Photo by Mykl Roventine.

"Venti-double-shot-decaf-vanilla-half sweet-caramel-mocha", shouts the Barnes and Noble, cafe barrista.  I am sitting at my 10 square inch bistro table trying desperately not to knock my chai off, along with my computer.  I am on vacation, have a babysitter, and am enjoying some solo time.  

When I am on vacation, I make promises to myself.  I will eat healthy.  I will catch up on sleep.  I will work out everyday.  I will find a fresh perspective for my job and my life.   Write more. "Gaawwkkzzz", a man clears his throat loudly at a table near mine.  I am momentarily distracted, as it seems rather productive, and I find myself swallowing as if to clear my own throat.

I did okay on some of those things.  I sleep great here...the bed is super firm and does not move with my restless husband in the night.  I wear two ear plugs to drown out his snoring, place my large size body hugging pillow smack in the middle of the bed and I sleep like a baby.   Our window looks out over desert mountains and I wake every morning to the sunrise, give or take an hour or two.

I got some shopping done.  I hate shopping.  Really I do.  It is like work to me.  When I shop it is because I have to.  When I find myself standing in my closet, staring at my wardrobe with disgust, I know it is time to suck it up and go shopping.  Maybe I'm not shopping at the right stores or maybe I just suck at picking stuff out, but inevitably,  I leave the changing rooms, brightly top-lit with hellish florescent lights with new lows for personal body image.  I am convinced that I am now the frumpy, middle aged women I have been terrified of becoming since I hit forty.  I get so busy hating on my body I run out of steam to admire the clothes.

I did exercise, no more or less that I do at home.  I went for a few longer runs in the warm desert mornings, enjoying the foreign territory, unsure of the distances until afterwards, when I drove it out.  Depending on my mood, I pick either music to motivate me (pulsing techno or bitch-killing rap) or serene soul music, that quiets the tension in my body, and brings me to a place of appreciation for the sweet punishment I am inflicting on my body.  My mind journeys through endless thoughts and puzzles out problems, my music so loud I cannot hear my breath or my foot falls.

When I work out, I enter my own ass kicking world.  Oh man I am one tough broad!  I lifted weights today, and found myself in a CORE strength competition with the dude on the next mat.  I am pathetically competitive, and most of these competitions exist solely in my head.

The cafe is filling.  It is near a mall and I am surrounded by people who love shopping.  They have bags and fancy purses and the children are mirrors of their mothers.  Everyone looks very busy, as they hover over their over-sized, overpriced beverages, loosely founded upon a good old fashioned cup o' joe. (I don't even like coffee!)  The book store is vast and viable, something that pleases me, as I love wandering around the stacks, choosing books like I choose wine, by the way the cover or label looks.

I ate okay on this trip.  When I am travelling though, I DESERVE stuff, like frozen yogurt every night or chocolate chip cookies.  I love kettle salt and vinegar chips.  On our first evening here I was diving into a bag.  The vinegar makes my scalp sweat and the acid in the chips numbs my tongue.  I lack any control what-so-ever to stop eating these once I start, and so turned to my husband and said, "I am going to need your help in a moment".

"For what?", he asked.

"Please, for the love of God, take these chips away from me!"  I begged, my hand plunging into the bag desperately for one more crispy handful.

I finished some work projects that I had been procrastinating on.  I was burning out a little at work and normally, I return from a vacation re-energized and focused on forward momentum.  I haven't given it that much thought this time though...I guess I am still burned out.  Summer is coming and I am ready to join in, but work has taken over my life again, and I am starting to resent it.

We had some good quality family time, including going to an insane indoor trampoline center called "Jump Street".  Our neighbors come here for spring break too, and it was their son's birthday.  This place literally is filled wall to wall with trampolines.  Some just for jumping, others leading into great foam pits and my personal favorite, the dodge ball courts.  They have three trampolines on either side and dozens of soft, leathery balls.  I enjoyed beaning my kids with these balls, leaving myself barely able to lift my arm the next day.  ("Hawwkkkzzzz!"....there that man goes again....I feel the need to spit!)

The only drawback with the jumping was the awareness of here-to-fore unnoticed pelvic floor weakness.  My greatest trampoline trick-the jumping split toe touch-left me feeling leaky!  I don't typically have these issues, but I guess the high intensity bouncing was more than any post-partum perineum can handle.

I have been stumped with writing, uninspired, no topics jumping to mind.  I couldn't even rally to blog about pubic hair or penises.  I love talking about penises!  Am I depressed?  I couldn't muster the energy to finish an online writing course I had been taking, letting the last few lectures and assignments slip by me.  I have less discretionary time right now, and have done well to at least get consistent exercise.

My chai is almost gone.  A medium is the perfect size to get a blog done.  It gets a little cold, but I don't mind, they ice them too these days.  The endless stream of indulgent people parades to the coffee counter, each pleased with their mastery of the language of the drink.  The phlegmy man has left, thank god.  We are all just killing time...looking busy...quietly entertaining ourselves.

Will You Still Like Me if I Barf on Your Shoes?

Me and Jane.

When we are toddlers, we parallel play.  I always loved this term, imagining young children lined up in precise rows, oblivious to the toddlers placed neatly beside them.   In reality, it isn't about how they are arranged, but rather their degree of interest (or lack thereof) in actually interacting with other children in the same room.  They might show interest in what the other child is doing, but tend to prefer solitary play and could take their fellow toddlers' companionship or leave it.  Frustrated play-date-setting moms everywhere are mortified when their children refuse to share or interact or do anything much with other kids at this age.   "Billy play with Susie!" they command. But young Billy could care less about Susie at this point in his life, just as long as she stays away from his stuff.

As children get older, they start to actually pay attention to each other.  They form friendships quickly and without judgement.   According to Education.com, the main ingredients to a preschool friendship are opportunity and similarity.  Kids standards at this age are pretty low, and as long as they look about the same age and enjoy similar activities they will bond almost instantly.   The more time they spend with the same kids (opportunity) the closer friends they will become.  

When my daughter was about 2 (still a parallel player) she was big for her age and other, older children would try and engage her to play.  She would stare back at them mutely, unable to partake of and uninterested in what  they were offering.  They would turn to me, confused, with a look that seemed to question whether or not she was "all there".   I would have to apologize on her behalf and clarify that she was much younger than she looked.  

Now my kids, at random parks all over these United States, will from instantaneous Karmic bonds with just about any kid who enjoys monkey bars as much as they do.  I envy how easy it is for them to let go and get right down to the best parts of friendship.  I try to imagine the parents of these new friends behaving in a similar way with me.  After all, we have the same opportunity (being at the same park) and we are also pretty similar (raising kids, at a park, moms).  Unfortunately, by the time you become an adult, that uninhibited free-love friendship thing has grown-up right out of you. Instead we exchange wary glances and brief hellos,while our nearby children are inviting their new BFFs to birthday parties and begging for sleep overs.

Sadly, the easy bliss of these early friendships is slowly replaced by the torment of peer pressure and labeling.  The key ingredient to this destruction of innocence is competition.  Not a day goes by that my daughter doesn't come home devastated by some inexplicable slight delivered by an alternating BFF one day and a sworn enemy the next.  Friendship becomes a bartering chip and loyalty is used to manipulate for advantage.   These early hurts make us timid and reserved.  Like a dog once beaten, we shy away from new friendships, unwilling to endure the risk of being wounded.  The absolute trust that we felt as children and certainty that the sole intent of any new friendship was to have fun and be nice is replaced with suspicion.

Guarded, we move through middle and then high school becoming more selective about the friends we admit into our life.  There are still status considerations, but for the most part, we will seek out people we feel safe with.  Similarities are harder to find and we become more selective about the criteria that we use to pick out potential friends.  We become more judgemental, and rather than openly greeting a stranger like a child might, we make flash judgements and assumptions.  Within moments of laying our eyes on someone, we decide whether or not we will try to become their friend.  Do they dress like us?  Do they act like us?  

College, however, was a wondrous reprieve from this friendship melee.   Opportunity and similarity were at all time highs!  All one had to do was grab a beer bong and throw a party and voila! you could feel like a kid again with plentiful BFFs.  Get a couple of college kids drunk together and all walls come down.  One of my theories about this return to innocence, is that in the microcosm of college life, friends are able to get out all their dirty little secrets and baggage relatively quickly.  Your new friend might say something really stupid at a party, barf on your shoes by the end of the night, force you to carry them home, and then look like hell warmed over the next day.  Your friendship is forged as you forgive your friend's shame and demonstrate acceptance of their behavior.   You now have a shared bond and have earned a lasting trust.  You can be fully yourself with your new friend, and despite that, you will still like each other. 

In adulthood opportunity and similarity are hard to come by.  Careers, families and all the responsibilities each entails, reduce our availability to foster new friendships.  Unlike in college days when you literally could spend days and nights on end with each other, you are now limited to an occasional moment.   Similarity narrows as you now must find friends that not only meet your own criteria but that of your spouse and children. 

Now, when I am making new friendships, I might only see that person once in a while.  Each time I see them feels like the first time and it is difficult to build momentum.   I have a friend who calls this kind of slow friendship development "organic".  It would be so much easier to just cut to the chase with these new potential friends, and go out and get drunk with them.  Throwing all inhibitions away:  Will I still like you if you barf on my shoes?  

Let me be at my worst around you. Let me say something honest but really stupid.  Let me curse like a truck driver.  Dropping the F-bomb without worry of offense is FREEDOM!  Let me cry in front of you without needing to restrain my tears.  Let me look like shit and get fat. Let me be moody and repeat myself when I really need to.  Let me be vulnerable and human and humble.   If, after all of those things, you don't roll your eyes and walk out, then you could be my friend.   And as my friend,  I would happily do the same for you.