No One Really Wants Complete Honesty- C.L. Anderson

            Do you believe that title is true? Are you one that is always honest? Are you honest with everyone, or do you pick and choose when you want to be honest as to not hurt someone’s feelings? After really thinking about it, I actually fall in the middle. I don’t lie, but sometimes I do choose to keep quiet, I know hard to believe right? We teach our kids to be honest (knowing as they get older things do tend to be a little south of the truth) yet we aren’t completely honest with them. Why is that? Partly because we don’t want to hurt their feelings and as they get older they spend most of their teen years in denial, so why waste your breath.

            Let’s ruffle some feathers here. How many people would you consider true friends? Now think carefully before you answer that. The reality is, we know many people and consider many people to be friends, but if something happened and you needed a friend in an emergency at some ungodly hour who would you call? I know a lot of people that say “if you need something call me”; they really hope you don’t call. Of course there’s the opposite, you have kids that are overly generous with your personal time, money and transportation. Oh yes, you’ve taught them to be kind hearted and generous and they turn that around and you’re the one that ends up being kind and generous on their behalf. You know this is true, think about it; how many times have you provided transportation to your kids’ friends and you really didn’t want to? They have those couple of friends that lack in the hygiene area and they seem to be the ones that always need a ride and your kid is more than willing to say “let me ask my mom”. Sounds like I’ve been down that road more than a few times, huh? Of course you say yes when you really would rather say no and there goes that honesty angel, out the window.

            Let’s throw some complete honesty out there without naming names and watch the feathers ruffle. First off, when you put clothing on a body that is over 300 pounds and your face looks like features were just thrown on to a blob of skin, there is nothing in the world that will make you look good. However, if you utilize some soap and deodorant, you may smell a hell of a lot better. You over there, stop thinking you’re all that and a bag of chips, wake your butt up, that ship sailed a long time ago. You could never catch so stop trying to catch a long lost youth. What are you trying to smile at? Please close your mouth, your teeth are more yellow than butter and look like they were filed down to little nubs. You were willing to let someone else get blamed for you embezzling money? Death isn’t even good enough for your scumbag behind. Really, you think you’re that cute? Ok, if homely equals cuteness now; sometimes people are given gifts they don’t deserve, but of course if a person gets stuck into it, I guess you make sure one way or the other you’re never alone.  You may be talented but talent will only get you so far; check that attitude and stop feeling like the world owes you something. That pyramid scheme you were running and trying to get others to join…yea, how’s that working out for you now? You were phony way back in the day and you’re still phony now.

            These are some of the things I keep to myself, but if I’m asked I will speak the truth. Would you do the same? If I said name your best friend, would you think about it so as to not offend someone else or would you just name the person. When my mom died, I told people that had known my mom for years and some of my friends. Well, one friend didn’t even remember the phone call the next day and another said the familiar “call me..blah blah blah”. Well, at the risk of ruffling feathers, let’s just say meet the middle finger to both of them. A friend that had never met my mom was there, now that’s a friend. That meant a lot. That also happens to be a person that doesn’t bite their tongue either.

            So why is it people don’t want complete honesty? No one really has the answer to that question. I would like to think that sometimes people are afraid to face their own truths so they don’t want someone else pointing them out. That actually sounds logical, but then I’m the one that says “ok, you know this to be true, don’t you think others notice as well”. I am one that likes honesty, even if it pisses me off, I can respect that person more. I love it when a person admits they don’t agree with what I write, that creates an open dialogue and maybe we can both learn from each other’s point of view. What I dislike is the person that publicly tries to blast you for what you say, then remove themselves leaving you no way to respond. That is the cowards’ way out and what little self respect that person had is probably sitting in the bottle they’re drinking from. Think about it; if there were more honesty amongst friends don’t you think the trickle affect would happen? Honesty starts with friends and family, as we get older; we start to realize more and more that this really is a small world.  Take a look at your friends’ list and you will see that somebody knows a few people that you know or someone is friends with people you don’t like. Wow, that six degrees of separation stuff is true.

            It makes sense that I say your friends before puberty are the ones you tend keep in touch with. They are the ones that knew you before you started making up this fake persona you wanted everyone else to see; wait, there was one that was fake then too. They are the ones that knew you before you perfected that less than honest behavior you have. I keep things as real as I can; I have no problems putting it out there if I’m happy or if I really dislike something. I also stand by the saying if you don’t like what I say then kindly remove yourself from my page. Exercise your right to make your leave quietly, I probably won’t notice anyway. I guess I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to 100% complete honesty, but I guarantee you I’m more honest than even you can handle. ~Just my two cents

            

When Mom Is No Longer There C. L. Anderson

            This weekend we celebrate Mother’s Day. This is the day that phone lines stay busy half the day because everyone wants to call Mom and catch up for a bit. You can almost smell the flowers, can’t you? Moms put up with a lot of …. well, for lack of a better word…. CRAP. On top of the crap, moms deal with a revitalized upheaval of men telling them how much they should make, how long they should get maternity leave and what if any, of their basic rights they should be ALLOWED to have. For those lucky enough to still have their moms with them, for at least that one day, I hope they swallow those words and give their mom ALL the praise she deserves.

            We see the rhetoric against women every day, but do we stop to think there is a mom behind that person delivering such rhetoric? Do we stop to think of what she may be thinking or how she’s feeling? I know my first thought after listening to some of these people is how they can kiss their moms with those mouths; not only their moms, but their wives; the mother of their children (insert perfect family photo op here). To those long suffering, held in the background, BACK BONE of the family I say Happy Mother’s Day to you! These men know, without mom and wife, they wouldn’t be here. Let’s see them bear children, nurse them when they’re sick, show up at all school functions and a plethora of other things. Now, I do realize there are some men that do these things, sit down and shut up, I’ll get to you in June.

            On a serious note, this is the second Mother’s Day without my mom. Now, don’t get all sappy and start saying things like “prayers are with you” or “thinking of you” and whatever other cornball thing that is at the tip of your tongue. My mom and I had one of the rockiest relationships (again no cornball crap) and believe me; she found the most interesting ways to really mess up Mother’s Day. Growing up, Mother’s Day in our house consisted of going to our church and then going to church with my moms’ mom. It wouldn’t have been bad except, I hated sitting there listening to some bonehead lecture about what a wonderful blessing mother’s are and how they should be revered, yet they could have no active role in the church. Then the day would get worse at my grandma’s church, it was a Catholic Mass in Latin. What the hell were those people saying?!!!. All the kids had to go be blessed by the priest and this is where I tended to get in trouble. I refused to go up, not only did I embarrass my grandma; I seriously pissed off my mom in front of her mom. Of course, me being me, I loved every minute of it. I would simply say I refused to go up and have some guy, that was already half way to drunk, touch my forehead and bless me in Latin after praying to a frickin’ statue. Yep, stubborn way back then.

            My brother and I always had to make cards in school; it was interesting to say the least. My brother would always try to make something special to add to the card. He would tell my mom he was going to be an inventor. Of course, there I was standing there telling him what an idiot he was because he spelled inventor wrong. Ahhh family love! On top of making cards at school, mom would take us to the store to pick out cards for our grandmas. My brother would always find some pretty cool cards; me on the other hand, I just stood there staring at the Hallmark section saying I can’t find anything, I can write better sappy stuff than this. Now at that age, I doubt if I could write better sappy stuff, but it was a good case to try to present. My main arguing point (seems I argue about everything, huh?) was that my grandma’s never got me a card or anything so why am I standing here wasting my time looking for cards. Not only did I lose the argument, I think my behind was burning a bit when I went to sit down.

            It’s fun to recall childhood stories you’ve had with your mom. I think as we age we learn to appreciate them just a little more. Some are funny and some are depressing; they are all true and that’s what shapes us as moms to our kids. Sometimes recalling these stories does act as a quasi therapy, oooh free benefits! I often wonder what stories my son tells about me and what stories will he tell his kids. Oh to be a fly on his walls! Scratch that, he’d probably squish me and watch me splatter. I can only hope my son has fond, funny memories of his life growing up. I know I’ve laughed more than one parent should, but I’ve also shed some tears. There are times when I feel I have the most ungrateful, unappreciative son in the world. I’m sure all moms feel that at some point. Through the turbulence of watching some creature become a human being, then morphing into a man, I can happily say I have enjoyed being a Mother. Good, bad, happy or sad; everyday has been Mother’s Day and I’ve been very lucky.

            Keep the stories and the laughter close to your heart. Appreciate what you’ve been taught. No matter how it was taught, trust that there was a lesson for you to learn and grow from. For those that had or have less than stellar relationships with your moms, there’s a lesson there as well. I think for me it was a life time of grooming me to become a better mother, to love being a mother and to appreciate being a mother. I think I was given 42 years to prepare for when mom is longer here and to appreciate that as well. To my son I say, I may not be perfect but ha ha, your scrawny butt is stuck with me! To all the moms out there, have a very Happy Mother’s Day! ~ Just my two cents

First Year Lessons Learned (Things That Smack You in the Head)

              

           

The first year of college is coming to an end. Did I survive? Did my college student survive? Short answer yes and that’s only because we aren’t in the same state, however; realistically it is a tad more complicated than that. We have these grandiose dreams that our kids are going to graduate high school and go off to a big name school. My grandiose dream schools were Notre Dame and Morehouse. My college students’ list included Drake, Eastern Il, Millikin and one other school. Notice my choices didn’t seem to match his. He got accepted to all schools he applied to and then it happened. Several schools started contacting him and making offers, one school gave him an open ended offer and gave him up to a year to decide, in case he changed his mind.  A small school in Iowa came a calling and Mister “I don’t want to go to a small school” answered that call. The letter of intent was signed October of Senior year and this is where my first year lessons started.

The very first wakeup call I got was when the high school coach botched the day of signing and the deadline was almost missed. That was one of many wakeups I’d had with this coach. The transitioning process from high school student athlete to college student athlete started to take shape. Attitudes started to change, extreme laziness kicked in (more so than normal) and everyone seemed to want a piece of this kid. Here I am standing on the sidelines screaming “You did nothing to help get this kid to where he is going, now step aside!” There was a personal battle between this young man and the head coach that no one could seem to figure out. This coach seemed to knock this kid at every turn; any extra team awards were always given to less qualified athletes, of course, after announcing that my student athlete is the one that should get it. Upon graduation, my student athlete was one of the most decorated runners to leave the district. Sure there were a few before him, but those athletes had competed in summer programs since they were small kids, so they included those awards with their bounties.

Summer brought another wakeup call. Just when you thought things were quieted down, the battles to get things done starts. The constant nagging to start packing up a room that wasn’t even slept in was only overshadowed with the constant nagging to start the college application process. Talk about epic word battles for the simplest of things. Of course, tired of listening to myself nag, I started the packing. When it came to that wonderful process of shopping for college, I eliminated the indecisive one. I just shopped and displayed the items when I returned home. I don’t think it was actually looked at until it was unpacked on the campus. Thank goodness for a summer program that provided a job, one of us wouldn’t have survived the summer. I can say with most certainty that 18 is a magical number and not in a good way.

Now, one year removed from high school and one year of college under my belt, these are the lessons I’ve learned.

·         The sweet young person that was brought into this world lost his damn mind when he turned 18. Someone needs to find it and return it

·         The transition period actually lasts the WHOLE first year; although I’m not sure for which one of us more so

·         No matter how many times I tell him to do something, he will either claim he forgot, didn’t have time (“it’s called college life mom”) or it just won’t get done period

·         College life is strange for both the parent and the student; the more you try to let go, the more they want you. The flip side is, the more you try to parent from a distance, the more they shut you out. Notice I didn’t say you win

·         Taking care of EVERYTHING may not be the best idea, gives the student a false sense of security; that and the attitude that if they don’t succeed as well as we think they should, we’ll be there to bail them out

·         Sometimes you have to step back, throw your hands up and watch the chips fall where they may…you may be surprised

Of course, these are my lessons and I’m sure there will be plenty more barreling down the pike kicking me in the butt. These four years will go quickly and the hope is to transform a young unpolished, wet behind the ears demon creature into a well rounded educated man of Clarke University. I’ve quickly learned it doesn’t matter that our timeframes for getting things taken care of is vastly different. It doesn’t matter that I feel he needs time management classes…maybe a few of them. Room dusty, when you know you packed a lot of cleaning wipes??? It’s trivial, let that go. Late nights but homework isn’t really the focus??? Let that go as well. Grades aren’t quite where YOU would like them to be??? Well YOU aren’t the one that is taking the courses, let it go.

While I have thrown up my hands to a lot of things, I have not stopped being the parent. Since I’m still footing the bills, he still needs a parent; just not so hands on or so vocal. When I turn on the news I’m hit with the stark reality that there are far worse things this young man could be doing. The reality of the matter is, he beat society’s statistics. He comes from a single parent home, didn’t drink, do drugs or bring home any babies and he graduated on time. Yep, there are much worse things that could be happening.

I wasn’t sure if either of us would survive this first year, I’m sure later I will look back and have a good laugh about it. I raised a strong minded young man, believe me, I’m reminded of that every single time I talk to him. I firmly believed he would be a great attorney, but since he has integrity, maybe that isn’t a good choice for him. Graduation is always the day before Mother’s Day, I can’t wait! May 2015, as I watch this person that has provided me with enough fodder for a book, enough tears to form a liquid salt mine and enough pride to cover the globe; I will have gained a new perspective of both of us. We share a mutual respect now, yes folks there are teenagers that still show respect, but that day will bring respect for the MAN he will have become. These are my lessons learned after the first year. ~ Just my two cents