Dear Sandy,

Ugh.

The letter I can hardly even bring myself to type. I've been thinking of it for weeks, dreading it for weeks, and words fail me it makes me so sad to even start. Where do I begin? What can I say? I'll start at the beginning.

I met Sandy through email when she was thinking of moving to Colorado from Maryland. Having lived in Baltimore for 3 years, and loving Colorado, I was very encouraging to this lady who was contemplating picking her family up and moving across the country. This nice, Indian lady. (Remember it was email and with her last name and daughter's name, she must have been Indian, right? )

When I think back now to our first couple of exchanges, I'm a little astonished that we're even on speaking terms, let alone close friends. After I met her here in CO at a playgroup meeting, one of my first sentences to her was, "So, your husband didn't marry a nice, Indian girl?" (open mouth, insert foot). But Sandy didn't miss a beat, she opened up immediately about the difficulties of marrying someone of a completely different culture and was unfazed by my rude, rude comment.

The next time we met, another playgroup:
Me:"Do you ever cook Indian food at home?"
Sandy: "Yes, that's all I cook."
Me: "Oh, I love Indian food, you should have me over sometime!" (open mouth, insert foot)

Again, after this rude, rude comment you'd think she'd have given me the stink-eye and moved on. But no. A day or two later I actually got a dinner invitation-- (I think it's probably a bad idea to reward someone's rudeness with a yummy Indian dinner, but I can't argue at this point.)

And I think that this weird initial exchange, this unlikely way to become friends just plainly epitomizes the entire rest of our relationship. It's just easy. Since meeting, we've never fought, held grudges, said things that were taken the wrong way, or had to navigate any of our words or deeds toward each other. We are just friends. It is easy and simple and plain. Without headache or heartache or jealousy. No second-guessing or manipulating (aside from the small guilt trips to make someone come out to go dancing), or bad feelings. I can be flaky and stir controversy and Sandy doesn't care. She can be competitive and hard-headed (yes, you can!) and I don't care.

Since meeting through this playgroup 6 years ago, we've done a lot together and hardly gone through a day without calling each other... typically 4-12 times a day. 5ks and triathlons, skiing, and swimming. Playgroup, preschool, elementary school. Trips to the zoo, the mall playarea, the North Pole, street festivals, balloon festivals, parks, pools, and countless hours at each other's houses. Girls' nights, girls' weekends, wine in the morning, wine in the afternoon, and wine at night, pizza with friends, Ginger's Hotter, and one scrapbooking sleepover. We've done it all.

My heart is heavy thinking of dog-earing this time in my life. If someone told me that my life hiccupped and I had to re-do the last 6 years, I would do it all over again with no changes, no regrets. It's been great.

I'll miss you so much, you are my favorite friend. This is so hard.

But I'd better see your ass in Deutschland at least once, and you better invite me to the next girls' weekend in Vegas, and you can wear out my MagicJack, and in a few years we'll be back in the U.S. and but a flight away. Unless, of course, you decide that I pick nice places to live and you follow me to North Carolina.

Dear Sandy, you are so loved. You will be so missed.
I think I'll just download the Ginger's Hotter playlist to my ipod, and I'm pretty sure you'll be right back with me again if I close my eyes and dance.

I love you,
Katy

Dear Tisha,

When I met Tisha, she only had 2 kids. Over to my house for a playgroup I noticed she had a tatoo and you was a runner. I knew could totally relate to this woman. A mom with a tatoo! Six years and four kids later, we're still connecting. Although when we call each other, it's for some “one quick question” it always turns into an hour long conversation about deep, deep topics. All the topics you're not supposed to talk about. Religion, abortion, politics, money. And even though we might disagree, we always come out the other side just fine. Looking back, we're almost unlikely friends; except that we like each other so much. Yes, there can be admiration from the other side of the aisle.

Together, Tisha and I got very green over the past year. I bought canvas shopping bags, Tisha bought canvas shopping bags. Tisha bought cloth napkins, I bought cloth napkins. Tisha dusts with vinegar and olive oil and I dust with vinegar and olive oil. Somehow we entered this parallel universe of green-ness where we grew together. Green and organic and free-range and grass-fed.

Tisha is my “strive to be better” friend. Her commitment to DO is so admirable. I love her gigantic heart, her gigantic family. She lives her life with such integrity. With honesty to her children, to her relatives, to her friends, to herself. She is someone who can be depended on to tell you the deal about something but without meanness or condescension. And because she's always so upright about things, her sarcastic sense of humor ALWAYS throws me off. I'm still not used to it.

Tisha, I think that it's probably healthy to live in a state of de-Nile sometimes. So, let's just say that because I want to reduce my carbon footprint, I'm just not going to be coming out to Peyton any longer to see you. I'll still be RIGHT HERE in COLORADO SPRINGS, but I'm not going to buy gas to travel that far for the next, oh, 3 ½ years. But I'll read your blog everyday and you can read mine and we'll call sometimes. And in a few years when I'm ready to have a high impact on the environment again, I'll come see you. See? It's really ok. I'll be right over here.

But still, I will miss you dearly. I have loved watching your family grow and grow and grow. And I can't wait to meet the new additions that you'll have next time I see you. We'll be old and worn out, the two of us. But it will be the same, I'm sure of it. My friendship with you is easy that way.
I love you,
Katy

Dear Susan,

You were my first friend in Colorado.

One night when the lights went out I went over in search of some matches. Turned out your oldest was the same age as my oldest-- 2-- the boys hit it off and you and I did too. Six years later, our kids are still great playmates, gangling into the tween years, and we are still good friends too.

You are my organization, planner-friend that I look up to when trying to lasso my own life. I can always say to myself: “Susan would get her Christmas shopping done this week so that she's not worrying about it at the last minute. I'd better do that too.” And, “Susan's house is cleaner than this. I'd better straighten things up.” I admire your ability to layout the schedule and the plan and carry it out. Not that I can actually replicate that, but it's something I strive for.

Anyway, I have loved calling you my friend. You are so likable, easy to talk to, very relatable – especially when you have two boys who you're not sure you're raising right. You're the kind of friend who's not sure you're raising yours right either (since we're both verifiable “slacker-Moms”) but you can totally relate to me and that just feels so good. At least I know we're both in hot water together.

You're also my most mature friend – sorry you other guys. You know when to keep her mouth shut – something I really admire, and how to say things tactfully so that no one's offended. And you're quick to forgive. Also a high sign of a mature mind. On the immature side, you're a LOT of fun in Vegas. Susie helps us get free drinks. Do you see why I like you so much?
You are kind of person that that someone else could not NOT like. I think it's an impossibility. To know you is to know why everyone else loves you too.

You are my warm, wonderful friend and one of my most favorite people in the whole world. I have loved growing up with you and your family these past years and I dread saying good-bye.
Thank you for being my friend. I love you. I will miss you. (as I write this through eyes cloudy with tears). I will miss you so much.

Love, Katy

Mom-in-Training

Okay, I have a confession to make. It's not that my kids are bad it's that I am lazy. After tightening the rope the past few days, I've gotten a nice response. Politeness, apologies, offers to help, and no whining when I ask for more work. And no TV.

I guess it turns out that if I actually parent, the kids will actually grow (in character, I mean). So, I suppose this means that just because they can go to the bathroom by themselves and brush their teeth by themselves, and tie their shoes; this does not mean I can check out and then yell when they misbehave. I'll have to keep being there, insisting on good behavior. I guess that's not too much to ask for. I am, after all, supposed to be the parent. This is my job. Gee, it's my only job pretty much, so if I'm sucking at it, well. That's a little embarrassing!

So the good news is that the kids are trainable. The question is... am I?

Throw Me a Lifeline Here!

I have a confession to make:
My kids are bad.

They are rude, mean, thoughtless little thugs to each other and it is driving me crazy.

They whine, they cry, they hit, they hit with books, they take, they yell, and they don't share, say 'sorry', apologize, or speak kindly to each other. And I have to live with them. It has to stop.

I'm at a loss. I lecture, I model, I speak kindly, I act kindly, I speak softly, I (literally) almost never yell or raise my voice. I ALWAYS say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'excuse me.' I help them problem solve so that *next time* they'll do better. They don't. They just don't. Good behavior is completely escaping them.

I decided that homeschooling mothers whose kids watch NO TV and NEVER get to play on the computer probably have pretty sweet kiddos. It's probably all of the QUALITY time they spend and the forced CREATIVITY. So guess what? Starting today, no TV, no time on the computer untill I start seeing some serious NICENESS going on around here. (But the key is that if niceness results from no screens, I think I'll have to stick with no screens.) And more CHORES. They're probably not busy enough.

I'm hoping that with all that spare time for their brains to expand, they'll stop harassing each other. How is it that these kids can be so sweet in school - to the teachers, to their classmates, and to each other they are hateful and inconsiderate?

How is a mother supposed to instill LOVE to her children for each other? Or not even love, I'll settle for civility! Answer me that!

WANTED: MIF

MIF (Married to an Indian Female) living in Stuttgart, Germany. Must cook South Indian food regularly and require guests (what the hell- guest) to help consume. Minimum invitations of 3-4 times per month. Must tolerate 3 unruly children who pick at their vegetables.

In exchange, I will sit nicely at your table while you serve me, ask me if I want more, and I'll drink all your wine. Must be red. Preferably merlot, but this is not a deal-breaker.

Most of leftovers must be sent home with guest.
A plus if Indian husband can open laptops for occasional diagnosis.

Serious inquiries only.
555-6699.

Schizophrenic Car People

Say what you will. That we're being silly, fickle, wishy-washy, impulsive. That's okay, because you'd be WRONG. Dead wrong.

The problem was the CLOCK didn't really work on the other car and it was driving me crazy. How can I be expected to drive safely when one of the pixels is out on the digital clock reading? I had to stare at the thing endlessly, weaving in and out of traffic, just to determine if I was running late for preschool or not. I just could not live in that state. It was UNbearable.

So rather than get the $200 fix, we decided instead to buy a new car*. Whew! Much better. The clock in this car is analog, so I shouldn't have that messy pixel issue anymore. I didn't know how I was going to cope any longer.

*Just so you know, this car is WELL used. We recycle, after all. And in this car I won't go hurdling off the side of the road in a spinout, or spending my time underneath the car fitting on chains in the snow because I didn't have AWD. And that makes my husband feel very happy.