I debated writing this post because I was afraid I would across as conceited or a self imposed type martyr, so I ask that you read this with that in mind.
For most of my teens and adulthood, I have been a safe haven at a cross roads. I am the person people go to when they are overwhelmed or hurting or lonely. My family has always "taken in strays," so it stand to reason that I would have cultivated the talent of rescuing people. If I were a food, I'd be mac and cheese. If I were a drink, I'd be hot tea with milk and sugar. In other words, I am comfort food. I am pretty good at listening and offering common sense advice. I am also good at recognizing people's strengths and boosting their confidence.
I really don't mind being a "safe haven," "solid object," "port in the storm." I especially don't mind it when it is for my girls or Rob. I don't mind when it is for my students. But here's the tricky part, for friends I fill a temporary need. Time and time again, I have had a friend come to me seeking support, advice, a place to stay. I have gladly helped. The problem is this is all temporary. I am not one to manage to keep friends for an extended period of time. I am emotional first aide. I take them in, "bandage" them up and then they are off on there way. At first I tried to pursue the relationship by inviting them over or out. It always seemed to fall flat.
I have learned my lesson. Don't be the pursuer, be the pursuee. Or better yet, let it roll off of your back when someone who seemed like a close friend drops off of the face of the Earth. I do get lonely when these relationships fade.
I have always been dependable and sensible. I find myself describing Caroline as sensible and kick myself. To me, sensible means you don't taken risks and most likely you put the needs of others before your own. Life is not a regency era novel. Rarely is there a reward at the end for being a "constant" person. True fact.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Stories That Are Not My Own
The reason I started the post about being stuck in a "rescuer" mode is because this life style often causes a blogging dilemma. My life is very often wrapped up in lives that I do not have the right to write about. I write or indicate so often that I am stressed or tired; I must seem like a person who is incapable of dealing with the world. Not true. I just can't explain what is going on. Maybe, when someone asks for help I should have them sign a disclaimer, allowing themselves to become part of my blog. Perhaps I think too much.
Right now my life is quite full of the girls and watching my friends raise their babies (I feel like some sort of fairy godmother. Maybe this is why my mother loved middle age so much. A chance to share wisdom when asked and watch people grow.) I am also in rescue/caretaker mode for others. But somehow, in all of this I have to find me. I spent my week of vacation problem solving via text and phone. I need to wean myself from swooping in and cleaning things up. This is not my job. I also spent a good deal of time telling others' stories.
I can't share private information about others (even if it keeps me awake at night and tints my life all day/every day). I really can't share much about the girls except updating newsy stuff. Lily is wise to the whole thing. I am now forbidden from telling baby stories about her to my friends with babies. "
"There's nothing worse than sitting there and hearing you tell the lipstick story from when I was two. I am ten now. I don't play with lipstick. What will they think of me?" "Please do not tell stories about me during you little meetings." You get the drift. So do I.
I knew this day would come. I need to start creating my own stories.
Right now my life is quite full of the girls and watching my friends raise their babies (I feel like some sort of fairy godmother. Maybe this is why my mother loved middle age so much. A chance to share wisdom when asked and watch people grow.) I am also in rescue/caretaker mode for others. But somehow, in all of this I have to find me. I spent my week of vacation problem solving via text and phone. I need to wean myself from swooping in and cleaning things up. This is not my job. I also spent a good deal of time telling others' stories.
I can't share private information about others (even if it keeps me awake at night and tints my life all day/every day). I really can't share much about the girls except updating newsy stuff. Lily is wise to the whole thing. I am now forbidden from telling baby stories about her to my friends with babies. "
"There's nothing worse than sitting there and hearing you tell the lipstick story from when I was two. I am ten now. I don't play with lipstick. What will they think of me?" "Please do not tell stories about me during you little meetings." You get the drift. So do I.
I knew this day would come. I need to start creating my own stories.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Mad Money Ninja Skills
We were invaded this summer. By flies. Dirty, disgusting flies. Flies intent upon destruction. The destruction of fresh fruit, glasses of wine, children's snacks, ice pops, chocolate cake, my sanity. The little jerks circled our heads in the bathroom reflecting over and over in the mirror becoming an army of mayhem. I woke up bleary eyed listening to a chorus of "M F'n flies!!"
My house is clean, I swear! My house is also full of animals. Animals that I have invited to live here. Animals who aren't always cared for by their owners (don't ever fall for "I will take care it, Mom, I promise..."). These animals lead to flies.
I don't believe in poison, but I also know that flies are nasty and spread disease, soooo the gloves were off. I bought the spray, pulled out the fly swatter, and set to work. I flew from room to room upstairs spraying with one hand and swatting with the other. At one point I hit three with one blow and felt like Jack the Giant Killer.
Things were looking up. We went out shopping, and I bought a new maxi dress. Back home, I tried it on to show the girls. I pulled my head through the top of the dress and... dive bombed by flies! What the actual F.....?! I chased those suckers down the hall, determined to find their evil little lair. They lead me right to the playroom (which is where we keep the rabbit hutch). They landed on the ceiling taunting me, so I hiked up the skirt of my new dress and smacked the ceiling yelling "Die mother fuckers! Die!" Did I mention Caroline had a friend over? It's OK her friends know me and my ways.
The ones that escaped the swatter flew under the shade. I lifted it and HOLY CRAP, 50 flies flew out at me! I threw open the window and most of them escaped (clever little jerks). The ones that didn't got hit with a one two punch of spray and vacuum cleaner. Yes, the vacuum cleaner hose attachment is an awesome way to catch flies buzzing around your head. I felt like King Kong on top of the Empire State building, only much better dressed.
My pretty new dress survived the massacre and is now dubbed "The Fly Killer Dress." as in "Hey, Melissa do you want to meet me for drinks? Sure, just let me change into my Fly Killer Dress. Do you mean Killer, fly dress? No Fly Killer." I got all of the flies, except one. Little does he know, I am stealth, when he least expects it... Whoosh, vacuum time!
My house is clean, I swear! My house is also full of animals. Animals that I have invited to live here. Animals who aren't always cared for by their owners (don't ever fall for "I will take care it, Mom, I promise..."). These animals lead to flies.
I don't believe in poison, but I also know that flies are nasty and spread disease, soooo the gloves were off. I bought the spray, pulled out the fly swatter, and set to work. I flew from room to room upstairs spraying with one hand and swatting with the other. At one point I hit three with one blow and felt like Jack the Giant Killer.
Things were looking up. We went out shopping, and I bought a new maxi dress. Back home, I tried it on to show the girls. I pulled my head through the top of the dress and... dive bombed by flies! What the actual F.....?! I chased those suckers down the hall, determined to find their evil little lair. They lead me right to the playroom (which is where we keep the rabbit hutch). They landed on the ceiling taunting me, so I hiked up the skirt of my new dress and smacked the ceiling yelling "Die mother fuckers! Die!" Did I mention Caroline had a friend over? It's OK her friends know me and my ways.
The ones that escaped the swatter flew under the shade. I lifted it and HOLY CRAP, 50 flies flew out at me! I threw open the window and most of them escaped (clever little jerks). The ones that didn't got hit with a one two punch of spray and vacuum cleaner. Yes, the vacuum cleaner hose attachment is an awesome way to catch flies buzzing around your head. I felt like King Kong on top of the Empire State building, only much better dressed.
My pretty new dress survived the massacre and is now dubbed "The Fly Killer Dress." as in "Hey, Melissa do you want to meet me for drinks? Sure, just let me change into my Fly Killer Dress. Do you mean Killer, fly dress? No Fly Killer." I got all of the flies, except one. Little does he know, I am stealth, when he least expects it... Whoosh, vacuum time!
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The Bittersweet Stage
We are in the midst of major transitions in our home. Both girls are moving on to new and huge transitions. All of the sudden it feel like someone pushed the fast forward button on the DVR of my life, they didn't just hit it once, but three times, you know that speed that your family always demands so you can get past the commercials faster? Yup, that's my life. But instead of racing after them shouting "guys wait up!", I have slowed down (see the post after this one). I have to get my head in the game. I can't afford to miss a moment. This is the conundrum of anxiety, you take medication so you can participate in life and not drown in it, but the medication makes you so chill, life just moves past you. What do I do? Chill or panic? Not sure.
Anyway, enough about me. This post is about my girls. Not to brag, but they both ended the school year like champions. Lily did very well in school. She passed her state tests and made honor roll. Caroline just literally took the world by storm. I love how she sticks with things, tackles them, sometimes gets knocked down, but always keeps going (hmm, I wonder where that tenacity comes from?). She is driving and working. Her job loves her and she has already found another job for the school year. She is so excited about her new independence and can't wait to fly off. Part of this flying off process involves pushing back at me. Rob says to not take it personally, but some days it feels like I am damned if I do, damned if I don't. Hence, the retreating. I was warned about this. There is more sharing about weathering the teen years, although still not as much as there is about the baby and toddler stages. The baby and toddler stages seem never ending and immediate. There is this frenzied terror and delight during those years. None of it prepares you for teens. Everything seems life or death when your child is younger (if you choose the wrong sleep, potty training, feeding method, will your child will be scarred for life?). The teen years? They really are life and death. You are guiding the formation of an adult. Good grief, nothing that you have ever done as a parent has been more important and you are doing it all with an all knowing, slightly terrified, occasionally surly young adult as your co pilot. Don't get me wrong, in the world of teens, we are beyond blessed. Caroline is amazing. Truly! Sometimes, I watch her and my breath catches. I get that feeling of awe that I had when we first brought her home. "We made this...we created this magical creature."
And then there is Lily. I was so unprepared for this. Lily has always been my little joyful firecracker. Suddenly, she is almost as tall as me. When the hell did that happen? There was no warning that the days of toys and public goofiness and little clothes and sweet pats to wake me up would be leaving soon. When Caroline grew up, that was ok because I still had Lily. Oh, if I'd paid attention, I would have treasured the joy and exuberance more. Of course, I was also trying to survive the fury and confusion that accompanied it. The change has been subtle, worrying about her hair, increased sarcasm (the power is fierce with this one), cooperation and compliance (loving this!!!). She has entered this quiet thoughtful time. She is suddenly weepy and doesn't know why. She has moments of quiet. She can sit and read a book for 30 minutes. When we were cleaning her room (not quite the usual beginning of the summer crap storm as usual), she looked at me and said "You know, soon I won't be playing with dolls anymore." Still, she disappear and spend hours tending to them, right after she has declared R5 the best band ever. She is in between. It is such a confusing and tender time. She is doing it in a way that Caroline never did. It is like she is purposefully and slowly saying good bye to childhood. It is heart breakingly beautiful and completely unexpected.
I miss the days that were so full I collapsed in bed and wondered if we would ever make it. Truthfully, I loved the child stage. The funny things they would says, the music, the toys, the cartoon, the wonder. I don't miss babies, I miss MY babies. My girls are looking at the world with wide open eyes and hopeful hearts. We are standing on the edge, ready to take on new roles as daughters and mother.
Anyway, enough about me. This post is about my girls. Not to brag, but they both ended the school year like champions. Lily did very well in school. She passed her state tests and made honor roll. Caroline just literally took the world by storm. I love how she sticks with things, tackles them, sometimes gets knocked down, but always keeps going (hmm, I wonder where that tenacity comes from?). She is driving and working. Her job loves her and she has already found another job for the school year. She is so excited about her new independence and can't wait to fly off. Part of this flying off process involves pushing back at me. Rob says to not take it personally, but some days it feels like I am damned if I do, damned if I don't. Hence, the retreating. I was warned about this. There is more sharing about weathering the teen years, although still not as much as there is about the baby and toddler stages. The baby and toddler stages seem never ending and immediate. There is this frenzied terror and delight during those years. None of it prepares you for teens. Everything seems life or death when your child is younger (if you choose the wrong sleep, potty training, feeding method, will your child will be scarred for life?). The teen years? They really are life and death. You are guiding the formation of an adult. Good grief, nothing that you have ever done as a parent has been more important and you are doing it all with an all knowing, slightly terrified, occasionally surly young adult as your co pilot. Don't get me wrong, in the world of teens, we are beyond blessed. Caroline is amazing. Truly! Sometimes, I watch her and my breath catches. I get that feeling of awe that I had when we first brought her home. "We made this...we created this magical creature."
And then there is Lily. I was so unprepared for this. Lily has always been my little joyful firecracker. Suddenly, she is almost as tall as me. When the hell did that happen? There was no warning that the days of toys and public goofiness and little clothes and sweet pats to wake me up would be leaving soon. When Caroline grew up, that was ok because I still had Lily. Oh, if I'd paid attention, I would have treasured the joy and exuberance more. Of course, I was also trying to survive the fury and confusion that accompanied it. The change has been subtle, worrying about her hair, increased sarcasm (the power is fierce with this one), cooperation and compliance (loving this!!!). She has entered this quiet thoughtful time. She is suddenly weepy and doesn't know why. She has moments of quiet. She can sit and read a book for 30 minutes. When we were cleaning her room (not quite the usual beginning of the summer crap storm as usual), she looked at me and said "You know, soon I won't be playing with dolls anymore." Still, she disappear and spend hours tending to them, right after she has declared R5 the best band ever. She is in between. It is such a confusing and tender time. She is doing it in a way that Caroline never did. It is like she is purposefully and slowly saying good bye to childhood. It is heart breakingly beautiful and completely unexpected.
I miss the days that were so full I collapsed in bed and wondered if we would ever make it. Truthfully, I loved the child stage. The funny things they would says, the music, the toys, the cartoon, the wonder. I don't miss babies, I miss MY babies. My girls are looking at the world with wide open eyes and hopeful hearts. We are standing on the edge, ready to take on new roles as daughters and mother.
Cocoon
I have had a bad case of writer's block this summer. Well, really it has been more a case of timing. I have wonderful ideas and compose beautiful thoughtful pieces in my head. The problem is these all occur at times when I can't get to the computer: stuck in traffic, on a walk, in the garden, right before I fall asleep. In the past, I could hold onto these ideas and write them out later. Now, every time I sit down at the computer, they fly from my head like startled butterflies. Is this another causality of middle age? Something new to add to my list of things to get used to, like the psychedelic halos I see when I drive at night? Is it a side effect of being a multi tasking mother? Of course, these sorts of things always concern me because I am unsure of how aging will effect the LD brain. I believe that my generation is the first the was identified as LD and given education services. It should be interesting to see how our unique (notice I did not say broken or damaged) brains handle aging. I have not found any research as of yet. Then again, I haven't dug very deeply. In truth, this "memory fuzz" is most likely do to the cocoon of a lazy summer full of reading and Criminal Minds marathons. I have not give this imagination of mine enough variety.
So, I have given myself some small chores to get back on track. Organizing always centers me (those who know my classroom will most likely laugh at this). I have tackled some of the scary areas of the house (you know those places, where if you open the door a world of crap and confusion comes tumbling out?). We have plenty of those, and I have just begun. I have also finally found a place to store and catalog all of my pictures. Caroline was surprised at how many pictures I have. What can I say? I like to take pictures and so does Lily. I have also tried a couple of home improvement projects, but have discovered two things: one, I don't like doing things by myself without Rob (misery loves company?) and two, I am not very good at DIY. Honestly most of my projects end up a bit of a mess. The one thing that I have going for me is my tenacity. I usually stick with it until it is at least OK. So there you have it, the push to break out of the hazy cocoon of sloth and push on towards the light.
So, I have given myself some small chores to get back on track. Organizing always centers me (those who know my classroom will most likely laugh at this). I have tackled some of the scary areas of the house (you know those places, where if you open the door a world of crap and confusion comes tumbling out?). We have plenty of those, and I have just begun. I have also finally found a place to store and catalog all of my pictures. Caroline was surprised at how many pictures I have. What can I say? I like to take pictures and so does Lily. I have also tried a couple of home improvement projects, but have discovered two things: one, I don't like doing things by myself without Rob (misery loves company?) and two, I am not very good at DIY. Honestly most of my projects end up a bit of a mess. The one thing that I have going for me is my tenacity. I usually stick with it until it is at least OK. So there you have it, the push to break out of the hazy cocoon of sloth and push on towards the light.
Monday, May 25, 2015
A Funny Thing Happened on the Road to Adulthood
I was almost finished writing a reflective post about the ups and downs of adulthood using the song Circle Game as a reference, but reality kicked me in the butt and well, made me laugh. It has been rough around these parts: insane stress, huge bills, broken down cars leading to more huge bills, and another ticket when I went through a yellow light that turned red while looking for the speed limit sign (that statement alone would be funny if it wasn't so expensive).
In the middle of all of this life keeps marching on and both girls keep marching on toward adulthood. Caroline in particular. So far May has given her: her official driver's license, an award for creative writing student of the year, her first job, and the position of president in the creative writing club. Caroline being herself has been too stressed to really enjoy this like I wish she could (she had projects AND AP exams AND SOL tests), so her wacky family has to provide the comic relief.
For example, a couple of weekends ago, I was driving her and her friend to the Marine Corp Museum to turn in their applications to volunteer. Both Caroline and I were going over different mental checklists out loud and frankly annoying the beejesus out of each other. All of the sudden, about 100 police officers on motor cycles with lights flashing pulled up behind me. I had just received the above mentioned ticket the week before and am justifiably nervous around police officers. I didn't know what to do! My heart started racing and my mouth went dry, so I did the only logical thing: hide. I turned into the nearest neighborhood and waited for them to pass. After I turned out of the neighborhood, I was hoping they'd turn off on the highway, but they kept right on down the road in front of me. Of course I couldn't see a speed limit sign anywhere. I kept muttering "Is it 35? 45? what do I do?" The girls suggested to go for the middle, so I drove along behind the officers at a steady 40 MPH right up to the Marine Corp Museum. Yes, the girls had chosen some sort of police officer appreciation day to go the museum! It was bad enough that my "hippy dippy" peace loving, flowy dress wearing self was going to walk into a museum full of uniformed Marines. I was doing it while being followed by a bunch of police officers! Caroline whispered "It will be OK Mama, let's just go in." At this point, I was sweating and shaking and needed a drink (water, not wine). The girls went up to the information desk and I stood by the wall trying to look interested in the "History of Hispanics in the Marine Corp" pamphlet I'd grabbed. Everything went fine and the girls were very excited to apply to volunteer. Me? I went home and grabbed a large glass of sweet tea!
In the middle of all of this life keeps marching on and both girls keep marching on toward adulthood. Caroline in particular. So far May has given her: her official driver's license, an award for creative writing student of the year, her first job, and the position of president in the creative writing club. Caroline being herself has been too stressed to really enjoy this like I wish she could (she had projects AND AP exams AND SOL tests), so her wacky family has to provide the comic relief.
For example, a couple of weekends ago, I was driving her and her friend to the Marine Corp Museum to turn in their applications to volunteer. Both Caroline and I were going over different mental checklists out loud and frankly annoying the beejesus out of each other. All of the sudden, about 100 police officers on motor cycles with lights flashing pulled up behind me. I had just received the above mentioned ticket the week before and am justifiably nervous around police officers. I didn't know what to do! My heart started racing and my mouth went dry, so I did the only logical thing: hide. I turned into the nearest neighborhood and waited for them to pass. After I turned out of the neighborhood, I was hoping they'd turn off on the highway, but they kept right on down the road in front of me. Of course I couldn't see a speed limit sign anywhere. I kept muttering "Is it 35? 45? what do I do?" The girls suggested to go for the middle, so I drove along behind the officers at a steady 40 MPH right up to the Marine Corp Museum. Yes, the girls had chosen some sort of police officer appreciation day to go the museum! It was bad enough that my "hippy dippy" peace loving, flowy dress wearing self was going to walk into a museum full of uniformed Marines. I was doing it while being followed by a bunch of police officers! Caroline whispered "It will be OK Mama, let's just go in." At this point, I was sweating and shaking and needed a drink (water, not wine). The girls went up to the information desk and I stood by the wall trying to look interested in the "History of Hispanics in the Marine Corp" pamphlet I'd grabbed. Everything went fine and the girls were very excited to apply to volunteer. Me? I went home and grabbed a large glass of sweet tea!
A Funny Thing Happened on the Road to Adulthood II
And then there was this: a text from Caroline last week "My group in Spanish figures we have a big kitchen so they want to do our project at our house." What the what? A project? At my house? Over Memorial Day weekend? I was going to spend Saturday and Sunday cleaning and doing yard work, then go to the pool on Monday. I didn't want a bunch of unknown teens in my house. Especially "group project" teens! Which educator ever decided that group projects were educationally sound? One or two people do all the work and the rest coast. Guess which kid is the worker?
Well, I fussed and fumed all weekend about this invasion of space. I didn't do a good job of hiding my displeasure at all. Caroline was out and about exercising the new found freedom that a driver's license brings and every time she came home it was to a sweaty, cranky, injured ( I am clumsy when angry) mother. I was a joy! When she told me they weren't coming over until 1 on Monday, the grouch level blew. How was I supposed to go sit by the pool and read magazines while sipping iced tea and watching Lily reclaim her summer persona of part human part fish? I finally got over myself and the girls and I watched Mom's Night Out. For the first time in a while, we found a movie we could all laugh at. It was a really nice night!
I figured if they worked fast enough, we could still make the pool. Yeah, I know we were dealing with teens...cooking...in a group project...while recording it.... with cell phones... wait, why did I think we'd make it to the pool? I helped them cut up fresh pineapple and mango. They tried, but I wanted everyone to keep their fingers and make it out of my house. I felt like I was on a cooking show as they all stood around watching me try to get the eyes out of the pineapple without cursing (I already scarred one teen by cursing at Caroline's 16th birthday, I wasn't going to make that mistake again). After 2 1/2 hours, they were almost finished. My suit was laid out on my bed, Lily was watching their every move, willing them to hurry up. Everything was going according to plan, so of course someone opened the back door AND Buffy escaped!
They all tore through the neighborhood (still wearing aprons) trying to catch her. Rob drove after them (boy was he happy!). Lily and I waited at home and finished dipping the fruit in chocolate. About 30 minutes later they came back with the dog laughing and sharing war stories. It was charming until I heard "We only lost one kid in the woods, he'll make it back." Why me? Why my house? Luckily, he showed up 2 minutes later. The girls were laughing about having gotten their exercise and the boys were sharing the tales of strength and humor. Rob looked at me and said "This is the kind of stuff they'll talk about when they're adults." I added "You mean when they are in their 40's and can't read anything without holding it way out in front of them?" I watched my beautiful girl directing everyone. Someday she too will be watching her own teens fumble through their own projects.
Oh yeah, we didn't make it to the pool. That's ok, it'll be there all summer.
Well, I fussed and fumed all weekend about this invasion of space. I didn't do a good job of hiding my displeasure at all. Caroline was out and about exercising the new found freedom that a driver's license brings and every time she came home it was to a sweaty, cranky, injured ( I am clumsy when angry) mother. I was a joy! When she told me they weren't coming over until 1 on Monday, the grouch level blew. How was I supposed to go sit by the pool and read magazines while sipping iced tea and watching Lily reclaim her summer persona of part human part fish? I finally got over myself and the girls and I watched Mom's Night Out. For the first time in a while, we found a movie we could all laugh at. It was a really nice night!
I figured if they worked fast enough, we could still make the pool. Yeah, I know we were dealing with teens...cooking...in a group project...while recording it.... with cell phones... wait, why did I think we'd make it to the pool? I helped them cut up fresh pineapple and mango. They tried, but I wanted everyone to keep their fingers and make it out of my house. I felt like I was on a cooking show as they all stood around watching me try to get the eyes out of the pineapple without cursing (I already scarred one teen by cursing at Caroline's 16th birthday, I wasn't going to make that mistake again). After 2 1/2 hours, they were almost finished. My suit was laid out on my bed, Lily was watching their every move, willing them to hurry up. Everything was going according to plan, so of course someone opened the back door AND Buffy escaped!
They all tore through the neighborhood (still wearing aprons) trying to catch her. Rob drove after them (boy was he happy!). Lily and I waited at home and finished dipping the fruit in chocolate. About 30 minutes later they came back with the dog laughing and sharing war stories. It was charming until I heard "We only lost one kid in the woods, he'll make it back." Why me? Why my house? Luckily, he showed up 2 minutes later. The girls were laughing about having gotten their exercise and the boys were sharing the tales of strength and humor. Rob looked at me and said "This is the kind of stuff they'll talk about when they're adults." I added "You mean when they are in their 40's and can't read anything without holding it way out in front of them?" I watched my beautiful girl directing everyone. Someday she too will be watching her own teens fumble through their own projects.
Oh yeah, we didn't make it to the pool. That's ok, it'll be there all summer.
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