We Are Who We Are, I Guess

I think most people have a secret desire to be a different kind of person than the one they actually are. Me? I've always wanted to be a "Girly Girl". You know, the type everyone wants to shelter, protect and rescue? Someone who is always stylishly dressed with matching, tasteful accessories, gorgeous, trendy hairstyle, full make up and even lipstick; a delicate, dainty little thing who might get a case of the vapors if someone dealt with her a little too harshly.

If you actually know me, you're laughing hysterically right now. I am so NOT a Girly Girl and odds are I never will be, no matter how much I might think I want to. I've accepted the fact that I'm pretty much the opposite of the sterotypical Damsel in Distress, so I guess it shouldn't be a big surprise when my own flesh and blood occasionally thinks of me as a Stay At Home Rambo, or STAHMBO.

Alex called the other morning and asked me to run a special errand for him. Since I was already babysitting his three month old puppy, taking her out in the freezing cold rain for an UNLIMITED NUMBER of potty breaks, I kinda thought I was already in the plus column on his "Special Errands Needed" list. Apparently not, though, since he asked me to run to his house and check to make sure he had closed his garage door when he left for work.

Okay, no problem, I stuffed the Big Dogs, Layla and Dudley, in the car, grabbed Wit, the puppy, and away we went in the freezing cold rain. The Big Dogs assumed their usual positions for car rides: Dudley began snoring in the back and Layla surfed, standing right over my shoulder, occasionally wiping her nose in my hair. Wit got busy trying to chew anything she could get in her mouth, including the gear shift. Yeah, it was a fun ride.

I pulled up behind Alex's house and was relieved to see the garage door safely in the CLOSED position. I happily called him to give him the good news and he asked me if I was INSIDE the house? "Uh, no", I said, "the dogs and I are in the car, in the alley BEHIND your house, and the door's down...all safe and sound."

Then Alex informed me thieves routinely pull into an open, empty garage, close the garage door behind them, and proceed to loot and pillage to their heart's content with no threat of discovery. "I need you to go inside the house and make sure they're not inside, stealing my stuff."

Okay, now stop and think about this for just a minute. This 22 year old son of mine, the one who was born a FULL WEEK after his due date and caused me to be in labor for almost 20 hours. The one who, over the years, has put me through various trials and tribulations, such as: stitches in his upper lip after sword fighting with PVC pipe; falling in the Lagoon at Fair Park on a field trip; asthma and breathing treatments; scoliosis; and, six, count 'em SIX sets of ear tubes, just to name a few. THIS SON OF MINE wants his 48 year old MOTHER to go into his house and see if it is currently being raided by hardened, crazed, crack addicted thieves. No problem, I'll just yell "Yoo-Hoo" really loud before I enter so as to give them plenty of time to LOAD THEIR WEAPONS!

And, if you know me, you won't be surprised to learn that my response was a resigned, "Well, okay, I'll call you when I get inside". See? My family knows me well enough to know that not only am I NOT a Girly Girl...I don't even THINK about dealing with things in Girly Girl ways.

It never occurs to me NOT to climb the 6 ft. fence, or get in the elevator with the guy wearing the ski mask and carrying a rope. I don't think twice about standing in the way of the plumber's van when he tries to leave without first doing the job he was hired to do, or checking to see if the suspicious character in the alley is breaking into a neighbor's shed (he was).

No, I don't think at all...I just react, and such is NOT the way of the natural born Girly Girls of the world. That's okay, though. My family doesn't need a Girly Girl. They need me, their own personal STAHMBO. But, I better get flowers on Mother's Day, is all I'm saying.