I came here to tell you stories. The stories of our days, the stories that may, or may not, look like your days. A simple place. A love for the ordinary and a little about what was for dinner.
What’s for dinner TOTALLY matters to me. What is on your table and what is on mine holds a dear place in my existence. This matters. Your simple and ordinary is enough. It’s enough to make “news” in my world. I think we are all at the point that the television news, the local and the national, have little to offer in the way of truth and hope for our individual days. Sensationalism. Negativity. Fear. Anger. A divided people, or are we? I am not certain that we ACTUALLY are as divided as “they” say we are. At this point, I think we are probably better off chatting just about what’s for dinner.
I created this space to tell a story about our simple and never glamorous life in the hopes that 1. I could document these days, and maybe find something important in the mess of it, and 2. That those that want to come along feel valid, supported, enough and sometimes inspired to know that their own simpleness is just as important as mine. I am not more than you, better than you, and I have NOTHING figured out. Sometimes I feed my kids dinner and I wanted to tell you about that. Because dinner is everything…even though often it is grilled cheese and Campbell’s tomato soup made with soy milk…blek. Tillamook cheddar (dairy) and milk alternative soup, who even am I?
So, here is today: this is what I am writing about instead. And I. Cannot. Bear it.
Today I worked. I am a real estate agent, coach, and managing broker of a large brokerage. I supported my husband in his work. We own two other businesses, a construction company and also a rep firm for cabinet manufacturers. For my children, I managed an orthodontist appointment and a therapy appointment. For myself, I managed cramps, because being a woman has its inherent issues, being exhausted, redecorating my family room (dang those shelves look good) and various forms of feeding my family. Dinner was so glamorous, let me tell you. Taco night, grass-fed beef, only because it was in the discount bin. And just to make you feel better, one of my kids put ranch dressing on her “taco creation.” Whatever, Man. I told you we are fancy.
Here is what else I managed:
My youngest daughter called me from school. For me, a call from school means answering and listening to their tone to immediately know if they are in an emergency…like “is there an active shooter” emergency. When I hear sirens during the day, I panic and listen to how many sirens there are and what direction they are headed. All of my neighbors do the same. We all know to listen. Not “that” call this time, thank God. My daughter told me about a child that she is worried about. “His Instagram bio says HELP.” She knows he is not okay…or maybe he is okay. How can we know the difference? She is calling on me to help, to call his mom. She is AT SCHOOL calling for me to help her help a friend in danger. What???? Okay. I will call and get some help.
Later, a friend texted me “what is happening at the high school?” and my heart was immediately on the floor. Wait, what? At the same moment, I had just watched a cop car speed by in the direction of the school. I did a quick u-turn and went directly to the school. No cops, no issues. Phew. Thank God. Later, after the oh-so-fancy taco dinner, my daughter came home from the movies visibly shaken. Apparently, there was an issue with the movie or with the power, and the movie sputtered and then stopped during the show. A man entered the theater and told them to exit the theater. She was TERRIFIED. She told her boyfriend to not be the first ones out the door because they might be the first ones to get shot. As soon as the movie skipped she starting thinking about how they would get out and how they would try to avoid the shots that were almost certain to ring out. She was frightened, to say the least. She cried. She never cries.
Tacos. I made tacos. I shredded cheese and lettuce. I was out of salsa so we used leftover Taco Bell hot sauce. One of my kids put ranch dressing on her taco bowl…obviously I still haven’t gotten over this. We redecorated the family room. Homework and showers after that, because that is all in a day. All of it in one regular day.
Gosh, I want to tell you a different story tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day. What are you making for dinner?? And HOW do we combat the rest? I hope that tomorrow I can just tell you about dinner….a Halloween dinner, which will most definitely be Jeff and I eating whatever we can scrounge from the fridge while we pass out candy worrying about our teenagers until we go pick them up at (hopefully) 10 pm. Because, like I said, we ARE perfect and glamorous. Maybe you can relate?
100Grand mini candy bars will save the day tomorrow, I am certain. Have I mentioned one of my kids is allergic to ALL the Halloween candy? A story for another day.