Lesson #8 - Sometimes You Just Need To Laugh

If you know me, then you know that I didn't just become this fabulous overnight. Oh no, it was a long process that was made INFINITELY better thanks to those I have been blessed to call my friends. I know that the term is used loosely for some, but my true friends are those who have been with me through any/everything. No, we haven't known each other since the womb and I rather like it that way. We are a mix-up of quirky personalities and OCD compulsions. I would not be who I am today without my truest of friends - who, over time, became my family. For "Lesson #8" I thought it was appropriate to "pass the torch," if you will, to one of the most important ladies in my life. She has gotten me through a lot - and has done most of it with a smile. She is one of the few people able to make me pee-my-pants-with-laughter even when I'm in the crankiest of moods...one of my best friends...The Brunette:

We all come from a different past, a different life with different experiences… Although in the case of Working Mommy and myself a lot are shared. We are all in different places in our lives… Working Mommy is a mother and a wife, of which I am neither. Our bonds don’t come from being in the same places in life or sharing views… Boy do we differ in a lot of ways. They forged from something deeper and more powerful than anything else… Laughter. And from that first laugh they’ve grown so much. But that all-important foundation is always there and always valued.

Every girl, young or old, naughty or nice, blonde or brunette, deserves that one friend… The person who can make you laugh no matter what. And if you’re really lucky, like I am, you might even have a few… One of whom this blog belongs to and who graciously allowed me to impart some wisdom as a guest blogger.

Now, I’m not talking about a giggle or a chuckle… I’m talking milk-spraying-out-of-your-nose, choke-on-your-own-spit, almost-swallow-your-tongue kind of laughter. You can only really let yourself completely be in the moment like that with special people. It’s a combination of silliness and being comfortable with each other when you really let yourself laugh. Trust is a key component in this kind of laughter. The trust you feel when you can really let yourself go and laugh like that with someone is the same trust you feel when you can cry with someone or be vulnerable with someone. It’s a two-way street that is only shared by the truest of friends. Clearly, we all know that sometimes dignity can go out the window when someone needs a laugh.

Sometimes is a simple as a hilarious birthday card that perfectly reflects the birthday girl, or making up a silly hand shake that eventually takes on a life of its own and takes 15 steps and makes you look incredibly foolish, or drinking rum out of Twizzler straws, or trying to light a Halloween costume on fire, or breaking out into spontaneous song and dance, or having silly catch phrases that are inside jokes that you never ever forget, or just sitting around the dinner table reminiscing. The lesson here is NOT to try and light things on fire for a laugh… It’s that it doesn’t take a special situation to have laughter… But it does require special people.

As you can tell from the glimpse you’ve had into Working Mommy's life… Life is ever-changing and sometimes it happens in the blink of an eye. But there are always constants in your life… And laughter should definitely be one of them. Life’s not always fun and games but it’s certainly nice to know that even when life is tough… A good laugh is just a phone call away. And a good laugh with a special friend is a great reminder that everything is going to be okay.

There’s a very place in my heart that holds all those hilarious memories if I ever need them to get me through because SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO LAUGH.

Hopefully I'll be making more appearances. Until then... XOXO

-The Brunette

P.S. I should clarify one thing… It wasn’t milk that came out of my nose… It was tea...and sprinkles - don't ask. And the swallow your tongue snorting laugh happens often. Get Working Mommy and me together and there’s bound to be tea or milk or snot flying everywhere ;-)

Note: The addition of guest bloggers (probably one a month) has made me re-evaluate the name of my blog and decide to change the name to simply, "Lessons Learned."

Lesson #7 - Religion (In Some Form) IS Worth The Fuss

My mother is Japanese and was raised Buddhist. My father is Armenian and was just raised. After figuring out that they couldn't have children on their own, my parents turned to prayer...i.e. the big G-man. Fast forward quite a bit and you get me. Once my adoption went through, my mom was so happy that she decided to start going to church on a regular basis. That being said, I'm sure you must have figured out that I was baptized as baby. If not, I just told you.

When the babe was born, my mom asked right away when the Baptism was going to be held. You have got to be kidding me...I just gave birth and finally made it home one piece...please let me relax. Well, I definitely did not get in as much relaxation time as I had hoped (the babe's fault, not my mother) so it shouldn't surprise you that I didn't contact our Parish until 2 months later in a panic. "Hello. I am calling to leave a message for the Director of Christian Education. I would like to set up a Baptism for my daughter and it would ideal if that could happen in the next month or so. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience to discuss this important matter. Thank you very much and have a great day." I can only imagine that when the receptionist got this message she thought my poor babe was dying or something. That was apparently not true because I didn't get a call back until weeks later.

After giving the woman a detailed family history, a lock of hair and a vial of blood she announced that our daughter was scheduled for the October 18th Baptism during the 11am Mass...HORRAY!! Finally, I felt as though I could cross one thing off of my EXTREMELY long "to-do" list. Alas, I neglected the fact that the Church woman had yet to get off the phone with me and was saying things like, "preparatory class" and "selection of god parents"...oh good grief! I never thought getting the babe baptized was going to be so in-depth. It wasn't the class I was worried about, but the selection of god parents. I mean, the man and I are the babe's parents - biological, emotional, physical, etc - but she needed spiritual parents. These folks (the church specified one man and one woman - not 2 of either) would be the ones to guide her when the man and I couldn't. They would talk to her about the inner workings of the church and why Sunday school and Mass were important to her development. I equated these lucky couple to be her "surrogate" parents...her moral compass...because Lord knows the man and I are not even fit to be our own moral compasses - let alone one for the babe.

Selecting a god mother wasn't going to be difficult. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall a discussion in high school between myself and the brunette about her being the god mother to my future child(ren). Proposing that idea to her was cake - and she, of course, accepted. Now, while I do have a lot of male friends, I don't have many who are Catholic...at least none who are close enough that I would entrust the babe's spiritual future to. Narrow that search down to those who live a manageable distance from the tri-county area and that list goes down to...well, none. I grappled with this decision for many days (read: hours...okay, minutes) and finally, I abandoned the search.

"I just don't think we have any good, moral, Catholic, male friends to choose from," I told my husband. "I thought only one of them has to be Catholic. Isn't (the brunette) Catholic? She fills that requirement, so why don't we pick (the mechanic)?" Okay, I admit, he was correct. Hear that honey?! Only one of the babe's god parents had to be Catholic (and provide papers for proof) so we had more latitude with the next choice. "The mechanic," I said, "really?" The mechanic was one of the man's groomsmen at the wedding...and he didn't show up to the rehearsal until AFTER it had already taken place. Ugh. I knew this was going to come back to bit us (read: me) but after a short protest, I agreed. The man called the mechanic and all was set. He knew where to be, when to be there, why he had to be there, what the ceremony represented and how to dress. The man even called the week before, then the night before, as a reminder. I thought all of our bases were covered - alas, I was mistaken.

The day of the event comes and minutes before Mass was about to begin, still no mechanic. Damnnit. I knew this would happen. Called his cell. No answer.

ITOLDYOUHEWASNTAGOODCHOCIEANDWESHOULDHAVEJUSTLEFTTHEGODFATHEROPTIONBLANK!

Thankfully, we were able to pull off a Hail Mary play in the final seconds. One of the man's co-workers was in attendance and was chosen at the last minute to be the babe's new god father. I didn't mind having the god father step in...as a matter of fact, he should have been the original choice, though I don't think he would have agreed under normal circumstances. In the end it all worked out. The babe has both a god mother AND a god father. My sanity is now a little more intact. All is right in the world. In case anyone is wondering, the mechanic DID finally show up...approximately 5 hours AFTER the baptism! He was promised the honored title for our next child...though I think the man and I might have to have a talk about that one.