Category / love

by Kelly Mattei

I Love You

I love you.

I just saw a video on social media about a new trend. Apparently, teenagers are calling their friends at night and saying something along the lines of, “I just wanted to call you and say good night and I love you.” It’s funny to see what the various reactions are.

I don’t call my friends at night and say, “Good night and I love you,” but I do tell my friends I love them at the end of a phone conversation…or even at the end of a get-together. It’s something my family did, and it’s something I have carried over into my friendships. My friend, Wendy, who passed away seven years ago (June 4 is the seventh anniversary of her passing), thought it was weird at first. When we would be hanging up the phone or leaving a gathering, I would say, “Love you!” She would laugh. She wasn’t one who was demonstrative in that way. I would say, “It’s OK. You don’t have to say it back. I know you love me.” But I changed her over the years. I wore her down. Eventually, after several years of friendship, she starting saying, “I love you too, sista.” I’m so happy I wore her down with that. She passed away when she was 46 after a 30 year battle with various cancers. God bless her. She was a fighter. I find peace in knowing she KNEW I loved her, and I knew she loved me. Now that I think about it, maybe I didn’t wear her down. Maybe her constant battles with cancer made her start saying it. Maybe she knew I needed to hear it. The “why” doesn’t really matter, though. She said it.

My parents heard me tell them I loved them almost every single day of my life, and I heard it too. By the time they passed away, they had likely heard it thousands of times. Does that give me some peace? Of course it does. I hope it gave them peace as they were dying. I hope they knew they were loved and that their memories would live on through me and my brother. I hope they knew we loved them and would tell stories about them for the rest of our lives…daily.

Recently, as I was hanging up the phone with a friend…a guy I have known for years who is a close family friend…I said, “Ok, love you, honey!” I said it without realizing it, and I heard the hesitation. I don’t even remember how he responded…some sort of mumbled something. I texted him afterward, “Did my ‘love ya honey’ freak you out? I do tell everyone that, so it’s OK to say it to you.” He responded, “Wasn’t quite sure what you said.” I said, “I said it out of habit. It’s just what I do. Lol.” And that’s the truth. I tell my daughter, my husband, my brother, my aunt, my cousins, my friends, my daughter’s friends…lots of people are on my “love ya honey” list. Do I mean it? You bet I do!

I’m turning 58 tomorrow, and the older I get, the more I realize how important it is to let people know we love them and appreciate them. I love getting older, and I love the “wisdom” that comes with it. I define wisdom as “knowing you only know a little bit about all there is to know in the world, and knowing you can always learn a lot more.” Part of my “wisdom” is knowing I need people to know they are loved.

I think it’s a good “habit.” I always want my friends and family to know the last thing I said to them is “I love you.” So if we talk on the phone or have lunch any time soon, don’t be surprised if I say “love you” before we hang up or before we part ways. It’s OK if you don’t say it back. I won’t take it personally, but I won’t stop saying it.

Love you, honey!

by Kelly Mattei

Good People Are Easy to Find

Good people are easy to find.

Last Thursday morning, I met my friend, Angela, in the Charlotte airport and boarded a plane to Los Angeles. It was the first time the two of us have taken a real trip together, just the two of us, I think. We have taken vacations with our daughters, and we have even taken vacations with my husband, but as far as I can remember, we had never taken a real vacation without anyone else. We have been friends for almost 40 years, so we were overdue. Before we went, we knew we were likely to have a lot of fun laughing, drinking, talking, relaxing, and more, but we had no idea what was ahead of us. We were pleasantly surprised!

It all started when I boarded the American Airlines flight to LAX. I got to my seat and lifted my carry-on bag into the overhead bin. Immediately, a gentleman in the row in front of me asked, “Would you like to trade seats?” I didn’t want to be rude, but I plan my travel ahead of time and pick my seats carefully. I booked the aisle seat on row 2, because I like to be near the front of the plane, but I do not like to sit at the bulkhead. I like to be able to put my handbag underneath the seat in front of me. When you sit at the bulkhead, you have to put all carry-ons, including your handbag into the overhead bin, and I don’t like to do that. Some people might think it’s ridiculous that I feel that way, but I like having my migraine meds, my reading materials, and my earbuds readily available. Therefore, I told the gentleman, “No, thank you, I don’t like sitting at the bulkhead. Sorry.” At about that time, my seatmate arrived, and he was that gentleman’s business partner. The first gentleman in row 1 turned to the woman in the seat next to him and asked if she would switch with my seatmate. She agreed and came back to sit by me.

Before we took off, I told her, “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need to get up during the flight. It’s not likely I will fall asleep, but please just let me know, and I can let you out of the row at any time.” I also told her I always get an aisle seat, because I end up going to the bathroom several times, so I understand needing to get up. We exchanged pleasantries. Soon after takeoff, we engaged in conversation. Her story is not mine to tell, but I can tell you this: she is one of the loveliest, most interesting people I have ever met! I can tell you most people would love to meet her, and she has an incredible life story. In fact, you can read her story in her own words, because she has written a book about her different life experiences. Her name is Dr. Niedre Heckman, and the book is called The World Where I Belong: My Quest for Identity As a Black Woman in White Skin. You can purchase it on Amazon (I started reading it last night) here. Like I said, I will not tell her story, but as an introduction, I will tell you she is an African-American woman who is about my age, and she was born with the condition called albinism. I will not pretend to know everything about the condition, but the most obvious characteristic is the lack of pigmentation in one’s skin/hair/eyes. Those of us who don’t have the condition can only imagine what it’s like to grow up with it, but Dr. Niedre Heckman is sharing some insight into her own life and experience. I highly recommend the book, based simply on the fact that I found her to be fascinating. She is most kind and wants good things for other people. We can all learn something from her. Highly recommend her book! That good person (#1) was easy to find!

It was an incredible start to the weekend! When we arrived at baggage claim in LAX, I introduced my longtime friend (40+ years!), Angela, to Dr. Heckman, and she walked away with the same impression. It was foreshadowing, I believe, for the rest of the weekend. Our meeting set the tone for a weekend with great people.

The next day, we opted for a late lunch in our hotel’s largest restaurant. We had a great table for people watching, one of my favorite hobbies. I was not disappointed that day. We were lingering over cocktails after lunch when a couple came in and sat at a table nearby. I noticed they were taking pictures, so I motioned to the gentleman that I would be happy to take pictures for them. He misunderstood my poor attempt at sign language and came over to our table, asking, “Do y’all want me to take your picture?” I said, “No, thank you! We were offering to take yours, but did you just say ‘y’all’?” He said, “I did! I’m from Alabama!” We said, “We are too!” (I was born in Florida but grew up in Alabama before moving to Charlotte 25 years ago.) After some discussion, we figured out this charming southern gentleman grew up with someone I know in Charlotte! We had a great time chatting with him and his friend…day made! Oh, we also got a glimpse of a few celebrities, one of whom even impressed my college-age daughter! Angela and I were most impressed by the lovely people we spent time with on that beautiful, sunny afternoon. What a great “small world moment”! And another good person (#2) who was easy to find!

The next afternoon, we had a lunch reservation at one of my very favorite restaurants ever. We were welcomed warmly by the manager, whom I had met on a previous visit. He has a positive, uplifting spirit and a genuine warmth about him, so I was thrilled to see him again. I introduced him to Angela, and we enjoyed talking with him. The food was fantastic (as always), and the whole experience could not have been better. Why? Because the staff at the restaurant was attentive; they were friendly and made us feel special! Woot! Good person (#3)…easy to find.

From there, we went to a scheduled shopping session at a store on Rodeo Drive. I love shopping with a particular gentleman who works there, because I have known him for years. I first met him probably 10 years ago when he was working at another store in the area. After COVID, I lost track of him, as he moved back to his hometown. However, last June, I walked into this particular store with my daughter and a friend, but without an appointment. The doorman called for an associate to meet us at the door, and out walked my old friend from the other store! I had found him! We agreed it was a God moment…I cried. Now, every time I’m in town, I shop with him, and I’m thrilled to know he is doing very well. My visits with him (and sometimes my purchases) always put a smile on my face. Good person (#4), easy to find.

But wait! There’s more! Saturday night, Angela and I had a reservation at another of my favorite restaurants, but we weren’t terribly hungry. We were also feeling a little lazy. For a brief moment, we considered canceling our dinner reservation, but finally decided to rally and go. We arrived at the restaurant right on time, and the hostess said, “Ohhh! I have the perfect table for you!” She whisked us off to a table that was, indeed, the perfect table. We could see the whole room! There was a fun birthday group at the table next to us. There was excitement in the air! Our server approached our table almost immediately. When I looked up at her, she asked, “Do I know you from somewhere?” I looked at her, puzzled, and replied, “Maybe here?” She said, “Maybe Bel Air?:” I recognized her then, but it was one of those rare moments I didn’t recall the name…”What is your name?” She replied, “Francesca.” Y’all. I met her when I dined at a restaurant in Bel Air five years ago! She was my server, and the next time I went, a year later, I requested her. This time, she recognized me first. I’m usually the one who remembers all the names and faces, so I was absolutely flattered that she remembered me! She literally said to me, “I have thought of you many times and wondered if I would ever see you again! When I saw you walk in, I recognized you immediately!” I was so happy to reconnect with her, and now, I will request her every time I go to this particular restaurant. Good person (#5) easy to find.

Sunday night, we had dinner with a friend we have known for several years. We have always known he’s a good person. We stumbled upon a friendship with him years ago.

Just goes to show you…good people are easy to find…if you just keep your eyes and ears open. It was a great vacation with a great friends and lots of new friends.

by Kelly Mattei

Now That Our Kids Are Grown(ish)…

Now that our kids are grown(ish)…

Do you look back and think how silly and unimportant some things were? I do. I do it all the time. There were so many things we thought were life-altering, but they just weren’t. When a friend with a 3rd-grade child said to me recently, “I was horrified that my child didn’t turn in her homework,” I responded, “Really? It doesn’t matter.” When another friend said, “My child doesn’t want to play any organized sports,” I responded the same way.

Don’t get me wrong. I think all kids should play a team sport at least once. It teaches them a lot, but that’s all the preaching I will do on that.

As for the forgotten homework in 3rd grade? A few years down the line, I know it didn’t matter, and hopefully, other moms will see it really didn’t matter for their kids either. I wish I had been able to look at my daughter when she was that age and had forgotten to bring a book home and say, “Honey. It’s OK. I promise it’s not a big deal.” Even if I did say it, the hard part was getting her to realize it too. As long as it’s not a habit, I truly believe it’s not a big deal. Educators might disagree, but whatever.

I was not one who ever knew much about our daughter’s homework. When she was in 3rd grade, another parent asked me, “Is your daughter ready for the Bunnicula test?” I must have looked at her like she had fourteen eyes. “The what?” “The Bunnicula test!” I promise I asked, in less nice terms, “What the heck is a bunnicula??” The other mom informed me it was the book they had been reading for school. I laughed and said, “Oh, honey, I have no idea what she’s reading.” The only thing that might have made that scene better is if I’d been wearing a colorful caftan while smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding a martini in the other…you know, like moms in the 1970s. I might have, inadvertently, hurt that mom’s feelings, but it was the truth. I didn’t keep up with my child’s homework. That was her job. I did, however, go back to the school one time (OK, more than once) to get something she had forgotten. The teachers preached against that, but they didn’t have to see my child stress over it. Plus, if I forgot something somewhere, I could drive myself to get it. She couldn’t, so I took her. Yep, I was that mom. I didn’t want to deal with the stress of listening to my child stress out over it, so I took her back to get the book. And you know what? I would do it again, if only so I could have a peaceful evening at home. But in the overall scheme of things? That book didn’t matter one bit. And that assignment really didn’t either. As long as she wasn’t falling behind in school and wasn’t making a habit of forgetting things, it really didn’t matter.

I know. All parents do things differently. Some are trying to make sure their kids are headed for Ivy League colleges, as I learned quickly when my child entered middle school in sixth grade. At the parents’ meeting at the beginning of the year, lots of parents asked about which math track their kids needed to be on. Others asked about the best “science track” and which classes counted as academic classes and which ones didn’t. I wasn’t one of those. I always just believed she would fall into the right “math track” or “science track” for her, so I wasn’t one of the moms asking those questions. At that meeting, I was one of the moms in the back row trying really hard to stifle an uncontrollable giggle about something a science teacher said…a double entendre she didn’t realize was a double entendre, and the fact that she didn’t realize it made it even funnier to me. I think it was something on a graph, and she called it a “g-spot.” I literally had to walk outside and compose myself. But I knew I had found a kindred spirit among the parents when the middle school admin team was talking about school sports and a mom raised her hand with a question. “Do y’all have a laundry service for the uniforms after games?” I had to peek around heads to see who had asked, because I wanted that mom to be my friend! I didn’t care about the math track and science track! That would work itself out. I wanted to know about the laundry service! Alas, there was no laundry service. In hindsight, I should have invited that mom over to drink wine and do laundry with me. It’s OK, though, because our kids are at the same university, so we can get together on campus for drinks and not even have to worry about laundry!

It’s not all about school, though. Parents worry about sleeping babies and overstimulation. As for worrying about sleeping, I did my fair share of that…not so much worrying about our daughter as I was worried about me. I had a livewire on my hands! She was busy from the time she emerged from the womb and didn’t want to miss a thing! It nearly killed me. I had that baby girl/toddler/small child who would not take a nap. Yeah, she slept at night but not excessively long. I heard people talk about how they trained their babies to sleep 16 or 17 hours a day. I should have just handed them mine so they could see what life with her looked like! And when she started moving around, there was no sitting still…ever. In fact, she still doesn’t sit still for long, and she’s almost 21! I think some kids are just born sleepers and some aren’t. Don’t try to argue with me. You won’t win that argument. Later, I was glad she didn’t sleep during the day or need lots of nap time, because we could just keep moving all day…and we did! Looking back on that now, none of it really mattered in the long run. It was all just a blip on the radar of life.

Growing/raising a child has taught me a lot, and one thing it taught me is that lots of issues are simple blips on the radar of life. It’s sometimes difficult to remember that as something is happening, but it’s true. Yes, there are big problems in life, but a third grader not turning in an assignment is not one of them. Not completing the summer reading isn’t a big deal, either. I look back on how those stupid summer reading assignments ruined parts of summer, and it still makes me a little angry. I felt like the stupid summer reading was an intrusion on my time with my child, and in hindsight, I truly wish I hadn’t made her do it. I wish I had told her not to worry about it, because in the overall scheme of life, it wasn’t going to matter. I wish I had told her to enjoy the long, fun days of summer.

However, I let the summer reading assignments get to me (and her), so I’m telling y’all now:

Enjoy the long, fun days of summer together with your children.

by Kelly Mattei

Sorority Rush Prep Should Be Well Underway

Sorority rush prep should be well underway.

If your daughter is participating in sorority recruitment, especially in the south, you need to be knee deep in preparations by now. If not, it’s not too late, but get busy. I wrote a piece in February called Don’t Sweat Fall Sorority Rush Yet, and in it, I included a timeline of preparation. It’s almost mid-June…let’s gooooooooo! To read the piece I mentioned, click here.

In the piece, the timeline mentions the wardrobe in July. That is when it should be shored up and ready to go. Shop now for rush appropriate dresses. That means you don’t want to be too flashy, too skimpy, or too matronly. Most college-age girls know what is fashionable, but if you wouldn’t wear it in front of your boyfriend’s mother, don’t wear it for rush.

If you haven’t registered for rush or made any required videos, get busy. I’ve mentioned this before: don’t read a script for your video, but have some talking points, making sure you cover any prompts they have requested. Smile and be confident, and use good lighting!

Millions of young women have participated in recruitment over the years; you can do this!

Please send any questions, comments, or concerns. I love getting questions!

by Kelly Mattei

For Mother’s Day, I’m Quoting Jerry Seinfeld

For Mother’s Day, I’m quoting Jerry Seinfeld.

I just saw a clip of Graham Bensinger interviewing Jerry Seinfeld. Bensinger asked, “How did having children impact your life?” Jerry Seinfeld said, “Only a person who doesn’t have kids would ask that question.” Indeed! What did Seinfeld reply? He said, “Kids are the greatest show on Earth. You just want to watch them live. The entertainment value of watching them live…the kids are very entertaining, because they’re primitive humans.” He went on to say that, because we enjoyed our own childhood, we try to improve upon it and make our kids’ childhood perfect.

The whole conversation made me ponder parenthood. I only have one child, but how did having that one child impact my life? The answer: in every way possible. She was born almost 21 years ago, and almost 21 years ago, my life was no longer about me…in the most awesome, incredible way. I remember going through security at the airport when I was about six or seven months pregnant, and one of the TSA agents stopped me and said, “I have to tell you I’m psychic.” I laughed, and he continued, “I see big changes in your future.” Nothing could have been more accurate.

I was 36 years old when I became a mother. I had been married for three years, but I had never really had to worry about someone else, and suddenly, at 36, I had to take this little seven pound bundle of joy into consideration before I did anything. Going to the grocery store? I couldn’t just grab the keys and run out the door. I had to put the baby in the car seat, grab the diaper bag, and make sure the stroller was in the car before I could leave. And that was just the beginning. It was a big adjustment, and it wasn’t easy, but wow…it was so worth it.

She is, indeed, as Seinfeld put it, “the greatest show on Earth.” Watching her learn and grow has been the greatest time in my life. I have said before that I feel like I have had three childhoods: my real one, my college years, and then my daughter’s childhood. Now I feel like I’m living my fourth childhood through her college years. She just finished her sophomore year at my college alma mater, and even though I’m not there all the time (that would be weird), I love when she calls to tell me about her daily life or exciting things that happen. I even love connecting that to my own time at the university. She loves hearing my stories of the “old days” at some of the same places she goes, and I love hearing her new stories!

When she became a part of my life, everything immediately changed. Did I realize just how incredible it would be having her here in this world before she arrived? No. There is no way anyone could have prepared me for that. Don’t get me wrong; that first year was tough. I had the baby who wanted to be a part of everything. She didn’t nap. She slept pretty well for eight or nine hours a night, but napping was not on her agenda. She wanted to be in on the fun! I know some people thought I was crazy, but two different pedicatricians assured me that some babies nap, and some don’t. As it turns out, it was just my daughter’s personality. She still doesn’t want to miss out on anyting, and it serves her well now. However, that first year? I wasn’t sure I would survive, but I did…sleep-deprived and all.

And here we are, twenty years later…still enjoying the greatest show on earth. I love being a mom. No job in this whole world is more important or more fulfilling than motherhood.

by Kelly Mattei

College Fall Break

***I originally posted this in 2022, when my daughter was a freshman in college. She is a sophomore now, and this year, she has a fall break. It is much needed after midterms. To all the moms of college freshmen out there: hang in there! I can hardly wait for her to come home later this week.***

College fall break.

This morning, I walked into a local breakfast place and literally ran into a girl my daughter went to high school with. I was surprised to see her, because she is supposed to be in college hundreds of miles away. I’m sure I audibly gasped before giving her a big hug. She quickly explained that she is home for fall break and asked, “When is Milly’s fall break?” I replied, “She doesn’t get one.” Her eyes widened and she asked, “What? I thought everyone did!” Well, my daughter doesn’t.

When we moved her into college, I knew she wouldn’t get a fall break. I had already looked ahead at the academic calendar for fall, and I realized that while she doesn’t get a fall break, she does get a full week for Thanksgiving, which I think is ideal. I thought nothing of it. Why does anyone need a fall break, anyway? It never occurred to me that she might need it! Did we have those extra days off when I was in college? I don’t remember.

But she does need a fall break.

As it turns out, it’s midterm exam season, and she is worn out. She was sick with the flu last week. She is ready to come home and sleep in her own bed for a few days, but she doesn’t have a fall break. I’m going down to the football game this weekend, and I thought that might be enough to carry her through to Thanksgiving, but no…she wants to come home for a weekend visit.

So yesterday, I purchased her an airline ticket to come home next weekend. After completing the purchase, I said, “Maybe I should just stay home this weekend, since you’re coming home next weekend?” She said, “No. Please come to the game!” That’s all it took. As soon as I heard those words, I knew I was definitely going. Done! As parents, we know that as our kids get older, every minute with them is valuable, and if she wants some time with me, I’m taking advantage of it. So I’ll be leaving Friday. I’ll return to Charlotte Sunday, and next Friday, I’ll pick her up at the airport in Charlotte. She’s needing some Mama and Daddy time…and that’s OK.

She simply needs a reboot. And she needs to sleep in her own bed. And she needs some of her favorite foods…Mama’s grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup, some roasted veggies, cake batter popcorn (recipe here) and some homemade mashed potatoes…not all at the same time, of course. I’ll be going to the grocery store next Wednesday to make sure we have everything I need to make her favorites. And we will sit outside and have a charcuterie board for dinner Saturday night before she goes out.

I have a friend who has a daughter who is a sophomore at another college, and I vividly remember her telling me that when her daughter was a freshman, she would come home occasionally, and she seemed most excited about sleeping in her own bed. In fact, my friend said her daughter made “snow angels” in her bed the first time she came home from college, saying, “I’m just so happy to be back in my BIG bed!” Those twin beds in college dorm rooms are adequate, but who doesn’t love their own big bed in their own bedroom at home?!? Our daughter has slept in a queen bed in her own room her whole life, so I’m sure she is excited to sleep in her own big bed, with her own blankets and her own sweet dog, who misses her terribly.

So no, she doesn’t get an official fall break. She won’t get an extra two days off to come home, but we will create a fall break for her. She will be home for about 52 hours (the same amount of time I was in labor with her, by the way…don’t ask), and we will try to make it as special as possible. We will try to make her comfortable. We will give her lots of hugs. We will prepare all her favorite foods. And we will just love her. There’s no doubt in my mind that we will be happy to be home. We are thrilled to have a weekend with her…which will really be just a few hours that we get to see her, but that’s OK. There will be lots of hugs.

And she just called to tell me we will have a bonus! A friend is coming home with her! We will have lots of extra laughs, and I am going to call the friend’s mom right now to find out what her favorite foods are!

They just didn’t want to wait till Thanksgiving. We will welcome them with open arms and help them “reboot” to finish out the weeks till Thanksgiving. Sometimes, college students just need to be loved.

Come home, baby!

by Kelly Mattei

All You Need is Love

All you need is love.

My friend, Linda, shared a video recently (on Facebook) that featured Sir Ian McKellen telling a story about getting into a taxi in Manchester, England, and the driver asks, “Where you going to, love?” Sir Ian said he immediately feels at home, where grown men call strangers “love.” He goes on to say the world would be a better place if we all called each other “love,” and I agree. It’s a practice I hope to start now. In my estimation, once I say in 10 or 12 times, it should become a habit, right?

It’s really not a stretch. I already tell everyone I love that I love them when we hang up the phone or when we say goodbye in person. I have written about that before and how it annoyed my friend, Wendy, until I got her in the habit of saying it too. But calling complete strangers “love” could be a little tougher.

In recent months, I have started something new with my daughter. She likely hasn’t noticed. Every now and then, I simply text her “I love you” out of the blue. That’s not really abnormal for us, but in recent months, it has become more frequent for a reason. Sometime after the first of the year, I realized I would text her things that sounded like I was correcting her or giving unsolicited advice. Once I realized it, I decided to try to keep myself in check, so every time I find myself preparing to send her a text with unsolicited advice, I stop myself and text “I love you” instead. Don’t get me wrong. I still offer advice, but normally, only when we are talking on the phone or in person. So basically, I’m replacing my unsolicited advice and nagging with love messages. It makes me feel better, and I’m sure that, even thought she hasn’t even realized the difference yet, she feels better too. She always returns the message with “I love you too.”

So now I need to implement my plan to call everyone “love.” I’m sure some people will find it odd. Some people might even say, “I’m not your love.” And that’s OK. I will know, deep down, that I’m just trying to be nice and spread joy and love. I know everyone will react differently, because my friend, Mary Ann, and I did a social experiment in Beverly Hills ten years ago. We said “good morning” to everyone we passed on the sidewalk. Some people acted like we were weirdos, but a few hugged us and thanked us. You never know when someone needs some love! I feel like there are lots of people walking around out there who haven’t been called “love” or felt loved in a long time! Maybe just one stranger will appreciate being called “love”? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to walk around just saying “hi love” to everyone I see. It will likely be used where I would normally use “sir” or “ma’am.” For example, if someone holds the door open for me as I’m walking into a store, I might say, “Thank you, love!” Or if I’m in a restaurant and my server asks me a question, maybe I answer, “Yes, love.” Maybe I will use it with my friends when they answer the phone, “Hi love!” It is a work in progress. I’ll keep you posted.

Any chance you might want to join me in this plan, love?

All you need is love…love!

by Kelly Mattei

Don’t Pick Up the Shoes

Don’t pick up the shoes.

I saw a Facebook post today on a page called Alabama News and Comment. It’s a page from the news division of Alabama’s Radio Station, 101.9 Fox-FM. It appears to be a station out of Birmingham. Don’t ask me how I got to the page, because I have no idea. It was one of many squirrels my brain chased today. And this time, I ended up on Alabama News and Comment, reading a piece about a woman picking up her husband’s shoes. You can see it on Facebook here.

My husband picks up his own shoes, so I don’t think I have ever had to pick them up for him, but it made me think of my parents.

My parents were married for 45 years before my Daddy died. He was young, just 68, and died of pancreatic cancer. Many times, though, during his retirement years, he would take off his shoes in the living room and leave them underneath the coffee table. I’m guessing he usually carried his own shoes to the closet, but it was something I never gave any attention at the time.

And then, in 2006, Daddy died.

We did what families do. We supported each other for a few days, and then my little family returned to Charlotte to resume our lives. We settled back into real life. About a month later, I decided we needed to go visit Mother; she’d had time to rest and recuperate after months of caring for Daddy, and I thought she needed company.

Upon arrival at my parents’ home, I saw Mother standing outside waiting for us, but I didn’t see Daddy. Of course, I didn’t see him, because he had passed away a month before, but his absence hit me hard. I got out of the car with tears streaming down my face, and Mother said, “I should have warned you how difficult your first visit back would be…your first visit without him here.” She knew, because she had lost her own Daddy. It had never occurred to me how the absence of Daddy would take my breath away. But it did.

We all went inside and sat down in the living room, and that’s when I saw Daddy’s shoes under the coffee table. I looked at them, and I looked at Mother. Her eyes met mine. I didn’t even have to say anything. She simply said, “I can’t move them.” I cried again, but I understood. Seeing those shoes where Daddy left them likely made her feel a little like he was still there. It was a small way of tricking her brain into feeling like Daddy was still there…a comfort. As I read the piece on Facebook today, my brain went straight to that time, and I thought, “One day you might want to see his shoes in the living room.”

Life is like that. Sometimes the things we never think we will miss are the very things we miss…or even the things we find comfort in. When our daughter was a toddler and didn’t sleep well, many times I would have to go upstairs and lie down with her. My husband and I shared a doctor at the time (a mistake I won’t make again in this lifetime), and when he was at the doctor, he mentioned it in passing to “our” doctor. The next time I was there, she opted to lecture me about how bad that was for me and for our daughter. It angered me greatly, because frankly, I thought it was none of her business, and soon thereafter, I found another doctor. What did I know that the doctor didn’t know? I knew we all parent differently, and I knew myself far better than she knew me. I knew, in my infinite wisdom, that one day, I would be sad when my daughter didn’t want me around as much. Was it a little inconvenient for me to spend a half hour upstairs helping our daughter get to sleep? Yes, but I loved every minute. And guess what…she’s a freshman in college now who doesn’t need me to help her get to sleep. *Many times, I have wondered what kind of communication that doctor has with her own children…if she has the same great relationship with hers that I have with mine. I actually feel sorry for her and for her children. I know mine trusts me, and some of that trust might just go back to those nights she needed me to be there while she fell asleep.*

If my daddy’s death taught me anything, it taught me that life is not a dress rehearsal. We have to live now and enjoy the little things. When our daughter was a toddler, I would pick her up and carry her in my arms any time she wanted. My friend, Jennifer, and I believed (since we had only children) we should do that, because one day we wouldn’t get to carry them anymore. We wouldn’t know when it was the last time, so we did it every time. No, I don’t remember the last time I carried her, but I know I carried her on my back multiple times after she became too heavy to carry in my arms. And if she asked me to carry her today (she’s 19), I would. You can bet on that.

And as much as it annoys me that my husband can’t resist the urge to open the curtains on the window on my side of the bed, I know that, if something happened to him, I’d likely miss having to go close those curtains when my side of the room starts to heat up from the sunlight.

Enjoy the little things…even the little annoyances.

by Kelly Mattei

We Miss the Elves

We miss the elves.

I know, I know. Every parent who is having to deal with The Elf on the Shelf right now is wondering why they ever bought into that commercialized bit of Christmas.

Seriously, how many times will you forget to move the damn elves during the season? I remember many times our daughter would come downstairs in the morning to find the elf in the same spot as the day before. She would ask if it had lost its magic. “Oh, no honey! It was just really foggy/stormy/cloudy out last night, and he couldn’t make the flight safely.” I had to think fast, and I couldn’t let the panic show on my face.

Other times, I would wake up in the middle of the night and remember I hadn’t moved the elf. I would get up, try to wake up enough to be creative with a “hiding place,” and stumble back to bed…cursing the elf the whole time.

And then, the elves multiplied at our house! She teceived them as gifts. Or she asked them to bring friends. When all was said and done, we had SIX elves visiting our home, and that meant I had to move all six of them every night. (I know…I know…I’m crazy to have allowed it.) Not only that, but I also had to get more creative after she heard about other friends’ elves that did more interesting things than just sit in the Christmas tree. Keeping up with the Joneses was real where the elf was concerned. She didn’t want to think Santa sent her a lame elf (or elves!).

Seriously, it got out of hand. Those damn elves were leading better lives than I was: writing all over the vanity with toothpaste, bungee jumping from the stairs, bathing in Christmas M&Ms, coming in on a wrecking ball, drinking Karo Syrup, trapping each other in cake domes…oh, to be an elf! And the notes and “surprises”! They brought little trinkets. They wrote her notes in their special elf handwriting. My brain had not been that creative in years, but I made it happen. Honestly, I became an overachiever where the elves were concerned, and I’m sure all her friends’ parents hated me for it. I don’t blame them. I hated that I let myself fall into the trap of that level of insanity after seeing others post on social media, but I did it.

I thought about all this last night, because my daughter, who is now 19 and a freshman in college, was hanging out with friends and texted me, “Can you send me pictures of the crazy things my elves did?” I searched through years of pictures and found some to send her. She sent back lots of laughing faces, lots of “Lol” and lots of “wow.”

Then I went down the rabbit hole.

I started texting her elf stories. I told her about the time she came running into the kitchen just before Thanksgiving Day (when the elves are supposed to arrive) with an elf in her hand. I’m not sure how old she was…maybe six of seven? She had gone into my room to look for something in a drawer, and she had found an elf. “Mommy! Look what I found in your drawer!” I was standing at the stovetop preparing dinner but looked down to see her holding the elf up for me to see. Somehow, I thought fast and replied, “Wow! He must have known you would look in there today, and he was just waiting for you to find him!” Her eyes widened! She bought it hook, line, and sinker! She replied, “I guess so!” And the elves got an early start (ugh) that year…lucky me (insert eye roll here).

Another year, on Christmas Day, she seemed a little sad…unusual for Christmas Day. She was eight, and she should have been excited and happy the whole day. Finally, in the afternoon, I asked, “Honey, are you OK?” Immediately, the flood gates opened…her bottom lip rolled down as her chin quivered, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I miss my elf!,” she exclaimed. My heart broke. My sweet little girl thad been holding in those emotions all day. I could have been stern. I could have followed the elf rules, but I didn’t. I hugged her. I comforted her. And then I said, “There might be a way to get him back.” Call me a sucker if you want, but personally, I love knowing my child is full of so much love. That year, her elf had taken on the task of replacing some of her “babies” (stuffed animals) that had been accidentally thrown out while we were having her room painted. She appreciated what that elf had done for her, and she loved her elf for it. Who was I to say the elf couldn’t come back? Surely, there was a way?!? I said, “Here’s a little secret: since it’s still Christmas Day, you can make a wish on a Christmas candle, and maybe the elf will come back.” I’m still patting myself on the back for this one. My husband brought us a Christmas candle, and I sat down on the sofa with her, telling her to close her eyes and make the wish before blowing out the candle. Then close her eyes again and slowly count to ten, just to help the wish. Whatever…I was winging it, OK?!? While she slowly counted to ten after making the wish, my husband scampered quietly into our room, got the elf out of a drawer and placed him on the dining room table. When she opened her eyes, I said, “Maybe the elf will return. He might show up in an unexpected place.” Of course, she couldn’t resist the urge to start searching. When she found him on the dining room table, it was sheer joy! Her Christmas wish had come true! Since the elf had returned on a Christmas wish, she was allowed to hold him (against the Elf on the Shelf rules), so she settled in on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie with him. I told her she had 30 more days with the elf, but he wouldn’t fly back and forth to the North Pole, and had to leave after those 30 days. She agreed 30 more days would be enough…and it was.

The elves were popular at our house for several years until one day, she simply said, “Mom, I know the elves aren’t real.” In some ways I was happy. I wouldn’t have to remember to move them! I wouldn’t have to find creative places to put them! I wouldn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat when I realized I hadn’t done anything with them! I wouldn’t have to lie about the fog/storms/clouds. At the same time, my heart broke a little. Sure, my life would be a little easier because she didn’t believe in the elves anymore, but it would be a lot less fun.

Now that she’s 19, the elves no longer come around. One moved to a new home when a neighbor melted her daughter’s elf on a lamp and was in a desperate search for a new one. We had one that matched hers, so we let her have it. Our daughter didn’t believe anymore, so it was nice to know we were saving another parent from a meltdown. Now, we look back on the elves with fondness. And honestly, they make good stories.

We miss the elves…not enough to bring them back, but we miss them!

by Kelly Mattei

Thanksgiving 2022

Thanksgiving 2022

It’s our first Thanksgiving as empty nesters! We made it to Thanksgiving! Actually, we have thoroughly enjoyed our empty nester status, but you know we were thrilled our baby girl could come home for a whole week! We are counting down to her Christmas break (starts December 9), when she will be out of school for a whole month! I don’t dare say we will see her for a whole month, because I’m sure she will want to visit with friends…and we are cool with that!

But here we are, having survived most of the first semester. After Thanksgiving, she just goes back to school for “dead week” and finals week before returning for the next break. Here’s where I should tell you, contrary to what some some moms say on the Facebook college parent pages, “dead week” does not mean they walk around looking like “the walking dead” or “zombies.” Well, at her university that’s not what it means; I can’t speak for others. Some parents have said on the parents page, “They study so hard that they look like zombies.” For 95% of the students, I’m saying that is not true. What it actually means…and share this with your friends…is that professors cannot issue new assignments during the “dead week” before finals, and they cannot have tests during that week either. Some professors might opt to have class, and some might not. Some have review sessions, and some do not. Some give extra credit for attending that week, and others do not. The week is meant to be a study week.

I can assure you that when I was at the same university as my daughter in the 1980s, I did not walk around looking like a zombie during dead week. No way. Did I use my time wisely and study all week? I’d like to say I did. Oh, who am I kidding?!?! No way! I had lots of fun during dead week and started studying for finals at the end of the week. I was even known to go out during finals week. [Gasp!] If I looked like the walking dead during dead week, it had nothing to do with studying too hard. If I looked like a zombie that week, it was because I had too much fun the night before. Not gonna lie. Don’t get me wrong. I studied. I just studied efficiently. I kept up in my classes. I met with professors when I didn’t understand a concept. I was a good student. OK, I was a pretty good student. But I got the job done, and I had a great work/life balance. I didn’t work all the time, and I didn’t play all the time. Fortunately, I had parents who understood the importance of enjoying college life, and as long as I “took care of business,” I could play all I wanted. And I did.

Now our daughter is trying to have a work/life balance her freshman year of college, and at Thanksgiving 2022, we are thankful she seems to be thriving. It’s hard to believe just six months ago, she was feeling a little unsure about her decision. She was thinking of another school she had considered. She was thinking she had made a mistake in choosing her university. She had just graduated and was entering the summer before college. It was a painful time in our household…lots of tears. I took her to orientation in June, and she was a mess. We got through it when I promised her she could transfer at any time if she didn’t like the university. However, I had no doubt in my mind that she would like it. I think she just needed to know she had options. Soon after school started, I received numerous texts saying, “I love it here!” Transferring is never discussed. We survived the summer of ambivalence, and here we are now…almost through the first semester!

And that, my friends, is what I’m celebrating this Thanksgiving! I’m thankful for my daughter’s happiness at her college home. We relax a little knowing she is happy. Is every day perfect? No. Does she have some stress with studies? Some. But is she making memories that will last as lifetime, just like I did? You bet! This year, we will have or own little Thanksgiving celebration at home. We had considered going out but decided to stay in and enjoy the food that is stacked in our refrigerator. I’m hoping friends and neighbors will stop by later in the day, when we are enjoying cocktails on the patio by the fire!

Happy Thanksgiving! And if, like me, you’d like to relive the WKRP in Cincinnati Turkey Drop, click here. It’s an all-time favorite that I must watch at least once every Thanksgiving season. “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!”