You're welcome. And I'm sorry.

Olivia was home for a few days of her spring break! What a ray of sunshine that girl is! I seriously feel like every sentence in a blog post including her should end with an exclamation point! Because that's kind of how you feel around her--excited!
!Perhaps I should begin each sentence about her with one as well as a newly invented (by me) means of literary approbation!

Okay, that's enough Nickelback (Olivia is possibly the only person who will get that joke so don't feel badly if I just lost you for a moment there).

But I digress. What I really want to write about is a particular conversation Olivia and I had while eating lunch together yesterday. Here's the background info:

I had gone to Bel Air to buy ONE item, and on my way in I ran into Bill, who at 173 years old is most probably the oldest bag boy in the history of bag boys. He was out in the parking lot, standing and chatting with a woman next to her car. The groceries had likely long ago been loaded into the car. And probably by the woman, not Bill. Which is pretty much how you will encounter Bill on any given day at Bel Air--out in the parking lot chatting with a customer who has loaded her own groceries into her car as he chats away.

As I passed Bill on my way in, he turned from his conversation to say to me, "Hey, I've got a good story for you! I'll find you inside!"

Uuuggghhh. I don't mean to be unkind. But I was there for ONE item. My five minute trip was about to turn into a twenty minute trip because make no mistake, Bill would DEFINITELY put my ONE item in a bag for me (he is a bag boy) and carry it out to my car if he has a story to tell or just wants to gab about the SF Giants.

Usually I don't mind shooting the breeze with Bill. In fact, there are times I look forward to it. Mostly when I have a very large cart of groceries and we chat AS he bags them (so slowly that the checkers almost always have to finish the job). To extend the conversation past the checkout line is to put your afternoon at peril. But it happens rather often with Bill. And not just with me. It's kind of his identity with customers and clerks alike. We all know Bill's MO.

So back to my lunch with Olivia. I wanted to know if she ever struggled with what I struggled with that morning at Bel Air. In a nutshell, I really just wanted to get in and out of the store quickly. I also, however, was going to feel badly if I just ditched Bill after he told me he wanted to tell me a story. I don't know why Bill is the oldest bag boy on the planet. Does he need the money? Is he lonely? I don't want to ignore him when he's always so nice to me. But also--I had shit to do!

It's not like this was a life-threatening decision, whether to stop and talk. I find myself in this predicament quite often, though-- is it okay to sometimes not be the nicest person you can be for selfish reasons? Or even, simpler, is it okay to sometimes just not be the nicest person you know you can be?

Olivia knew exactly what I was talking about. She recognized the struggle.  Being your kindest self doesn't always advance your day's agenda the way you want it to. Most interesting for me was what she said is her overall tack in these situations: she said she just goes with the "be kind". She said feels better about herself when she opts to take the high road, even though it is often not the most convenient route. It was a sweet moment-- she said that she learned from me and Dave to always try to be a good person, to be your kindest self. She thanked us for that.

And this is when I said to my lovely, altruistic daughter, "You're welcome. And I'm sorry."

Because it should be okay to opt for the selfish route occasionally (I mean, there are people--in high places--who opt for the selfish route exclusively) without feeling guilty. While I'm truly happy that Olivia is a young woman who, in a world that often seems to exude nastiness, chooses to be considerate, I don't want that choice to feel like a burden.

We all have to take care of the world around us, and the people in it. But we also have to take care of ourselves. Sometimes that means putting ourselves first. Guilt-free.

Not as easy as it sounds (at least for me). I want it to be easier for my daughter.

I'm going to end this with a quote from one of my favorite people, Lin-Manuel Miranda :)

"That imaginary fight you keep having in your head is taking up SO much room. Write it out... Tell it to a friend or a shrink. Or a canvas. Or chuck it. Get it out. You need your head and your heart for bigger things. Vamos."

So I've written it out, here, the imaginary fight I keep having in my head. I've talked about it with Olivia and Dave. I don't paint so the canvas isn't going to happen. But I've gotten it out.

My head and my heart are ready.

Talk to you soon, Bill.