Sometimes, Facebook is so full of lies and deceit that it makes a person wonder what this world is coming to. Other times, it feels like a big room full of people you know and love, and everyone is just sitting around talking and laughing. In my mind's eye, I see Randy Houk on the couch, laid back and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, just chillin'. He's impressing the ladies with his wit, and some roll their eyes toward the heavens but others see in him what a good boyfriend he'd make.  Hey, he'd keep 'em laughing, riiiiight? He is Seven Year Ache, did you not know that?!  I see Terri Crawford-Schell running around all crazy, laughing like a wild hyena and making all the boys in the room kiss her square on the lips!!! I see Kaylan N Ashton throwin' down in the kitchen, cooking up something people either WANNA try because they trust them, or too skeerd to try, you know, what with all the exotic stuff they be doin' to their food. Disaster or masterpiece? You decide!  No, you decide.  No, I said YOU decide.  It's like a conversation on a throwback wall phone with a long, tangled cord, and you are fighting with someone to hang up first.  

I see Ashley Boswell perched on a groovy bag filled with beans, smiling, but nobody best cross that one or else you'll never live it down!  She might drive yer car into the lake, so don't start none, won't be none.  I see every creeper creepin' too, nonchalantly making their way about the room, spying hard on people and listening to conversations that don't even pertain to them!  With their big heads and nosey arses! I can hear Brandi Elizabeth McGee just a-cussin' up a storm, when really, no cuss words are necessary. Heck, she's just tryin' to make her damn point! Like me, she loves them kids of hers but some days she wants to duct tape 'em to the wallllll.  I see Daye Greene over in the corner, drank in one hand and mic in the other, making everybody laugh who might be paying him any attention. His wife is here, too.  She pretty much came along to keep him in line and see what all the fuss is about!  When he's not looking, though, she's watching him.  Damenica and Daye, they've got something special.  They are both good kids, and we could all learn valuable things from them.  They're doing life the right way, those two.  

I see Barbara Belden Wilson tripping on the extension cord running out from the mic Daye has a death grip on, on her way across the room to talk to Amanda Darnell Pierce, whom we can always count on for a razor sharp comeback. My sweet friend, Felicia Wallace, just got here and she is scanning  the room for a face that is familiar to her.  FeFe is just so well meaning and sweet, but I realize I already said that, but I just can't help myself.  I see Melody Wood, the very Voice of Reason itself. She's all about that yin and yang, and if you ask her for advice you can bet she'll deliver a conscientious, balanced answer, and I love her for that because she's never let emotions be her guide.  But don't get it twisted because she will cut yewww if she needs to.  She even knows the difference between a transmission and an engine, and I have always had a huge admiration of her for that because, well, if it starts up and runs, then as far as I'm concerned I really don't need to know any of the details.  I couldn't remember them anyways, so....!  I see Lesley Riley on the floor, ya'll, just going through her coupon stash because she's just awesome and productive like that with life.  She don't mess around, and she will line you out, that's for sure! Shooooot, not only is she poring over all that money she's about to save on boxed skillet dinners, but she's also managing to somehow get her kids to eat stuff other kids *hate*, like veggies!  She's juggling a baby, for Pete's sake, AND that stellar budget, y'all.  Annnnnnd, she doesn't even have to raise her pretty little head! It's as if she just commands it once and maybe, just maybe, has to cut her eyes at her kids to let them know she means business, and it just happens...effortlessly.  I see Shiloh Freeman and she's just so relaxed, visiting with all the mommas in the room. She's been there and done that, bless her heart, so not much scares her and she just refuses to get worked up about things anymore, pretty much!  Instead, she prays and dives into the Word of God on the daily, maybe even on the hourly.  I can tell when she's overwhelmed because she takes in a deep breath silently, gracefully regrouping. Calm, cool, collected even when she does not feel that way.  I see Kylah Downing with a smuggled-in Zima with a watermelon Jolly Rancher dropped down into the bottle, just 'cuz she's Old School cool like that.  

Carrie Ann Dick is the gal you never want to make eye contact with because she might try to pedal That There Thrive on you, and because how can you say "no" to someone that incredible and genuinely sweet?! Homegirl just wants everybody to feel like she does.  Well, Carrie and Peter Frampton, both.  I see Chandee Hawk helping to beautifully set up the finger foods and punch table. "Hand me that stack of napkins, wouldja please?" she would ask patiently.  And then, "Thank ya, Sister!!!!" after she got what she needed. If you're lucky, she'll wink at you as she uses her manners.  I see Josh Wooten, and he's in his own bluesy world, so don't go trying to kill that musical buzz for him by yakking about some nonsense!!  He will block you, dude, 'cuz he's extremely choosy about those he associates himself with, so don't even risk it, man.  Like our Senior 1995 class T-shirt read, We're Not Snobs, We're Just Better Than You!! He knows it, and he owns it, so GO HIM!!!

I see Cathy Wolfe Burgess on the sidelines, doing a cheer for us because we were ALL "her kids" at some point or another in school, and she wants us all to make the best decisions and choose good choices because she loves us THAT much.  Once our teacher, but always our friend.   Oooh, and look there, Jamie Puckett just walked in and if the look on her face is any indication of her mood, then you just best get down to the nitty gritty and then get outta her way because she's fixing to get doooowwwwwwwn.  She gives a cool nod to my girl, Kim Stroman, who's picking up after all these slobs in the room with us.  She's not your maid or your mother, but that woman loves her a clean home and you could probably feel safe eating off her floors.  I see Amanda Holmes Webster and she's a cross between Debbie Downer and everyone's pushy Jewish mother, but that is why we love her so, that and because she ain't afraid to get her hands dirty!  You need a job done?  She's your girl.  You need her to grab you some Panda Express because you have a craving for some 8 Treasure Chicken?  Amanda is reliable and always pulls through, even if she's not feeling 100%.  And that Kim Vaughan Parrett?  You guys, I wish she could adopt me.  How weird would that be, 'cuz, like, I'm in my forties, you know?  Plus, that's just normally soooo not how that whole process works.  But it's true.  That lady told me one time that in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, that I needed to talk to God about stuff.  I tried it out, took her advice, and lemme tell youuuuu, IT WORKED!  Well, that combined with bay leaves and about 100 mg of Benadryl.  (Yeah, I know.)  Anyway, I needed to hear that, and I needed to hear that from HER, so when she told me what she did, a very wounded part of me, healed.  For that, I am eternally grateful...because it was no accident, you see.  

Something else that isn't an accident is the fact that Kaci Hurd is here.  Kaci's personality and mine are so much alike, it's unreal.  You see, I don't feel so bad about my craziness when I read Kaci's posts.  I don't feel alone in my craziness, rather.  She's sick about all the germs in this world, too, and we both carry spoons in our purses and aren't afraid to use them, either!  Probably a loaded weapon under our seats when we take vacations, too, but sssssshhhhh, 'cuz that's inappropriate and controversial.  That Kaci!  She's a live wire just like I am, but when you see her with her kids there's not a doubt in your mind of just how pure of heart she is.  It's too bad Kaci and my sista from anotha motha, Bekki Hayes Davis, are over there trying to be slick and spike the punch bowl right under Chandee's nose!!!  I see Kaci throw her head of beautiful dark hair back as she laughs, a twinkle of orneriness in her eye.  Bekki turns to me with that adorable mad-face look, and her brow furrows cartoonlike just like mine, and she yells at me over the music, "LIZ!!  Do you have the damn heat on??!"  

Amanda Copeland Harper and Angela Sherman are over at the card table dancing it out in a conversation about God countered with the macabre, and you don't dare interrupt them because you ain't tryna get that heavy tonight!  Tiffanie Freeman and MelBakes are in the corner drinking Sprite and dishing about pastry decoration techniques, but neither of 'em brought any goodies tonight, shooot, it's their night off.  You read that right --KITCHEN'S CLOSED.  No freebies here, folks, no freebies here!  Move around now!  And Tony Winefield is wearing maroon wind pants and talkin' sports and stats with anyone who's up for THAT exhausting challenge.  There's a pack of chickens over in the corner, trying to lay some eggs before we all get hungry for breakfast, and I think they might belong to Hannah Wickham, but I'm not too for sure. 

You guys, Kevin Koscelny is the lucky leprechaun in the room, and he's talking politics and corruption with John Woolman, who has just been busy with life and trying to make a difference in the lives of others, exposing to the Facebook Masses truths and his humble wisdom on taking his kids school clothes shopping to fascinating football talk and other stuff non-sportsminded people like me don't understand, but sooooo wish we did.  Like so very many our age, he's trying to live out his purpose, too.  I see LaRonna, too, and she's a real joy to see tonight because she is just so helpful.  She always has positive things to speak about people and looks for the best in errrr'body.  And when she sneezes, I always think of a doormouse sneeze because she's just adorable like that!  I see Christi Rainwater Horner passing around a donation hat for a book drive to get books into homes of children in Nowata County who otherwise wouldn't have any, because she just has a lot of love in her heart and wants to do God's work by helping the less fortunate, especially where childhood literacy and equality are concerned.  Certainly can't blame her for that.  In fact, we CELEBRATE her for that! Yes, we are glad she is here with us tonight.  

I see many more of my friends here in this room.  Do you want to know where I am?  Why, I'm over in the corner with the record player and the CDs, and I'm running the music.  Only, I have ADD-like tendencies so I tend to get sidetracked or bored and don't let any of the songs finish, not ever, before ripping the needle on another dang song!!  I'd best watch out, too, because I'm getting the evil eye from fokes who feel the strange need to listen to the whole entire song!  Shucks, y'all, I will even take requests and dedications, JUST like they used to do on the K107 and Z104.5 back in the good 'ol days.  Oh, and do you like my outfit?  'Cuz Alisha Renee helped me put it together.  That little lady knows her way around fashion, I mean really!  She's smart as a whip, too.  Don't ever underestimate her because she will clean the floor with you, and walk away in her high heels, never missing a beat and surely never breaking a sweat. 

Aaaaah.  The night is still young!  Just like Back When, ever so often, I'll get out in the middle of the living room and start me a line dance.  You just take your pick, sweetie, and chances are I'll know the entire choreography.  Can't remember what I did 20 minutes ago, but I CAN remember how to get my bus stop and Reggae Cowboy on like Donkey Kong in a thong, fokes!  I do not play around when it comes to music and dance.  Or food, but that's a whole 'nother ballgame.  You either feel it in your soul, or you don't.  And if you don't, then perhaps you need to exit the building because you have no business here, but that is just my two cents and it sure does not amount to much!  Jason Crawford will see you out now.  Bye, Felicia.

I like nights like this one, April 12, 2018, when everyone is basically cooperating and life is good for so many.  You know, when we can talk grown-folks talk but we're all getting along because we know the value of respecting others.  I have soooo many more friends in this room I have nice things to say about, but I'm sure if you've already read your name in this post then you don't really want to read about anybody else because, well, time management.  BUT:  I want to say that I care about all my friends and want the absolute best for everybody's circumstances, including my own.  I'm finding that as I get older, life has become less about impressing people and being a "yes" person, and more about being true to oneself and raising up decent, kind humans along the journey.  If your babies happen to have fur instead, then you teach them not to bite others and don't be inappropriate by sniffing someone's crotch when they make a new friend.  That's some important social etiquette, fur parents, so props to ya'll!  I'm finding an enriched, happier life is, however, all about helping those who need it, and not necessarily because they have asked, but rather maybe because they are kind of in the same season of life that you are, or where you have been previously.  Each day I wake up and continually see these people in my newsfeed, and soooo many more friends, too.  You guys all make me a better person.  I enjoy reading about your families, seeing pictures, reading what you have written.  I enjoy honest talk about various topics floating around out there; it is almost like we are having a conversation without ever leaving the house.  It is like we are all gathered together, just visiting and just being REAL, for once.  Exchanging information and allowing others to enlighten us.  Life's too short to be hateful and judgemental, and it is very liberating to have grown up enough that I am able to see past a lot of things that really did use to hang me up.  What's that song, Let It Go?  I honestly have, so much, and I love all of my friends, not just the ones I have mentioned in this piece.  Each of you bring to the table very different points of view, and I think that is such a refreshing thing!

Thank you ALL for making my days brighter, even when the sun outside is not shining.  You may not have realized this, but my connections with you all have blessed me beyond measure and in ways you probably can never imagine.  <3  

​

My oldest daughter recently pointed out, "You sure have been taking a lot of pictures with us kids lately, mom."  She's right, I really have been taking a lot of pictures, not only with the kids but also of myself.  Why?  Well, why not?  After all, if something were to happen tomorrow that took me suddenly from this life, I wouldn't get another day.  I would not have more time to get in a few shots of us having fun or being serious.  My kids would have a few of me, sure, but mostly they would have the heavy burden of the responsibility to remember me in their minds.  That's hard to do.  Harder, in fact, than it sounds.  I can see her face, but I cannot tell you of any laugh lines.  I remember her wide-set eyes, but I cannot recall their color, their depth.  I have but three or four photographs of my mother and I together.  For my kids, I would like to leave them with books of pictures, just of me and them.  That is my goal, at this point.  But three or four?  That isn't enough to shake a stick at.  That just won't cut it, especially when they are lonesome.  Especially when their hearts are broken.  And especially not when they need to talk to their momma. 

Sure, through the years a few relatives have mailed gallon-sized Ziploc bags with pictures of her inside.  You know, as mementos.  Something to look at, some wild and tangible thing to hold onto.  Something I can certainly never get back.  My breath quickens when I happen upon one of those bags, too, under the bed or stashed away in a drawer, forgotten all over again.  My heart beats fast as I carefully remove the pictures of her to look at.  But there really are only three or four with just she and I, alone.  

As smart as she was, I hate to admit My Mother was a smoker.  I have 5 or 6 pictures of her taking what looks to be like a big drag off a white cigarette, long and fancy, just like her.  Actually, she herself was short, but her intentions were long; her pauses, too.  I do remember that about her.  Those pictures looked intentional and provocative, almost like she planned how to hold her mouth for the best camera angle to lock her into time.  She smoked Benson & Hedges, always.  They looked as expensive as they sounded, and I loved to pick up the opened package in the console and breathe in that papery, earthy smell that is unburned tobacco.  When she wasn't looking, of course.  She'd run into the Texaco for a minute for a can of Tab, and there I would be, just hanging out in the front seat, unbuckled, and be-bopping to whatever happened to be on the radio. 

We really liked Crystal Gayle back then.  Her hair was a sight, and I think that is why I liked that gal so much.  I could not make myself decide if it looked like a horse's tail, swishing back and forth, or if it was a concerted effort on her part to have healthy, long locks as her very "brand."  At night, after bath, I'd tightly affix a bath towel the size of a sheet to my head and the white terrycloth just like magic became my hair.  Just like that.  I would flip it behind my shoulders and grab a hair brush and just go to town.  'Baby, What About You' was always my favorite, and boy, I'd belt it out in front of my bathroom mirror.  My mom was my biggest fan, too.  She'd sit on the foot of her bed she had made hours earlier, or in that big wicker chair with the red cushion we had that was shaped like a goose egg, and she'd listen to me as she kept time with my voice, tapping her hand rhythmically on her leg:
"I don't really think I'm crazy for taking my time
I'm just looking for the answers I've gotta find
They say it's gonna be a long hard ride
Baby what about you..."
...And we had so much fun.  We got along well together, she and I.  It was me and her against the world.  Or else, it should have been.  

Yes, there have been several occasions I have enjoyed taking photographs with my children.  I can honestly say that I am the first to weed out the horrible ones of myself, even if I do think the kids are crazy cute in a shot or two.  While I am doing better about not being a perfectionist when it comes to this, admittedly, I still do it. I want them to remember me as my best self, not the mom with bags under her eyes who looks like she is in renal failure, or worse, homeless.  I have lately been trying to take more pictures with my kids because, well, it is enjoyable. Usually, we wind up laughing or, if I am squatting down low, I lose my balance and fall backward, setting off a whole contagion of laughter, like The Wave at a high school football game.  I am slowly uploading snapshots to different customization sites online (think Shutterfly and Chatbooks) so that I can have them printed and shipped to my home.  I want to keep them for my kids,  You know, just in case.  Tomorrow is never promised, but I want each of them to know that I was thinking of their futures.  They look at Pictures With Mom as a time to roll their eyes and make annoying duck faces or flash that so-overused peace sign, but one day they will hopefully see what I see:  A mother who loves her babies in all their many moods and through all their complexities and twisty turns in their young, innocent souls.  

I look back at photos of My Mother with a little sadness, but only because of how much I miss her.  I try to think about what she must have felt back then.  You know, who she wanted to be and what she wished for her OWN young life.  As I examine photographs of her, I am searching her face and her eyes for answers.  I have yet to find the answers, but she sure was pretty, and I can't hardly look away.  There was something there that I am obviously not privileged enough to know yet, but there definitely was something.  I am thankful for the invention of the camera and, now, for the technology that has evolved into everything available to us today to capture images of our loved ones.  Indefinitely, if we wish.  

​So, yes.  My selfies with my kids will continue.  I want to try and look my very best in them, but if not, no sweat.  No biggie.  My theory is that at least they will be able to see The Real Me, the mom I truly am to them right now, and will try to continue to be, in the years to come.  We will never, ever have the privilege to relive this day, this hour, this minute, or even this second.  And sooner rather than later, time seems to speed up as those seconds develop into minutes develop into hours develop into days develop into weeks develop into months, all coming together to form years.  It goes faster and faster, the older I grow.  I'm 41, and in just a few short years my kids will be graduating from high school, college, getting married or not, and having kids or not.  Time does not slow us down.  Only we slow us down.  Having said that, hear this:  It's going to go by anyway, so why not make the best of what we can, and go ahead and get in on photo opportunities with the ones in our lives whom we love?  That's right.  Why not.

After all...that silly photo montage we took out in the grass the other day might just serve as a big 'ol glorious cushion of comfort for our children later on in their lives.  I refuse to deny them that part of me any longer.  I've done quite enough of that, thankyouverymuch, and because if I can't be there physically for them, I at least want to leave something for them that nurtures some basic part of their beautiful souls.  ​

There are days Molly's little (BIG) personality makes me burst with happiness and sadness at the same time.  Today was one of those days.  While at Carter's, she asked me if she could play at the Lego table.  Sure, I tell her.  Remember your manners.  There, four others near her age, sprinkled around the table.  And what does Molly do?  She introduces herself, asks the other children's names.  They all kind of look at her, alien, cheeks pink and puffy and lips parted slightly.  Neither happy nor a frown, just O. 

She presses.  "My name is Molly Piper Watts.  What's your name?"  I look over my shoulder, a quick look.  She chooses a chair, yellow and pint-sized of course, and gently pushes it closer to the Legos, takes a few in her hand.  A few moments go by and one of the others, the girl with the red hair, mumbles her name in response without looking up. 

I turn back to what I was doing, the Clearance racks.  Pretty soon, here comes Molly.  I knew she was coming even before she spoke.  She's just that way, My Molly.  Energy abuzz-buzz-buzz all around any time she is near.  "Hey, mom, I made new friends!  Come and meet them, will you?"  She looks pleased with herself and very matter-of-fact.  It is then that my heart starts to hurt a little for her.  I know what's coming. 

It is always like this, shopping with her.  I get involved in what I'm doing and then have to stop because she has a request.  My train of thought is forced to come to a screeching halt and something in my brain tells me to bookmark what I was doing or else I'll forget.  So I do.  Remember, I think.  Leggings to coordinate.  Leggings to coordinate.  Changing tracks, I follow her to the table where she proceeds to tell her new friends MY name.  And her daddy's name.  And that she has a brother and a sister, and did they have brothers and sisters, too? 

"Molly..." I began, but it was no use.  As soon as her name leaves my mouth, the kids all look up at me with a collective, indifferent shrug. 

Doesn't she understand that we're IMPOSING, what with all this talk, talk, talking?  "Hi there.  It's nice to meet all of you,"  I say with an apologetic tone. 

"Hiiii-iii," Red sing-songs back.  I can tell she's tired, her pretty blue eyes glazed over.  Probably her mom was dragging her all over town today, too. 

I tell Molly just a few more minutes and we can leave, I promise.  Ask them if they wanna hear a knock-knock joke from your new book, I think only to myself.  Of course I don't say this aloud to Molly, of course not.  Then I would be prodding, like a pushy Jewish mother.  I go back to what I was doing but can't remember right away what it was I was looking for so I chalk it up to not being THAT important if I couldn't recall it anyhow.  I have a kneejerk response to sit down at the table and ask, "Did you hear her ask your name? You DID?  Then why didn't you ANSWER, for Pete's sake?"  ...but of course I do not.  I mean, aren't people teaching their kids how to INTERACT these days?!  I just sigh, let down the breath I've been holding in for what seems like forever.  I'm done here, I suppose.  I am trying to be done here, more like it.  I'll find leggings another day, they'll probably be even cheaper then.  And then think to myself as if to throw my hands up in the air: Ah, well.  Typical 4-year-olds.  Next!
 ******
My oldest daughter is a lot like me and my heart breaks for her even now.  Only, there's something special about her, you know?  Something so special that it is not just her dad and myself who recognize it.  Like any mother, I feel a ferocious longing here in my chest to shield her and protect that tender, kind spirit she has.  It's a dull ache.  Not unpleasant, it is a reminder that I can still feel something that truly matters, and feel it really hard.  The world has a way of coming at us all in a terrible, sometimes tragically beautiful way.  So used to putting one foot in front of the other, though, we become numb.  Unfeeling.  One day we're dreaming of what we'll grow up and become and the next thing we know...we wake up and don't recognize the person we've turned into.  Then when you hear a song on the radio from back when, a glimpse of your former self is what you see and you get that roaring feeling, excited almost, and frankly a little high from a thrill you hadn't experienced in so long. 

I've learned a lot of new things since becoming a mother.  I've learned how to diaper and care for, well sure.  I've learned to fold tiny ears of curly cartilage down just so that the water doesn't run in them when I'm giving a bath.  I've learned that each of my children have something unique about them that soothes them into sleep.  Well, sometimes anyway.  Too, I have learned that many times it is just best to surrender...put them down in their beds and let them find their own sweet spot: the funny-angled crook of the neck, rolled over on a tummy, arms flung wildly above a head, a pinky toe slightly cocked.  It is at these times I wish so hard that they would just go to sleep already, and they struggle for a few minutes to get comfortable.  Here now, I want to say.  Here, let me get that, like when you open a door for someone you don't even know at QuikTrip.  Now with the babies, when I've tried everything and nothing will work, I try my darndest to keep my hands off them sometimes and just let them get to that peaceful spot how best they see fit.  But the mommy inside me?  She wants to wave her magic mommy wand and have all the answers so that her children don't suffer anything, lest it be restless nights, no date for the prom, or the second dip of butter brickle finding its fate accidentally on the floor. 

Yes, I've learned a few things.  I wish I could know more, and I will...eventually.  I'm learning as I go, practically, and I guess that is how a lesson really stays.  With Molly, I'm learning to pick my battles and I guess today I just needed to let her find her sweet spot, socially speaking.  She'll never see those kids again, true.  They weren't her friends for the rest of her life but for 15 minutes, yes, they were.  I guess when you're a child and the world is a vast and expansive place of green and blue and lines of Red Rover, Red Rover, 15 minutes is as sacred as a lifetime.  And--I know My Molly--3 months from now she'll bring it up and ask me if I remember meeting her friends at the Carter's store and tell me some random fragment of her skippy conversations with them, or she will ask me did I know what had happened to "that little girl" that her knee was skinned? 
​
And on that day I'll feel something again deep within myself, a kind of reminding feeling paying homage for today.  I think what I'm learning that is most important is not to let MY issues interfere with how Molly perceives the world or her reaction to it.  She wants to talk to everyone she meets?  Fine.  Let her.  After all, she's 4.  She's only 4.  She doesn't have to know yet about the bad people in this world.  She doesn't need to know or even hear details of news on television.  Sure as God is my witness, I don't want to have to be the bubble buster, the mom who yanks on her child's arm not to go anywhere near that crazy old woman, do you hear me?  Far be it from me to tell her we can't share an ice cream sundae because we'll get fat.  And please, Lord, help me not to hover and correct, control.  Let her be a child already!  Let her enjoy life with reckless abandon, for right now anyway.  Let her have no inhibitions or worry about the mortgage or meningitis exposure.  Let her be encouraged by praise and that soaring pride she must feel when she does something, anything, everything.  Let her empty out her piggy bank to help tornado victims, every last penny if she feels led to do it.  Let her own legs be her own legs that let her dance and jump into mud puddles and kick way up high like a Rockette falsetto.  Let her imagine herself into worlds where she is a princess everyone loves and adores.  Let her find her own sweet spot. 
...just for now.  Just for a little while longer.  <3