Modern Love

Modern Love…

Back when I subscribed to The New York Times, one of my favorite regular columns was the one titled Modern Love. The Times describes the it as “a weekly column…about relationships, feelings, betrayals and revelations.” I had been struggling to find the words to describe it, but that sums it up.

The column is different every time, because it is written by readers. Readers submit their own personal stories. I can only imagine how many stories they receive, because I can only imagine how many I’ve read over the years. Sometimes they are poignant. Sometimes they are touching. And oftentimes, they are even funny!

I cancelled my subscription to The New York Times several years ago when I realized I was paying about $80 a month for the daily paper. It was the last newspaper subscription I had; at one time, I received three papers a day, but I had stopped subscribing to the other two when I realized how much I was spending on newspapers. I was sad to drop the NYT, but I just couldn’t justify $80 a month for a newspaper…and I didn’t like how the price seemed to continually climb…it started to feel like I was being ripped off. And it seemed excessive. So I cancelled it, and I have missed it.

This past weekend, I had coffee with my friend, Jennifer. She is my TV/movie guru friend, and she sometimes recommends things for me to watch. This time, she asked, “Have you ever read the Modern Love column in The Times?” I told her I had, indeed, read it many times over the years…and how much I used to look forward to it when I had my daily subscription. And that’s when she told me about the Amazon Prime series based on the stories in the column. It’s called, of course, Modern Love, and Jennifer said it is a must see.

Based on Jennifer’s recommendation and the fact that I love the column, I sat down and watched a few episodes from Season 1 of the series last night. It seems the stories are based on stories printed in The NYT over the years, with some fictionalization added, of course. And the stories are great ones…riveting, even…very well-written.

The first episode is about a young, single editor looking for love in all the wrong places while living in a rent-controlled apartment in Brooklyn. Early on, we learn the apartment has been in her family for some time, so we don’t wonder how she can afford the lovely apartment in a doorman building. And the doorman is central to the story, as we learn early on that he is omnipotent and can “see” if each of the editor’s dates will turn into something more. Without giving away too much, I will tell you it will take you on a rollercoaster of emotions during the half-hour episode.

Episodes that follow are based on different characters…an entertainment lawyer’s struggle to find love, a seemingly perfect love, a betrayal, and more. The series is good, because the acting is good, but also because the stories seem real. You might even see your own story in some of the episodes.

And I think it’s the “seeing yourself” that makes it especially interesting. It made me think of my own “modern love” story. I’ve been married for 21 years, since I was 33. But before that, I was the perfect example of someone “looking for love in all the wrong places.” Or maybe I just had some growing up to do. I met my husband through some friends at work…not a very interesting start, unless I tell you I had gotten out of a years-long relationship just three weeks before meeting him. Because of my own experience, I always tell young people who are in an iffy relationship, “You won’t meet Mr./Miss Right as long as you’re with Mr./Miss Wrong,” meaning if you stay in a dead end relationship, you won’t meet someone with whom you might have a meaningful, lasting relationship and start your own family. I was just lucky I didn’t meet the man who became my husband three weeks earlier, because it would have been a missed opportunity…I was still with Mr. Wrong. I choose to think it was divine intervention that brought him to my office three weeks later. That’s my Modern Love story, in a nutshell. Maybe I will write it in detail one day…

For now, I’m recommending you take the time to watch Modern Love on Amazon Prime. Each episode is about a different set of characters, so if you find yourself not enjoying an episode (like the one starring Anne Hathaway), you can move on and not miss a beat. I will warn you, though, that while I was initially annoyed by the Hathaway episode, it ended up being a good story, so stick with it if you can.

And because I have fallen in love with Modern Love, the series, I might resubscribe to The New York Times. I used to love reading it…not so much for the news, but for the fashion, the entertainment, the well-written columns…like Modern Love.

Motherhood

Motherhood.

I awoke at 3:00 this morning…wide awake. Taking a peek at the clock, I realized immediately it was my late mother’s birthday. And I couldn’t go back to sleep. The same thing happened to me on the first anniversary of her passing. I couldn’t sleep.

As I lay in bed, my brain started going crazy. That’s rare for me. I’m a person who can hit the pillow and fall asleep. Usually, when I wake up, I simply roll over and go back to sleep…many times a night, in fact. But this morning, at 3:00, I could not go back to sleep. I started thinking about my mother and how much she loved being a mother. Then I started thinking about how much I love being a mother. I truly believe it is the right job for me, and it’s certainly the single most important job I’ve ever done. I’ve certainly given it my all…just as I learned to do from my own mother, who gave us her all. She was a registered nurse by trade, but in her heart, what she always wanted to do was be a mom. And she was a damn good one. She would drop anything to help us or our friends. She made sure we were exposed to different cultures, different places, and different experiences. She volunteered at school and our extracurricular activities. She prepared meals and snacks for us and any of our friends who showed up at our house…all the time. Clearly, I did a lot of thinking last night.

After all that thinking, it occurred to me that our daughter will be a full-time resident of our home for less than a year. This time next year, she likely will be a few weeks into her first semester of college. It’s exciting for her, and it’s exciting for us. But until she goes off to college, I want to continue being a full-time mother, the best job in the world. I’m sure there are people out there who think it’s not important, but for me, absolutely nothing is more important.

And because I realized at that moment that my full-time mom career will be coming to an end when she goes to college, I needed to be closer to her. Sounds weird, but at that moment, I just needed to be “mommy” in the middle of the night again, so I went upstairs and crawled into bed with her. She stirred a little before rolling over and asking, “What are you doing here?” I explained how I was feeling, and she gave me a big hug and told me to stay the rest of the night. So I did. She intertwined her feet with mine like she did when she was a little girl, what we used to call “tucking in” her feet. She held my hand, more for my sake than her own, and we both fell fast asleep.

My own mother was always there for us in the middle of the night. Bad dream? I’d wake up Mother. Thirsty? I’d wake up Mother. Simply didn’t want to be the only one awake at night? I’d walk into her room and wake up Mother, asking her to go to the kitchen with me. We would sit there while I drank a little water. She likely had a cup of coffee…yes, she drank coffee in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that I needed water…I really just needed my mother. Last night, I guess I just needed to be a mother.

For years, our daughter would call for me in the middle of the night if she woke up. Or if she had a bad dream. Or if she didn’t feel well. Or if she just needed Mommy. At 17, she doesn’t do that anymore. Rarely, if she isn’t feeling well, she will call downstairs for me to come up. And on those nights, I do whatever it takes to make her feel better…a cold compress or warm compress, Motrin, Drip Drop (a rehydrating beverage), or just rub her feet or knees (growing pains). While I never want her to feel badly, I’m always happy to go up and help her.

She’s still my baby, and I’m still a full-time mom…for less than or year or so, anyway…just like my mother was to me. Today, on what should have been Mother’s 82nd birthday, I’ll be taking bottled water to my daughter’s cheerleading squad at the away football game…just like my mother used to do. And after I get home from the football game, I’ll have a little cocktail and make a toast to Mother’s birthday.

Happy Heavenly Birthday to Mother.

You’ll Catch More Flies With Honey…

“You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

I had to impart that bit of wisdom on my teenage daughter when we were on vacation recently. She has a tendency, like me, to get “hangry.” However, I see the “hangry” warning signs in myself much more quickly than she does, and when I feel myself moving in that direction, I grab a little snack to keep me going till I can get a meal. Somehow, no matter how many times I have tried to teach her, she doesn’t listen.

Last week, we were on vacation on an island in the Caribbean. I am very familiar with “island time,” and I thought I had made the concept clear to my daughter. Apparently, I failed. We went to dinner one night, and as soon as we were seated at the restaurant, I knew we had a wait ahead of us. It was crowded, and we were on an island…that equals a wait. And it was, indeed, a wait. I saw the anger building in my daughter’s eyes. I know that hangry look. Honestly, if we had been in the United States, I would have been angry too. The wait time was excessive by US standards, but not by island standards. At least we had a table, right? We had been sitting for a while and had not placed our dinner orders when a large group came in. I knew then that I had to take action, so I got up and walked over to the server station where a lovely, hardworking, young lady was entering orders in the computer. She was working hard, but there was no way I wanted our order to get to the kitchen after that large group. I very kindly approached her with a big smile and said, “Hey. I know it’s crazy here right now, and nobody here is working harder than you are. If a large group hadn’t just come in, I wouldn’t be worried, but I’m afraid their order is going to get to the kitchen before ours, and we will be waiting forever. We are ready to order whenever you can get to us.” I was sweet. I used my best southern charm, and she smiled and very kindly said, “I’m on my way to your table right now.” She came over and took our orders, and I thanked her profusely. When she walked away, my daughter, who was starting to look like Linda Blair in The Exorcist, said to me, “How can you be so nice to her right now?!?! We have been waiting forever!” She was right. We had been waiting a long time and didn’t even have drinks yet. And that’s when I replied, “You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” I explained to her that the servers in that restaurant were working extremely hard (waiting tables is hard work), and their culture doesn’t look at time the same way we do in the US. And I had to explain the meaning of “you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

Is that a southern saying? My mother used it a lot when I was growing up. If you’ve never heard it and don’t understand the meaning, I will clarify: it means you will win people over more quickly/easily by being kind. Get it? Honey = sweet, and vinegar = bitter. Kindness goes a long way.

Clearly, in the case of our dinner wait on vacation, it worked. We told our hardworking server how grateful we were, and we tipped her well to show our gratitude. At first, when my daughter asked how much I tipped, she said, “What?!?! The service took forever!” And I reminded her about honey/flies/vinegar. I also told her that she could bet that, when we returned to the restaurant, the server would remember us…and I was correct. The next time, she came to our table immediately with a big smile. It was a good lesson for my daughter. And in the end, we all won. The server got some fat tips, and we got better, more timely service. And frankly, by the end of our ten-day vacation, we felt like we had become friends with the server.

Trust me when I say that my mother had to repeat the saying about flies/honey/vinegar lots of times to me over the years. I’m not always the most patient person, and I’m not always the most kind person. I try, but I don’t always succeed. I have a bit of temper that I often have to keep in check. But I was happy I could use the opportunity to prove a little something about kindness to my daughter. She was impressed, so hopefully, she learned a little something.

“You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” I can still hear my mother saying it.

You May Now Move About the Country

You may now move about the country.

Remember last summer, when we were afraid to move around much? We were terrified of getting on airplanes and afraid to go to resorts. We were scared we would get somewhere and be hospitalized away from home, right? I was. I love to travel, but last summer, I had to do it differently. My fear was that, if I did get on a plane and fly to a fun destination, I would be stricken with the virus, and as a result, I wouldn’t be able to get home. I wasn’t alone. A lot of people felt the same way. We stayed home or went on short trips. And it was downright depressing. Sure, we went on a few trips, but it just wasn’t the same. I felt like I lost a whole year of my life, including a valuable summer.

In September 2020 and November 2020, I’d had enough and got on planes anyway. Then again, in February 2021, I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I took our daughter to New Orleans with friends, where we proceeded to eat our way through the city. We made some great memories, for sure, and we appreciated every minute.

I flew again in early June on a trip to the Bahamas with my family. When we got to the airport in Charlotte to begin our journey, I could tell people were starting to emerge from their cocoons, but nothing could have prepared me for what I encountered when we flew out to California on June 13. We were on a 7:25am flight, so we got to the airport at about 6:00am. I was utterly shocked at how crowded Charlotte-Douglas Airport was on a random Sunday at 6:00 in the morning! Apparently, people have decided to take off again…and I love it! We are getting vaccinated and feeling more free! When we arrived at Los Angeles International Airport for our return flight, it wasn’t as crowded as Charlotte had been, but then, it was 4:30 in the morning. As it turns out, our return flight was full, so I know people are on the move.

If you haven’t traveled yet but plan to, here are some things to consider.

  • Remember your mask! Even though we aren’t having to wear them in most public places now, the Feds still require you to wear them the entire time you are in an airport or on a commercial flight…unless, of course, you are actively eating or drinking…and then, they ask that you just remove the mask briefly and put it back on between bites/sips.
  • If you live in a hub city (Charlotte, Atlanta, New York, Chicago, Miami, Dallas, etc) you might want to consider getting to the airport extra early. You also might want to look into downloading the My TSA app. Using the app, you can check wait times at TSA checkpoints in your airport. It can mean the difference between missing a flight or making it.
  • Take your own pillow/blanket, if needed. Remember those pillows and blankets airlines used to offer? Well, no more… If you want to try to sleep on a plane, bring your own travel pillow and a sweatshirt. Or do what I do: take two sweatshirts. I take them in my carry-on, because I’m the freak who still thinks we need to look presentable when we board a plane, and a sweatshirt is just not something my mother would have approved for air travel. After I’m seated, however, I wear one hoodie and roll up another hoodie into a tube to wrap around my neck, so it will support my neck while I sleep.
  • Food on planes? Almost non-existent. I always fly American Airlines (I love American). Since the whole virus thing started, they’ve served small snacks in first and business class, but no food in coach. Bring your own if you think you’re going to be hungry, but do your fellow passengers a favor…don’t bring hot food. It smells. Your fellow passengers don’t want to smell your stinky sub from the airport or that greasy pizza you picked up in the concourse. Yuck. And while you’re at it, you might even want to purchase some drinks in the airport. I’ve been on a couple of shorter flights that only offered beverages in coach “on request.”
  • Here are some things to consider, even though they have nothing to do with the virus: Please don’t go to the lavatory in bare feet or sock feet on the plane. Yuck. Just yuck. Please don’t put your feet on the armrest of the person in front of you. Please don’t talk loudly on a redeye or early morning flight. Please don’t use nail polish on a flight (some people get headaches from the fumes). DO try to stay relaxed. DO be polite to your fellow passengers and airline employees.

Whatever you do, enjoy your flight. Enjoy the freedom of being able to move about the country again. Hopefully, we will soon feel more free to move about the whole world, but I know lots of people aren’t comfortable with that, because of virus rates in different countries. There are a couple of other countries I want to visit, but I’m holding off. Right now, I’m just grateful I’m able to see new places and meet new people. We made some nice new friends in the Bahamas when we visited, and we got to spend some time with friends from another part of the country when we visited LA. Summer, this year, feels more like summer. And I’m grateful.

The High School “Lasts” Have Begun

The high school “lasts” have begun.

Our daughter is finishing up her junior year in high school. As any mother knows, life with kids is full of “firsts” and “lasts.” It starts with first smiles, first teeth, first words and goes on to first time riding a bike, first day of school…on and on.

At some point, though, we start having “lasts.” Often, we don’t even realize we have had a “last” till well after the fact. There’s the last time you had to actually feed your child, the last time you tied their shoes, the last time you helped them bathe, the last time you brushed their hair, the last time you read a book aloud together…the list continues to grow. A big one for me is the last time I actually carried my child. Fortunately, when our daughter was five or six, I had a friend who told me she always picked up or carried her daughter if she asked (same age), because one day she wouldn’t want her to. Based on that, I carried our daughter or picked her up any time she asked. Eleven years old and she wants me to carry her on my back through an amusement park? You bet! Unfortunately, I didn’t realize when the last time I carried her was actually the last time, but because I had always gladly carried her, it wasn’t painful when I realized she didn’t ask anymore. Honestly, if she asked me to carry her on my back today, I would…and she is 17.

My friend, Linda, told me years ago, when her son was in high school, that she totally didn’t realize it was the last time she would drive her son to school when it was the last time. He got his driver’s license one day, and he was off to school alone the next morning. She said to her husband, “But wait! I didn’t realize that was the last time I would drive him!” It really bothered her. She is long past it now. Her son is in graduate school in Scotland, so she has had lots of “lasts” that were bigger than that.

The “lasts” add up over time: the last day of preschool/elementary/middle school, the last time I actually drove her to school, the last time I actually had to drive her anywhere, and more.

I’m thinking about this, because today, I paid tuition to her independent school for the last time…for her senior year of high school, which will start in August. I’ve been paying yearly tuition since 2008. As soon as I hit the “send” button on the bank draft, I sat back and thought, “that was the last time I’ll do that.” Sure, I will be paying tuition of a different kind, for college, soon enough, but I just paid tuition for my daughter’s 14th year at her present school (she started with transitional kindergarten before kindergarten), and it felt weird to know I will never do it again.

My husband and I talk about “lasts” often, since our daughter is entering her senior year in fall and will be off to college before we can blink. There will be last sports games, last volunteer opportunities at school, and there will even be some people we will likely never encounter again after she graduates.

We sit on the patio with cocktails some evenings talking about how different it’s going to be when she departs for college in just over a year. And we try to enjoy the moments we have with her. Often when she gets home from sporting events or hanging with friends, she will come sit outside with us…it’s valuable, meaningful time for us…and one day there will be a “last” for that too. I hope we will recognize the “lasts” as they occur, like I recognized the last tuition payment today, but I’m sure there will be some that just pass right by without my realizing it. I won’t be able to get a photo to save as a memory of every “last,” but I hope I will remember to get some. I’ll try to get a photo of her last first day of school at her present school. I’ll try to get photos of her last sports games, last time she drives to high school…anything I can think of.

She’ll be flying the coop before we know it. While we are excited for what lies ahead of her (and us), we want to make sure we remember these days. We want her to get out and spread her wings wherever she chooses to go to college (tuition payments to a different place) and live her best life. We just want to enjoy every moment she shares with us.

Now that I’m feeling sentimental, I wonder if I should get a screenshot of that last tuition payment?!

Boating PSA

Boating PSA

I read an article today about a young athlete who had drowned while on a boating expedition with some friends. According to the article, she was hanging out in the water near the boat platform when she suddenly disappeared underwater.

I don’t know yet what happened to the aforementioned young lady, but it immediately made me think of a story from several years ago. Same basic situation…a teenager slipped underwater while hanging out near the back of a boat. Her body was later found, and an autopsy showed she died of carbon monoxide poisoning. It’s something lots of people don’t think about, so with boating season upon us, I want this to be your reminder.

To see an article from the CDC that explains how carbon monoxide poisoning happens in boating situations, click here. And spread the word. I have always been very careful about it, and I’ve reminded our daughter about it at least a hundred times, but if your kids aren’t aware of it, take a moment now to explain the dangers of carbon monoxide to them.

Years ago, I saw a little girl become very ill after riding a “hay ride” in a trailer pulled behind a tractor. When she got off the hayride, she said she felt funny. Soon thereafter, I realized she had been riding at the front of the trailer, directly behind the tractor…and inhaling the fumes (carbon monoxide) from the tractor. She began vomiting. Fortunately, she didn’t require hospitalization, but what would have happened if she had continued to stay on the hayride?

And you know how kids will pull each other behind ATVs or tractors on sleds when there is a little bit of snow? That carries a carbon monoxide risk too.

So at the risk of sounding like a Mom, I’m sharing the PSA…be careful out there. And be aware of the dangers of carbon monoxide poisoning.

I’m Proud of You, Mom

“I’m proud of you, Mom.”

Recently, I finished a big volunteer project…you know, I was working for free for weeks on end (months) when I could have been eating bonbons in the pool. It was a big project, no doubt…an athletic awards show for my teenage daughter’s school. I’m not complaining, of course. I worked with some awesome people and made some new friends. It was definitely a group effort, as lots of other parents and school staff pitched in. There were a few times I’m sure I was quite snippy with my family, because of the stress I was feeling, but we made it through!

Our daughter is finishing up her junior year at her much-loved independent school in Charlotte. She started there in transitional kindergarten, and now, we are entering the summer before her senior year. It’s hard to believe she’s going to be a senior. My husband and I are just enjoying the ride. We have loved every age as our daughter has grown. It hasn’t always been easy, but big picture…life with her is definitely an adventure. She is an only child, so she doesn’t get away with much. We don’t have any other kids distracting us. And I’ve always warned her that I’m likely to have done anything she tries to get away with. I’m likely to realize when she’s up to something. As I’ve always said, “You can’t bull***t a bullsh***er.” Forgive the language, but nothing seems to get the point across as well as that does. Has she always been perfect? No, but neither have we. All the little mistakes we make along the way (as teens and as parents) are part of who we are. I have a great relationship with my daughter. We talk. We hang out. We respect each other. Of course, there are times I embarrass her, but isn’t that just part of it?

Over the years, I have embarrassed her at least a million times. I’ve even written a piece before about the countless ways I embarrassed her on a trip to Boston a few years ago. I’ve grown accustomed to her sighs and groans when I do something that embarrasses her. Greet people we encounter? She’s embarrassed. Ask too many questions? She’s embarrassed. Wear something she doesn’t like? She’s embarrassed. Seriously, it’s not difficult to embarrass a teenager.

Last Tuesday, my big athletic awards show project finally ended. In normal times, the show is live in the auditorium at the school. Seniors and state championship teams are honored. Parents are in attendance. All those folks are shoved into the auditorium, shoulder-to-shoulder, but this year, we couldn’t do it that way. In fact, we had to come up with a “hybrid” plan to present to the administration. In the end, we pre-recorded the show and had a “screening party” for the seniors on the football field…with a gigantic, inflatable screen…drive-in movie style. Only seniors, coaches, and the parents of seniors were allowed to attend. Sadly, I think some people were upset they couldn’t go, but we couldn’t do more than was approved by the administrative team. However, anyone else who wanted to watch could simultaneously watch the “broadcast” from home online.

I was at the field for hours the day of the show…getting things ready beforehand, staying for the show, making sure everyone picked up their awards and got photos afterward, cleaning up. l didn’t even look at my phone for hours, but at 11pm, when I got into my car, I checked my phone and saw a text message from my daughter. Apparently, she had been watching the show at home. The text message, which she had sent at 9:38pm, said, “This is really good. I’m proud of you, Mom.” I was exhausted, but that message made it all worth it. Tears welled up in my eyes as I started the car, and before I drove away, I texted her back, “Sweetest message ever. Thank you.”

Who knows when I’ll hear/read those words from her again, but if I never hear/read them again, I will always remember that moment when I saw her text. I had complained and fretted about the preparation for that show, but those words in that text from my teenage daughter made it all worth it.

Get Out Your Skylab Repellent

Get out your Skylab repellent!

With the impending crash of a Chinese rocket sometime today, I’m reminded of the Skylab “incident” from my childhood.

Remember that?

It was July of 1979, and the whole country was waiting to see where Skylab, the first successful space station, would crash to Earth. It had been launched by the United States just six years earlier and had successfully housed astronauts for extended periods of time, but after unexpectedly high sunspot activity, it began to deteriorate and eventually, came crashing to Earth, raining debris on the Indian Ocean and Australia. No one was injured by the falling debris.

But in the lead-up to the “event,” enterprising people all over the country cashed in. My parents wouldn’t let me waste my money on it, but at twelve years old, I sure wanted to buy a can of Skylab Repellent. It was a joke, of course, but people really bought it. There were also t-shirts depicting a “Skylab Protection Device,” featuring an umbrella with a satellite dish on top. I’m not sure how that was supposed to protect someone, but OK.

Everyone was wondering aloud where Skylab would fall to Earth, and kids like me were terrified we would be squashed by it. No one was squashed.

In the aftermath of the Skylab crash, people continued to cash in, selling t-shirts declaring, “I Survived Skylab.” Cha-ching! Cha-ching! That was the sound of dollars hitting their bank accounts, because I feel pretty sure they sold quite a few of those gimmicky shirts. And after that? I don’t know what happened to all those t-shirts, but I haven’t seen one in person in years. I’ve seen a few on eBay, but I don’t know anyone who actually has one. Maybe they are locked in trunks in people’s houses. Most of them were pretty crude designs, so they’d look silly today. Maybe people are embarrassed they actually spent money on them. Or maybe they all just got lost along the way.

I haven’t seen any of that entrepreneurial spirit about the Chinese rocket. I guess, these days, we are all too jaded by 24-hour news to get interested in much. If you’ve seen anyone selling rocket repellent or t-shirts, let me know.

Of course, we don’t have any idea how much of the Chinese rocket will actually make it back to Earth. Some of it will surely disintegrated on re-entry into the atmosphere, but pieces of it could still fall. The chances of you or anyone you know or love being in its path? Let’s just say it’s not very likely. It’s not something to worry about, and if it does fall on you, you won’t even know what hit you…literally.

Be a Good Memory

Be a good memory.

Our daughter had her junior prom last weekend. Yep, even in the pandemic, her school found a way to pull it off. It was outside on one of the athletic fields, but in the pictures, it appears to have been beautiful. Lights were strung tent-style across the field, and a live band played in an area overlooking the field. The prom-goers all wore sneakers, and from what I’ve heard, everyone was pretty happy to be together at a real event.

If you have a teenager, you know they do things a little differently than we did back in the 1980s. Now, the girls gather at one place to get dressed together. And then they gather with their dates at a photo location…sometimes a park, country club, or someone’s really beautiful yard. Parents gather to take photos, and then the prom-goers go to dinner somewhere before going to the actual prom. In truth, the actual prom seems to be the least exciting part of the evening. That’s not a slam on our school. I hear it from kids everywhere…all over the country. They say the prom is the reason for getting dressed up, but the fun part is the before and after.

Because, yes…there’s an “after.”

This year, some of our daughter’s friends and their dates came to our house after prom to hang out in the game room together. When I told my husband we would be hosting, he was not a happy man. He is a man who likes his routine, and that includes going to bed before midnight. He actually said to me, “They’ll be gone before midnight, right?” Ummm…no. I had to explain to him that, no, on prom night, all bets are off on curfew. Again, he was not happy. Clearly, he doesn’t remember his youth as well as I remember mine. I suggested he go to a hotel, and he looked at me like I had fourteen eyes.

Lucky for me, later that day, we saw one of our neighbors, a mother of four. She has three grown children (all out of college, and two of them are married) and a fourteen-yr-old. She has seen it all. And for years, teenagers were in and out of her house at all hours of the day and night. My husband was standing there when I told the neighbor about his apprehension about the party, and she had the perfect response. She said, “We used to host those parties when our kids were in high school, and now I love it when I’m at weddings and baby showers for their friends, and the friends say to me, ‘My best memories from high school were at your house.'” I turned to my husband and said, “See? We want to be a good memory for these kids!”

What could he say to that? It was at that moment that he agreed it was OK to have them over after prom. After some prodding by me, he also decided it would be a good idea for him to check into a local hotel for the night. If he had stayed home, he would have been “in my ear” the whole time, trying to get me to go check on the kids every half hour. I was not going to do that…no way, no how.

Prom night came, and our daughter went over to a friend’s house to get dressed with friends. Later, I rode to the friend’s house with another mom to take pictures of all the prom couples. After getting some pics, we all left, and they had dinner before going to prom. By the time they arrived at our house after prom at around 11pm, I had pizzas, cheesy bread sticks, and desserts waiting for them in the game room. All went well. I cooked breakfast for them in the wee hours of the morning, and I finally got to bed around 4am…but I was happy.

The next day, after everyone left, my husband returned home from the hotel, asking how the night had gone. I told him all about it, and I thanked him for letting the kids come to our house. I thanked him for letting our house “be a good memory” for these kids.

I hope that one day, when I’m attending the weddings and baby showers of these same kids, they will turn to me and say, “Some of our best memories from high school are from your house.”

Going For My Second Vaccine

Going for my second vaccine.

I’m about to walk out the door to go get my second COVID vaccine. I had the first Moderna vaccine a few weeks ago, and now it’s time for the dreaded second dose. I have some friends who say they had no side effects and others who say they were in bed for two days after the second dose.

I’m driving to another town outside Charlotte to get mine, because when I was scheduling my first one, it was the closest one I could find. I had originally been scheduled to get it right down the street from my house, but then I got strep throat (ugh!) and had to reschedule. The only “side effect” I had with the first one was an achy arm. It wasn’t bad, and it didn’t last long. In fact, it didn’t really bother me till I got into bed that night. You know how everything hurts more when you’re still and have nothing else to think about? I got up and took some Motrin, and the aching got better pretty quickly. I’m sure I was asleep within 20 minutes after that.

I’m not really dreading it. I will deal with side effects if I get them…and I will pray they are short-lived. I would rather have short-lived side effects from a vaccine than get terribly sick from the virus itself.

I know lots of folks aren’t getting the vaccine, and whatever…that’s your choice. Everybody cannot agree on everything, and I think that is pretty darn obvious in our country these days. I’m all about “live and let live,” but in this case, I certainly hope lots of folks choose to get the vaccine. I’m choosing to be vaccinated, because I’m ready to start living again. I’m ready to stop worrying so much. I’m ready to be able to eat indoors at restaurants without worrying about every other person in the room. I’m ready to be able to travel to other countries (or Caribbean islands!) without having to endure a COVID test on the way there or on the way back. I’m ready to stop worrying every time one of my daughter’s friends comes over for a visit. Teenagers are living their lives, so we don’t really know who has been exposed to what.

So right now, I’m getting into my car to drive about an hour to get my second dose. I will report back afterward, sharing information about any symptoms or side effects I feel. Hopefully, my body will process it pretty quickly, but if I glow in the dark later, you’ll know why.

Let’s get busy living!