“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” -Maya Angelou 

Mean things are remembered. A neighbor, friend and even old co-worker back in my travel agent days had a daughter in Blair’s kindergarten class. She had called me up one day out of the blue to let me know that my daughter was not going to be invited to her daughter’s birthday party. She wanted to give me a heads up because only a certain amount of girls could come to the party. My daughter Blair did not make the cut. I don’t even know how I responded, I do remember that phone call, and I thought it was mean.

More recently an interaction took place again in my neighborhood. I was going to join a book club with a friend of mine. She joined in right along, and I wanted to make sure it was okay with the other neighbors that I joined (most of the other club members have children Blair’s age). In short these women said “No, there are enough people in it.” Is it because I am a mean person? What did I do wrong? Why don’t they want me to join their club? 

I thought this was odd, it is hard to not think it was me. I took it personally as they used my name when asking if they minded a new member joined. I am the type of person that thinks the more the merrier. I’ve added a whole table on a holiday if I needed seating for one more. 

The other day I was brushing my hair back. I remembered a conversation I had with my Stepmonster. My Stepmonster said “if you think of it, most BEAUTIFUL people have a widow’s peak.” She then looked at my hairline,“oh look, you have the opposite of a widow’s peak.” What did she mean by that? My Step Grandma asked if I remembered the flower arrangement at a certain party for her husband. When I told her I didn’t know because I wasn’t there, she responded, “oh that’s right we could only have 75 there.” That is mean right? 

Over the years Blair and I have had several conversations on where kindness and meanness can get you. So here is a story about my friend’s dad.

“My father had a very small deli. It was in a neighborhood where he knew every single one of his customers. Back in the day, if a customer did not have money at the time, he would write it down on a brown paper bag and they would come into pay when they could. My father was a very hard worker he never came home before 7:00 PM. One night my father was there when two people with face masks on their heads held him at gunpoint for money. My father opened the cash register up and offered to get some more money from the back. My father was honest to a fault. The robbers did not want him going in the back to get money because he may be able to contact the police. As my father was getting money out of the cash register a little boy came into the deli to pay his bill before 7:00 PM. You know, one that was written on the paper bag. My father shouted “Go away, I’m closed.” This little boy ran home and told his mom what had happened. His mother called the police because she knew what a kind man he was. This was very out of character, as he would have stayed as late as someone needed. He was shoved in the meat locker by the robbers and the police came and rescued my father out. The moral of the story is that being nice always pays off.” 

When I heard that story I thought if I was the father, I would be dead for sure, and so would some of the above people I mentioned from the stories I shared. I have always thought I was a mean person. Did I get my meanness from my Stepmonster and Step Grandma? I really don’t feel I am a mean spirited person. I feel that I am just bitter due to mean interactions I have had with other people. 

Like I said Blair and I have always talked about where meanness can get you in the world. Sometimes it feels like mean people always win. Mean kids come from mean parents. I used to not believe Blair when people were being mean to her since it seemed so constant. From these interactions I have had, I now have a new perspective. To this day I can count numerous mean interactions I have had. I don’t exactly remember what the exact words were, but I will never forget how they made me feel. I will never forget how that mom called me about the birthday party, what my Stepmonster said about the widow’s peak, and now about not being included in a book club at the age of 58.  

Blairsy wrote me a note and posted it on our refrigerator before she went back to NYC at Thanksgiving. The note said “Mom, I’ll beat anyone up who hurt you. PS. Don’t forget your anxiety medication.” I love you B and believe all the people that were mean to you growing up and currently are mean now. I’ll beat them up baby girl. Blairsy, you and me against the world. Love you B. 

I have always been into spirituality and learning about different religions, the higher power, psychic and mediums. Hey, anything to get through. Right? My daughter Blair is into it too and this is where she gets it from. I would say that, that is one of our coping mechanisms, as it is for so many people. We started this blog just to share our experiences and some of our challenges. This week as Blair and I were talking about how I was really going to get started in sharing my stories more in depth I told her my goals are to share how I am surviving everyday. At times it is humor, and a lot of times it’s friends, therapy, and thinking of my future that I used to have and will have one day. I have always had strength to reach a goal. Right now my goal is to share my experience, strength and hope. In short terms right now that is me binge watching Netflix and being in 3 book clubs.

During this conversation we were talking about our last family trip as a family of four in 2017, we had the best time. We accompanied my husband on a business trip to Denver Colorado. During that trip the weather changed from an 80 degree Summer day to a 40 degree snow festival so needless to say Blair and I took advantage of some shopping. Our favorite stop was the Rocky Mountains and one day as we were walking around the city, we saw this sign on a church that said “Jesus had two dads and he turned out just fine.” My family and I were cracking up as they took pictures of me in front of it. Questioning “Mom also has two dads and we’re not sure how she turned out but she’s here.” That’s right I am here. 

I then began to think that everything comes in twos. Noah’s Ark animals traveled in two, there are two Kits Kats per package. Socks come in a pair of two. Eyes and Ears usually come in pairs of two. So at the time I had my own ark, my two dads, my two dogs and my two kids. All I was missing was two husbands, but my husband was on his second wife. So I think that covers it. I am very into tarot cards and my favorite tarot card is the ten of cups. Things on the card can come in twos as well. If you look at the card it is two adults and two kids and to me that is my forever family. When I look at the card I get a “yay we did it” vibe. 

A quick side story, I was taking my son for therapy a while ago and they asked me for our family history. I started with my husband and they said they didn’t even need to hear mine. When we got married we decided to start our own family because both of our families were chaotic and messy. This has been a staple mantra for our marriage whenever major decisions need to be made. For example plots at the cemetery. Again, a story for another time. We still talk to biological families here and there but, our real family is the nuclear family we made and of course our family of friends. 

I wanted to make a genogram for the blog. A genogram is a diagramed family tree without all the pretty leaves and need for ancestry.com.  I have shared it with you below so I could talk about the players in my stories with clarity of how they are related to me. Moral of this post is everyone has a genogram no matter what their circumstances are.  If your family is biological or friends or a little bit of both, like me. No matter how many dads you have you can turn out just fine. Please share below in the comments a little bit about who is in your family. 

There is a poem, birth is the beginning. When I was young I knew I wanted a baby girl. I wanted a daughter to carry on the memories that I had with my mother who I called Mommy. My Mommy, Barbara was a unique individual, at times she was fun and other times reactive (that’s another story). My Mommy was both born in September and died in September. I wished for something happy in September. My beautiful baby girl was a planned baby girl born September 3, 1998. 

So, when I was thirty-three, I was pregnant with her. I was five months pregnant when I got put on bed rest for low amniotic fluid. It was the Friday of Memorial Weekend, my doctor said I needed to be on bed rest until the baby was born. That was a long and hot summer to say the least. I was supposed to lay on my side, most of the time. What side I don’t remember. Erik (my husband) was trying to complete a recorded video from a book he had written and was gone every Saturday and Sunday as he worked his salaried position during the week. He would pick up my five movies from the BlockBuster down the street that I had ordered, and he made sure I had enough Kraft macaroni and cheese. 

When my Birthday came in June, I asked the doctor if I could at least celebrate my Birthday. He said yes, but to keep it low key. Erik and I went to Bill Knapps so I could have my cake and eat it too. So here are my thoughts. My Mommy died when she was thirty-three a couple of weeks before her thirty-fourth Birthday. I kept thinking here I am pregnant and starting a family, and hers had ended already. It was such an emotional Birthday. To me when someone dies, they never have “heavenly Birthdays as most people like to say. To me they are not celebrating another year lived. It’s just the day they were born. My Mommy will forever be thirty-three even though she has been gone forty-four and a half years. So she would be seventy-eight today. How can the be that I have outlived her twenty- three years. 

Next line of the poem is life is journey and what journey it has been. So my journey is to follow.