I don’t need you

Wait!  Don’t leave!  I do need you — I’m just going somewhere with this.  Trust me.

I have an awesome family.  I may have mentioned them a time or two.*  This is, without question, the biggest blessing in my life.  It started the minute I was born — I have always (ALWAYS) been surrounded by caring hands and watchful eyes.  I have never been without a soft place to land, a listening ear, a person who’d be willing to drop everything to come help me.

I haven’t always been grateful for it, to my shame, but it’s always been there.

If there is a drawback to this situation, is it this: that our family can look impenetrable and self-sufficient from the outside?  I have friends, and I love them dearly.  I need them, for insight and laughter and sympathy and just the opportunity to get out of the damn house.  But I don’t call my friends in the middle of the night when Orange needs to go to the ER.  I call my mom.  And if she can’t come (although I can’t think of a time when she didn’t), I’ll proceed on to one of the many back-ups, all of whom are related to me in some way.

My friends have this with each other, a lot of the time — they rely on each other as much or more as on their families.  And I’m not saying I’d trade, because a lot of the time there’s some real hurt in their family relationships that have gotten them to this point, and I’m sorry for it.  I’m just saying, I know how much deeper my bond is with my family because we need each other, and sometimes I’m sorry for the reserve that keeps me from having that deepness with my friends.

*It dismays me to discover that there don’t seem to be any posts devoted to my brother.  So, coming soon: a post that will dismay him, but satisfy me.  I AM the older sister, after all.

Points

In my pre-kid life, I worked with a guy who used to declare a winner at the end of each work day.  His system worked like this: If he had worked really hard that day, the company had gotten its money’s worth from him, and was therefore the winner.  If it had been a light day, he’d been paid the same amount for not as much work, and he won.

I’m not really sure if there was a larger war, or if he was just interested in the daily battles.  My overall impression is that he won most days.

That’s really not my point.

I’ve decided to create my own system.  Because I’m me, mine will necessarily be a lot more complicated than Former Coworker Dude’s.  I’m thinking I’ll give myself points for forward progress, and detract for distractions.

For example, on Tuesday I offered to take the trash cans out to the street because the Jellyman ran out of time before he needed to leave for work.  Wifely solicitude, 2 pts.  I also actually took the trash cans out to the street, so I’m gonna go ahead and award myself an additional 3 pts.  However, I remembered at the last minute that I was supposed to have done so, so I ran outside in my pjs after I had just started to put dinner in the crockpot for that night.  Minus 2 pts.  Although I did remember to turn off the burner under the browning hamburger (um, not that I really need to mention that, because of course I have never forgotten such a thing, leaving my precious babies alone with a lit stove), and I did make it before the garbage truck came, so maybe I’ll give myself back 1.

I’ll add up all the points at the end of the day, and then …

Well, screw it.  Then I’ll declare myself the winner no matter what and reward myself with some chocolate.

Another One of Those “I Should’ve Saids…”

It’s happened a couple of times lately.  A friend, a fellow mom, has told me of a choice she’s made, and I’ve responded with silence.

And I know just how she must feel in that moment.  Because if I told you about my decision to vaccinate or not, my decision to work or not (or where to work), and met with silence, I’d assume the worst.  I’d assume you were judging me — that you were absolutely convinced of the wrongness of my choice, and were biting your tongue.

But it’s not that.  So, in case one of those friends did feel that way, and in case they’re reading this, let me say how it really was.*

First, I was afraid that anything I might say might sound judgy despite my intentions.  Even “You have to do what’s best for your family” can come out all wrong.  Um, see footnote.

Second, these amazing, wonderful, intelligent, powerful women are my friends because I‘m in awe of them respect them.  There aren’t many convictions that go bone-deep for me.  I’ve chosen Option A, but if you go with B, I’m gonna rethink my decision.  I might not change my mind, but I definitely will wonder (in silence): she’s smart, did she think of something I missed?

Finally, shamefully, I am protecting my own sorry self.  I am a big, big chicken, terrified of confrontations, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into even the mock debates the Jellyman so enjoys.**  Nod and smile, don’t disagree — this is how I get along in the world.  I know it costs me some valuable insight from intelligent friends, but I value the emotional connection of those relationships far too much to risk it for intellectual curiosity.  Unwise, maybe, but who I am.

So, friends, what say you?  Will you accept my promise not to judge you, and just let me listen in on your brilliant reasoning?  Or are you actually going to make me TALK!?

*Action item: I will learn to say things OUT LOUD with some of the clarity that seems to come when I’m writing.  You know, someday.

**Newly married, we had what to him was a discussion about the merits of gift card expiration dates.  In my world, it was proof that he had no respect for my opinions.  Potato, Potahto.***

***He was right.  About the nature of the conversation, not about the gift cards.  I still think he was wrong about that.

Raisin Moments Of The Day

#1:  At least twice every day (before “quiet” time and before bedtime), all three kids pick a story for me or the Jellyman to read to them.  Raisin was the last to arrive with her story this afternoon.

“Mom,” she said, “I was the last to get here, so I should get my story first, because the last shall be first and the first shall be last.”

I am pretty sure that’s exactly what Jesus had in mind.  Also, I didn’t teach her that, and I don’t think she’s had that lesson in Sunday School either — at least not recently.  Spooky.

#2:  For his birthday, Apple got a truck book (to add to his collection of All Things Truck).  One of the characters is an ice-cream truck who says “Want to buy an ice cream?  Want to buy an ice cream?  Want to buy an ice cream?” — and nothing else.  So, of course, my children have taken this up as their own refrain.

On the way home from getting some family pictures taken in the cold cold cold today, Orange started it up again: “Want to buy an ice cream?  Want to buy an ice cream?”  You get the idea.

I said, “It’s too cold for ice cream today!”

“Yeah, it should be ‘want to buy hot chocolate!’” Raisin chimed in.

“If there were a hot chocolate truck, that’d be awesome,” I said.

“I have a hot chocolate truck, Mommy, and its name is Hot Love!  Because I sell hot stuff, with lots of love!”

The Jellyman nearly drove off the road.

hahahahahaha

I was just taking a little trip down Memory Lane, and I read this post.

Isn’t it hilarious, with the “two kids only” and “my second pregnancy is going to be so well-organized” and the “I’m so in control of all this?”

Oh, I was so stupid.

At Least I Think I’m Funny

Jellyman: Sarah Palin gave a speech in Hong Kong this week.

Me: Why?  Are we exporting our cheap crap to China now?

I know it was childish, but it felt awfully good.

Have A Nice Trip … See You In The Fall

In Minnesota, summer must be treasured, savored.  It’s kind of exhausting by the end; there’s this manic running around to fit in that last bike ride or swim before it’s just too cold or too busy.  Winter, by contrast, must be endured.  The first snow is magical, but the 50th just feels cold and wet and like a lot of shoveling.

In fall and spring, I feel like I can live, rather than rush or survive.  I love the in-between temperatures and the smell of difference in the air.  I love the feeling of newness.  In fall, I love the start of school and the sense of renewed interest in work.  The summer has served its recreative purpose, and I am ready to see the value in the daily “grind.”  In spring, I love the smell of green things hiding under that last little bit of snow, and the sense that I have made it through something.  I am tough, and winter is over.

It’s funny: I’m a person who generally resists change, but the seasons of change are my favorite.

Great Minnesota Get-Together

I think many, if not most, of the readers of this blog already know, but that’s Minnesotan for “State Fair.”  If you needed that explained, you may also need me to clarify that the Minnesota State Fair is an Experience.  And that every Minnesotan has their Way of doing the Fair, and their Way is the Only Right Way.

So, those readers who DIDN’T need the previous paragraph will probably be shocked and/or dismayed to discover that I never try the New Thing On a Stick*.  I don’t get around to it, because once I eat all the *required* items, I am Done.  Full.  My Way requires the following: 1 Pronto Pup with ketchup, 1 lemonade, 1 bag of mini-donuts (I’ll share a few), several Sweet Martha’s cookies, and several bottles of water.  Since the Jellyman’s Way requires fresh home-made fries, I get some of those as a trade for my mini-donut generosity.

The food’s really the big thing, but there are a few other rules:

I don’t do rides.

I love the Miracle of Birth building, where pregnant/newly delivered farm animals show off, well, the Miracle of Birth.  The baby animals are so cute, and it’s always a sure kid-pleaser.  (I can’t believe I’ve never told this story on the blog before, but I can’t find it, so: I hated that building in 2006, when I was 33 weeks pregnant with twins.  I sat outside while Raisin and the Jellyman went inside, because it turns out that the State Fair is not a good idea when one is 2 weeks away from delivering one’s twins, and I was tired.  Unfortunately, not a good place to sit.  Three different guys went out of their way to joke about my status, and to let me know that I could go into the building for help from all the veterinarians and sympathy from their patients.  Oh, well, it’s a funny story now.)

And then I just like wandering.  I like to people-watch, and check out what’s new.

What’s your Way?

*Um, anybody still reading who’s not familiar with this whole State Fair thing?  Every year there’s some new experimental food at the Fair, and it’s usually on a stick.  I know other states have Fairs, but I hear it’s not as big of a deal elsewhere, and perhaps the whole stick phenomenon is not universal?  Or maybe I’m just sheltered, and it’s sweeping the nation?  What do I know?

Sounds Like Life To Me

When your essay “What I Did On Summer Vacation” starts with “I watched my grandpa leave the resort in an ambulance*,” it’s a little too easy to continue the list of Things That Went Wrong.  I’m glad I didn’t write this post the day we came back; now that I’ve had some time to think about it I realize the truth:

My hand are green because we had fun tie-dying shirts my kids will love.

Orange and Raisin are covered with itchy bumps because they loved swimming in the lake so much they didn’t care about the swimmer’s itch.

I have a huge bruise on my knee because we sent up bottle rockets from a launcher the Jellyman made with his own two hands, and I chose to have that one hit me rather than Orange.  And the kids had a blast making the rockets and watching them fly.

Despite the rain for 3 days, we managed to keep all the kids busy and entertained, and the grown-ups even managed to have some fun as well.

And most importantly, I was reminded yet again how important a strong family can be.  While my grandma, mom, aunt, and uncle were at the hospital with Grandpa, the rest of us were praying and making lunches and entertaining the kids.  And somehow we made it.

It won’t go down as The Best Vacation EVER!!!!!, but with some love and ingenuity, it came out OK.  I even feel more refreshed than I thought I would, and ready to face the beginning of school.

*For those of you who aren’t already my Facebook friends, my grandpa had a stroke last week.  He’s since been moved to a rehabilitation center near home for a couple of weeks of physical therapy.  He’s 89, and this has weakened him, so we’ll see what happens, but we are all hopeful.  He’s improved a great deal since the first day, and we’re praying that continues.

Status

Totally stolen from Linda, except with the MAJOR DIFFERENCE that I am preserving Facebook statuses rather than Tweets.

May 2: Toddler whining appears not to be covered by the Geneva Convention, though it is clearly torture. Discuss.

And then, May 30, after meeting friends for a drink to commiserate over that post: The discussion panel “Whine vs. Wine: Can Maternal Sanity Be Saved?” was, I think, a phenomenal success.

June 2: I thought I had outgrown the “I did _____ with all three kids all by myself” stage, but guess what!? I took all three kids on a bike ride all by myself!

Later that day: Maybe this will be the year my freckles all fuse together and create the illusion of a tan? 31 years of experience say “no,” but I have a faithful heart.

*Next year for sure!

June 18, after Apple locked his bedroom door from the inside and then shut it from the outside: Did all-y’all know that the credit card trick actually does work to open a locked door? Just call me MacGyver.

June 26: Apple: “Orange say I Diego. I no like that!” Orange: “Why Diego no like that?”

July 5: I can’t stop giggling every time the kids play the Cranium Cariboo game. “I lost my balls!” “Give my brother back his balls!”

July 9: I know you are 5, and very smart. But I am 31, also smart, and I have learned a thing or two over the years. LISTEN TO ME!!! Also, sorry Dad. I get it now.

*I could write this post every day.

July 16: The song “Mine’s All The Way Hard” by the FruitSalad Kids is about their homemade rock candy. So just get your minds out of the gutter.

July 18: I may not have thought this all the way through: Orange has just had to defend herself against Raisin’s charge that she is a Muggle. You try to answer a simple question….

July 19: Hey, other mothers of boys? Was I naive to think that Apple would make it to at least age 3 before he started telling poop jokes at the dinner table? … Yeah, that’s what I thought.

July 23: When Raisin wears green, she takes my breath away.

July 31: Raisin: Mommy, sometimes I think that I’m a big dream Jesus is having. Me: Du-ude.