Saturday, August 28, 2010

Two Old Farts Blowing In the Wind

" I think I may have broken my collar bone", I say matter of fact to my husband, as we sit down for five minutes to catch up on the days events.
"Hold that thought, I think I hear the phone ringing."
"I don't hear the phone, what is it you hear?" I crane my neck to listen more closely.
"Never mind, it's probably just my tinnitus. I hear ringing all the time now. At work I could have sworn the phone was ringing. I kept picking it up saying 'hello, is anybody there?' Eventually someone was there, but it was more of a lucky guess at that point." Michael sighs.
"Well, funny you should mention phones. I was on a ladder putting things on a shelf..." Michael interrupts,"Is that when you think you broke your collar bone?" "No," I say half exasperated at the interruption," As I was saying, I was up on the ladder because as it turns out I am only two feet tall, when I thought I heard the phone ring." Michael looks at my tilted head. I continue, "I was running for the phone when I tripped over the old dog..."
Again Michael interjects, "Is that when you think you broke your collar bone?" "No," I answer more emphatically, "I tripped and old dog nearly wet herself so I rushed her outside, and no, that is not when I broke my collar bone either. I got her out and was rushing back in for the phone when I slipped and fell on the puddle she left behind."
"Oh my," Michael exclaims, "that must have been just awful! I can see how you would get hurt from a fall like that."
"Well, I won't lie, it hurt, mostly my ego, but that isn't it either. I went to the kitchen thinking I could grab a couple of paper towels to clean up the mess and grab the phone at the same time. I was just about to reach for the paper towels, when the food processor fell and slammed into my ankle."
"Don't tell me, let me guess, that isn't when you broke your collar bone either?" Michael smiles as he mocks my pain and humiliation.
"You are correct, Sir, that is also not when it happened. It happened when I picked up the phone."
"What happened when you picked up the phone?" Michael now looks completely puzzled. "I broke my collar bone," I say flatly and sip my cup of tea.
"Wait, you picked up the phone and what else?" Michael sits up as if he missed something. "Nothing else happened. I picked up the phone, I heard a very loud snap and now I can't move my head. That is the whole story. How was your day?"
Michael looks past me distracted, "It was OK, nothing like your day. Is that the phone ringing?"

The Lost Summer

I lost a whole summer this year. I cannot account for a single period of time this summer that had anything to do with the season. I watched as other kids went back to school, knowing my kids were going to college and starting later. All of the kids are in college. It makes my head swim, thinking of how fast it all went.
The difference in summers these past few years is astounding to me. The changes everybody has gone through, the metamorphosis of the family, seeing everyone change in a hundred different ways. Two summers ago I was writing my first book. Last summer I was promoting my published book, and this year I was preparing to start my second book. In two years I became a writer. Sometimes I look back and think it is all ridiculous.
My oldest graduated from college, my youngest boy had a life altering experience, my oldest boy made some pretty heavy life choices for himself, deciding who he wanted to be and how he wanted to make that happen, and the youngest, well, she graduated from high school, getting ready to be a freshman all over again, only this time in college.
Mike and I, didn't have time for a vacation, or to go on day trips or do anything even remotely summer like. There was no pool, or beach or camping, hiking, biking or picnics. All summer long we looked for a house, bought a house, sold a house and moved piles of boxes from one place to another. We are currently still in boxes. There is an isle way from one end of the house to the other, with boxes full of sundry stuff on either side we haven't found a home for yet. All I have written about for months is moving. Had I known the realities of how hard this was going to be , I assure you, I would have taken a time out for the nervous breakdown I rightfully deserve. Instead, I have been cautiously optimistic, relaying to the family how wonderful things will be once we truly get settled. I am smart enough to know to keep my mouth shut as to how long that will take.
I had started to do that thing where I regretted this summer. I was feeling bad about not having a summer with any fun in it. This summer was all about the work, fun would have to wait. I am and always will be the brick house little pig. I stopped myself, and Michael stopped me too, from berating myself for not being able to pull a rabbit out of this particular hat. "Baby, there is no way we could have done anything better, or even different than what we did", Michael gently reminded me. "Yeah, I know, I just wish I had more time or more hands, or something that might have made this better", I sighed wistfully. Michael looked at me, holding my face in his hands, "Look, we all did the best we could. That has to be enough."
Yes, we did the best we could with all of our unforeseen circumstances and it really does have to be enough. If I have any regrets, they are wasting time regretting things.
This will remain the Rip Van Moving summer, the lost summer, where bad things, amazing things, and miraculous things have happened. It will be the summer of growth, change and maturity for all of us. It wasn't the worst summer we have ever had, although I will tell you it is in the top 10 list, but it was hardly a summer full of joyous memories either.
We all like the new house. The kids call it cozy. No one misses the old house, which I find very odd. As cramped as we are right now, not one person in our family wishes we were more spread apart. I am fascinated that we aren't mourning the space, the pool and the finished house more, but we aren't, so I let it be what it is and isn't.
The kids rooms were finished first since they all have to start college classes soon. Michael has a clean space in the master bedroom to try and help him sleep less fitfully, without boxes staring him in the face all the time. And me, well, I am getting my kitchen sort of together so that I can cook my way out of my stress. It is my go to move, baking, frying and simmering my burdens into delectable concoctions my family will devour. My oven is half the size I need, the stove only has two burners that work and the cupboards belong in Barbie's dream house rather than my kitchen, but I have made entire dinners and even baked a pie.
It is the end of the lost summer. I look forward to pulling my dead bodies out of the attic, getting ready for Halloween. This is going to be a great house for holidays. I just feel it in my blood soaked bag of bones.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Unpacking the Boxers in the Pack


I was thinking this morning about how far my family has come from just 10 years ago. It constantly amazes me how much change occurs when we aren't looking. A mere decade ago, my kids were still considered little. I worried about everything back then, well, I guess that much really hasn't changed that much. I still worry, but now I spend much of my day convincing myself it is a bad idea. They are old enough to know better. Whether they act on that is up to them. My oldest child was 12 years old, while my youngest was a mere 8. They have indeed grown up right in front of me, ready or not. Even the dog got older, and is trying to enjoy her golden years.
Beyond the 1,200 miles we have traveled, we have matured in so many unexpected ways. The learning curves for us have come up time and time again, in ways we couldn't have possibly imagined a decade ago. My heart breaks when I see one my children make a mistake, where the costs are so high, but the benefits are often one more step to true understanding of who they are, and what they are made of. I made plenty of mistakes, back in my hey day. I lived to talk about them too, or at least write about them. I had so hoped that my kids would not make the same mistakes I did, in order to grow up and expand. Sometimes they do and sometimes they make whole new mistakes, I find jaw dropping. Either way, they tell me things that make my hair want to fall out. It's my good news, bad news conundrum. The good news is my kids still talk to me. The bad news is they tell me, honestly, the things they have done they have learned from. Ouch! I sit, trying to keep the "Oh dear God!" look off my face while they are telling me their story. I remind myself that staying non-judgmental is the key to keeping them close. Kids ARE their most unlovable when they need love the most.
Years ago my kids, mostly due to their closeness in age and the death of their father, traveled in a pack. I watched as they clung to me and each other, as if they might blow away in the wind. If I went to the bathroom, they went too. If one of them went somewhere, the others expected to follow. It was extraordinary to witness. My husband, Michael, noticed it first. "You guys always stay so close to each other in proximity as well as emotional attachment." "What do mean?" I asked sincerely puzzled by his observation. "Well, whenever we go somewhere, you all stay within a two foot radius of each other. When you get up, they get up, when you go to another room, they follow. It is like watching a pack mother and her cubs."
Up until that point I hadn't noticed what he was talking about. After that comment I began to watch my kids very closely, but without them noticing it. Sure enough, we did exactly what he said we did. We traveled in a pack. My kids had learned to protect each other and me, by staying close. Everybody had the others back. I suppose much of that was due to the insecurity of having lost their father so young. Nothing could ever be the same after that , so they all felt the responsibility of picking up the pieces, guarding each other from any harm that might come in to the fold. It stayed that way until recently.
This is the summer of the malcontent. The kids are growing and need the space to screw it up, do it over and be plain, old different then who they were. It is extremely tough to change, when you are surrounded by family who know all of your deep, dark secrets and fatal flaws. One needs to break free of the stereo types one has set for themselves in order to be different. My limited understanding of the growing psyche of my kids, had me at a loss for what was truly going on in my household. Now, later than I would have liked, I get it.
My kids don't even like each other. Their need to strike out in the world and be their own person, away for the pack, they have been a part of so long, has come due. They fight constantly, attacking the very character traits they all share. They find the others distasteful, beating feet to get as far away from them as possible. At first I lectured that we are all family and owe each other loyalty. I sat appalled at the amount of emotional betrayal between the children I raised. The truth is, they need the break. For years, they and me were all they had. For years, they protected our family unit even to the detriment of their own independence. Now it is time for them to truly move on and away from the family unit, so they can figure out exactly who they are as individuals. It is my job to let them.
"I hate her!" " He is a pig!" "What a loser!" Where I corrected the latest angry child/adult from negative speak before, now I simply say this, "Yes, I get it, go ahead and hate them." They won't hate each other forever. But maybe they need to hate each other now in order to live their own life without fear, guilt or recrimination. Parents get that they and their children start to dislike each other for awhile in order for the child to make their break. At least, I understood that much to be true. I hadn't seen that they needed to break from each other, as well.
The moving we have done this summer has been all about letting go of the past. We have donated, sold and gotten rid of hundreds of pounds of extra stuff that didn't fit our lives anymore. Toys were donated, bedding was thrown out, furniture is being sold, all in the name of streamlining our lives in order to allow good things to come to us. We are making room for good fortune. My herd is thinning also. My pack is unpacking in order to become. They need to thin for the extra room required to become who they were born to be and not what others expect of them, even me.
So there it is. The next phase of family life for the family. Growing hurts more than any injury, breakup or torment. It is the single most painful thing we, as humans endure, and yet, we will die from the inside out if we don't. This summer was my reminder, I am still discovering so much about all of us. It was the wake up call I needed to let my kids figure some things out on their own, without my "help". Now, what to do with all of my extra free time?

Friday, August 13, 2010

My Darling Christine


Our daughter is graduating from college tomorrow. I find myself drifting back when she was a baby. She still has blond hair and big blue eyes. She has the same smile and the way she tilts her head and looks at me as if I were completely insane. When she was an infant she had this thing called a a Johnny Jump Up. It hung from the door frame where she used her tiny legs to get it to swing her around and bounce up and down while I cooked dinner. I can see her in my mind as if it were happening right in front of me at this very moment. That is how it is for me. I still see all of her life regardless of where she is today. Every picture of her in every stage is ingrained in my mind and available at a moment's notice. I miss the days when the sun rose and set for me. I miss the day and nights when I was the most important person in her world.
I have waited for many years, 22 to be exact, to get to this point. I wished, prayed and worked so she could have the opportunities she has had. Tomorrow she will fulfill her end of the bargain. Christine Hope will don her cap and gown, walk across the stage and grab firmly on to her diploma that she she worked so very hard to get. I am so very proud of her. I never graduated from college and it remains my biggest regret. She has come right through me and allowed me to share in her joy and accomplishments.
I have packed plenty of tissues for the time when the tears stream down my face as I know they will. I will toast my child, our daughter, as she begins her real big girl life. The world is hers for the taking. I was watching The Colbert Report and his guest was Chuck Close the artist. He is Christy's and my favorite. My Walmart bill was the same as her date of birth.All these little signs to remind me how lucky I have been to have her in my life. I didn't just get pennies this time either, I got quarters and dimes from her father as the reminder that he too is aware of her graduation. Having Christy as a daughter has been an embarrassment of riches.