Oh YOU again

The Story of My Life 40 Responses »
Jul 102010

I generally like myself although part of this is self-defense. I mean, I live with myself so I may as well like me. But I do have those days where I wake up and think, “Oh YOU again.” And sigh because I am so tired of my particular neuroses and would gladly trade and try on someone else’s. I would like to be calm where I am busy. I would like to be brave where I am fearful. I wish I wasn’t so dang loud and awkward. I wish I was less comfortable living with clutter. I wish I was more patient. I’d like to be more disciplined, more organized, less apt to get grouchy.

But oh dear, it’s YOU again with your familiar grouch. It’s your same old tired summer wardrobe and the same old issues with your hair. There’s the kitchen with the sink full of dishes, just like always. There’s the carpet that needs vacuuming and the vacuum that needs to be pulled apart to tease out the stuck dog hair. There’s the bookshelf with the mail stacked on, waiting to be sorted once again.

I sat on the edge of the bed this morning when I first woke up and had the usual morning conversation with myself: Should I leave the bedroom through the hall and go and open the kids’ windows first? Or should I leave the bedroom through the connecting bath so I can grab my toothbrush first? And do I have to consider this decision every morning? (For the people who can’t bear to know how that story ends, I almost always get my toothbrush and then brush my teeth while I go around opening windows and blinds — it’s an electric toothbrush and I’m all about multitasking.)

Everyone told me forty was so great because you finally know — and accept — who you are. This is true. But the acceptance looks a lot like tired acquiescence, at least around here. Maybe it even looks a tiny little bit like giving in or giving up only not so negative. More like if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. If forty years of trying hasn’t made me a neat freak, perhaps I can quit worrying about the mess. Only the mess is still there. The dishes still need to get done but now I have no hope of ever being the kind of person who leaps to the task. That means I face those dishes with a tired pessimism — I will NEVER like doing the dishes. Rats. I will always face them with the same resentful dread.

I am a great believer in finding out who you are and then being the best at that as you can be so this all sounds more negative than I mean it. But that’s just the thing — we have such a mania for excitement and optimism and wide-eyed wonder and so much of life is NOT that. So much of life is the mundane chores that we dread. At the core of serenity is acceptance and I guess I just always hoped I’d be a more awesome person by the time I figured out acceptance but instead I am accepting such a flawed me.

It’s like this — when we moved into this house I knew it was the house that we were going to raise our kids in. I knew this was it, the Family House. And there was this piece of furniture we’d been carting around for our Someday House and we got rid of it when we bought this one because we realized that THIS was our Someday House and there was no room for that piece of furniture so we got rid of it. And it was a relief to get rid of it but it was also surprising to realize that our Someday House was not going to be the fulfillment of every little dream. Like I will never have a screened-in porch for my kids to play in on rainy days even though I’ve wanted one since I was eight and the brown house two doors up had one and when my best friend moved in there I discovered the nirvana that is playing in a screened in porch on a rainy day. But this house doesn’t have one (it does have a lovely wide front porch, which I adore and helps but still, it is not what I was imagining). So I will never raise my kids in a house with a screened in porch and I will never be a mother who can keep a room tidy and I will never be someone who cares enough about fashion to have a sense of style and darn it but I was counting on those things.

This is why in the mornings sometimes when I’m sitting on the edge of my bed contemplating what to do first I am also thinking, “Oh YOU again.” It’s like the way I feel when I’m trying to put groceries away and I forget the order that you have to close the overlapping cupboards in the corner and they slam wrong in that jarring way and I have to open them back up and do it right and I think, “Oh THESE CUPBOARDS again.” You have to be careful with them. You have to be humdrum conscientious a little bit in the back of your mind while you daydream, stacking boxes of spaghetti. And that reminds you that you are not the kind of woman who can keep her mind on her task and instead you are the kind of woman who daydreams while putting groceries away and slams the cupboards wrong so that they are a little more dented (being that soft pine). You are a woman with a wandering mind and dented kitchen cupboards. You are a woman who walks through her house with her toothbrush, opening windows and making plans and dribbling toothpaste on the front of her pajamas. You are a woman who cannot get dressed before brushing her teeth because she dribbles toothpaste.

No, I am that woman. Oh dear, it’s ME again.

Like I said, 98% of the time (more or less) I like myself but it would be nice to have less need to make allowances. It’d be nice to have less need to say, “Well, dearest self, lord knows you can’t keep your desk cleared off but I suppose you are deserving of love and affection anyway.” I’d like be able to keep that desk cleared off.

Only it ain’t gonna happen. I am most at home in clutter. So I will always be looking in dismay at the clutter and scrabbling through it to find my glasses case or my wallet or the note I wrote myself about that interview I need to do.

I’m forty. I accept it. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

(And anyone who gives me advice about self-improvement or recommends, say, The Fly Lady has totally missed the point of this entry. Also it’s supposed to be sort of amusing and not depressing but I wrote it WHILE I was drinking my first cup of coffee and I can’t tell if that came through or not. And for the record, I hate The Fly Lady. She makes me want to kick my shoes off and read a novel while the dust bunnies accumulate just as a matter of principle.)

Kids will be kids

Parenting 23 Responses »
Jun 012010

My generation of parents, we struggle. We’re worried that we’re over-involved or that we’re not involved enough. The media demonizes us either as thoughtless and materialistic abandoning our kids to disinterested “other care” providers or else as helicopter parents who are cutting our kids’ meat into their teens. People debate whether we should take our kids to the park and leave them there or  not let them play outside in the front yard without supervision.

I lean to the benign neglect side of things with a dash of hovering, like homeschooling my kids to keep ‘em close but sending them out to play where they won’t give me a headache. It’s true that I didn’t wean Noah until he was just about ready for kindergarten but it’s also true that by nine I was sending him to the neighborhood corner store to get me a Diet Coke.

So far the balance hasn’t been all that tricky. The kids kinda lead the way and what works for one doesn’t necessarily work for the other and I’ve felt pretty good at our ad hoc planning.

I have been thinking about this as my son has begun his journey through the teen years and I’ve been searching harder than ever for examples and encouragement from parents who have been there and who are there now. But I know that really I won’t know until my kids get there and they’re sure not there yet.

Katie Granju’s unfathomable loss is tragic and it is terrifying. It’s tempting to say “There but for the grace of God” but let’s face it, God’s grace has nothing to do with it. The truth is, that could be any of us and it could be any of our kids. (I think about Julia who has wryly observed that hers is the family that makes other parents feel safe, as if her kids’ incredibly bad kidney luck somehow protects the rest of us from ending up in the ICU, holding the hands of a son or daughter who might die. “There but for the grace of God go I,” we think, full of compassion and horror, nevermind that what we’re saying is that God’s grace is keeping us safe but has left another family out in the cold.) I dread the Monday morning quarterbacking that was already inching along when she first wrote about his addiction, assault and overdose and is sure to get worse now even though I understand it. We want to comb through her story to reassure ourselves that it will never be our story, that our children are stronger or smarter or that we have relationships that will defy whatever tragedies threaten our families.

Honestly, it’s not bad parenting and it’s not the inattention of God that sends some of our children away from us. Bad things happen. They happen in strict, religious families. They happen in open-minded, open communication families. They happen when parents stay married and when they divorce. They happen whether our kids are troublemakers or the ones who sit still and listen. THEY HAPPEN. It’s horrifying. It’s almost too scary to contemplate. But even the best advice is looking at families in hindsight and there are no crystal balls when it comes to raising kids. For every family whose child is proof that THIS is the way or THAT is a mistake, there’s another family ready to prove just the opposite.

“I talked to MY kids about drugs!” says the parent whose kid is card-carrying straightedge. And at the same time another parent of a child in rehab says, “Yeah, well I did, too.”

So how do we go on? How do we let our kids get on the school bus or bike to the community pool or go away to college or overnight camp? How do we let go when there are no guarantees that we can keep them safe? How will we live with ourselves if something awful happens and all we have is a rearview mirror? God, I don’t know. I don’t know. And I hope I never have to know.

Last month I interviewed Dick Hoyt for Support for Special Needs. I know you’ve seen his YouTubes; he’s the guy who pushes his disabled son through marathon after marathon. He’s a pretty unassuming guy and frankly, it was a tough interview. Not because he wasn’t lovely and friendly and happy to talk but because he’s a man of few words and most of those words are the ones he’s used to saying in interviews. It was hard to get him past the soundbites I’d already heard in other interviews and in reading his ghostwritten memoir. But the guy, he is terrific and very very kind. I interviewed him to be the inaugural guest in a series of articles we’re calling Future Glimpse, which are articles from parents who have raised their kids with special needs to adulthood to give some much needed perspective and encouragement. So my questions centered on Dick managed to let Rick be a kid. How did he let him head off into the neighborhood in the day before cell phones? How did he let him live in the college dorms without full-time care? Especially when Rick started partying too hard or when he had a caretaker who didn’t bother to show up on time leaving Rick to nearly suffocate. (Note: Rick began drinking heavily in college but he quit when he realized he was risking his life. Why he could quit and Henry couldn’t is not something we can ever really know.)

I’ll tell you, Dick was stymied at my questions. He didn’t understand why people might not understand. The way he saw it, his son had a right to a life that he, Rick, wanted to live and as the dad, his job was to help him get it. So Dick and his wife, Judy, stifled their fears and they fought for their son’s right to be independent.

I look at Dick, 70 years old today, still pushing Rick in their racing wheelchair and I look at the pictures of beautiful Henry, lost forever to the world and I think you just can’t know. You just can’t know. Some of our children will succeed beyond our wildest dreams because we let them fly and others, oh god, others will fall and our hearts will fall with them.

I can’t make sense of it. But I do know that I don’t look at Katie and wonder where she failed because the undertoad haunts all of us. I asked my mother, “Is there ever a time where you can say, ‘Oh I got them there! My children are finally in the place called Safe and I no longer have to worry!’” And my mom said never because life is unpredictable and it keeps on happening.

On the email list I was on way back when where I first met Katie, we’d have .sig lines, you know, in our emails. And one of my favorites was that quote from Elizabeth Stone, “Having a child is like letting your heart walk around outside of your body.” I thought it was hard watching my baby toddle away from me. I thought the worst was the sleepless nights when I worried about SIDS and unseen chokeables. My mom is right; it never ends. You just learn to live with it, that awful fear but it’s always there waiting to bubble up when your kid climbs a tree or goes on his first date or gets caught smoking cigarettes.

I will take Katie’s advice to heart, to never brush off drug experimentation as nothing serious but I will also be inspired by Dick Hoyt who refused to let fear guide his parenting. And I will accept that my heart will forever be walking outside my body, carried loosely in the hands of these two kids I’ve been blessed to parent. May the world be kind to them!

Feeling feelings

Parenting 31 Responses »
Oct 052009

My kids have a lot of feelings about things and their feelings about things aren’t always easy. What’s more, I’ve been telling them since before they could talk that their feelings matter, that they have a right to share them and that I will (try to) listen. (Sometimes this is prevented by the need to, for example, merge into traffic on the freeway since both my kids have this uncanny ability to bring up heavy topics when I am most distracted.) For the most part, this has worked out. My kids are fluent speakers of the often complex language of feelings, which means that I can help them process events and that they are able to problem-solve for themselves when something isn’t working for them. They are also compassionate kids and I’m not just saying that.

But there’s a flip to this, which is my god, sometimes I want to outlaw feelings. Stupid feel good seventies! I grew up on Sesame Street and their “sad, mad, glad” sketches and it shows! See, back in the alleged good old days, kids didn’t feel — they stuffed those feelings! They stuffed ‘em and grew up to be alcoholics and had unhappy marriages and ulcers but at least their mothers got a break, right?

There is no rest for the feeling-oriented mother. (Of course, mothers back in the day didn’t get to have feelings either; they just had Valium. Ask Betty Draper.)

Anyway, the feelings in my house? They are flying so thick that I can barely walk through the kitchen without knocking into one of them. I am processing with my kids every time I turn around. I am looking into their eyes with compassion and good listening skills several times a day and I am tired. There’s one kid on the cusp of adolescence and one kid still working out her little brother’s arrival and it’s a lot, let me tell you.

Besides wearing me down and making me old before my time, I also sometimes worry that all of this respect for feelings creates feelings. I know that’s not true (Sesame tells me that’s not true) but sometimes I hear other people’s voices ringing in my ears and these voices say, “If you’d ignore it, maybe it would go away. Maybe you’re coddling all of those feelings.” This is partly because that’s the kind of the message that we send each other (the collective we) and partly because these feelings are hard and I do wish they’d go away. Not that I want my kids to stuff how they feel — I just wish their feelings were all happy. All happiness, all the time. Go away bad feelings! Missing someone? Feeling lonely? Worried about tomorrow? Have a cookie! Have a drink! Pop a pill! Watch tv!

Ok, so maybe not quite the good old days.

Abby and I talked at length about this over the weekend because Abby is the same kind of feelings junkie that I am and you know, her kids are needy in the same way mine are. I said, “I don’t see other parents going through XYZ — do you think we’re creating it?” And she said, “I don’t think those parents are allowing it. If we allow it, then it’s going to come out. If we don’t allow it, it won’t stop it — it’ll just stop coming out.”

I think she’s right.

Noah is turning out swell so far (knock wood) and so I thought I’d be a more confident parent the second time around and for the most part I am. But every kid is different and every kid has their own personal path and you know, I revisit my decisions a lot more than I thought I would. I needed the encouragement Abby gave me to stay strong and keep on lending words to my kids when they can’t find their own instead of giving in to the siren song of the loving brush-off that goes like this, “Oh you are fine! Now run along and find yourself something to do!”

(I remember having horrible, gut-wrenching worries in kindergarten and they were as real and as insomnia-producing as my fully-fledged adult worries are now. I imagine it’s the same way for my kids even when their worries and fears seem small.)

It’s hard. It’s really hard to always be there and to listen without getting discouraged or impatient or annoyed or so sad that I try to run away from what they’re saying. It’s hard to listen without judgment and reflect back what they’re saying and carefully couch suggestions to help them find their own way out. It’s hard not to give unasked for advice. It’s hard not to say, “If you’d only…” or “Why can’t you…” It’s just hard. Parenting is hard. Parenting, unfortunately, is not for sissies.

Quick hits, post-baby shower

Adoption 9 Responses »
Jul 262009
  • The baby shower was awesome due in no small part to the hard work of this blogger (who rescued me in more ways than one starting with her pointed empathy and shower game take-over), and this blogger (who called up and said, “Are you totally stressed? What do you need me to do? Never mind, I’m bringing food!”) and my sister (who made prizes and notecards) and OF COURSE Carmen at Surly Girl who emailed me and said she would take care of everything so stop worrying!!! Also? Cupcakes! Surly Girl cupcakes are the best ever!!! Oh and Carmen? Took one look at my panicked face and brought me over a blueberry lemonade drink of some kind that took the edge right off, lemme tell YOU.
  • More baby shower awesomeness included the arrival of Thorn and Lee who I really need to see more because I think I love them. Also getting to see Pennie’s friends again, who I’ve technically known as long as I’ve known Pennie (we met them all the same day), especially Sam, who is lovely and is Madison’s designated BabyDaddy, so christened by Pennie. (I love that!)
  • Pennie was gorgeous (see pic below) and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in a dress! She carries her pregnancies well even though she is about tired of being pregnant.
  • More goodness from the internet came via presents from Susan (whose gracious gifts choked Pennie up seeing as how unexpected they were), Julia (who whipped up a  beautiful baby blanket, no problem and included a fancy bracelet for Madison, which was much appreciated!) and Suz (who may have sent the high chair to the wrong address but whose encouragement is extra-laden with love).
  • Click pics for bigness!

Tommy & Pennie

Surly Girl's Blueberry-Lemon Cupcakes

Pennie & her girls!

Moving forward

work work work 8 Responses »
Jan 032009

Thanks to all who weighed in (on blog and off) about grad school. It’s kind of a moot point since I’m not in a position to go for a fellowship right now (because I still need to make money) and I wouldn’t go to grad school if I had to pay for it. But it’s a maybe someday kind of thing. Hearing that I may not need that degree to do what I want was encouraging. I know that if my book sells that this will go a long way to building my career, which is one reason I want to write it. I want to get to the next stage in my life as a writer and I feel like having a book is the next stage. I’m not thinking much beyond this proposal (because I want to revel in the experience of having one out) but I am thinking about what I can be doing to support that proposal (and my interest in adoption) and help me grow into other projects if that book doesn’t sell.

Here’s some stuff in my head right now:

  1. Brett’s doing the taxes and I made more than I thought last year. Although I was technically full-time freelance, I was really working part-time and I made a very nice income for a part-time worker. That made me feel much better about things. What hurt us was that when I went full-time in 2007, I wasn’t making enough at all and we ran through the cushion we’d built to support us while I got things up and running. Then when clients paid out late in 2008, we had no cushion and went into debt and I didn’t make enough to pay ourselves and pay back that debt so Brett had to go to work. But I was short by much less than I thought — we are not as bad off as I feared.
  2. I had coffee with Alicia who had encouragement and good advice about doing workshops. She knows whereof she speaks since she gave me my first workshop gig. I left our meeting more excited!
  3. In my continuing critique of the past year, I realized that all of my jobs came via networking. ALL OF THEM. None came from marketing/cold calling/warm calling. So I’m going to work on developing my connections and let word-of-mouth bring me work. In other words, I’m going to fret less and trust more (having Brett at work to pay the regular bills gives me the freedom to do this). And with the cushion that is Brett, I won’t take work that I don’t want this year.
  4. Some of last year’s mistakes were necessary so that I could figure out what I was doing, like joining too many networking groups because I bought into the “it’s a numbers game” message even though I don’t like networking. I’m good at relationships and I’ve done better by focusing on relationships and easing up on the glad-handing strangers. Lesson learned. Of course I had to spend a lot of money and time to find it out and because I’d invested so much money and time, it took me longer than it should. (I kept trying to make it work, going to lunches and brunches and coffees and spending a lot of money on business cards that I gave away and that only got me on other people’s pitch lists.)

I have not, by any stretch, closed shop. I’m still here slugging away but having Brett bring home a paycheck is giving me room to put to work what I learned in the past year.

I am very grateful to Brett. (I should probably tell him that.)

Now that 2008 is over, I will say cautiously that it was a good year, even the terrible last quarter. Because sometimes a person has to fall flat on her face to look back and see what was tripping her up.

I am feeling very hopeful.

(Seriously — having that number there in black and white and knowing that I earned it on my own, flying free has gone a long way to making me feel better about it all.)

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