I am lucky enough to celebrate a 20-year Anniversary in February 2011.
This anniversary was not with a lover. It’s with my Best Friend.
Kristina and I met when we were 6 years old. I was new to Greendale, WI. My mom in her wisdom signed me up for a swimming class. After class one day I saw a girl who had her hair all wrapped up in a towel on top of her head. I wished I knew how to do that. After a shy "how did you do that?", she showed me (I couldn’t believe how easy it was). We became instant friends.
We spent the summer days Scout Lake and riding our bikes all ‘round Greendale. We had Kool-Aid stands all day to make enough money to spend it all at the candy counter at Ferch’s Malt Shoppe. We spent countless hours in the kiddie pool in her backyard. As the years went on, we became expert fort builders.
Rainy days found us in Kristina’s kitchen baking cookies. I’ll never forget our day-long Jaws movie marathon. The first time I told her about a crush. Watching thunderstorms in the safety of the screened porch. I can’t even count how many sleepovers we’ve had in the past 20 years.
Those memories come up in our conversations as we fondly remember our carefree days. Kristina is more than a best friend. She is my sister. We understand each other. No matter how much time passes between friend-dates, we never skip a beat.
She knows things about me that no one else will ever know. Ever.
For some reason, if I’m trying to be funny, Kristina always laughs. Maybe I’m just a more funny person around her. No one else laughs as hard at my jokes.
When I think about how blessed I am to have her in my life, I can’t help but smile. My heart feels lighter. A little bit of that 6-year-old me comes back.
Kristina and I will be those old ladies sitting in a park playing cribbage having a picnic. Kristina and I will still go to chick flicks together when we’re 70. We'll still also giggle at those dirty jokes.
Kristina and I will be friends forever. And that makes my heart happy.
My mom is amazing.
One of my earliest memories of how amazing she is:
She attended Illinois Community College (ICC) when my older brother and I were very little. I was 4 years old. One night she had to take us with her to class. She bought chocolate suckers from a student group table for my brother and me. Mine was a white witch because it was Halloween time. I remember walking hand-in-hand with my mom down the college’s hallway. Being told to keep busy while she was in class.
Not the most extraordinary story you’ve ever heard, is it? (But I remember it.)
Years later she decided to homeschool me and my older brother when a public school in wasn’t working out. My older brother and I were in 3rd and 5th grades respectively. My little brother and sister were not yet school-aged.
Mom taught my brother and me for two years. After, I finally understood math. She cared enough to make sure of it.
Once I was back in a school system, her caring in my education didn't stop. She chaperoned a week-long 5th grade trip to Virginia. She helped with every ounce of homework if I asked.
She helped me move in and out of dorms and apartments.
She went to school for her nursing degree while taking care of the four of us and working part time. Somehow she found time to relax and watch Gilmore Girls with me. I quizzed her on her notes to help her prepare for tests at MSOE.
She came to my East Side apartment as fast as she could when I told her I’d lost a friend to murder.
She threw down all kinds of cash to make sure I’d have a reliable car when the wheel fell off my ‘95 Chrysler.
Those are merely the highlights.
My Mommo has been there for me. Selfless.
She always tells me how beautiful I am even when I think I’m not.
She has a full time Hospice job while completing her Doctorate in Nursing. Wow. She’s incredible. I’ve only begun, but then I could probably write a book about how awesome and amazing she is.
So, what’s the reason for this Mommo lovefest?
To remind you how important your mom is.
Tell her you love her. Often. Show her. Cook for her. Watch her four cats while she goes and gets married on a cruise. Call her at least once a week. Support her when you can, because someday she’s going to need you just as much as you’ve needed her. ♥
My little sister is growing up.
She was born on July 5, 1992. I was seven years old. It's hard to express in words how I feel about my little sister. She's my everything. My parents would probably agree I helped raise her.
When she was a baby, she was my dolly. Since we shared a room, I woke up to her cooing and talking to herself. I didn't mind. She was my new baby sister.
Even though I was only seven, I already knew how to take care of her. I fed her, changed her and picked out outfits for her. She had the most perfect squishy and kissable cheeks.
As she got older, I couldn't even tell you how many times I coaxed her to sit still so I could French braid her hair.
She is growing up so gracefully. She's been dancing since she was five years old. She's currently on the dance team at UW-Milwaukee and I tear up every time I see her dance. I am always so proud to point out my sister.
She and I have our own special language. We can make each other giggle just with a look or a silly face. Some people even say we look just the same, although Shannon and I disagree.
Sometimes I can't believe she's grown and in college now. I still see her dragging her stuffed elephant, Ellie. I turn around and she's telling me about her Psychology class and her serving job.
I truly cherish the moments she and I have together. It can be as simple as lounging eating gummy bears watching a movie or as tough as talking about life's real "stuff".
One thing neither of us will grow too old for: being there for each other.
The first dream I remember having was when I lived in Illinois. I was five(ish). I dreamed the dream more than once.
My backyard was a corn field. I was playing tag with some neighborhood kids. Without thinking twice, I kicked up my legs simultaneously and began to fly. I had a better vantage point in the air than on the ground.
That's the whole dream. I am amazed that I still remember it. Clear as day. I could not possibly explain it in words how my mind's eye sees it, but it's there - vivid as can be. Forever in my memories; yet only a dream.
I like how thecuriousdreamer.com explains flying in a dream:
"Transcendence over your challenges or the mundane."
Ask me what my main goal in life is - do it, just ask.
Oh? What's that? You want to know my life's goal?
My main goal in life is to not be bored with my career. (That and someday marrying the Love of my life and having a few kidlets). I'm terrified of ending up like a character in Office Space.
Even when I was five years old and didn't know one bit about real life, unconsciously I did not want to live a plain life. I wanted to see things a different way. Transcendence is the act of going beyond. It is exceeding.
This explains why I gravitate towards Broadcast, Promotions and Strategic Communication.
No one succeeds without exceeding.