"Mom, you are a genius!"
And just as I start to feel good about this...
"What is genius, anyway?"
Good question.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Watching
Part of being a wall flower means I get to sit back and do some serious people watching. I watch how some women dress, admiring their easy sense of style. I look at babies and wonder who they will become. Heck, some babies already look like adults - you know, in their faces. That always kind of freaks me out and amuses me at the same time. But anyway.
Sometimes I look at elderly people and imagine what they looked like when they were young. What were their great passions? What terrible things happened to them? What does it feel like inside - do they still feel like they're 28, and are surprised when they look in the mirror, like I am?
Wednesday afternoon we went to visit JBL's grandparents. Both of them are having health issues and have been in a slow decline for the past few years. Both are over 85 years old, so visits seem more important and poignant every time.
At first we went to the nursing facility where Nanny has been for some time. Her bed was empty, and my knee-jerk reaction was fear. Did she have a fall? JBL wasn't concerned so I said nothing as we then stopped in one facility restaurant after another, hoping to find them at a late lunch.
Finally we found them in the main dining room. They were at a corner table, talking quietly over half-empty glasses of wine. You would never know that Grandy has an aneurysm on his heart, or that Nanny sometimes doesn't recognize her own children. They were dressed up, and obviously happy to be sharing a fine meal together on Christmas eve. For after all, it was also their 66th wedding anniversary. They have been married almost twice as long as I've been alive.
They greeted us, and J, with delight. Have some sherbert! You should have seen the filet mignon they served - it was marvelous! Will you stay for coffee?
Grandy shared some funny stories about articles he's written for the circular published at the retirement community. Nanny asked about our plans for the rest of the holiday. I sat back as they chatted with their grandson and great-granddaughter, and read the card Grandy had given Nanny. It was every bit as romantic as the cards JBL gives me.
I closed my eyes and flew back through time. I pictured the two of them hurrying to a justice of the peace, to be joined officially forever as they had already promised in their hearts, before he was shipped off - a fighter pilot in World War II. She, a nurse, waited for him. They lived through so much afterwards. He survived being shot down over occupied France. They had 3 children, one of whom was taken from them shortly after giving birth to their first granddaughter. Their remaining children struggled with troubles over the rest of their lives. They lost a daughter-in-law. They almost lost contact with their grandson, and battle continuously to maintain the love and relationships they still have. Up until 3 years ago, they still gardened and volunteered regularly.
To this day, they still hold hands. They still share loving anniversary dinners. They still struggle with all the little things it takes to support each other - as all us old married couples do. But they also have to plan for when they are going to die, as they suspect it won't be too much longer.
I look into Grandy's eyes, and they still sparkle with life as he talks with J about her sherbert. How old does he feel inside? Is he afraid? Then he looks at me, and I see the love in his easy smile. Maybe I don't wonder after all.
But I keep watching.
Sometimes I look at elderly people and imagine what they looked like when they were young. What were their great passions? What terrible things happened to them? What does it feel like inside - do they still feel like they're 28, and are surprised when they look in the mirror, like I am?
Wednesday afternoon we went to visit JBL's grandparents. Both of them are having health issues and have been in a slow decline for the past few years. Both are over 85 years old, so visits seem more important and poignant every time.
At first we went to the nursing facility where Nanny has been for some time. Her bed was empty, and my knee-jerk reaction was fear. Did she have a fall? JBL wasn't concerned so I said nothing as we then stopped in one facility restaurant after another, hoping to find them at a late lunch.
Finally we found them in the main dining room. They were at a corner table, talking quietly over half-empty glasses of wine. You would never know that Grandy has an aneurysm on his heart, or that Nanny sometimes doesn't recognize her own children. They were dressed up, and obviously happy to be sharing a fine meal together on Christmas eve. For after all, it was also their 66th wedding anniversary. They have been married almost twice as long as I've been alive.
They greeted us, and J, with delight. Have some sherbert! You should have seen the filet mignon they served - it was marvelous! Will you stay for coffee?
Grandy shared some funny stories about articles he's written for the circular published at the retirement community. Nanny asked about our plans for the rest of the holiday. I sat back as they chatted with their grandson and great-granddaughter, and read the card Grandy had given Nanny. It was every bit as romantic as the cards JBL gives me.
I closed my eyes and flew back through time. I pictured the two of them hurrying to a justice of the peace, to be joined officially forever as they had already promised in their hearts, before he was shipped off - a fighter pilot in World War II. She, a nurse, waited for him. They lived through so much afterwards. He survived being shot down over occupied France. They had 3 children, one of whom was taken from them shortly after giving birth to their first granddaughter. Their remaining children struggled with troubles over the rest of their lives. They lost a daughter-in-law. They almost lost contact with their grandson, and battle continuously to maintain the love and relationships they still have. Up until 3 years ago, they still gardened and volunteered regularly.
To this day, they still hold hands. They still share loving anniversary dinners. They still struggle with all the little things it takes to support each other - as all us old married couples do. But they also have to plan for when they are going to die, as they suspect it won't be too much longer.
I look into Grandy's eyes, and they still sparkle with life as he talks with J about her sherbert. How old does he feel inside? Is he afraid? Then he looks at me, and I see the love in his easy smile. Maybe I don't wonder after all.
But I keep watching.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Come pick me up
Saturday night. Ryan Adams concert at GMU. My God, he was rockin'! And funny in between songs. Be still my heart.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRnoh86FD2A
And to the blonde coed who sat to my right: would it have killed you to clap even once while waiting for your precious Oasis? Sheesh - you were still in elementary school when they were really popular. Get over yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRnoh86FD2A
And to the blonde coed who sat to my right: would it have killed you to clap even once while waiting for your precious Oasis? Sheesh - you were still in elementary school when they were really popular. Get over yourself.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Organizationally challenged
How does this happen every stinking year? I begin developing ideas and gift lists for Christmas long before Thanksgiving, and shop with mad abandon in the brief increments allowed in a schedule with a four-year-old around all the time.
Yet, here I am with less than one week till The Big Day, and I am still scrambling with loose ends. I need to pick up two gift certificates and a gift (hopefully) being held at a store down in Columbia. I need more gift bags and tissue. Heck, I need a few more gifts for The Mister, and I am plum out of ideas. It's the same story every time.
And now that both girls are done with school, and business meetings and Q4 planning still to be done, I have no effing idea when I'm going to get to these things. Not everything can happen after 8:30pm. If I'd only mapped out a plan for these recurring loose ends in advance, I wouldn't need all the tums in my cabinet. Consider me frowning in my own general direction.
Yet, here I am with less than one week till The Big Day, and I am still scrambling with loose ends. I need to pick up two gift certificates and a gift (hopefully) being held at a store down in Columbia. I need more gift bags and tissue. Heck, I need a few more gifts for The Mister, and I am plum out of ideas. It's the same story every time.
And now that both girls are done with school, and business meetings and Q4 planning still to be done, I have no effing idea when I'm going to get to these things. Not everything can happen after 8:30pm. If I'd only mapped out a plan for these recurring loose ends in advance, I wouldn't need all the tums in my cabinet. Consider me frowning in my own general direction.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Like, totally
How old would you expect your daughter to be when she starts dealing with social friction and self-analysis? My guess would have been 3rd grade - that's when I first felt the pull of cliques and the grouping-off of friends. What? First grade, you say? Well, maybe. At that age I certainly recall being aware of the 'cool' toys to get at Christmas, and what hair styles were popular with the 6 and 7-year-old set.
Would anyone have guessed FOUR YEARS OLD? Isn't four still the land of footie pajamas and occasional naps? When only mommy can make it better, and many Disney movies are still too scary to watch? Au contraire!
In the past month I have heard the following (read in disdainful and/or bored teenager tone). Keep in mind there is no viewing of the Disney Channel (or most commercials, for that matter) in our home:
"My belly is, like, so fat when I wear this shirt. Here - look how fat I am." (OK, that one was pretty funny. I mean, what 4-year-old doesn't have a plump stomach?)
"Today was, like, the WORST DAY EVER."
"Alana is still, like, my best friend at school. Whenever Alana gets to school, I just leave Sadie by herself, and Alana and I do, you know, whatever we want and stuff."
You realize, of course, that 'school' is 2.5 hours/day, 3 days/week. And I did not pad those quotes with 'likes' and 'stuff' - those were the exact words out of my daughter's mouth.
You probably also realize that what is going through her mind is not entirely the same as that of a middle or high school student making those types of statements. It has taken me, however, some time to understand her underlying feelings, and to adjust to this new life form who has taken over the little girl that lived here in the summer.
Part of my charm is a propensity for a fiery, knee-jerk reaction like, "Who told you that you were FAT? We need to have a talk about this RIGHT NOW, young lady." Ok, that might be an exaggeration. But not by much. And so I began to fret. Will she begin to tune me out? Will she blindly follow the lead of a strong personality at school and forget whatever values and character we have tried to help foster at home? Have I exposed her to too many inappropriate Glamor and Cosmopolitan covers while in line at the grocery store?!
The answer, I believe, is much simpler than this. We have my 11-year-old stepdaughter at our house roughly half the week, and J worships her. Anything that can make J feel similar to her big sister in any way (clothes, manurisms, even favorite color) makes her feel special and happy.
J also has a babysitter more regularly, and has become aware of all the magical things many teenager girls possess. Lovely long hair, jewelry and handbags, self-sufficiency. This is rather diametrically opposed to having a mother glaring over unpracticed table manners, and an exceedingly early bedtime.
But most importantly, J has become aware of group dynamics as she is exposed to girls in her current school. When I am 'helping parent', I watch with amusement as they hug and laugh and fight and sulk throughout their brief gatherings. They all seem to try on different personalities like the hats and clothes in the dress-up corner of the classroom. At the end of the day, they all yell "AGAIN!" in unison when the teacher sings a funny song, like all 4-year-olds around the world, and exclaim, "YEAH!" while clapping and sitting crossed-legged on their 'circle time spot' by their cubbies.
J has not been able to snap as quickly back to her own personality after these class interactions because, I think, she has not been around other kids that often. These experiences can be stressful if you're not terribly certain from one day to the next who will be your friend, even when the reality is everyone loves her and that she is part of a small and safe group of good kids. It's no wonder she can be so drained after her brief class time. And no wonder she seems to be working through her own feelings about her world and herself.
I just hope, in the midst of working, running, and other activities that pull at my schedule and attention, I can focus on letting her securely express herself. If I think about it, this is not so different than my job when I would interpret her infant cry or her toddler tantrum. What does she really need right now? What is she really saying? She is saying she wants to be spoken to and heard like a person, not a little child. She is saying she wants to feel independence while having my support at the ready. And she needs to know to handle other people with kindness and respect while demanding the same for herself.
My goal will now be to stay ahead of the curve here with her, and foster her gowth socially as well as academically. And, as with yoga, the only way to get better is to let go. Wish me luck.
Would anyone have guessed FOUR YEARS OLD? Isn't four still the land of footie pajamas and occasional naps? When only mommy can make it better, and many Disney movies are still too scary to watch? Au contraire!
In the past month I have heard the following (read in disdainful and/or bored teenager tone). Keep in mind there is no viewing of the Disney Channel (or most commercials, for that matter) in our home:
"My belly is, like, so fat when I wear this shirt. Here - look how fat I am." (OK, that one was pretty funny. I mean, what 4-year-old doesn't have a plump stomach?)
"Today was, like, the WORST DAY EVER."
"Alana is still, like, my best friend at school. Whenever Alana gets to school, I just leave Sadie by herself, and Alana and I do, you know, whatever we want and stuff."
You realize, of course, that 'school' is 2.5 hours/day, 3 days/week. And I did not pad those quotes with 'likes' and 'stuff' - those were the exact words out of my daughter's mouth.
You probably also realize that what is going through her mind is not entirely the same as that of a middle or high school student making those types of statements. It has taken me, however, some time to understand her underlying feelings, and to adjust to this new life form who has taken over the little girl that lived here in the summer.
Part of my charm is a propensity for a fiery, knee-jerk reaction like, "Who told you that you were FAT? We need to have a talk about this RIGHT NOW, young lady." Ok, that might be an exaggeration. But not by much. And so I began to fret. Will she begin to tune me out? Will she blindly follow the lead of a strong personality at school and forget whatever values and character we have tried to help foster at home? Have I exposed her to too many inappropriate Glamor and Cosmopolitan covers while in line at the grocery store?!
The answer, I believe, is much simpler than this. We have my 11-year-old stepdaughter at our house roughly half the week, and J worships her. Anything that can make J feel similar to her big sister in any way (clothes, manurisms, even favorite color) makes her feel special and happy.
J also has a babysitter more regularly, and has become aware of all the magical things many teenager girls possess. Lovely long hair, jewelry and handbags, self-sufficiency. This is rather diametrically opposed to having a mother glaring over unpracticed table manners, and an exceedingly early bedtime.
But most importantly, J has become aware of group dynamics as she is exposed to girls in her current school. When I am 'helping parent', I watch with amusement as they hug and laugh and fight and sulk throughout their brief gatherings. They all seem to try on different personalities like the hats and clothes in the dress-up corner of the classroom. At the end of the day, they all yell "AGAIN!" in unison when the teacher sings a funny song, like all 4-year-olds around the world, and exclaim, "YEAH!" while clapping and sitting crossed-legged on their 'circle time spot' by their cubbies.
J has not been able to snap as quickly back to her own personality after these class interactions because, I think, she has not been around other kids that often. These experiences can be stressful if you're not terribly certain from one day to the next who will be your friend, even when the reality is everyone loves her and that she is part of a small and safe group of good kids. It's no wonder she can be so drained after her brief class time. And no wonder she seems to be working through her own feelings about her world and herself.
I just hope, in the midst of working, running, and other activities that pull at my schedule and attention, I can focus on letting her securely express herself. If I think about it, this is not so different than my job when I would interpret her infant cry or her toddler tantrum. What does she really need right now? What is she really saying? She is saying she wants to be spoken to and heard like a person, not a little child. She is saying she wants to feel independence while having my support at the ready. And she needs to know to handle other people with kindness and respect while demanding the same for herself.
My goal will now be to stay ahead of the curve here with her, and foster her gowth socially as well as academically. And, as with yoga, the only way to get better is to let go. Wish me luck.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
What to look forward to
What do you do when you care about someone, feel some responsibility for their well-being, fear for their safety, but are essentially unable to protect them? I know this is the conundrum faced by the parents of teenagers all over the world. I do not yet have a teenager, but I know what these parents feel.
I have someone in my life, someone much older than I am, who lives on the fringes. This person is living alone but is fairly dependent on others, and the web of support is tenuous, ever-shifting. The life she has built for herself is good after many years of struggle, wild instability and loss. Even still, trouble has a way of finding her, sadly, often because of her open (naive?) heart and generous nature.
She has recently been diagnosed with a chronic condition that she is managing well, but her ability to do so requires resources she may not always have. She has also been faced with a more acute condition, and fear has kept her from making wise decisions on its treatment (in my opinion). I understand fear - I really do. And given the logistics involved in a possible hospital stay, some hesitancy is reasonable. But at the same time, these factors can't rule the day, so to speak. But I digress.
Yesterday I learned of a new random event entering the orbit of her world. A free radical swerving around her determined nucleus. She is handling it with her usual aplomb - taking advantage of a modicum of kindness offered, offering her support to people she views as disadvantaged. From the outside, the situation appears to be a train wreck at best, and life-threatening at worst.
This is now a permanent situation - the risk next door. And there's nothing I can say that she does not already know. But for her the thought of changing everything to be safer, well it's just so overwhelming that I believe she would rather live the worst-case scenario in her current world than suffer through the upheaval. Does she even picture what her life will look like ten or twenty years from now? Possibly, but part of me thinks she doesn't...can't go that far in her mind. Almost like a teenager.
It is ironic that during our visit I also learned she is struggling with the management of an elderly parent. Having lived through a similar experience, I laughed with her as she lamented the frustrating balancing act required, supporting independence and free will while being ready catch someone when they fall.
"It must be hard for him to think about giving up independent living," I said.
"I know," she replied, "but come on. This is ridiculous."
I nodded knowingly, wondering what she would say if she were her own mother, looking in on her own life.
I feel helpless. I know, I know, the right answer is to just be there for her. Keep close tabs. Support, and be ready to catch her when she falls. But come on. *sigh*
I have someone in my life, someone much older than I am, who lives on the fringes. This person is living alone but is fairly dependent on others, and the web of support is tenuous, ever-shifting. The life she has built for herself is good after many years of struggle, wild instability and loss. Even still, trouble has a way of finding her, sadly, often because of her open (naive?) heart and generous nature.
She has recently been diagnosed with a chronic condition that she is managing well, but her ability to do so requires resources she may not always have. She has also been faced with a more acute condition, and fear has kept her from making wise decisions on its treatment (in my opinion). I understand fear - I really do. And given the logistics involved in a possible hospital stay, some hesitancy is reasonable. But at the same time, these factors can't rule the day, so to speak. But I digress.
Yesterday I learned of a new random event entering the orbit of her world. A free radical swerving around her determined nucleus. She is handling it with her usual aplomb - taking advantage of a modicum of kindness offered, offering her support to people she views as disadvantaged. From the outside, the situation appears to be a train wreck at best, and life-threatening at worst.
This is now a permanent situation - the risk next door. And there's nothing I can say that she does not already know. But for her the thought of changing everything to be safer, well it's just so overwhelming that I believe she would rather live the worst-case scenario in her current world than suffer through the upheaval. Does she even picture what her life will look like ten or twenty years from now? Possibly, but part of me thinks she doesn't...can't go that far in her mind. Almost like a teenager.
It is ironic that during our visit I also learned she is struggling with the management of an elderly parent. Having lived through a similar experience, I laughed with her as she lamented the frustrating balancing act required, supporting independence and free will while being ready catch someone when they fall.
"It must be hard for him to think about giving up independent living," I said.
"I know," she replied, "but come on. This is ridiculous."
I nodded knowingly, wondering what she would say if she were her own mother, looking in on her own life.
I feel helpless. I know, I know, the right answer is to just be there for her. Keep close tabs. Support, and be ready to catch her when she falls. But come on. *sigh*
Friday, December 5, 2008
Calm before the storm
I love a quiet morning when I can relax over coffee while J sleeps. It's not often that she sleeps so late, but this is the sickest she's ever been. Poor girlie.
Everything is still. The house is silent. The naked trees outside the big kitchen windows truly appear to be sleeping. Not a cloud moves or bird stirs. Frost sparkles on the grass.
I have what feels like dozens of things to do today - all good, no complaining - but right now it feels so great to just do nothing.
Everything is still. The house is silent. The naked trees outside the big kitchen windows truly appear to be sleeping. Not a cloud moves or bird stirs. Frost sparkles on the grass.
I have what feels like dozens of things to do today - all good, no complaining - but right now it feels so great to just do nothing.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
How soon is now
I have wanted to start my own blog for some time now. I can't tell you all the things I have wanted to write, only to cast them aside for one reason or another. But here I am. Tonight. Presiding over cocktail hour...I mean...putzing around the kitchen after making dinner for J. Inspiration strikes, and will no longer be ignored.
J has been sick. She's had an ear infection for several days, and thus has been uncharacteristically grumpy and clingy. And thanks to our friend amoxicillin, her system has been all gorked up. I was delighted when she wanted to give it 'the old college try' in the powder room, and the mister was kind enough to keep her company.
"Tell me a story!" she says.
The mister is always happy to oblige, and goes into a tale about the night before Christmas. I was only marginally paying attention, but I did catch this insight:
"And so Santa stops at every house," he says.
"And at every house he gets fatter and fatter!" she cries.
Of course he does. What didn't anyone else note that before?!
Ok, so maybe that wasn't quite as monumental as I thought it would be. Honestly, though, the stuff that comes out of her mouth on a daily basis makes me laugh, makes me weepy, and generally gives me hope for the future of all mankind. And if that makes me a cheesy, dime-a-dozen mother of the first world, so be it. I've been called worse by better.
Welcome to my world.
J has been sick. She's had an ear infection for several days, and thus has been uncharacteristically grumpy and clingy. And thanks to our friend amoxicillin, her system has been all gorked up. I was delighted when she wanted to give it 'the old college try' in the powder room, and the mister was kind enough to keep her company.
"Tell me a story!" she says.
The mister is always happy to oblige, and goes into a tale about the night before Christmas. I was only marginally paying attention, but I did catch this insight:
"And so Santa stops at every house," he says.
"And at every house he gets fatter and fatter!" she cries.
Of course he does. What didn't anyone else note that before?!
Ok, so maybe that wasn't quite as monumental as I thought it would be. Honestly, though, the stuff that comes out of her mouth on a daily basis makes me laugh, makes me weepy, and generally gives me hope for the future of all mankind. And if that makes me a cheesy, dime-a-dozen mother of the first world, so be it. I've been called worse by better.
Welcome to my world.
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