Finding old friends in new places

I was looking for accredited educational sites to renew my notary commission last week and stumbled upon the blog of an old friend. We met in the second grade and were best of friends until senior year in high school, when we didn't have many classes or interests in common. We remained friends and social until we were both married and both had our first child. After that she decided that her marriage was too fragile to sustain friendship with anyone other than her husband. I'm not really sure the real reasons, but we lost contact for a number of years. I was reading her blogs and having known her for so many of her earlier years, at least 25, it seemed so plastic. I then got to thinking about my own life and how much has changed and come together since my first child was born. I wish her the very best and truly hope that she is living the life she writes about.

Anyway, back to my perfect life. I am self employed and find it very difficult to manage home, business and family. My husband is a naturalized US citizen. His country of birth is Mexico. He grew up poor. Not the poor that comes to mind to anyone who has never been outside of the US, but third world poor. The kind of poor that leaves children crying in the dark as they lay helpless against the bugs that ravage their once soft, silky, innocent skin on their straw mats (if they are fortunate enough to have one) just to one side of the brick walls of their dirt floor home, kind of poor. My husband, before he met me, had never had a Birthday cake, much less a birthday party. Up until his fortieth birthday, we had always celebrated his birthday by dining out with my parents and siblings. On his fortieth birthday, also a week after he was sworn in as a US citizen, I threw my husband a surprise Birthday party. I invited his band mates and their families, his friends and relatives (and there are quite a few!) and my friends and relatives. I had the event catered and ordered a huge tres leches cake decorated for the birthday boy, and of course a Pinata. He had a wonderful time mingling with everyone. I had a hard time trying to pin him down to open his gifts, in fact I never could do it. The party was scheduled to end at 10, but the last guest finally left at 3am. after we finished cleaning up the sun was rising. It was beautiful. I finally asked him if he was ever going to open his gifts. As he did he started to weep. He said that he couldn't bring himself to open the gifts in front of everyone. He had never actually gotten a birthday gift from anyone besides me.

From this, I took this lesson: Never assume that what you did as a child, the fun you had at birthday parties, sleep overs, camping, Disneyland and so on, are common experiences with your spouse, friends or coworkers. I too am of Mexican decent, however I am third generation American and the cultural differences between myself and my husband are far wider than the Grand Canyon and sometimes easier to cross.

Time to put the toddler down.....