Extremes

Do you ever wonder how you ended up in your exact location at a specific moment in time? ‘Cause I do all the time. I think about what decisions I made to lead me up to that precise moment.

Sometimes the thought goes like this, “Wow this is awesome! Great job past Aulani for making such fantastic decisions!”

And sometimes the thought goes like this, “Umh… so exactly what did you do to get here, my dear? I think you were supposed to go right back there, but you decided taking a left down the unsanitary back alley that smells like urine was a better idea. Sure, go ahead and blame Siri. You know the truth.”

Lately I feel like I’ve been oscillating back and forth between these extremes. No matter how hard I try to dig my heels into normal territory, I somehow end up on an opposite end of the spectrum trying to figure out how I got there.

In the first scenario, I try to figure out how to stay put. In the second scenario, I try to figure out how to get the eff out. And it always makes me question… Is this right? Did I miss the boat of normalcy back in my twenties, so now I am destined to meander the streets of bizarre for the rest of my days? ‘Cause I’m not even a year into thirty, and already I’m wondering what hell is going on up in here.

As a kid I remember thinking that adults had everything figured out. Okay maybe not all of them, but the ones I knew definitely did (Ha!). It wasn’t even a thought so much as I never questioned that they had all the answers. An equally diluted subliminal thought was that when I grew up, I would have the answers too.  Sure I rebelled, and did the whole rambunctious teenage girl thing (God bless you Mom and Dad), but I still thought it was all part of a process leading up to a euphoric understanding of life. And just like I was completely wrong about that as a kid, I continue to be completely wrong about a lot of things as an adult.

And then somewhere deep in my confusion and completely off base (I hope) crazy cat lady grown up Aulani scenarios (dear God, I hope not), God reminds me that it’s okay. And it sounds something like this, “Whoa, little one, chill out. You’re fine. I’m still working on you and with you, and everything is going to be just fine. Trust me.” Oh. Okay.

Because everyone makes some bad decisions. Even (or especially?) those adults I thought had it all figured out when I was a kid. So what’s the silver lining?

I have no idea.

Right now I’m just trying not to turn each of my bad decisions into a habit because goodness gracious that is pretty darn easy for me to do. That, and daily recognizing that I am an incredibly blessed person with people in my life that understand me, forgive me, pray for me, hope for me, and unconditionally love me… And I bet if you think about it, you are too.

Pink Moped

Sooooo I bought a moped. It’s pink. I like it… My Mom thinks I’m going to kill myself on it.

I mean, she’s not necessarily wrong. I can’t even get through a kickball game without a swollen knee and gravel stuck in places I won’t mention to you. But I have learned to embrace the klutziness that is me; my Mom has not, but from a very concerned and adorable motherly standpoint, of course.

It’s an interesting thing, these parents we have. I am not a parent myself so I am still completely baffled at why they still do things for me and continue to love me after the unbelievable amount of crap and ridiculousness that is me and my life. And yes, I say that present tense. Not because I intentionally try to screw with them, but inevitably I will do something really stupid and they never hesitate to help me pick up what I knocked down… which is sometimes me. No doubt I hit the jackpot when it came to parents…  and yet I am still a giant yardsale.

So what would I be like if I had a different set of parents?

I think every child has thought this at one moment or another. Sometimes it’s because you are incredibly grateful for the ones you have, sometimes it’s because you wish you had different ones, and sometimes it’s because you see other parents and try to envision how you would have turned out if they had parented you.

And we can’t choose. We’re just given what we got and vice versa. And that can be incredibly frustrating (especially for the teenage girl I once was) considering we are beings used to choice. We are ingrained with the idea that we are not only allowed to make our own choices but we have the undeniable right to make our own choices. Sometimes I wholeheartedly support my right to choice. But looking back, sometimes I’m stoked on the fact that I had parents who made the right choices for me.

But the thought scenario goes something like this…

“ If my parents were super rich and summered in the Hamptons, I would be happier and more fulfilled and married to the CEO of Gerber (for those of you who know me well- catch that reference?).”

False. I would be a giant high society type brat. Why? Because I’m still a brat, I’m just a grounded brat because of my parents. Imagine if my brattiness was amplified by wealth. Eek. I even cringe at that thought.

There are of course a million different parent scenarios of which I can and have entertained but they all lead me back to the fact that I am unbelievably lucky to have grown up in the exact way that I did, raised by my two lovable, generous, passionate, silly, mistake making, genuinely concerned, hard working, edifying parents.

Considering all the contributions these two have given to me, instilled in me, and subliminally passed to me… I have a difficult time envisioning I would be anything like myself today without them. And that makes me sad… Even though I am a yardsale.