Hugs

Across the Generations

While Alexis doesn't like the pizza that the husband and I grab for late dinner every Thursday, she does VERY MUCH so like Taco Bell. It's a special treat for her after a long day of school and dance classes. Dinner doesn't happen until nearly 8:00, so why not let her have her Doritos Locos Cool Ranch Tacos with beans in place of meat, right? Right.

As I pulled up to the window for my first stop on the "Pick-Up Dinner Train," I realized someone new was working the window. He was a teenager, perhaps 17 or 18, with dark hair and even darker clothes. He was wearing black from head to toe, with a familiar black sweatshirt. The sketches and symbols and words screamed the identity the young man has chosen -- Anarchist.

It took me a millisecond to remember all of my friends in high school who wore identical sweatshirts. Seriously -- completely identical. There are some things that will always stay the same, it seems. "Anarchist" clothes are apparently on that list.

As I was pondering how little things have changed when it comes to so-called rebellion and teens, I thought about where those friends are now. One is a skateboard riding "tough guy." He now is the father of three little girls. He spends his day surrounded by glitter and sequins. Another is a stay-at-home mom who spends her days wiping little butts. Yet another is a twice-divorced mother of a teenager who is now dealing with herself in the form of her daughter. Rebellion comes in the form of brightly dyed hair, black clothes from head-to-toe, and attitude for miles. Like mother, like daughter.

As the young man who works at Taco Bell reached out the window to hand me Alexis' dinner, I wanted to laugh. He likely thinks he's so original, but the same things have been happening for twenty years. And he probably has no idea that his future may very well be filled with domesticity and complete averageness.

The Power of If

I've always thought "if" is a terribly weak word. It's not if you're going to do it. It's when you're going to do it. Positive thinking, and all of that, is what matters.

To quote William Jennings Bryan "Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not something to be waited for; it is something to be achieved."

"If" has no place in making destiny.

But then there came a day when I realized "If" had fallen out of my head. For years and years, I didn't use it. I didn't use "when" either. It just wasn't. Alexis was to be an only child and that was all there was to it. There were no ifs or buts or when. There was nothing.

And then there was less than nothing.

I still haven't brought back the "if." Which, that's kind of hysterical when you think about it. 22 weeks into what should probably be considered a "when" is likely WAY past the point of reasonable. But, sometimes the brain doesn't make sense when it thinks with the heart.

Which is all to say there's a reason I have done absolutely nothing to prepare for the if or when or whatever. There are no tiny clothes sitting in a closet. I sort of started looking at strollers for a millisecond, but then something shinier came along. I'm vaguely aware that there are other things we probably need to buy, but whatever. I can barely remember that there's an if or when or whatever on the way, let alone do something to prepare for it. The brain doesn't allow in that which is not possible. Or so it seems ...

It's funny the power the word "if" has. I wouldn't have ever known if I hadn't been forced to invite it back into my life.

(Adding to the hilarity of my refusal to accept the "when" into my life: the Tiny Human has been hosting a crazy kung fu dance party the entire time I was typing this. SUCH ATTITUDE. SO SOON.)