Big Girls Do Cry

     Every once in a while, when I'm just be-bobbing along in my life, something will happen that will take me back to my previous life in Reedley, or West Covina, or any one of the many places I've lived in, and bring me to tears. For instance, we took a family trip to Minneapolis to the Mall of America this weekend. As we're walking around the enormous and crowded mall, Ian noticed all the strollers, and was getting annoyed trying to dodge them constantly. Before I could respond to him, I had a memory flash of Ian being the little boy in the stroller, feeling overwhelmed and frightened at being thrust about, zig-zagging powerlessly by his mother who was at the helm. I remembered how he used to cry and wanted out. I didn't tell him all this; it was a momentary memory flash that was so vivid, and so emotional, the tears just started to fall. Thank God for sunglasses.  I blinked the tears away, and kept walking, and muttered, "yeah, they're annoying, huh?"

     Last week it happened again. I just started a new job--bartender at the gym our family belongs to. I absolutely love my job, and being the new girl, I'm constantly meeting new co-workers and being introduced to them or, being the talkative one, I introduce myself. I met a new front-desk girl who the moment I laid eyes on her, the same familiar feeling came over me: a vivid memory flash as if my life in Reedley was a movie I was watching. This girl had welcoming wide eyes and a happy smile, and she was petite and giggly. Melanie. My beloved Melanie, whom I miss so very very much. I gasped, literally, and had to tell her right then and there she had a twin out in California. 

     "Really? I do?" she inquired.

     "Yes! You do! And she was my BFF and I miss her SO much!" I excitedly declared to her. "Here! This is her!" and I thrust my iPhone to her and showed her a pic of Melanie. This girl, whom I just met and can't remember her name right now and another woman working with her, leaned over and glanced at the beautiful smiling face of my Melanie. I was beaming.

     "Eh, different nose," the other woman sort of sneered. Clearly she wasn't impressed. The Melanie-twin didn't say anything. Her face didn't give away any clues either.

     "She's 4'11" and wears a size 5 shoe!" I gleefully added. That was the clincher. Both women looked at me wide-eyed, mouths gaping open. 

     "Really? NO WAY!" they took turns saying.

     "REALLY! YES!" I confirmed. 

     "SHE'S 4'11 WITH SIZE 5 SHOE TOO!!"

    "REALLY? NO WAY!" I exclaimed.

     "Yeah", they quietly admitted. It appeared she really might have a twin after all and it was sinking in. How this made her feel, I have no idea. Maybe I should've just kept it to myself. As it happens, a customer appeared and we all dissipated. I walked back to my bar and the tears started again. I didn't want to get to know this Melanie-twin. I wanted my Melanie.

     And so it goes. I had a moment laying in bed in the middle of the night a few nights ago; I'd gotten up to let one of the cats out and sure enough, I have no idea how or why, but I started to cry realizing how much I missed our old pool. We don't have a pool here, and I just can't get excited about summer coming. What are we going to do? Yes, there's a lake, yes, but we don't have a boat, and it's not like you can just go out in your backyard and jump in. I cried and cried thinking about all the friends we'd entertained, all our kids' friends that went swimming there summer after summer, and I was just so sad. It's all over with, can't go back.

     I know my kids feel the same way. I know it's been hard on Tim too. We see old friends in stranger's faces. We feel lonely, and sad, and we've put up a wall. It's a tremendous amount of effort to make new friends. It's hard not to feel that we're somehow replacing them. Nobody can replace anybody. The friends we made in California are in our hearts forever, and we hope they all know that. Thankfully we've got Facebook and texting and phone calls to stay in touch.

     It's been 8 months since we moved here now, and sometimes it gets easier, and sometimes it feels like we're going backwards. The snow has melted but it's still freezing out.  We see the temps in California and remember what we were doing a year ago there. Ian's in track now, and although daytime temps here are still in the 30's, they are running outside. In Reedley, the track kids are running outside too, but it's in the 60's and 70's. Stay with that for a moment and feel how that must feel to Ian. It's very hard.

     Even the happy moments can be tinged with sadness. Ian's driving now. He's almost 16. Any parent who's been at this moment in time knows what I'm talking about. It's surreal, it really is. He's becoming a grown-up right in front of my very eyes. I'm proud of him and sad all at the same time, as my chauffering days are slowly coming to a close. He will no longer need me in a way that has defined me in a lot of ways. This is not easy to swallow. I'm getting used to it, and I will be happy for him. And scared. It's a scary world out there. I won't be able to protect him like I could when he was that little boy in the stroller.

     Watching a young mom with her toddler daughter in the grocery store, the same thing happens. Even if she's angry at not being able to get her child to stop a tantrum, it's instant tears. I think of my curly-blonde cutie who accompanied me like glue to a stamp. We went everywhere together. Now Jenni would rather stay home and watch TV or play Wii while I go alone. No little hand to clutch onto and make sure she's safe constantly. She's a big girl now. 

     Whether it's moving to a new city, new state, or new country, or the kids growing up,  the inevitableness of change can be so hard and so sad. The circle of life goes on, and with it, new experiences and people come into our lives as we grow and change along with it.  I'm so grateful that my life partner, best friend and husband Tim has been along with me the whole way, and we're in it for the long stretch.

     I know it will get warmer, and we know that we have enjoyed the snow. Like everyone else in Wisconsin, we are sick of the cold and can't wait to be able to be outside in a pair of shorts. And yes, as time goes on, and we say less and less, "I just moved here from California". The newness has worn off and we appear to be Cheeseheads like everyone else. Only we aren't. Our accent gives it away every time. And quite possibly the sadness in our eyes. We are trying, people. I'm proud of us. I'm proud of Tim. We are doing okay. 

     As they say, you can take the Kuckelman's out of California, but you can't take the California out of the Kuckelman's.

Just Because We're "Friends", Doesn't Mean We're Friends

     Someone from my past found me on Facebook.  It hasn't been pretty.  

     Twenty-three years ago, I was 27 years old. I was putting myself through college, living on my own, working three jobs to support myself. One of these jobs was a waitressing job at a small family-owned 300-bed hotel near Disneyland, in Anaheim, California. It was a tiny, 10-table cafe inside the hotel, where during the busiest shifts had only 3 waitresses working together. I met my wonderful friend Penny at this time. She and I worked together and became very close. We have not only stayed in touch through the years, but she was my maid of honor and I was her matron of honor. Although geography keeps us apart, we stay in touch through Christmas and birthdays, and now, Facebook and Twitter.

     One of our other former co-workers was a woman I'll call "Monica" whom Penny and I had worked with for a few years and we had loads of fun together. I do remember lots of fun times. Dressing up in costume for Halloween, serving lots of tourists and making fun of them, eating lots of ice cream, dealing with "CHEF", this crazy old man who ran the kitchen. That's about it. My recollections of that time are minimal. It was one of my three jobs, and I was a full-time college student, on my own, involved with a jealous and abusive man who I'd nearly forgotten about, thank you.

   I was fighting with my parents, I was trying to find out who I was. I cheated on my boyfriend to release the stranglehold he had on me. The job was a job. I had fun while I was there but it wasn't my life. I graduated college in May 1988, left behind all the drama and moved to LA to start a new life for myself. I was free and happy.

     As with all of us, a lot has obviously changed with me in those 23 years since I last saw that co-worker.

     About three weeks ago, I got a friend request from "Monica", and initially I was amused and happy to have been "found".  I thought to myself, "WOW! She looks good! Has it really been 27 years?! "   What I had remembered about her was that she was divorced, had re-married, became religious, and was older than me. That's about it. I knew she had kids but I think they were already grown when we worked together; I really don't remember.  I haven't seen nor spoken to her since 1988.

      I planned on checking out her profile and reading her wall to get to know her better after all this time, but I hadn't had a chance. In the meantime, I gathered that she was retired, had at least one adorable granddaughter, and maybe more free time than me as she was commenting a lot on things on my page. I thought it was nice and vowed to make time to respond as soon as I was able.

     Everyone has what I call "Facebook Personalities". I have one friend who posts every little thing that happens to her, including finding noodles up her kids' noses. I love her posts. I have another friend who when she's between jobs, practically lives on FB and is on 24/7 and posts constantly not just on my profile but all her friends' profiles too. It's wonderful. I also have friends who rarely post updates or comments at all. They are either too busy or not interested. I don't take it personally.

     And I like to think I'm like most people on FB---most days I check my FB primarily from my iPhone while I'm waiting to pick up my kids from school, or in the bathroom (it's true! It's quiet time for a mom). I rarely just sit there and read people's profiles, comb through their photos, or stalk them. I'm really just too involved in my own life to have much time and energy for everyone else's. I try to post things I think everyone can relate to. I do enjoy everyone's status updates--I quickly scroll through them when I get a chance and that's how I stay in touch with my friends and family who are on FB.

     (Just for the record, I'm not one of those who collects "friends"--I only add people I know and have met personally.)

      Without meaning to,  I somehow offended my long-lost friend by not responding to her comments often enough to suit her. She felt I'd snubbed her, and she de-friended me. She was irritated that she'd posted something to me about a memory she had, and I hadn't mentioned it, but rather had posted a status update about the same time something that had nothing to do with what she'd written. This led her to believe that I had "issues" and needed mental help or something like that. I was not only shocked but infuriated. And sad.

     People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Do you have anything in common right now, other than you're both on Facebook?


     Maybe her friend request stirred up something in me I didn't want to deal with. I do know that everytime she posted something, I had to stop and process it more than if someone I knew better thad said it. She was always positive, it wasn't anything negative, but it was coming from a virtual stranger. I had to try to put her comments into some sort of context that was unknown to me and therefore I wasn't responding quickly enough to make her feel appreciated. I feel bad about that, but that was unintentional. Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be. 

This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.

HolliandMichael SwingShoI don't know about you, but I don't have enough time for everything and everyone in my life. I've got 2 kids. 7 pets. A husband, a house, a job, a life. I just moved 1500 miles and left behind everything familiar to start over. I've got 30 boxes of stuff that still needs to be unpacked. Where's the empathy? Where's the common sense? What is this, high school? Come on, we're supposed to be grown-ups. When we give expecting to get, it loses it's value. If she'd given me a chance, I'd have responded the way she wanted me to. I just couldn't do it in her time frame. How selfless is that?People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be.This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.