She Grew up in an Indiana Town

"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop." -Alice in Wonderland.

I suppose I should have started with an "about me." What do you say about yourself? I never know. I hate this part of job interviews, but I suppose that a lot of people do.

I never scored a winning basket for my high school basketball team. I never got to be the head cheerleader. I never gave a riveting valedictorian speech at graduation. Hell, I never even graduated. I'm really nobody. I grew up in a lame town in Northern Indiana, not even remotely close to towns that cool people came from like John Mellancamp or Axl Rose. I have a love/hate feeling for my hometown. Corn and highway is about all there is to the place. It's like Florida. People go there to retire.... Or die. The kids in my town are bored 90% of the time which leads to a lot of babies having babies and small time crime. I can proudly say: I am the only one of my friends that never went to juvie and was past graduating age before I had my oldest child. Both of those things under a person's belt where I'm from can lead to Canonization. I know. I'm patting myself on the back, too.

I have friends from all walks of life. Rich, poor, gay, straight, smart kids, losers, and unfortunately.... Democrats. I have four siblings. One of them is gay. "And she dislikes Democrats," you say? Oh, the irony! I don't hate Democrats, really. We just disagree on some stuff. But, yes.... It's safe to say that I am another straight girl hopelessly dedicated to the gay rights movement. I don't always like the Lefties, but I do hope that Mr. Obama can make some progress when it comes to equal rights if he sees another term. I'm Catholic. I have three kids outside of marriage. I live with my other half. Shame on me. I'm, also, a hypocrite if you couldn't tell. It's ok, though, because I'm willing to shout it from the rooftops.

I change my hair like I change my underwear. I'm a princess and a tomboy all rolled into one. I'm kind of vain, but on the same hand.... I'd give up everything for my babies. I'm terrified that I'll love one of my children more than the other. I'm sure all mothers experience this. I just wonder how three precious people can have all of my heart, but a third of it at the same time. I can spend money like it's no one's business. If I won the lottery tomorrow, I'd probably be broke in six months. I give too easily without question. I'd loan a known thief hundreds of dollars and then be royally pissed off in a year that they never paid up like promised. I care too much. I'm a cynic, but at the same time.... I try to believe that everyone has good in them. This will probably lead to many a problem when I finish my degree. A psychologist that hates everyone, but tries to believe people are all good deep down inside.... Yeah....

I'm musically inclined and challenged all at the same time. I'm the kind of person that "loves this song" every time a new one comes on. I love Neil Diamond and Spice Girls and The Beatles and Metallica and Elton John and AWOLNATION and about every other band.... Except Rage Against the Machine.... I fucking hate them. And Hanson. I pretend like I can play the guitar. Honestly, I can play about the first thirty seconds of "Nothing Else Matters" and that's about it. I like to sing when nobody's listening. I've been caught a couple times. Apparently, I'm pretty alright. I write. A lot. Poems, short stories, lyrics.... I don't let anyone read them. I'm hoping that doing a blog will help me get over the fear I have of people reading my stuff. Maybe one day I'll get the courage to publish something.... But in reality, I'm pretty sure my kids are gonna find heaps and heaps of notebooks when I die and wonder why I never let anyone read them.

I know way too many useless facts. Seriously, most of what I know is dumb stuff that will never be useful. I'm really shy, but I force myself not to be. A lot of times that leads me to become a "babbler." I used to be a huge party girl, but I can now count on one hand how many times I've gone out drinking after turning 21.

I don't know what else to say, really. I'm sure there's more to me, but this is all I can come up with. I'm not entirely too interesting, but I like who I am. I love my family, friends, and all that comes with them. We're kinda.... Odd. But we put the "fun" in dysfunction. I wouldn't have it any other way.
 

Streetlight People

I don't know what gave me the sudden desire to want to start a blog, but here I am. I guess I see it as a way of being my own little form of therapy. I'm a mother to a crazy almost two-year-old and I'm expecting twin girls at any given moment. I'll have three kids, under three, and all before age 23. I'm a little overwhelmed. But in a sort of wonderful way. I'm a little dysfunctional and unconventional. I like it that way. It means my kids are gonna be awesome. I don't know how to start one of these really, so I'll just go in head first.


“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”-Mother Teresa.
I met the person I love with all my heart when I was 12-years-old. I thought he was a complete idiot and a stalker. Turns out, he's not so much an idiot (or maybe he is because I am kinda hard to deal with), and he's also not so much a stalker. But, hey, when you're twelve, anybody that wants to go and do everything with you does sort of freak you out a little. We met under a streetlight in front of my house on New Year's Eve, and before the clock even struck midnight I thought I hated him. Now, ten years later, he's all I could ask for.

It took me about a year to fall in love with him after that all happened. At 13 I had no idea it was love. I thought I was crazy. Why did my stomach get all weird when I saw this doofus? Why did my hands get all sweaty? Why in the hell was I willing to get in trouble for sneaking out to meet up with him under that same stupid streetlight? For about two years after that we had this really awkward "I like you, but I'll never say it" friendship. Mr. Streetlight moved across town with his dad and started going to a different high school the year I started. Finally, I sort of just gave up and got my first high school boyfriend. I thought that was it. I was certain that no matter what happened I had to marry this kid and be with him forever. Little did I know, Mr. Streetlight was going to come back in my life and make it all sorts of complicated. (Because, you know, complicated in high school is when you're dating somebody and like somebody else. Judas, I wish my life was still that "complicated.") Long story short, I ended up kissing Mr. Streetlight under the streetlight and broke it off with my boyfriend over a guilty conscious. Then, of course, nothing happened between us. WHAT?!

After that, I wanted to die. I was embarrassed. All of my friends knew why I broke up with First Real Boyfriend, and it just made me feel kinda... Yucky. I tried to pick up and move on, but I was First Real Boyfriend's first girlfriend ever. It was impossible to get rid of him. I was trying to get past the fact that I was mean to him, but with him being my shadow it was impossible. Thank God summer break helped me peel this poor kid off me like toilet paper from my shoe. I went back to school feeling alright. It was a new year. I was going to start over and forget about Mr. Streetlight and make everything the way I wanted it.

It started out great. I was friends with seniors, how could it not? I had good people in my life. We were about to start driving. I started dating a junior (Prom, anyone?). This was it. This was going to start my moving on!

This is basically a scene out of a John Hughes movie:
I'm in the hall at school walking with my best girl friend, my own personal Duckie that almost even looks like Jon Cryer, and Junior Boyfriend. This is when the slow motion starts---> My best friend says something to me, and I turn to look at her. I catch a glimpse of Mr. Streetlight in the junior hallway grabbing his coat and putting his books away. When did he come back?! was playing like a broken record in my head. BAM! Coco+locker=flat on my back. Oh. My. God. That just happened. Junior Boyfriend is panicking and thinking I had some sort of epileptic fit or something, but Best Friend and Duckie saw exactly what happened. I was just glad my most embarrassing high school moment happened at the end of the day in an empty hallway. Best Friend is dying and helping Junior Boyfriend pick me up and all I can manage to say is, "Did he see that?" This is when poor Junior Boyfriend starts to realize we're spiraling downward quickly.

We break up a week before prom, I go with a good friend of mine, Junior Boyfriend repeatedly blames me for ruining his night to my good friend, and I shake it off. Spring Break rolls around, and my neighbor comes to collect me for a small party at a friend's house. We walk down, and *gasp* Mr. Streetlight is sitting there. It takes all of two minutes for us to finally decide we're a couple. I wanted to throw a parade and shoot confetti all over town and change my MySpace relationship status and plan our wedding and what we'll name our first child RIGHT NOW. Junior Boyfriend does not take the news very well at all. He corners me at a football game and makes me feel about an inch tall because I treated him so badly and broke his heart and just all sorts of guilt trippy nonsense. Sure, I felt bad, but all of the mean things he said were never part of my plan. I never knew that this person I had such strong feelings for would just show back up in my life.

My glorious, blissful reunion lasted less than a year. Mr. Streetlight's life was turning upside down and, like a typical man, he never let anyone know. He was losing his grandmother to ALS and his heart was breaking. Instead of being supportive and caring, I was a jerk. I just thought he was a royal asshole. He was always short with me and acted like he was in his own world when we were together. He was in his own world. This woman who essentially raised him was in incredible pain constantly and there was absolutely nothing he could do for her other than hold her hand and watch. I left him in a very petty and cold hearted way and wondered why I'd wasted so many years waiting for someone who was just an ass.

Several months later I ran into a mutual friend who informed me that his grandmother had passed and that it had all been going on while we were together. He said that he'd forgotten to get into contact with me to inform me of the funeral, so I had missed it. I stood there in shock. Everything sort of fell into place. I started to understand what had happened and why things had been the way they were. I found out that he was angry at me for not attending the funeral of a woman he loved so much and that was my neighbor for years. Honestly, I'd be angry, too. He'd told his best friend to tell me. Who was he going to believe? The girl that suddenly dumped him out of the clear blue at such a horrible moment in his life, or the person he trusted with everything? I felt so sad. I hadn't even known she'd sold her house or moved out of the neighborhood. How does someone miss a thing like that? His friend told me that he was holding up as alright as he could, he'd started seeing someone new, and they were doing great. That was that. I thought I'd never have another chance to say, "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I never knew things were that bad." I just thought that he'd hate me for the rest of my life and I'd have to accept it.

Years went by with awkward run ins here and there. Everybody always said how much he cared about New Girl and how awesome she was and how they were probably just going to get married at any given moment. It hurt. I felt like no matter how bad things went that last time I could just never quite shake him. He was this constant thought in the back of my head. I missed him. I missed being his friend. I missed doing stupid things with him. If I could never have him back and try to fix what I had broken, I at least wanted a chance to be there if he ever needed someone to talk to. I even cried to his best friend about how I loved him and never got the chance to tell him and all of this other crazy teenaged drunken crap. His best friend decided to never tell me the truth about how Mr. Streetlight really felt. So, I sucked it up. I put on my big girl undies and moved on.

I was 19-years-old and had just ended the worst relationship of my life. I was five months pregnant with my beautiful little boy. I was standing in the middle of the town's annual street fair and I feel a tap on my shoulder. There he is. I see his face just drop as I turn to present him with a big round, "Yes, the rumors are true," pregnant belly. All he can manage to say is, "How'd that happen?" I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't know how to act. I didn't know anything. He gave me this hug that made me understand that everything was ok between us, and I think that hurt more than believing he hated me. As I stood there trying to hold onto what I missed and wanted so much, New Girl walked up. Painful introductions were made, and I started to walk back to where I was staying. He handed New Girl some money and asked me where I was trying to go when she left. I spent this entire evening trying not to just gush everything to him. About how I wondered if he was ok, if he was happy, or if he thought of me, too. We spent a few hours together talking about what had happened in the years since we'd spoken. He bought me dinner, if you can call Carnie Food and gas station candy cravings dinner, and sat on the curb with me. He finally looked at me and said,
"I threw my plate across the room," and I laughed because I had no idea what he was talking about. "When Best Friend told me that you were pregnant, I threw my plate across the room because it shocked me so much."

"How'd that work out for you?" I asked.

"It made New Girl pretty mad," he laughed.

We only saw each other that one time. We talked and texted occasionally, but that was the only time we actually spent together. I was supposed to meet up with him when I was eight months along at a Zac Brown concert in the bigger city our town sat next to, but his relationship was ending. He had gotten into a fight with New Girl after she and his youngest sister ran into a couple of our mutual friends and me. I waited where he told me to meet him with our friends, and he never came. He texted me when he found out I was having my son and said he wanted to come see us, but his ride fell through and he couldn't come. On Christmas Eve he texted me while I was in Mass to apologize for everything and wish my baby and I a Merry Christmas. I sighed and thought I was finally over everything.

My baby was four months old when his best friend texted me saying I needed to come over right away. I'm thinking somebody is dying, so I jump in my car. I get there and see Mr. Streetlight and I'm transported back to 13 all over again. Why is my stomach all weird because of this doofus? Why are my hands all sweaty? Why in the hell do I feel like I'm about to get in trouble for meeting him under the streetlight?

In April it'll mark two years of us figuring out what we really wanted. Figuring out that we both felt the same way for ten years and were too afraid to admit it to anyone except ourselves. Right now, I'm waiting for him to come home. He'll be gone for five months for military training, but now I'm ok with the waiting because I know at the end of the day he will come back. One morning I'll wake up and he'll be here. My son will scream for his "ada" that took over for someone that didn't want the job. My girls will get the long awaited chance to meet their daddy. I will get to hold the hand that I've waited for. We've been through ups and downs, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I never knew how to put into words how exactly I felt until right before he left for his training, and they aren't even mine.... But they're beautiful and describe how I've felt for so many years.