Good Time Girl

Bill played 4 years of college baseball.  That's 4 years of wild debauchery.  Instead of sex, drugs, and rock and roll it was more like sex, beer, and baseball.  Not necessarily in that order either.  But one of the most foul (ha ha, pun!), yet provocative players during these years were what Bill referred to as "Good Time Girls."  These were any handful of girls who, like their name suggests, just wanted to have a good time.  Now let it be known that during this time I was a good, solid, responsible girl.  Sure I had my wild times but generally I was a Good Girl.  Definitely not a Good Time Girl.  Looking back I think I was a little envious of these girls' ability to throw out a mindset like my own and just concentrate on having a good ole time.  

Then I got married and had babies.  And then I had more babies.  And I stayed at home and was a really bad ass housewife and mom.  Bill worked hard, really hard, and this carefully constructed life worked for us for many years.  I felt loved and safe and respected.  I was still a good, responsible girl.  I took care of everyone and everything.  I did this for lots of years.

And then Bill died.  That changed everything of course.

A good friend and I were talking the other day about how our dreams and priorities have changed as we've gotten older.  Like what we did for fun as a 25 year old vs. what we do for fun now.  Or what we would look for in a husband at 25 vs. 35 vs. today.  We talked about how our taste in friends had even changed over the years.  Maybe how we'd outgrown some but found new, better fitted ones, for our current place. Everything changes and evolves.  Nothings stays the same.  If you actually take the time to think about this and ponder it you might be surprised at what you figure out.

It was a good talk anyway.  One that got me thinking.

How had my priorities changed?  What did I like now?  What did I like to spend my time doing?  Who did I want to spend my time with?  And the answer I came up with?  I want to be a Good Time Girl!  Well, not exactly like one of those girls from 20 years ago, but my updated version of one.  My liver can't take the constant abuse of all those parties and I need my precious hours of sleep.  I also am not a good whore, but that's a story for another day.

What I mean is I want to concentrate on having fun.  Fun is my priority.

OK, OK, settle down.  I never said that I was going to abandon my kids and run off or anything.  Everyone in my household will be properly cared for.  The responsibility thing runs deep in me.  Too deep maybe.  What I'm saying, though, is I don't think I need that safe and steady thing anymore, or at least not in the way that I needed it when I was younger.  When I was younger I wanted stability and consistency.  I didn't want Good Times--I wanted Safe Times.  Little personal risk.  Some other person to hold me up and maybe shoulder some of my responsibilities.  I wanted a responsibility sharer, if that's even a thing.  Someone who shared paying bills, raising kids, keeping a home running, standing by me while I grew up.  I think I'm explaining it mostly right.

But since Bill left, I have figured out that I am kind of a bad ass by myself.  A lot of the things I didn't think I could do were actually just things I didn't want to do.  Big difference.  And a lot of the things I thought I had to do I learned that I didn't actually have to do.  I'm finding that fluidity and flexibility and yielding to change are all necessary to my survival.  And my happiness.

So I'm going to embrace the idea, or at least my idea, of becoming a Good Time Girl.  I'm not quite sure what that means yet but I think it probably will include some late nights, lots of laughing until my stomach hurts and beer comes out my nose, excellent talks with fun people, and probably a few painful mistakes along the way.

Funny thing about pain......I don't know that I even feel it acutely anymore, it's become such a constant for me.  Not sure if that's good or bad.  But I do know that I'm going to try to suppress my Good Girl mindset for now and fully embrace the Good Time Girl methodology.  Whatever that may be.

Quotes

I love Pinterest.  I love searching for recipes and ideas for new hair styles.  I am inspired by garden pins and decorating ideas.  But most of all I love the quotes that show up in my feed.  I love quotes.  Actually, I love words in general so loving quotes is just another medium for my fondness of written expression.

I save any quote that speaks to me.  I've archived funny quotes and salty quotes.  Nasty quotes and dark ones, too.  There are inspiring quotes and brutally honest quotes that seem custom written for me.  I think that if a person were to look over my Pinterest quotes board they would be able to get an accurate feel for what kind of person I am and where I've been. They might also be a little scared, but hey, I'd rather be scary and real than fake and complacent.

Occasionally I will read through my quotes and see if any of them need to be deleted because they no longer serve their purpose in my life.  Usually though when I search through those words I am reminded of who I am.  I forget this important fact sometimes.   Life has a sneaky way of making me forget myself.

I spent the weekend, quietly, and alone.  Well, I'm never really by myself, but I was alone for the night so that counts--at least in my book.  I cleaned the house, painted a table, went on a long run, and started editing my Pinterest boards.  Honestly, I was looking for a little inspiration in my world and it seemed like Pinterest was as good a place as any to start.  I edited mercilessly.  Threw out the overly-churchy quotes.  Tossed the passive aggressive quotes and figured that being honest and candid was a more pragmatic approach to dealing with idiots.  I deleted many, many inspirational quotes about being positive and being kind.  Frankly, I'm kinda tired of being kind to people who don't deserve my kindness.  How's that for candid?!

What did I keep?  Which words did I allow to remain as representatives of me, my thoughts, my intentions?  Oh, I kept plenty.  There seems to be a common theme with whisky quotes and statements about how to deal with assholes.  There are snippets about setting boundaries (which everyone knows I'm unable to do) and not worrying about other people.  I kept lots of lines of poetry, Atticus and Alfa leading the way. (Haven't heard of them?  Look them up.)  Oh, and lots of Hemingway. (Bill would be so happy, though not as happy as if it were Melville.)  Hemingway, despite his tragic demise, was a bad ass, with all the drinking and adventuring and fishing he wrote about.  Girl can dream......

But the concept I found to be most relevant and pertinent to me right now today was patience. Patience and I are not well acquainted.  Maybe it's from losing Bill--I understand, all too well, how short life can be and how quickly everything can change.  I operate on a different time frame now.  I understand how this tendency can read as impulsive, but I assure you it is not.  Spend a few hours in my head and you'll see just how much thought I put into every decision.  And I do mean Every.  Freaking.  One.   Having recognized this tendency now,  both subconsciously and at the surface level, I have withdrawn, figuratively,  from the world for a while.  I just want to sit patiently (yay, patience!) and see what unfolds.  No chasing or manipulating or forcing anything.  Just waiting.  And watching.  And learning.

Like I said before, patience and I are not good friends.  But we're quietly learning to respect each other.

One Hot Mess

I cried in the middle of Dick's Sporting Goods the other day.  I've actually done this before so I guess it's no surprise that I would do it again.

Yes indeed, I was a hot mess.  Kinda think it's my MO these days.

Expanding on that image......

I sat down with Jon tonight and asked him to explain football to me.  Now I understand the basic concepts and strategies about football--I'm not totally ignorant to the sport.  God knows I've watched enough of it that I'd be a damn fool not to have picked up at least a little something.  But I was more interested in having Jon explain it to me in order to see if he actually understood what he was supposed to be doing.  Isn't there a saying about not fully understanding something until you've taught it to another person?  That's what I was trying to do, I guess.

The kid knows his stuff.  Like drew me pictures and stuff and explained each position in great detail  to me.  He showed me how and why certain plays were better than others.  He even explained the secret codes (my words) of the plays.  Yeah, he knows what he's talking about and I was impressed.

And then I was sad and had to go into the field and cry with the cows for a while.  See, I shouldn't have to be the person raising these kids by myself.  I shouldn't have to do things like buy girdles (with the knee pads because that's super important apparently!) and decide which cleats (high top or low) were appropriate for a receiver (Low ones, I know.).  I'm so tired of being the person who tells these kids about stuff I really don't know about.  Ever watch a YouTube video to learn how to throw a curve ball or how to correct a batting stance or move around a scope on a gun?  Well I have and I freaking hate every part of it.

I suppose all parents feel inept at some point in their parenting career.  But let me tell you that I have never felt more incapable of raising these kids than I have in the past year.  When I think ahead to all that I still have left to teach or impart to these kids (driving lessons?  dating?  making bad decisions?) I am nearly paralyzed by fear and the feeling of insurmountable responsibility.

I've got no co-parent.  I've got no one but me.  And I'm a hot mess.