trouble, if you are hormonal or even-tempered, if you're fantasizing about jumping your husband tonight or smothering him in his sleep. They know it all. Except what made you who you are today.
The rarest friends and the best friends are both. They were there in the beginning, through everything in the middle, and came out the other side with you. Still standing beside you, supporting you and being supported by you. Laughing with you, laughing at you, crying on you, crying with you. They've celebrated every joy and grieved over every loss.
True friends are rare and precious. They are the ones you can call at any time and they'll be there. Not with judgement or condemnation, just support and fellowship and love. Questions can wait til you feel like answering, IF you feel like answering. Secrets are kept. Details don't matter. Helping does. Like the little boy who had a neighbor whose wife had died. He went over and visited. His mom asked him later what he did. The little boy said, "Nothing, mama. I just helped him cry." That is a friend. How many of us have one of those? How many of us ARE one of those?
I hope each of you can count me as a friend like that. I will be there for each and every one of you. I'll keep your secrets. I'll hold your tears in my heart. I'll keep you in my prayers. Please know that if YOU ever need a friend, you can call me. I'll be there. No questions asked.
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