You Belong With Me
What is the world coming to, when Lois Frickin’ Lane is singing a Taylor Swift song? If you know the song in the title, you’ll understand why as you read along. If you don’t, check out the lyrics as they seem to fit this situation better than any song.
I’m nervous because of reason 3,698. Somewhere, someday, you may find a book with all of the reasons in numeric order. Until then…
You really ought to be careful what you wish for. You should also be very specific while making a wish. If you wish for a million dollars without specifying that you don’t want to… collect on a dead relative… or be part of a class action suit for those with missing limbs, you may be sorry when you get all that money.
For the last three years we’ve been in our home, both of my kids have had their eye on a certain somebody. The boy has his best girlfriend and the girl has her best boyfriend. I like both of the kids very much.
But as homecoming approaches…tonight, my insides are a wreck. Both of my babies will go to the homecoming dance with the people they like best. I want them to have fun…but not too much. I want the night to be memorable…but not unforgettable. I want them to be back in Pampers and onesies!!! I miss having my babies be babies.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. As far as personalities go, they are like a little black-eyed peas song in a veggirific ipod. Humor, same twisted, fun-loving all around. Light-hearted, drama-free in a small town it amazes me daily how all four steer clear of the soap opera this town revolves around.
I should have no worries about their dates. See I don’t even like that word, date…a-hem. When Lane 1 was a freshmen, as Lane 2 is now, he was invited to prom by a senior. Because I trust him, and the girl (who had a very good reputation) I said okay, even though he couldn’t officially date until he was 16.
Now, my little Lane 2, who will be 15 next month (I can’t believe that!!!!) has also asked if she could go to a big dance with a boy.
The (pronounced thee) boy.
The bestest friend who happens to be a boy.
The boy who isn’t her brother who happens to have so much in common with her that it makes me want to check my own uterus to make sure he isn’t her brother.
The one who she can cheer up with a goofy accent or a funny face.
The one who can make her laugh on her shittiest of days.
The one she helps with dating advice.
The one boy… who when she talks about causes her eyes to twinkle and her cheeks to flush.
At least this boy isn’t a senior. I kinda think I would have pulled some double-standard bullshit on her, if he were. And, yes, I know how wrong that is, but I’m okay with that.
Lane 1 is going with that girl.
You know who I’m talking about…the female version of himself.
The one who makes him laugh his face off.
The one who laughs from her belly, open mouthed, contagious hysteria, rocking like Rainman.
The one who always lets him know when his clothes don’t match.
The girl who he yells at for wearing flip flops on a cold rainy day.
The one who yells back, “Then get me some shoes and socks!”
The one he can sit and talk to for hours about nothing.
Yes, that girl.
When my kids were younger, I always hoped, wished even, that they would find someone who they truly enjoy being around who appreciates them for whatever they stand for. I guess I always wanted friendship, love, compassion, witty banter and genuine happiness for them, like their dad and I share. But I forgot to wish and hope for it to happen when they were 47 or 59 years old. That is where the specific wishing comes in handy. Learn from my mistakes, people.
I’m not rushing anyone down any alters, however, I know it’s the early stages of empty-nest syndrome. This, in a way is the first step of a mom letting go. (Please pay no attention to my white knuckles, I really am okay with this letting go stuff.)
Pictures will be coming soon to a blog near you.