Crack That Can, My Friends

I'm 32. I don't know what I expected to be at this point in my life. When I was twelve, and I thought of being 32; I don't remember what I pictured. Of course, I would have a beautiful home filled with purple and green inflatable furniture. I would been married to my crush at the time, Benji. And we would have lived in the far rolling hills of Hogwarts. Simple times, my friends.

Little twelve year old me didn't know shit honestly. She didn't know the true feeling of grief. She didn't know the feeling of heartbreak. She didn't know true disappointment. But she did know a few things. She knew how to belly laugh. She knew how to gross out her sisters. She knew pure joy. 

I wonder if twelve year old me would be shocked to find out this is who she turned into. But here's a quick sum-up. 

I'm a wife. 

Marriage is not a Hallmark movie, friends. Well at least not for me. It's more like a foreign film. It has subtitles that you have to read if you want to understand what is happening, but you're distracted by the beautiful scene in front of you. And then things get crazy in the film and you haven't been paying attention and you try to read the subtitles again but they make no sense. Sometimes you've been reading the subtitles the entire time, but you're still confused. So you focus on the beauty of the film again. Sometimes that in itself gets you through. Sometimes, you're just as confused as ever. Sorry, I'm big on metaphors. Anyway, my point is, marriage is tough. Connecting to a person for a lifetime is tough. It takes work. Not to say, I'm dredging through the trenches here. Its just a weird thing. To have your life so entwined with someone else. I never had boyfriends in junior high or high school. Its weird to say that I married my first real boyfriend. But I did. One day I served a coffee to a guy in an Office Max polo. The next day I'm texting the same guy to grab me my preferred type of menstrual pad at Walmart. Marriage is weird.  

I'm a mother. 

There is a little person running around that I literally created. It's a strange thought. This little being that hates Band-Aids; and knows every type of train and dinosaur, literally shot out of my body. He's funny, and he's sweet, and he's super gross. He loves the word "butt." He thinks that Old Town Road is the epitome of good music. He can say something so seemingly off hand that it can either have me rolling on the floor laughing, or sobbing hysterically. I love him. I remember the day that I found out I was having a boy. I knew nothing about boys. I had sisters. My mom had sisters. My dad had sisters. My aunts had girls. I called my older sister, who lives in Chicago, the news. She responded by a sharp intake of breath and, "What are we going to do??"

Luckily, we figured it out. We all learned the different type of trains and dinosaurs. We have gotten dirty and dug up worms in the garden. We have answered questions like: "Have you ever seen a dead horse?" or "You wanna smell my feet?" Both answers are no, by the way. I love being a mother. I'm not a perfect mom, by any means. I have screamed. I have thrown a pop tart across the room and climbed back into bed. But, I have also stayed up gluing on green pompoms to cups of green jello. I have spent hours painting a huge tree on the wall of a nursery while eight months pregnant. I have caught puke in my hands. I have earned some stripes. I don't know if we will ever have another kid. Right now, I'm enjoying getting to know the one I've got. 

I'm a sister.

I have two sisters; a younger and an older. We are nothing alike and we are exactly alike. We all love a good fart joke. We all can quote the Ghost and Mr. Chicken and Jaws.  We know how our mom works. We can all do a good impression of our dad. We can make each other laugh until one of us pees. (Spoiler: it's usually me.) But we're different too. One of us is more serious. One of us is more cultured. One of us is more social. It's awesome to have such deep connection to two people, that in another lifetime or dimension, I wouldn't know at all. I wouldn't be rushing around on Monday nights to text two of my favorite people stupid jokes about the Bachelor. I wouldn't be able to send a pic of my outfit and get an actual, truthful opinion sent back to me. I wouldn't be able to able to call two people; not say a word, who stay on the line as I sob, trying to catch my breath. My sisters are like my right arm and my left arm. They keep me balanced and informed. They let me know what I can handle, and what I can't. They let me know when I'm being ridiculous or when I'm not reacting enough. They are more important to me than they know. Well, they'll know now if they read this.

I'm a daughter.

I am lucky enough to have two parents. A mother and a father. Some of my friends' parents are divorced. Some of my friends' dads have died. The older I get, the more I am faced with my own parents' mortality. And its terrifying. I can't fathom not being able to call my mom to ask if I've put too much brown sugar on a pork loin. I can't imagine not being able to call my dad and yell, "My Jeep is making a weird noise, HELP!"

Some of my closest friends aren't able to do this. Two of my closest friends have lost their dads. I don't know what to say to them sometimes. How are they able to function? I know it's possible but I don't want to know. I count on my dad being there. Even as a silent figure, wearing cargo shorts and phone clip. I have even come to depend on my father in law being there. Dads have always been there for me. So have mothers. I'm a lot like my mom. Once, while working at a coffee shop, I was doing dishes in the back.  My coworker made me laugh. I walked to the front to help a customer and she looked at me, and said, "You're Georgia's daughter, aren't you?"

I replied, "Yeah, I look a lot like her."

The woman shook her head, "No, I heard you laugh."

I'm a homemaker.

I love to cook. I love to look up recipes, and make grocery lists. I love to make dinner out of the crap I have left in the fridge and the cupboard. I like to clean. I like to make my bed. I like to wood burn and make things I saw on Pinterest. I like being the mom with the best treats in the class. I love busy work. There's a beauty in busy work. There is beauty in lists, and notes, and crafts. There is beauty in silence. I find that the deepest thoughts come to me when I'm just standing outside, watering my tomatoes. 

And here's where I will make my introduction. Hi, I'm Ellen. I'm a wife, mother, sister, daughter, and homemaker. Sometimes I'm a humorist. I also enjoy a true crime or ghost story. Actually, I always enjoy a true crime or ghost story. I try to be funny, or at least find humor in the every day. The world is scary, folks. We need to find joy in the everyday. And that's what I'm trying to do; find joy in the every day. So crack a can of wine, and take a deep breath. We're all here, experiencing the world as it explodes in front of us. Let's enjoy ourselves while we can. Cheers.