shenanyagans

No matter what the calendar says, the thermometer says it’s officially summer in Oklahoma. With nothing but 90+ degree days in the forecast, we decided it was time to get the boys a pool. So we bought them a good ol’ redneck swimmin’ hole from Wamalart.

We have had this pool for a whopping two days, and it has already taught me several valuable lessons.

#1 – I have no more patience as an adult than I had as a child. The day and a half it took to fill that thing was excruciating.

#2 – A pool is a lot more fun when your not the grown-up who has to take care of it.

#3 – Oklahoma has a lot more fuzzy airborne plant-type-things and tiny bugs than I ever realized.

#4 – I should have enjoyed by younger “chubby” body. Turns out I didn’t even know what “chubby” was. One decade and 2 children later, I have come to terms with the fact that I will never again be seen in a swimsuit.

#5 – When you pass 30, you lose all ability to ignore the fact that your body parts are shriveling up and dying a slow, cold death while you play in frigid water.  Now I understand why all the “old” people sat in the hot tub while we kiddos splashed around in the icy pool.

Basically, in the span of two days, this pool has destroyed all chances I ever had of clinging to my twenties, and exposed me for the thirty-something I really am.   I’ll be spending the rest of my summer sitting in the shade in my lawn chair, wearing a big floppy hat, a bathing suit cover-up down to my ankles, and socks with my sandals.

My advice to you? Yes, you, the one who has convinced your kids you’ve been 29 for the last 5 years.  Send them to the neighbors’ house to swim.

Believe it or not, growing up in Oklahoma has many perks. But having a Braum’s on every corner has to rank right up there with the best of them. If you’ve never had Braum’s ice cream, I’m not sure you even know what good ice cream is supposed to taste like. As a kid, standing there looking at the case full of flavors and the signs full of pictures, one thing stands out as the king of all ice cream treats; the banana split.

It’s a full banana, split down the middle to make a boat for three huge scoops of ice cream, one each of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate. Top those with hot fudge, strawberry topping, and marshmallow cream, sprinkle on some toasted almonds, and top it all off with some whipped cream and, not one, but two maraschino cherries. It’s glorious.

And when you’re six years old, it’s bigger than your face.

So when my 6yo, Dex, started asking for one a few months ago, I said no. Many versions of “no”, usually involving some reasoning like needing someone to split it with or that it would give him a tummy ache, but all he heard was “no”.

But last night, after a long day and an even longer evening of baseball, I couldn’t say no anymore. He deserved it and I really just didn’t have the heart to disappoint him again.

So he got his banana split.
All to himself.

He made one heck of a dent in that thing. And he didn’t even need a barf bag for the car ride home! And the best part was, he was happy. Not just a little happy, but grinning-until-your-cheeks-hurt kind of happy.

When it was all said and done, I had to wonder why I said no in the first place. And I wondered how often I say no to my kids without even thinking. How often do I say no because it’s inconvenient for me? How often do I just not want to clean up the mess when it’s over, or take the time to help them do something when I’m busy with work or cleaning or any number of other things that can wait while my kids are growing up at warp speed?

I don’t want to be the kind of mom who, when my kids look back on their childhood, was too busy to let them have fun, too preoccupied to let them get messy and be boys.

So from now on, before the answer is “no”, I’m going to ask myself, “why not?” and see what fabulous messes we can make.

I’m not usually one for writing prompts, but as I was making my usual blog rounds today, I came across one that I can’t get out of my mind. It was the post here at http://ralphwaldoemerson.me/gwen-bell.  The idea is that you have 15 minutes to live, set a timer and tell the story that needs to be told.

I could talk about my family, how much I love them, what I want for my kids, etc. And if I really knew I only had 15 minutes left, I’d do just that. Because, really, who uses their last 15 minutes of life to write a blog post?

Hopefully I have a little more time than that, so here’s what I’d want to tell the world.

I am not who you think I am. I am not who you have decided I will be. I am not your funny fat friend who will always answer the call when your real friends are busy. I am not the person who will always be here when you need something, but willing to be shoved aside when you don’t. I am not always sarcastic, dry, unfeeling and without emotion. I am not arrogant or self-centered and happy not having friends. I am not without talent, I am not without creativity, I am not okay with you taking my ideas and claiming them as your own because you know I’ll never have the guts to call you out on it. I am not your doormat. I am not the child or the teenager you have known since the day I was born. No. These are the labels you have created for me because you were unwilling to get to know me, you never deemed me worthy of the time it took to see the real me.

Who am I? I am an introvert. I am self conscious and afraid to put myself out there for fear of your rejection. But when you do accept me, I am a fiercely loyal friend. I go the extra mile for the people I love. I am emotional, I am kindhearted, I love unconditionally. I cry in sad movies, I cry when my friends hurt, I cry because I just need to cry. I am worth being the first person you call, I am worth being more than an afterthought. I am a professional, I do some things better than you because I spent the time in school learning to do it the right way. I am okay with not being the best at everything, because no one is. I am creative, I am talented, and my work is worth more than you will admit. I am an adult, I am a good mother, and I am just as worth someone’s time as anyone else.

I am worth far more than you have ever acknowledged.

And whether I have 15 minutes or 50 years, I am disappointed that it will always be this way.

So here it is.  Blog attempt #587.  Every time I do this I start by introducing myself and the blog, you know, its purpose and such.  But this time, I refuse to do it.  I will not limit myself to any focus or topic because, quite frankly, I can’t stick with any one thing for long enough and I’d just lose interest and quit. Again.

So instead, here I am.  I’m Anya.  This is my blog about…everything.  Let’s just go with that and see where it takes us!