The Smartt View

Things I Meant To Do…

I’m 55 years old and there are a lot of things I haven’t done, things I fully intended to do.  I meant to learn how to play the guitar.  People who can play the guitar are always the cool people.  They look cool.  They act cool.  People who know how to play the guitar can reasonably dream of being the opening act for Reba McEntire’s comeback tour.  We all know the truth.  Reba would never hire a chubby 55-year-old woman to do stand-up comedy.  That’s just not the way life works.

I meant to order the Rosetta Stone program and become proficient in a foreign language.  Didn’t you?  Didn’t you watch those commercials and shout loudly, “I could do that!  I could learn Japanese on my lunch hour!”?  Yeah.  Me too.  But I haven’t.  I haven’t learned Japanese or Russian or French.  I used to know Spanish, but I haven’t practiced at all.  My lunch hour Spanish now consists of the phrase, “Can we get more tortilla chips?  Gracias.”

I meant to graduate from college.  I know.  That’s a big ol’ shock for some of you.  You’ve read my books or heard me speak and you just assumed I was a college graduate.  Life is funny like that, huh?   People assume I’m a college graduate because all the normal indicators are there.  My parents are teachers.  My husband is a college professor.  I can spell.  If college had been one big grown-up spelling bee, I can assure you I would have loved every minute.

I always dreamed of a college course where the professor walked in on the first day of class and said, “This class will be all about relationships and stand-up comedy and spelling.”  Yeah.  Take that, engineering folks.  Let’s see where the mathematicians are now.   Just kidding.  I love all of you math folks.  In fact, I fell in love with my college algebra tutor.  Math has been very good to me.  And yes, I’m sure a person can be a brilliant mathematician and a gifted motivational humorist all at the same time.  I mean, I’m 55 and have never met that person.  But I’m also someone who can’t play the guitar or speak Japanese.  So my life experiences are limited.

This December we’ll get all those annual Christmas letters from our highly-accomplished friends.  They’ll write about learning Russian and about their kids’ scholarships to Oxford and Princeton.  They’ll explain about the Mayan ruins they witnessed this summer and the new vacation house they bought outside Denver.  And me?  Well, I’ll write back and say, “We killed the tomatoes and the porch flowers again this year.   I still can’t play the guitar.  But I’m confident this is the year I’ll learn Japanese by listening to Rosetta Stone instruction on the way home from Dollar Tree.”

Actually, I’ll just smile and enjoy reading about their accomplishments from the warmth of our country home on the outskirts of Dresden.  I’ll hug my grown sons and be thankful for the blessing of their friendship.  I’ll kiss my husband and thank God I was so extremely deficient in algebra that I needed a tutor in the summer of ’87.  Yes, there are a lot of things I haven’t yet accomplished and that’s perfectly fine.  Oh, and Reba, if you’re reading this, please call me.

http://www.lisasmartt.com

Ready or Not, Here Comes School  (written in 2014) by Lisa Smartt

We have a sophomore and a senior this year.  In the last few days, people have asked both of them the age-old question, “Are you boys ready for school to start back?”  They sigh and smile and say something like, “Not really.”  Of course, we all know the truth.  It doesn’t matter whether they’re ready.  Ready or not, here comes school.

I’ve been a boy mom for a long time now.  Nothing should surprise me.  But every year on the night before the first day of school, I find myself having the same conversation with our boys.  It’s becoming a tradition of sorts.

It always starts with my being overly cheery about school in general.  “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?  New year.  New opportunities.  This is gonna be a great year, guys.  Seriously.  This is probably gonna be the best school year you’ve ever had.  I have a feeling you’ll learn more than you’ve ever learned!  Prepare for a truly amazing year!”

Boy 1:  “Uh huh.”

Boy 2:  “Uh huh.”

Despite their lack of enthusiasm, I’m not easily thwarted when it comes to back-to-school promotion and marketing.  “Oh, and I washed all your new clothes too and they’re hanging neatly in your closet just waiting for that first big day.  You guys are just gonna be too handsome!  New clothes, new year!  What could be better?   Have you decided what you’re wearing on the first day of school?”

Boy 1:  “I’ll decide in the morning.”

Boy 2:  “Mom, we’re not girls.”

“Oh, I know.  I just remember how much I always loved laying out what I was planning to wear on the first day of school.  Just going down memory lane, I guess.  Oh, and there’s nothing more fun than organizing all those pens and pencils and putting the notebook paper into all the multi-colored folders.  Do you need a Sharpie to label any of your school supplies?”

Boy 1:  “Mom, my supplies are all still in the bag.”

Boy 2:  “We won’t even get them out till we get to school probably.”

Our two sons are loving young men with bright futures. I’m perfectly fine with their current lack of enthusiasm regarding school supply preparedness. And yes,  only overly-enthusiastic moms like me use phrases like “school supply preparedness.” Every year after our “inspiring” back-to-school conversation, I take consolation in one thing.  I have a feeling both of our boys will eventually marry wonderful women and have daughters.   

Their daughters will probably say things like, “Daddy, look at my sparkly princess pencil case. Isn’t it dreamy, Daddy?” “Oh, Daddy, Amber said that Carla said that Naomi said that Jenna doesn’t want to be my best friend.  But she DOES want to be my best friend.  She told me so last week.  She even gave me her favorite peach lip gloss for the first day of school.”  “Daddy, everything in my backpack needs to be labeled properly!”

And after those detailed back-to-school conversations with their daughters, those fine men will probably call me on the phone just to say, “Thanks, Mom.”  And I’ll say with an honest heart and a tear in my eye, “It was my pleasure.”