A First Time ...For Everything

A First Time...For Everything

Every day I ask our kids about their day.  Their schoolwork. Their work. General daily things. They are teenagers, so I know only to ask once with one and twice with the other.  Everyone is different.  The one who doesn’t want to be asked more than twice, didn’t realize till today why I revel in her accomplishments.  I thought both our daughters knew how I felt about their school accomplishments. However, not completely.

So today, I found out something interesting. As some may know me, I don’t post pictures of our children on social media, nor do I print their names on social media. Why?  Because my pages, my posts are not for me to expose them to a world that is my world. I will put up general groups of pictures of the children’s sports, concert group pics, perhaps. I will note something funny they stated, but not use their name. It is their privacy I am respecting and protecting.

I asked our oldest if something had been accomplished in this ‘strange time’ that we are currently in. She appeared to respond with a ‘no big deal’ attitude. I was stunned. I know she misses working her two jobs, attending school, and doing Karate… As she was to get belt test for her third degree in Okinawan Karate. I know she was looking forward to prom and that obviously I don’t think will occur this year. We roll with the punches in my family. We have other things I won’t go into, at stake. She is grateful that I have found these meals to make the way I do.  She sees I actually care. And to see a seventeen year old actually understand that their parents care is something of an anomaly at times.

I am someone that WILL tell you to ‘suck it up’. I have ‘street’ in me. I’m hard on the outside, soft on the inside. I make room for people, not shenanagans. I have little tolerance for whining, for false assumptions. For thinking it’s only you suffering. For people with the chicken little disease and those lacking faith. I know worse and I’ve known worse, perhaps that’s why. Yet, I am extremely compassionate, when it’s needed.  Sometimes so compassionate I am played for as a fool.  However, when we are in ‘strange times’, my compassion is limited. I limit it purposely; then I sit back and watch and listen to how people act, talk, respond/react, and so forth under what they think is extreme duress.

As I hold back much. My husband is usually the ‘good cop’.  Going back to my query with her, as she responded with the, ‘no big deal’ attitude on something she’d accomplished. I turned into ‘good cop’, the ‘Mrs.’  version of ‘Mr. Softy’, if you will. I replied, “You know, I don’t go around expressing how proud I am of you in public. I won’t do it. I won’t window dress my kids on social media. I don’t believe in it. It’s too much exposure.” 

Meanwhile husband listening in. She replies, “Well, Mom it’s no big deal.” I reply, “Stop, right there. I’m telling you. No one, but no one in my family ever accomplished what you just have. That is amazing to me. And what I love. What I love, I love to feel good for other people and their accomplishments. That just helps my day, my week, my month, my year. My life. Even if you aren’t related to me.  There’s a lot of cruelty out there. Most women I know act like spoiled damn sixth graders. For crying out loud. Some,  have their butt wiped by everyone still, in their fifties. And that’s quite a disappointment.  But I can still feel good for others even when they are not related to me.  But you. You are related to me. So, you know me. I’m not going brag. I’m not posting your stuff.  But just to know someone that I actually really truly know, made it. That’s oh so special to me.” She looked up. Hubby added, “Your Mom is right. I know you can’t see it. But it is special. And you should acknowledge what your mother is acknowledging. It is special, no matter who you are. She’s right.” And I wonder why my husband calls Mrs. Clint Eastwood.---Jody-Lynn Reicher