So, my theme song for this week is Rodney Atkins, These Are My People.

Take a moment and enjoy:

I am a southern through and through, I’ll admit, but there is just something extra special about country music in the summer.  Love it! 

This past weekend I went to a jewelry party.  Jewelry parties are not my thing, but I was under the impression that the woman selling the jewelry had made it all herself.  I was wrong.  It was a Stella and Dot party.  I will always pick Etsy over Stella and Dot. 

The hostess had asked me to come a bit early so that we would have some time to catch up before the party.  When I got there it wasn’t just the two of us.  It was the hostess, her boyfriend, the girl selling the jewelry and me.  Needless to say, the hostess and I didn’t get to catch up in the way I had imagined. 

We all sat in the living room and chatted.  The conversation centered primarily around pop culture.  These are things I have no knowledge of and, quite honestly, don’t give a damn about.  It was painful.  I didn’t really want to be there in the first place, but then I had to be attentive during this inane conversation.  

It became crystal clear to me as I sat on that couch – these are not my people. 

I had gone to the party because I thought it would be a good reason to get out of the house with littleman out of town.  I had gone to the party because I thought I might meet some new people.  I had gone to the party because I try to support local artisans when I can. (Again, still not sure why I thought that this was handmade jewelry.  Wishful thinking?) 

I had also gone to the party because my friend who was hosting the party is single.  I have struggled with where exactly I fit in socially as the divorced mother of a toddler.  I thought that maybe these were the folks that I was supposed to be spending time with – other single people, but what I found out is that I didn’t fit in at all with this particular group of single people.  Why?  There are probably a lot of reasons, but the thing that stood out most to me is that I was the only mother in the room.  Being a mom doesn’t make me better or worse, just different.

Last night I went to have drinks with two of my girlfriends.  We laughed, we commiserated, at one point I cried just a bit and we had the best time.  I realized that – these ARE my people! 

It doesn’t matter that I am single and they are married.  It doesn’t matter that two of us work and one of us doesn’t.  It doesn’t matter that two of us are in our late 30s and one of us in her early 30s.  What matters is that we get each other.  We are all moms of toddler boys.  We are all women who share the same “ what you see is what you get” attitude.  We are all women who have been through more than our share of trials and tribulations.  We are women who are honest with each other and support each other.

Rodney sums it up well:

These are my people
This is where I come from
Were givin’ this life everything we got and then some
It ain’t always pretty
But its real
It’s the way we were made
Wouldn’t have it any other way
These are my people