I’m happy. I’m kind of even proud of me. I’ve been trying lately to be the best version of myself there is. To be less selfish. To help out my community and do my part. In August, I’m giving blood for the first time. This is my biggest fear and I’m nearly positive I’ll pass out, but I figure passing out is worth maybe saving a life. It took me a while to come to that conclusion though. (Kidding.) And… Finally, after what seems like a ridiculously long process especially for someone with no patience whatsoever, got a call back from Big Brothers Big Sisters two days ago. I’m sure most of you know that it’s a volunteer program to mentor younger kids. I’ve always had a heart for both children and dogs. This time, I went with the kids. Honestly, the final decision may have been just a tiny bit selfish. I like going places and talking to people and I figured, with dogs, it’d be more along the lines of picking up poo at the pound. So through this process I go. It must have been five months ago at least when I had the interview. The lady who interviewed me warned me it would probably take a while, especially because I was farther north (now I’m even farther north. ) I’ve stayed pretty persistent and I check up about once a month. I found out they were pending a match for me about a month ago. A pending match even takes a long time. Two days ago I called again and got a call back that evening. I have a Little! Who is….not so little. She’s 14. At first, this worried me an itsy bit. Here I am thinking of braiding hair (which I actually can’t do, so this is good.) and playgrounds….and this is a girl less than ten years younger than me. Going into high-school! I graduated high-school barely three years ago. My thought process throughout phone conversation, (in which I vocally actually only mumble “Great!” And “Awesome!” and “Mhmm” a ridiculous amount of times. ): Oh wow. Fourteen. I still feel like I’m fourteen. Is my maturity level any higher than hers? It’s probably not. Oh! She likes to shop. And tan! This is perfect. Our maturity levels are definitely on par. Wait. She’s going to like boys. They don’t have cooties anymore at 14. What if she…Oh. God. What if she wants to talk about…sex!?!? WHAT IF SHE’S HAVING SEX!?!?! Gulp. Also. I may have made a little mistake in telling them in the interview I could speak a little Spanish? Maybe? My little is bilingual. But her mom, whom I have to have a chat session with I believe, only speaks Spanish. I could see this being a very interesting conversation, considering my already- rusty-after-a-summer-off-from-Spanish-2 vocab. Something like “Hola!“ “Hola!” “Como estas?!” “Muy bien y tu?” “Muy Bien! …. (and now fishing for conversation) Me gusta tu gato!” Cat always seems to stick out in my mind the most from my Spanish knowledge. Hopefully they have a cat. I asked the lady on the phone “Um, you know I can only speak a little Spanish, right? Is that…bad?” To which she replied: “Oh yeah! No problem. You know, she can probably understand you a little, and you can understand her a little…it’ll be fine!” Yep. I really hope she has a cat. Time to pull out the ‘ole Spanish book. Despite my initial nervousness, I’m pretty, okay really, excited now. Giddy even. I almost got a little teary-eyed when lady on the phone told me how my Little is so excited to have a Big. How she needs someone to look up to. A friend. A role model. Dude. I can be that person. It’s such a huge freaking responsibility but I think I’m ready. In the initial interview I didn’t give too many limitations. I said the girl could be any age, and they could even pair me with a boy if he was under seven (a fourteen year old ‘little’ boy might have been a little awkward.) I really just want to help who needs my help. Whoever that may be. And they found her! Now I just can’t wait to meet her. I just really hope she doesn’t want to talk about sex. I’m more open with sex than probably anybody I know,and tend to embarrass people with just how openly I speak about it. But with a fourteen year old? Who I’m mentoring? I need a mentor on how to mentor a teenager. This, my friends, is going to be one hell of a ride. Buckle your seat-belts ‘cuz you’re taking it with me.
Now then. Don’t worry. I’m not turning into total responsible/grown-up Christina yet. Y’all know me too well. And I did say I’m still pretty much fourteen at heart…remember?! My week thus far:
Monday– Sleep. Oh how I’ve missed you.
Tuesday– My friend Emily texts me to play dress-up. Yes. Dress-up. What ten year olds do (with a twist). Shutup and DON’T laugh at these pictures. I know you’re laughing. Ps: I actually wore makeup! A fun rarity for me. Be proud.
Cowgirl Christina (looks like she’s missing half a leg)
Wednesday: After opening at work and reinforcing my belief that sometimes guy’s are even more hormonal and bitchy than females, I was about ready to rip somebody’s eyes out . Lunch with a couple of my girls solves this problem.
While there, friend Amber mentioned to me that she was going to happy hour at Vivo’s later and that I should join. I hear about Vivo’s constantly.From friends and even random customers at work. After going home for a power-nap and half-ass cleaning the house a little, I ventured to this Vivo’s place. It’s in an unassuming little parking lot and you absolutely can’t miss it. It sticks out like an eye-sore. But a pretty eye-sore.I am amazed when I walk in. This place is next to a freakin’ Dairy Queen and it’s more hip than a lot of the places you’ll find downtown. Dimmed lights. Drawings of ladies with big boobies everywhere. Cougars all over the damn place. Seriously,I’ve never seen so many hot old ladies in my life. I had to call Amber because there were so many twists and turns. And it was dark! I didn’t know where to go. She found me and took me to my seat. Then our waiter explained the neat little special of the night to us. Buy a ticket for fifteen dollars, right? You get a large margarita AND your choice of either a manicure or massage. I have found my paradise. Waiter brought Amber her strawberry margarita and me my fuzzy pear margarita and off we went. To paradise!
I was in major need of a manicure so I choose that over the massage. Glad I did! The ladies were super friendly, The margarita was amazing, and I don’t have to hide my fingers anymore! Oh..Oh..Oh! Get this! As we were about to leave, the waiter brings us three roses. I was initally very confused as I knew this wasn’t from a guy (the place is 85 percent female and the men there are with that 85 percent) . Turns out they give every single girl in the place a long stemmed white rose before you walk out the door! By the time I left I felt like royalty. Well manicured, slightly tipsy royalty. I know where all of my girl’s nights will be from now on!
I’m excited. About life. About my little and being a good influence. About taking her shopping and to the movies and girl talk and whatever else she wants to do. About whatever else life throws my way or I decide to jump into next. About more mani-margarita nights. Though I do solemnly swear not to take my little to get these rather big margaritas. See!? I can be a role model! Just please please please please. No sex-talks. But if the S-word does come up, I really will do my very best. In Christina fashion (but a slightly more appropriate than usual Christina fashion),of course. I’ll keep y’all updated.