Dear Internet,
I know. I’ve been gone too long. Steve says you’re all angry and rioting with pitch forks and torches. I say get in line and take a number, people. 
Trauma in the Bay
I’ve spent the last two weeks terrorized, traumatized, and much more. As you know, I went back to California for my high school reunion. My grandmother was there from Lousisana staying with my mother so I wanted to stay with my mother in order to spend more time with Grandma. I barely survived. What began as an Orlando-induced eye twitch, culminated yesterday in full crushing chest pain, dizziness and the whole heart attack symptoms again. Was it stress or lifting a wheelchair (my grandmother’s) again? I do not know, but I do know that I probably could not have survived even a few more days in the Bay Area. I came home late last night and have never been happier to see my own bed in my life.
It’s Either Broken or, um, Not
If you remember, just days before we left, son #1 fell off his scooter. The ER told us his elbow was broken. I took him the next day to the orthopedist who did his hip to have it casted. The orthopedist thought it wasn’t broken so he sent us on to California in a temporary cast. After a week, the elbow was still very swollen, badly bruised and he was still in a lot of pain, so I had to take him to our old pediatrician who told us elbows were tricky and he thought we needed to see another orthopedist. Two more sets of x-rays later and they still weren’t sure. They finally decided it was either a very severe sprain or a non-displaced (not separated) fracture and that he was to leave it in this temporary cast for a few more weeks. As of today, his pain level is pretty much under control. Son #1 has also had a cough for six weeks and we had to start antibiotics a few days ago. I daresay this child is finally on the mend. Sigh.
You say “Tree Hugger” like it’s a Bad Thing
In case you hadn’t figured it out, I was the rebel in the family. The black sheep, if you will. Right before we left, son #1 was talking to my father on the phone and my dad told him they could watch Pirates of the Carribean at his house. And of course, I immediately vetoed a PG-13 movie for the kids. My dad then demanded to speak to me, at which time he called me a tree hugger and hung up. So I did what any rebel would do. I dressed my children in tie dye, jeans and sandals to head back to California. My dad almost had a stroke over the tie dye and I had an ear to ear grin because I knew the effect it would have on him. If he’s going to call me a hippie tree hugger, then I’m afraid he’s going to have to pay for that comment. 
All day long yesterday he complained about the boys’ tie dye shirts. And all day long I grinned about it.
Old People, Chocolate, and Control Freaks
The family stuff going on with my Grandma is….well, I don’t want to say too much about it. There’s a lot going on and since this is a public forum, what’s going on now is better left unsaid for now. Suffice it to say, I ended up so upset a few times by stuff my mother is doing, I was unable to speak from sobbing so hard. The constant tension was palpable. My grandmother and I ended up always having to sneak around like errant teenagers. The kids and I snuck her out of the house and took her to ice cream a few times when my mother had told her she couldn’t go (for no particular reason I might add, except to exercise control). My grandmother is not diabetic, if you were wondering. She loves sweets and I felt an old lady has earned herself some junk food. I bought her chocolate and milk shakes and made her cake. She snuck into my room yesterday morning and asked me to help her hide the chocolate I had bought her in her purse. My mother took her back home to Louisiana yesterday and she wanted to take the chocolate with her. Hiding chocolate in every suitcase, nook and cranny was no easy task. My dad said that much to my mother’s annoyance, Grandma spent most of the plane trip home eating chocolate. I love my grandmother so fiercely. You just could not possibly imagine what I put up with to be with her. Was it worth it? Every second I get to spend with her is worth any price. So yeah, it was worth it. I only wish she lived closer. Or with me. But I’ll take what I can get.
Senior Moment Day
I still haven’t been able to get a firm handle on how I felt about the reunion. I suppose I’m just going to have to be content with saying it was a mixed bag. High school was such a difficult time for me. It was the most trying period in my life. I moved out at 15 (yes, my mother is that difficult) so I was in such a different place in high school. I had to worry about where I was sleeping that night and where my next meal would come from. All the while on the outside, appearing to be a normal teenager. I did my share of drinking too. Although, at my high school, alcohol was a staple. They showed a movie someone took of “Senior Cut Day” and Steve was appalled at the amount of drugs and alcohol so readily available and in use at our high school. I had tried to describe it to him before, but it’s really hard to understand unless you were there. Sadly, I had to lean over and ask one of my friends if I had even been at Senior Cut Day because it wasn’t ringing a lot of bells for me. She assured me I was. Luckily there was no photographic evidence of my indiscretions.
Like Peter Pan, but Fatter and Uglier
I think the toughest part of going to this reunion was the realization that some people had not moved on since high school. There were people there so shamefully drunk I was shocked. It’s clear that many of them are still “partyin’ hard.” Get a grip, people. You’re 38 years old. One of the biggest partyers in our class suggested we go to his mom’s house and get a keg. My mouth dropped open when he said that. I almost said, “Dude. We’re old now. And you need to lay off the booze because you got some serious junk in the trunk. Also I think you killed one too many brain cells and may only have one left. You might need that one.”
The Sad Tale of the Lonely, Bitter Cat Lady
And then there were the bitter, single women. One in particular that I couldn’t stand in high school was particularly ugly and bitter now. Time hasn’t been kind to her. I walked in the bathroom and she was standing at the mirror and sees me and says in her most snotty tone ”You hair used to be (emphasize extreme distaste here) RED. Did you, like, dye it?” I debated whether it was worth choking the life out of her right there in the bathroom, but decided I might mess up my manicure. So I hit her angry bitterness where it hurts: “It got darker with each pregnancy.” And then I turned around and walked out the bathroom. In broad daylight, my hair is still very auburn, but under the dim lights there, I imagine it appeared quite a bit darker. I’ve never dyed my hair in my life. And I don’t have the time or energy to engage with someone who still acts like a bitchy teenager. Hard livin’ and too much time in the sun had not been kind to many people there.
Separate Ways, Worlds Apart
I had thought that the reunion would be a great time to reconnect with people I had lost track of. What I realized once I got there though, was that it was really fun seeing some of the people I had been close to, but honestly, 20 years have passed. I’ve stayed in touch with the people that I really want to stay in touch with. And while it was great seeing some of them, it’s not like I’m going to pick up the phone and we’re going to pick up where we left off. There were a handful of girlfriends that I really enjoyed seeing and catching up with, but the reality is that come Monday, we all go back to our lives as they are now. The past is gone. We knew each other a lifetime ago. And some of us knew each other really well and still know each other on that level that is so hard to achieve in adult friendships. But we can’t go back. We can only go forward. I had a hard time seeing the value in opening myself up again to stuff that’s long been buried. And I’m not the same person I was. Not even close. I find that with people who knew you so long ago, that when you re-connect, they often have a hard time seeing the person you’ve become. I’m a thinking kinda person. I expect that many people don’t even bother to think about these things nor observe. And I admit that even though 20 years have passed, I still strongly dislike some people I disliked back then. I thought I was guilty of just carrying around baggage until twice Steve leaned over and said “Was that guy a huge tool in high school too?” Lol. Maybe some people don’t change. I just thought maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.
Click your heels three times…
So as I sit here I am still trying to unwind, process and decompress. I had only been there three days when Steve flew in for the weekend to go to the reunion. As I’m driving him to my parent’s house from the airport, he looks at me and says “This place is already affecting you.” So true, honey. So true……
