SpontaneousTom-foolery

Disclaimer: Flagrant and profuse bragging is only okay on blogs. As well as making things seem disproportionately, flawlessly amazing. Which it was.

So- Try waking up to an Australian boy sitting on your feet playing this on the guitar, then spend the morning wondering where everyone is, making banana chocolate chip pancakes together and showing off your best karate escape-from-hold-with-knee-strike- move, and tell me you wont blog about it.
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Tom and his "mum" came in for a few nights. They just left, and I miss them already. Little letter squares are still scattered across the coffee table and arranged in immature verbs and random words from a sleepless night of Bananagrams and [Australian] rum and Cokes. Youtube tabs of obscure Australian bands still clutter my desktop. The crumbles of leftover chocolate chip banana pancakes from this morning are still sitting on the counter, and the champagne and orange juice we bought at nine a.m. are all but empty bottles in the sink.   I think we took all of six pictures while they were here, but pictures seem insignificant in comparison to the actual time we spent together.

Their spontaneous visit was wonderful for many reasons, but mainly because my mom was in an unwavering, light, happy mood for these few days. Having one of her old best friends, who is so far removed from her present life, was good for her to reminisce, gain perspective, and find joy in seeing that some people really don't ever change. Or at least that friendships don't. I hope my mom got a recharge by getting the chance to remember who she is.

It's fun to grow up. You learn from the people who were there when you weren't but a day old. The people who knew you even when you were barely an idea. You see them see their own lives, 20 years later, before their eyes, and bask in the wonder and excitement of what it will be like when it's your turn to see the last 20 years of your life right in front of you. You realize you've got all these blank pages. And you get to take notes of what you can't wait to do the same, and get to secretly note to yourself what you'll do different.  And even still, while knowing all their struggles, the hiccups along the way, the mistakes they've made, you somehow think that when it's your turn to raise a kid, you'll know better.

Then you're scared that when it is your turn, you won't have the slightest idea of how to make it as wonderful as they did.  You realize that even with as much thought as you've put into it, you're on your own, just like they were.

Seeing the two moms on their own struck me with all these thoughts.  They and their husbands were all such a team back then, raising Tom and me, not knowing what they were doing.  How do 20 years break such teamwork apart?

Resenting my parent's disintegrating relationship is a learning process.
But appreciating the chemistry they once had to create such a perfect world for us at one point, that's in stone. It's those memories that, despite everything, make me want to have my turn one day.