You Haven't Changed a Bit!

Have you ever come across an old acquaintance, maybe an old friend, a middle school classmate or family member that you haven’t seen in years (and I mean years) and the first thing they say to you is “You haven’t changed a bit”! Does it really make you smile, does it? Are you actually happy to hear someone say to you that, in their opinion, you are exactly the same as you were in 6^th grade when you forgot how to brush your hair and you wore your mom’s clothes to school?? Does it?

At 33 years old, I literally cringe when I see people I went to middle school with simply because of that one sentence…also, because half of them went to High School with my ex husband. There’s a lot of history and a lot of “stories” that in a nutshell made people want to hide their children from me around 1998 through early 2002. To this day, the “it girls” always give me that head tilt, “poor Liz, ended up exactly how we anticipated” sympathy smile. My stomach hurts, I sweat, forget how to speak and immediately plan my exit strategy. I go as far as hiding my face thinking “if I don’t see you, you don’t see me”. Half the time, I end up making myself more obvious than necessary. I plaster on my “I’m so excited to see you, but really I’m not, smile” and then I leave as quickly as possible. And all I can think of after the fact is, why? Why do I feel like I’m back in middle school? There’s this movie, You Again, that sort of reminds me of my life however at the end of the movie (or where I am today) I’m not BFFs with my old arch nemesis.

The honest truth is that I bring these behaviors on to myself. I know I’m not the person I was in middle school, I know I’m not the person I was in my first marriage and I know in 10 years I won’t be the person I am today but I’ll tell you something, I’m sure going to like her a heck of a lot better than those other two girls. My real struggle is coming to terms with who I used to be. People, old school friends, family, etc. may actually be referring to my looks and hey, I’m going to argue that I still think I look better then my Kris Kross phase.

Coming home from oversees and finding that I couldn’t just jump into my old life with my old friends caused a lot of resentment. We had all changed and the world did not stop turning just because I left town. Still, it bothered me beyond words. The entire mix of settling back in MA, having to go through my last year of HS and having absolutely nothing to do unless my mother drove me to a soccer field to kick the ball around was a recipe for disaster. I pulled away, got mad at my friends and assumed they would bend to my selfish needs. I started resenting my own life, my own choices and suddenly those choices started reflecting who I was. I allowed the wrong people to come into my life and to put it bluntly, I didn’t care. However, the wrong people, which included the future ex-husband, were friends with the mean girls that I went to middle school with that were now the it girls in HS. Can you see the hole I began to dig for myself? They quickly relayed my lifestyle throughout the neighborhood and I quickly became the town outcast. My “I don’t’ care attitude” only grew stronger. I was on a downhill spiral of “it’s everyone else’s fault”.  So you see, every time I run into someone, they become a reminder of my middle school years and worse, that place between 1998-2002. I try to believe our past tends to resurface every so often because it’s an opportunity to acknowledge it and hopefully one day accept it so then maybe, just maybe it won’t sting so much the next time it comes up.

I remember writing in Calvin’s journal shortly after I went back to school around 2002. I promised him a better life. When we bought our “forever home” this past May, the first thing I thought of was that journal entry. In 13 years, I have come a long way from “poor me”. Finding peace in the road I traveled to get to where I am will always be a lifelong journey. Learning to accept that with each conflicting memory that sometimes I’ll revisit the hurt, embarrassment and even anger. Part of me sees it as penance, a life lesson, and the other part, a gentle reminder in case I decide to pass judgment on others. I had to be broken down in order to build myself back up. If I didn’t lose my way, I don’t think I would be able to overcome some of the challenges that I have faced and still face in my life now.  

Moving into our home in Methuen, the town that I grew up in, meant that there would be a lot more opportunities for people to say to me, “You haven’t changed a bit”. Instead of becoming defensive or running away maybe I should change my way of thinking otherwise it will continue to consume me. So where else should I test this theory...but on Facebook, right? I’m surrounded in the Facebook world by people I grew up with. For a long time I wouldn’t accept friend requests from people that looked at me wrong in middle school. I finally accepted a friend request that kept coming through but like the rest of the people I was friends with as a child, I just didn’t subscribe to her. Basically I avoided the town of Methuen at all costs. Obviously, this new way of thinking was going to take some time. I started slow, “Liking” pictures on people’s walls that I used to be friends with, adding a comment here and there. Slowly some started responding back and then they started responding to my own wall posts, even posting pictures of us when we were younger. Then, I thought, let’s step a little further out my comfort zone and comment on the wall of one of the people that I would otherwise run away from. It took a few days but, sure enough, she responded back and was actually pleasantly sincere that I was asking about her. Huh, who would have thought? Apparently the world, not only, didn’t stop turning when I left but people apparently didn’t stop growing up either. Suddenly I feel selfish, hmm.

I changed my behavior and something happened, people I least expected started opening up. Not everyone but some and that’s at least something. We give advice to each other, we laugh at pictures of our kids and we offer support when it’s needed most. The experience, in many ways, has been humbling, I learned a lot about myself and my own actions. Maybe we won’t ever hang out but when/if I do see them out and about, my smile will be genuine even if I still get the initial head tilt. It’s on me if I assume that everyone I run into thinks I’m a train wreck. We are our own worst critic and I see now that I brought on a lot of the behaviors because I assumed people were stuck in 1998. For me now, I haven’t changed a bit means...that I have the same quirky smile, the same laugh or maybe the same light in my eyes that I did as a child. That’s what I’ll think of and that is now the best compliment.

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Good Morning Christmas

“Good Morning Christmas!”…Ms. Maisie yelled as she sat in the backseat of the car on the way to church Christmas morning. She was so excited to say Happy Birthday to baby Jesus. As if she knew I had an ulterior motive, shortly after we arrived and service began so didn’t Maisie’s big show. Two trips to the bathroom and a glove across three pews later and we made it through Mass.  Calvin carried Maisie over to the manger as her chants of “I want to go home” grew progressively louder. The details of the manger in our church were beautiful, right down to the lighting and the placement of the hay. You could feel the warmth that surrounds a family welcoming a child into the world. They captured it perfectly.

Christmas is my second favorite holiday with the first being Thanksgiving. There is something warm and comforting about Thanksgiving. The family gather’s at my parent’s house for a day of eating, napping and putting on my turkey pants so I can eat some more. To this day, Adam laughs at me every time I say turkey pants.

Christmas somehow loses its luster and becomes about decorating, baking, wrapping, buying and any other “ing” you throw in there that just zings the joy out of what should be a very peaceful and thankful holiday. It is timing, organizing, writing lists and budgeting. Magically we come up with all this extra cash in the month of December that we don’t have any other time of the year. And as if Adam knows my anxiety level has peaked, he comes home and say’s, “I have secret Santa and Toys for Tots to do”. Correction, MY DARLING, I have secret Santa and Toys for Tots. And then suddenly Christmas morning is upon us and there is a quiet sense of joy that overcomes me. I get up extra early so I can shower, have a cup of coffee and just enjoy the moment. I’m not sure how or why it seems to be the one day that the kids sleep in but if that’s my present, I’ll take it. After I wake the kids up (yes, I wake the kids up on Christmas morning) and we open stockings, we go to church and then we come home to make cinnamon buns and open presents. That is the best gift I can get each year. It makes all the stress and anxiety so worth it, right down to getting a sinus infection and hearing my dishwasher finally kick the bucket on Christmas day.

Maisie loved her new kitchen and Calvin said, “This year was awesome!” And it truly was a great year. But in my opinion, every year with my children is a great year. The part I love the most about being a parent is that I have this “corny card” that I get to play every so often. You know the one that makes your children look down at the floor and shake their head? I turn on Christmas music any time I do anything remotely Christmas-ey from wrapping presents to baking cookies and right down to the “Christmas Eve” candle. No one complained until I said, “tid-bit” and then I heard my 12 year old say, “mom, no one says tid-bit anymore”…must have gotten carried away.

I love all the traditions we’ve created in our home including the ones we’ve carried over from our families. Adam’s mother always makes cinnamon buns every morning for Christmas and since we’ve lived in our home he makes them every year as well. After leaving mass, Calvin says “I hope when we walk into the house I smell cinnamon buns”. Guess we’ve successfully passed that on.  

And then there are the new traditions that seem to keep sneaking up on us. I was driving Calvin to karate and we were looking at all the Christmas lights, in awe of how detailed some houses can get. I usually don’t get past the tree, candles and a wreath on the door. Anything outside is Adam’s domain. My only preference has been white lights and candles in the windows. The candles, a tradition from my side, will have to wait until our new home welcomes us. Until recently I thought the multi-colored lights looked cheesy. And then Calvin says, “Mom, every time I see the lights with all the different colors, I think about candy”. So now, I think next year we’ll have to get some new lights.

And then there’s New Year’s Eve, the last hurrah of the year. Ringing in the New Year is a celebration I only partake in while I’m sleeping. Started happening around the time I turned 30. Calvin celebrates with his grandfather and the little ones are fast asleep well before midnight. The week of though I tend to reflect on the year that has past. The year began and I was 8 months pregnant with a 6^th grader and a two year old. Adam and I were working at the same job living in our home of 4 years and just going with the flow. The year ended with two 30lb children and a 7^th grader who was finally convinced to look into vocational schools! The house is on the market, we’re waiting patiently for our new home to get approved, Adam is waiting patiently for a well deserved promotion and me…I’m looking to change up my career a bit, go back to school in hopes that it will give me more time with my crazy kids. And then maybe when this year is over it won’t feel like it went by in a flash.