I was fortunate enough to get to spend the weekend with This Guy again while the kids were at their dad's house.  During that time, Tyler and I even went to two (count 'em, TWO!) airports, BVO and JEF.  We wandered around the lovely, industrious riverside grounds of the Missouri State Capitol building and paid a brief homage to a memorial there, all the police officers lost in the line of duty.  My wonderful guy (I wanna scream 'MY AFFECTIONATE, HANDSOME, SWEET, WONDERFUL, RESPECTFUL, HEROIC, SMART, FUNNY, DEPENDABLE, and did I mention AFFECTIONATE LOYAL BOYFRIEND!!!!!' from my rooftop, but alas, I'm almost certain no one would hear due the influx of night-night sound machines, sirens, and Ativan prescriptions.  Plus also, I learned enough in geometry to know pitch roofs can be dangerous for us who are so daring.  Anyway... only imagine others are going through the same with me.  I find it hard to concentrate or remember what they have told me.  GOLD on GOLD?!  You have GOT to be kidding me!  COVID on COVID?  It's all the same to me.  Potato potatah.  

You Guys:  THIS GUY.  Wow.  I always love it whenever he pulls one of his guitars from his manly, good-smelling sleeves.  Plus also, when he buys me a large Sprite at Sonic with fake cranberry added.  But never mind.  What really makes my heart ache in that spontaneous good/bad way is when he and his mother, Sandy is her name, and we sit around her pretty-and-perfect living room and the two of them play songs for us.  And we sing.  We SING, you guys!!!!!!!!!!!!  We, all of us.  Together.  And I am not screamed at or ridiculed for being off note!  I am here as a part of something beautiful, something larger than myself, finally.  Me? Don't worry about me:  I bawl my eyes out and my kids think I am really in trouble, but I simply don't know how to express the 'touch of heart' we were supposed to all be overgrown with by now despite its wide-spread buzzword and hashbrown tag, #Positivity.   For a single, solitary adult it must feel very much like joining the Marines in that optional part when you yourself commit to a family.  Instead, you look for respect and observe how He treats others as an indicator as to how He will treat you.  Words and actions are two very different things, and suddenly your anxiety can spike...

Anyway.  One night after Tyler took us all to the RV and Boat Show in Tulsa, Grammaw Sandy even invited us back to her house where she had air-fried a big box of shrimp and fried us up some 'taters and probably a whole entire onion.  She talked to us about her star grandchildren Dempsey, Alex, Aubri, and Emma, and even though I felt kind of an envy for someone to talk about my babies thattaway, my tears welled up from the indignant happiness that sometimes happens thissaway.  No one is to blame.  It's just that all of us have so much in us, you know?  It's like we are piping hot with emotion.  ...And we are all still here on this planet who want to make sense of everything we've got going on, we want to make it all work.  Anyway.  Granny B (yes!  Our name tags have lovingly evolved!) and her ability to make this shrimp oh-so very brown  char just made me want to ask Grammaw Sandy to raise my children forever.  

"Here, have them," I would say.  "You cooked that shrimp just perfectly.  I want you to do the same with These Guys."  

What I did not  say was this:  Molly needs reform school.  Yeah, I know she'd not last a day, but she still needs to see how the Tough People live.  I think she'd really get a lightening bolt under her unsuspecting ass should she be sent to reform school.  She will need lots of things to keep herself busy.  A pen-pal plus (via REAL, about 25 times per week, NOT electronic).  I once proposed turning pages as a healthy coping skill, as reading was always her go-to, we used to have to ground her from her books if you can ever imagine it, but she answered, "Mom!  Books are so OUT!" and proceeded to shave off her eyebrows as if THAT would be her 'thing'.  She looked ridiculously like a boxer dawg I would call by her name!  "Molly!!!  Come here!" and "Molly, are you a good pup?!"  and "Molly, why are you sad?  Tell me all about it!"  

I am ashamed to admit, but I wanted to say:  "Well, you're already down.  You've got nothing to lose.  Read the book already!!!!!!!!!!!!"  :(   Maybe I slammed her bedroom door a little too hard after I saw the shape it was in, and yet here I want to take her door off its hinges because of such disrespect.   These days, everybody wants a cat!  At least they slink in and out.  

"Nonsense," Grammaw Sandy would say.  And then she would send me home with her air fryer and that backup plan -of-a-booklet that tells you how to use such a contraption, lest you blow up your entire house with it unintentionally, which I am embarrassed to say I never, ever read that damned booklet and still remain TERRIFIED of! I'm waitin' for Tyler to showmeallabout it.  Matter of fact, I read just enough of that dumb booklet much like I do any other glossy-paged magazine that shows up in my mailbox:  Backward.  Backward!  You can find out stuff you really want to know, faster.  You don't gotta read through some boring process they came up with to make a sale. No airbrushed pictures.  Just the recipes, dammit.  Just the recipes and, if you got some skincare tips, I will take those, too.  

Anyway, I just figure it out, you guys.  If I get my finger blown off or my eyebrows singed in the process, then so be it.  If I need to personally ask someone for directions, heck, I would SO MUCH rather do that every 45 minutes than be worried about it the entire trip, wondering if Google Maps is telling me the wholetruthandnothingbutthetruth.  The 13-year-old boy in me wanted to type "...Butt The Truth" but, alas, the Mommy in me reigns supreme.  I know what he wanted to do, and that was to be allowed to say the word "butt", but I raised my right eyebrow and tilted my head just so that he  knew, by Golly, I meant business!  With him under control, I could then join a club just like the prissies in a mommy prep club who'd be doing a form not of tennis but instead of ridiculously judgmental  self-control.  After all, style is a way to say who you are without having to speak.  Grammaw Sandy and I have *so very much* in common, and I could not be more thrilled.  She's the ULTIMATE WOMAN, that coveted title alone winning her my otherwise-disapproving gaze onto the "other woman" which occupy my youth.  We have the same tastes in clothing, for example.  

Look.  I am 44 years old.  I got no momma.  I have never been into one-night stands or games.  Never have I ever bought into that "Friends With Benefits" statement, either.  My last grandma died in 2019, our beloved Grammaw, my IMPORTANT Grammaw Gorley (my mother's mother).  I don't have time to play around and that was never my style, anyway.  I have always WANTED a man who treats me the same way in which The Man of My Dreams treats his mother, someone who loves us both and treats us BOTH with respect and love.  Tyler tells me about all of his family.  We have even visited cemeteries together to sort of pay homage to his heritage.  I did not grow up with that model, and yet I had seen it in the movies, the rom-coms that made me unconsciously smile, sitting there like a big dope in collard flannel pajamas, the left side of my hair pulled back behind my ear, smiling.  And now that I have found all of this and more of what I have always wanted in Tyler, I can hardly believe how fortunate I am.  It has been over a year and a half, I mean, I have done nothing special to earn such a gold star.  And yet...here we are. You Guys!  Here is yet the first thing I wanted in a mate was to show me some honor and respect!  Tyler gives me both those things.  He gets out of the side of his car and comes 'round and opens MY car door for me.  I almost want to stand up at my own non-alcoholic reception and toast a Sprite and cranberry and spout romantic quotes by my favorites!  

Never mind.  Here it is, Mother's Day, and the kids and I plan to deliver the picked-over, pathetic potted plants early this week.  I am sorry to tell you I rarely think about holidays or honorary days, save for Independence Day.  Maybe when I become the matriarch of our family I will just host a huge party on July 4 and it can be in Tyler's and my yard.  He says he is not 'good with people', but yes, he really IS!  I chalk it up to his insecurities brought on perhaps by relationships past, as I know mine have been, but I have learned how to work around that and no longer do I suffer anxiety when I need to go onstage or get up before one of my beloved OKU classes to give a presentation or assignment.  

Again, never mind.  I have a bad habit, wanting to talk about myself sometimes, and I HATE this about myself.  Changing subject, Go.  

Once Upon A Time, Tyler was in a band.  An Aviation major.  How Top Gun!!!

Anyway.  He used to do so much, just like me!  He tells me he was bass guitarist in this college band that used to play in the Warrensburg area, and my heart always flips out of my chest when he talks about it.  Really.  I have Googled the sound of the bass guitar and I am ashamed to say that tells me nothing.  In this song, 'Only A Few', I can BARELY make out the relaxing low hum of the bass but I did happen to read that Can you believe I used to pronounce the word 'bass' like it was 'base'?! 

Anyway.  Tyler plays the base (bass) guitar and now that I have educated myself thanks to the World Wide Web on what a bass (base) sounds like, I am ever so grateful. My only regret is that the musical and the physical definition of the word seems dearly departed, and yet they have kind of a symbiotic relationship, the bass and the drummer.  I learned this from Wikipedia, and a deep-down place in my heart agreed:  The bass guitar is very important in a band; it keeps the band on tempo and adds texture to the music. ... In simpler words, a bass guitar is an instrument that brings all the other instruments together to provide a rhythmic foundation. I liken these low-key tolls to Molly going someplace new to shop (like Joplin, ha) and needing road fare.  Anyway...Despite its unpopularity, a bass guitar is the most crucial element in a band.  But, what Tyler won't immediately tell you is that he is also a pilot.  He will not share with you, probably, the lessons he has learned, the frugalities or sacrifices he and his family have made just so that he could be comfortable on the road or in the sky.  I am so, SO proud of him.  He is Captain of My Heart.​

Lately, I've begun to think again about living my life in a more purposeful way.  I have, unfortunately, allowed myself to shy away from that and it shames me to admit it, but there you go.  It might be a function of my age or the times in which we live, the 'yikes years' I call them, but in either case the result is the same:  I want to be more mindful of what I'm doing, and how it makes me (and others) feel.  As much as possible, I want to steer my life and my work toward the coordinates of Hope and Joy.  I don't want to deny the fact that there is a great deal of sorrow, injustice, pain, and cruelty in the world.  For one thing, such awareness is provocation to come up with ideas to make things better, but I think it's equally important to be aware that something good is always on the other end of the big teeter-totter, even if you can't quite see it sometimes.  Happiness sometimes marches along at the head of the parade twirling a baton, but just as often it sneaks in under the cover of darkness.  I want always to be open to the fact that in the depths of despair, something can come along that you might never have predicted, and somehow your balance is restored.  It's as if you've had a very bad day and you turn in your driveway and it's so dark you can hardly see the mailbox.  You're not sure you want to open the mailbox, anyway.  What could be in there?  Bills and junk mail.  Not this time!  This time, you open it and out comes some common thing that is not common at all, which reminds you of the loveliness and wonder and worth of being here.  

Things are weird right now.  I have a lot of big decisions to make.  I feel like I'm on a cliff's edge and either I need to take a leap of faith and pray everything works out, or else continue on the path I'm on.  Family, work, my own physical and mental health...dental appointments for the kids, my own pathology results and how to move forward, plans tossed around about moving... everything seems to be weighing on us right now.  I am grateful that I work where I do, though, and that I am surrounded by adults and children alike who give my children and I mutual support.  I feel like I am at war with myself but want to throw down that offering of peace.   Mostly, I just want to make certain of my family's happiness for the future.  I don't have much time and yet, quite the contrary, I have all the time I need to make the best decision surrounding it all.  And of course I thrill with the knowledge that I always have writing to fall back on.  This is a healthy coping skill I am trying to cultivate within my own children as well as the kids at school with whom I work and am privileged to talk to on an almost-daily basis.  

My dream career is to write for a living, drawing upon the many diverse experiences in my life, even the trauma and the drama.  The reality is I simply do not have the connections this business (the business of writing best sellers) mandates for a career full time.  I'd love to travel as I write, so as to pull from experiences that inspire me along my journey.  I love to help people and feel very fulfilled in my career, but honestly I guess I should just reckon with reality:  I AM NOT THERE.  YET.  I want to do more.

I absolutely LOVE the fact that I have been able to dive into classrooms and facilitate chats and provide students and faculty alike with recommendations and feedback.  EFT and other coping skills.  Listen to them vent in a non-judgemental environment.  Hug them when they obviously need it.  My work is extremely fulfilling and I believe I do make a difference.  I happen to be privileged enough to be embedded in a school where my colleagues all feel like a member of the family I 'would have' chosen for my very own, given the choice.  Mrs. Sherry, Mrs. Auer, Mrs. Sellars, Mr. Sellars, Mrs. Thomas, Mrs. Taylor, Coach Wicks, Coach Ott, Coach Hall, Mrs. Reeves -- these are but a few of the people to whom I am grateful for every single hour who allow me to be a part of their daily programming.  They often do not mind if I hang out in their classes or even if I need to pull one of the students for a session, even if it is a core class!  For me, that is HUGE.  Alas, these faculty members are my Someone(s) Special.  They're the ones featured on my daily school menu of people whom I know I can count on and trust in my current educational environment.  There are several others, of course, but these are the ones with whom I have almost-daily interaction, and I appreciate them so very much.  

Tomorrow and Monday I am presenting about closure and writing letters of appreciation to Mrs. Angie Thomas and then, on Monday, letters of closure to ourselves.  COVID-19 has brought so many down, and it has kept some of us there, too, who constantly question and doubt our significance in this big world.  My hope on these next few classroom presentations is to squelch that doubt of that in my students, and it all begins with closure.  Mrs. Thomas will not be back come August.  She has made the noble decision to stay home and care for her grandchildren, and I so admire her for that.  Mrs. Thomas's family is SO VERY BLESSED to have that option offered to them.  She is a wonderfully-heartfelt, caring teacher and has been one of my mentors this year.  I wanna be just like her when I grow up, and I look at her the way I often did the teachers who took ME under their wings:  Mrs. Phyllis Temple.  Mrs. Willis.  Coach Winefield.  Dr. Jobe.  Guys...the haunting reality is that some of these kids have such a terrible home life and personal histories of trauma that, without inspiration or the proper appropriate caretaking or guidance from an adult, the suicide rates would be even higher.  Thank you to all the teacher-blessings out there.  Never doubt that our kiddos need you like maybe some of US may have needed you all back in our day.  So often our teachers give TIRELESSLY of themselves alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll day and then go home and give themselves ENTIRELY to their families, and I see that. I SEE YOU.  

You all love Our Kids so much that you find it within yourselves to attempt to do it all.  The work you do has NOT gone unnoticed or unappreciated.  You often hear our kids' hearts out when us parents simply CAN.NOT.DO.IT. for whatever reason.

Thank you all once again from the bottom of my heart.  I wish I could do more than I am doing/can do, but save for the lame teacher appreciation gifts of Boggle, Mr. Sketch markers, and WiseBeans coffee gift cards coming atchu on Friday, all I can do is write about it.  Just like that Skynard song said...  :)  

Enjoy your summer, teachers.  Please know that we parents love you and appreciate all you do, no matter how small.  <3