Ya Gossiping Turd Bucket!

 Whoa…

“Don’t tell me what someone said about me. Tell me why they felt comfortable talking about me to you!”

That right there pretty much explains why I am not part of a gossip circle. 😂

People who know me already know better than to come to me talking about somebody I care about. Because I am probably not going to sit there quietly, nod my head, and pretend I didn’t hear it. Nope. I’m going to have something to say. And depending on who you are talking about, I may even send a little slang back your way. 😂

I’ve noticed that I am often the last person to hear about something—or I never hear about it at all. And honestly, I think I know why.

People know I am probably going to ask questions. I’m probably going to defend somebody. I’m probably going to say, “Well, did you ever think about it this way?” And there is a very good chance I am going to put a stop to the whole conversation before it turns into a full-blown gossip festival. 

I don’t need to know everybody’s business. I have enough of my own! And apparently, somewhere along the way, people figured out that if they bring gossip to me, they may not get the reaction they were hoping for. I’m not going to help tear somebody down just so we can have something to talk about.

So maybe being the last to know isn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe it means people know I’m not going to carry somebody else’s mess around for them. And honestly? That makes me feel like I’m doing something right. 😂

Raven hasn't changed much.

I’ve been a rebel pretty much since birth. One of my first full sentences was “Baby do it!” That probably should’ve been everyone’s warning. At five, I’d bite my friend Patricks’ fingers when he stuck them through the fence. When we went camping, I made my older siblings or cousins carry me from the shoreline because I didn’t want my feet muddy. 

Independent? Absolutely.

Spoiled? Possibly.

As a teenager, I was known to sneak my parents’ car out. As an adult, I divorced two men who thought they were going to control me. Boy... were THEY wrong!  They needed a weaker female and I wasn't it.

I hate being bossed around, I hate procrastinating, and I REALLY hate reading instructions. I’ve always believed if I set my mind to something, I can figure it out. Sometimes the hard way, but I’ll figure it out.

That stubbornness has gotten me into trouble, many times.... but it’s also gotten me pretty far. I raised kids, built a business, survived hard things, started over more than once, and made plenty of mistakes along the way.

At 61, I’m still basically that little girl saying, “Baby do it!”

When my mother worked she used to tell "Raven stories" and he friends even asked to hear one if they were having a bad day.  I guess I made their problems look smaller somehow! lol 

I doubt I’ll make it into an actual history book, but someday when my family tells stories about me, I hope they start with:

“Oh Lord… let me tell you what Raven did.”  

The Precious the Ordinary Moments

I had this weird thought… What if I woke up tomorrow and the last 45 years had just been a dream? I’m young again. No husband. No kids. No grandkids. No career. No house. No cell phone with my entire life inside it. My parents are alive. And apparently, I have to live the 80s all over again—which, honestly, there are worse things. But then I started wondering… would I do things differently?

Would I recognize Dennis when I met him and think, There you are? Would I hold my babies a little longer because I already knew how fast they were going to grow up? Would I know which friendships would eventually disappear and make more of an effort to hold on to the people who were worth keeping? Would I recognize the moments when I was seeing someone for the very last time and hug them a little tighter? And what about the people who would eventually hurt me? Would I avoid them this time, or would I face-rake them and kick them in the shins? LOL. Maybe I’d realize that even the people who hurt me somehow became part of who I was becoming. Maybe some lessons just have to be learned the hard way.

Would I know which arguments never really mattered and just shut my mouth? That’s a trick question—you know I can’t keep my mouth shut! But maybe I’d at least know which arguments mattered and which ones didn’t. Maybe I’d say the things I wish I had said and let go of the things that weren’t worth carrying.

Would I do better in school and take it more seriously? Maybe go to college? Choose something completely different? Become an actress, a therapist, or a lawyer? You know… actually do something with all that potential I didn’t even realize I had yet? Would I take that summer trip to Holland when I was 15 instead of staying home because I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend?

I know I would walk through the halls of my childhood home a little slower this time. I’d look at everything and take it all in because I would know the day would come when it wouldn’t be my home anymore. I’d sit on my swing set a little longer, looking at the mountains and watching the sunset, knowing that someday I’d give anything to sit there just one more time.

And when I saw my parents young again, would I just stand there and stare at them for a while, knowing I had somehow been given back something I thought I had lost forever? I would notice everything this time. Their voices coming from another room as they talked to each other. My daddy telling some funny joke while rubbing his hand over his face. My mom completely ignoring him when he started a sentence with, “Now, Judy…” I’d sit beside them a little longer and probably drive them crazy with questions. I’d hug them more. I’d listen more. I’d soak up all the ordinary things that didn’t seem important at the time because I’d know something my younger self couldn’t possibly have known yet: there are only so many Christmases, birthdays, phone calls, and times you get to walk through the door and say, “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

I’d appreciate my young body instead of constantly finding something wrong with it. I’d probably look in the mirror and think, Girl, you have no idea how good you’ve got it! Of course, younger me wouldn’t listen. She’d probably find something to complain about anyway. We always say, “If I knew then what I know now…” But what if you actually did? I think I know my answer. I would change things.

I’d change whatever I could to better myself. I’d make smarter decisions. I’d take a few different roads. I’d hold on to some people longer and let go of others a hell of a lot sooner. I wouldn’t want to repeat every mistake just because it was part of my story. But there is one thing I wouldn’t risk changing. My kids. Whatever roads I had to take to get to them, I’d take them again. Every single one.

They’re the one part of the dream I’d have to find my way back to. And maybe that’s what makes this imaginary do-over so complicated. Because if I change too much, I might change the very things that led me to them.

So maybe I wouldn’t want to wake up and live an entirely different life. Maybe I’d want to take everything I learned from this one and simply do some things better. I’d change what I could without changing the people I couldn’t imagine my life without. I’d spend a little less time worrying about the destination and a little more time noticing where I was standing. I’d slow down long enough to realize that sometimes I was already somewhere worth remembering.

So if I woke up tomorrow and I was young again, with 45 years of memories from a life that supposedly never happened, I think I’d make the most of it. I’d do some things differently, appreciate some things more, and probably still make a few stupid decisions because, well… I’m still me. But this time, I’d know just how precious the ordinary moments really were.

Being Offended Doesn’t Make You Right

Somewhere along the way, we decided that if something hurts our feelings, the other person must have done something wrong.

Nope.

Sometimes somebody was rude.

Sometimes somebody really does owe you an apology.

And sometimes?

You just didn’t like what they said. 😂

Being offended doesn’t automatically make you the victim. Disagreeing with you isn’t disrespecting you. And somebody telling you something you don’t want to hear isn’t necessarily “toxic.”

Sometimes the truth just has terrible bedside manner.

You can be offended and they can still be right.

Those two things can exist at the same time.

Your feelings deserve consideration. They don’t automatically win the argument.

Somebody needed to say it.

Who’s The Glue of Your Family

There is usually one woman in every family who becomes the glue. The one who thinks about everybody, keeps track of birthdays, plans the holidays, comes up with things for everyone to do and tries to keep the family connected. She plans it, shops for it, spends the money, decorates, organizes, takes the pictures and tries to make sure everyone—especially the kids—is having fun. Most of the time, everyone else just gets to show up.

Being the glue can be exhausting, and it can also be incredibly unappreciated. The woman trying to keep everyone together is often called bossy. She expects too much. She tries too hard. She makes too big a deal out of things. She takes too many pictures. There can be an eye roll or negative comment for almost everything she does. But what looks like “trying too hard” to everyone else may simply be someone who loves her family enough to put effort into making memories.

And here’s an idea: instead of having an opinion about everything after it’s already planned and done, offer to help while it’s still in the planning stages. Help come up with the idea. Make a reservation. Bring something. Decorate. Pay for part of it. Ask, “What can I do?” It’s pretty easy to point out what could have been done differently when someone else did all the work. If you want a voice in how things are done,don’t wait until the day everything’s done.

The funny thing is, family memories don’t magically happen. Somebody thought of the Christmas tradition. Somebody planned the family outing. Somebody bought the decorations and stayed up late putting them out. Somebody convinced everyone to play the silly game. Somebody got all the kids together and made them stand still long enough for that picture everyone will treasure twenty years from now. And yes, everybody probably complained while she was taking it.

Maybe families should be a little easier on their glue. Instead of teasing her for taking another picture, smile for the damn picture. Instead of complaining about the activity, participate. Instead of telling her she tries too hard, recognize how much effort it takes to keep a family connected as everyone gets older, busier and pulled in different directions.

Because eventually the kids grow up, holidays change, people move away and some of the people in those annoying pictures aren’t here anymore. Suddenly those silly traditions and hundreds of pictures don’t seem quite so ridiculous.

The glue isn’t trying to control the family. She’s trying to hold onto it.

And every once in a while, somebody should probably thank her for that.