Parenthood

All We Want for Christmas…

Jeanna G3 Comments

I watched the movie 8-Bit Christmas the other day. Being a child of the 80s, I could totally empathize with the main character, and his sister, for that matter. He wanted a Nintendo and she wanted a Cabbage Patch Doll, and I wanted both.

Growing up in a full house, I got used to hand-me-downs. My mom still buys us stuff from the thrift store. So I was bowled over when we all got Cabbage Patch Kids and a Nintendo. My mom worked her butt off to get us not just what we needed, but what we wanted, too. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far, because I also go overboard at Christmas, even though I have to work extra hard to make sure of it.

So I was bit perplexed the other day when my mom made some comment about my sister and me spending an extravagant amount of money on Christmas. My daughter, who also didn’t fall far from the tree, was sure to correct her and point out that Santa did the giving. And I just shook my head, because I’m sure, if she took a Juvenescent Junket, she’d remember that all she wanted for Christmas was to make us happy, no matter what the cost, and she shouldn’t be surprised we’d want the same.

Be an Amigo

Jeanna G4 Comments

As a child, I was taught to mind my manners, especially when visiting someone else’s home. Be respectful of their rules and practices, listen to and learn about the host, graciously accept what is offered to you, and offer to help in return. I believe these same principles apply when visiting another country.

My daughter and I just traveled to Mexico for the first time. She was buzzing with excitement about so many aspects of the trip, especially the part about missing a few days of school. But I told her she wasn’t missing anything because she was still going to receive an education while we traveled. In fact, this was going to be the best form of remote learning in which she could ever participate! As a parent, I need to seize opportunities like this to ensure the practices I learned as a child are also carried on as her custom.

Before we departed, I read to her about Puerto Vallarta’s history, geography, weather, cuisine, attractions, and economy. We learned that 50% of their workforce is in hospitality, so I had the notion that the general population must be struggling. Although we stayed at an all-inclusive resort, I wanted to be aware of any tipping policies. The receptionist told me tipping was not necessary. Mind you, I’ve worked in hospitality for a long time, and I would never turn down a tip. I also assume the employees are trying to catch-up after the Covid drought. So I tipped. Everybody.

I studied Spanish for four years beginning in 8th grade. Unlike riding a bike, I find it easy to forget how to speak a second language without practice. So, in addition to reading about Puerto Vallarta, I’ve been using Duolingo to brush up on this skill, and to introduce it to my daughter. I want to at least try to be able to speak the language of the country I’m visiting. Although I spoke some Spanish, almost everyone I interacted with spoke English very well, and seemed happy to oblige.

We learned more by walking along the Malecón, viewing and purchasing the wares and fares of the local artists and food vendors.

We learned the most from our taxi drivers. Raul told us about tequila tours and to be on the lookout for coatimundis (which we were lucky enough to spot later that night!). Antonio played mariachi music for us, used google translate on his phone to make sure we understood each other, and he pulled over when there was a sight he wanted us to see. He was calling us “familia” by the end of our ride. Our third driver wanted to know all about us. He said he could tell we were not like other gringas. I laughed, looked down at my fanny pack, and then asked what he thought was different. He replied, “Most Americans who visit are arrogant.” That made me sad and disappointed to think ‘we’ were not minding our manners when visiting someone else’s home. He and I continued to get to know each other for the rest of the drive, and it wasn’t lost on me that he finished each sentence with “mi amiga.”

Being a good guest doesn’t require bending over backwards to please your host, and vice versa. It’s as simple as minding your manners. So please remember, we’re all sharing the same world, so mi casa es tu casa, y tu casa es mi casa, amigos.

There’s Power in a Posse

Jeanna G1 Comment

Growing up I had a field behind my house. I loved that field. My imagination and I used to run wild in that field. Then a company bought the field and turned it into a condominium complex. I was resentful until the day I was walking through and met Nicole. I slept at her house that very same night. (What moms would allow that these days?!) And then she and I ran wild through the complex together.

When she moved to town, I introduced Nicole to my other friends. They were my posse, and together we celebrated birthdays and achievements, attended parties and sleepovers, supported each other through heartbreaks and losses, and got into a lot of shenanigans.

I also had my teammates. Sports create a unique bond among teammates. Every day we were working as a unit. We would cheer together, cry together, push each other, and pick each other up. We were sweaty and gross together. We knew each other’s moods, moves, and motivations. We supported each other’s superstitions and routines. We lost as a team, and we triumphed as a team. And together, when we left the field, we got into a lot of shenanigans.

But then we all graduated and split up. Some of us kept in touch, but I moved out of state and didn’t, and still don’t, live close to any of them. I didn’t play sports in college. Instead, I worked. The group of people I hung out with were my coworkers. For those of you who have worked in restaurants, you know what kind of lifestyle that can create. And because I wanted to be in a group, I chose that lifestyle.

Fast forward twelve years, and I was still living that lifestyle. But I was very tired and wanted a change. My go-to solution to making a change had been to pack up and move. The problem was, everywhere I went, I was still in the same place. But I moved again anyway. Although this time, something finally did change: I had a baby. And, although some people don’t consider that a reason to change, I do. So I did. I wasn’t yet sure on the details, but I knew the change had to be profound. So, despite my desire to be in a group, I chose to be alone, because if my daughter’s new life was going to be one she deserved, I needed a new life, too. It was time to get to know myself again, and it was time to start listening for God again.

And so, for four years, I was alone. I worked and I was a mom. I had acquaintances, and I joined a church, but I didn’t have a group of friends like I did before going off to college. But I was fine, because raising my daughter and getting to know my new self were more important. There wasn’t much energy or time leftover anyway.

And then one day I received an invitation to a play date. I was hesitant, but I went. And just like that, I was welcomed into a group of moms. Honest moms who have no problem airing their grievances or admitting when they screw up. This group of women have become my team, my posse. We continue to get to know each other while learning more about ourselves. We build each other up and put each other in check. We laugh with and at each other. And we cry with and for each other.

I needed time alone. I needed to work on my new self and make sure that both my daughter and I got off on the right foot. But this group came along at just the right time. I missed having a tight-knit group of friends like I did as a child. I just didn’t realize how much I missed it until I was in it.

I hope my daughter doesn’t get lost along the way, but if she does, I hope she remembers that she is never really alone, because God is always with her. And while I hope my daughter learns the value of autonomy, I hope she also finds herself in a posse of friends who share mutual trust, admiration, and support. And together, I hope they run wild, and get into a lot of shenanigans.