Galoshes

When life rains down on you, put on your galoshes and dance in the rain.

When I was a little girl, I loved to wear my galoshes. I had to walk to school every day…..and I loved the rainy days….those days meant for my clear, domed umbrella and….of course, my galoshes. No puddle was unexplored…unsplashed….no curbside river was left untouched. In my galoshes I was invincible…..safe…..unfettered by the rain.

Fast forward three and a half decades…….I am standing in the home of the X….watching my bride-to-be daughter give direction to those of us setting up for the wedding….she is so beautiful…and excited.


The wedding-weekend weather seemed a bit sketchy…..cold…and rainy….so I packed my cute black galoshes with bright red cherries just in case the reception tent became a muddy mess (yes, I was a girl scout….always prepared). So……on Friday, there I was standing in the home of the X….or more appropriately CLEANING the home of the X….the home where I raised my children…my dogs….my horses….my cows…it seemed that my X was neither a boy scout nor a girl scout as he certainly was not prepared for 160 people to descend upon his home in 24 hours…….but *ahem* that’s why he is the X. But in the end, I love my daughter more than I want to see my X squirm so I cleaned…and cleaned and cleaned… (I am expecting a nomination for sainthood from the Pope any day now)….. and not surprisingly, without an ounce of gratitude or even a simple thank you from the X…..

The stress level begins to mount……

Having a house full of people was a great distraction to me that weekend…..I got to cook….to entertain….to open wine bottles I’d been saving (gotta love that Rockpile Zin…..yum!)…. It also gave me an excuse to show up for the wedding just in time to help the daughter into her wedding dress……she was absolutely stunning! The most beautiful bride I have EVER seen!!!

The X’s house is full of people…..it’s cold outside…..very, very cold outside…so as people arrived, they gravitated to the house instead of the outside chairs. Thankfully, we had prepared a separate room for my family and me to get ready for the wedding. I plugged in my curling iron and slipped on my red Jessica Rabbit dress (I hadn’t intended to dress as the “Hot Mother of the Bride” but try finding a red semi-formal dress without vavavoom!). I slipped into the powder room to put on my makeup. Suddenly, someone burst into the room….all bouncy with a high-pitched over-the-top girl greeting…..it was an old “friend” of mine (you know….the one I wrote about in my last blog…the one who ditched me to hang out with my X)……I tried to match her excitement…..to give her the benefit of the doubt…..to reconcile my feelings with how she was greeting me……I hugged her back and resumed making myself forever-photo ready.

Walking into the dressing room, I noticed my curling iron was unplugged…..my things had been moved…..and saw that my “friend” had taken over my space. Furious, I walked back out of the door……heart pounding…..palms sweating…..and stopped in the hallway…wondering what to do. The home was now completely full of people and there was nowhere for me to go……what to do…what to do…… It hit me…..I am the Mother of the Bride… Turning around, I opened the door and walked back in (Pale Rider playing in the background of my mind)…..I firmly but calmly ask my old friend to please find another place to get dressed…and told her how I felt about her ignoring my emails and Facebook requests. Did she hear my voice quiver? Did she have any idea how awkward this was for me….did she even care?? Now I feel like a jerk……I am stressed to the max…..I need a drink….well….maybe drinking isn’t a good idea…..

Pulling myself together, I head to the center of the house where friends and family were congregating. There was a sea of people and all seemed a blur….noise all around me…..people all around me…..stress….stress…stress……I look around and saw a familiar pair of warm brown eyes watching me….loving me….waiting for me….. The Man puts his hand on my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief. This is going to be okay……

The wedding was beautiful……my daughter is now a Mrs. and we head to the reception. Although I won’t bore you with all of the crazy details of the ceremony, photos, and reception blunders…..I will tell you that I now call it National Lampoons Wedding Week….as there was craziness after craziness after craziness….but like Clark Griswold’s Christmas decorations…..all turned out beautiful.

Sitting in my chair at the reception, drinking a glass of fine red wine….I reflected on the day……wondering how I was going to get through the rest of the evening with me on one side and the X on the other…..with His and Hers family and friends on either side of the dance floor. Then…….I remembered…..I had brought them after all……my cherry galoshes are under the gift table….waiting. I looked at the Man and said, “It’s time for the galoshes.” Slipping them on was such a freeing moment…….galoshes with a stunning red dress……that is soooo Becky Pruitt…… I grabbed the Man’s hand, stepped out onto the dance floor and splashed in every puddle life gave me that day.

Stories Like These....

Last weekend, I was in Albuquerque for a wedding….. My girlfriend’s son (who is my daughter’s age by the way) was getting married. Of course, I was feeling quite old as I have watched him grow up since he was a goofy, lanky red-headed 11 year old……

I arrived on Thursday afternoon and the final countdown for the wedding was underway. There were still outfits to buy, presents to wrap, relatives to entertain, and last minute changes to consider.

Of course with that…….their great dane was at the animal hospital (she had gotten bitten by something and had a severe allergic reaction), their oldest son (a groomsman in the wedding) had gotten food poisoning and had to go to the ER, a grandfather fell of the step at the wedding, outfits didn’t fit quite right……and other miscellaneous drama that is too complicated to mention... There were times when I looked over at my friend and admired how much grace and beauty she was showing under all the stress. At one point she looked at me and wondered how she was going to get through the day as crisis after crisis appeared. In a moment of inspiration, I told her, “stories like these make for good memories.”

The second the words fell off my lips, I knew that I was, “onto something.” Perspective…. I love that word…perspective. In the midst of transition, crisis, stress, change, we can decide how the events affect our lives……will they stifle us, make us bitter, cause fear or be seen as an opportunity for the next story to share? Will we cower in fear of the next crisis because we feel like we can’t take ONE MORE THING…or will we play with the hand dealt with grace and joy. Will we add it to the list of “what is wrong with our lives,” or will we learn from our mistakes and move onward.

When I was 12 years old, I lived 4 blocks from our elementary school. My best friend and neighbor, Susan, and I would ride our bikes to the school all summer, play on the playground, learn new bike tricks and generally entertain ourselves for hours. The driveway for the school was a large hill. At 12 years old, the hill grade seemed akin to Pike’s Peak. We would fly down the hill, riding our 10 speed bikes with no hands…no feet…..wind in our hair, laughing…….

On one such ride, I was talking with Susan and laughing - riding no hands and no feet, practicing my steering by leaning one way or the other. I didn’t notice a small ramp placed in the middle of the school drive. My bike hit the ramp and I was launched through the air in slow motion. I landed on the asphalt and skidded for what seemed like miles on my left leg. My wound was atrocious…..I had to walk my bike home and could barely walk. The scars from my wipeout are still visible 28 years later.

This week, while remembering the events that summer, I asked myself, “Did it stop me from riding my bike?”.….No… “Did I get fearful every time I got on my bike?”…..No. “Do I explain to everyone around me while riding my bike that I was a skateboard ramp victim and am working through my fears?” Heck No!!! What did I learn from the accident? I learned to PAY ATTENTION…..to be more aware of my surroundings….to still throw caution to the wind and ride with joy while understanding that there can be dangers ahead.

Our stories shape us, teach us, impact us……..but they are simply that…..stories. Our collection of life stories are what give our lives color….what makes us unique. To latch on to one story and forget the rest is a grave injustice to the beauty of our lives. Embrace the trials, share your successes, laugh, cry…….and when the rain pours down, let it wash over you……while splashing though the puddles in your pink galoshes.