Midlife Crisis?

There I was, just finishing up my daily dose of fiction via on-demand TV and the theme music from Friends catches my ear. When was this on? Checking the air date I see it was 1999. My brain starts spinning...birth of Boy, move back to Sunnyville, career.

Jeez, I wasn't doing anything the friends were keeping busy with, though I was near the depicted age. Was I missing out? Is there some neccessary rite I neglected? Images of my first apartment, various jobs and activities flicker by.

In the quiet of my home I consider my sleeping family. From Hubby to Teen to Baby K...

Nope. Nothing missed in my life.

A midlife reflection in the space of a theme song.

Stranger (Danger) the Second Time Around

From parents, school, and TV it is poured into their brains "Stranger Danger." And we skip through life thinking we have this covered: never talk to a stranger, back away from cars that stop, run to a house, the list goes on. Like any other family living in this century we have preached talked to our children, granted it had been lacking urgency but the conversation had arisen a time or fifty.

So imagine my horror when Youngest and a friend actually turned toward a strange car that had stopped on the street in front of the house. Luckily we grown-ups were sitting on the porch and one dad jumped out shouting, "Hey! Back up!" as he walked toward the vehicle harboring a quite-elderly gentleman who was offering up a stuffed poodle. Some respectfully irritated words were spoken and the man drove off. Police were notified and went to reaffirm that offering toys to children is unacceptable behavior.

We - the collective of neighbors - had many intense words with the kids about strangers. Again. Many months passed, we kept our children without incident. Then the man came back.

Just yesterday while at work I received a call. The kids were running through a sprinkler in the yard of a neighbor and a car which had cruised down the street at least 2 times previously stopped in front of said house. Youngest proudly reported, "I didn't even look back after I saw him. I ran straight for ---'s front door." In fact all three children hustled inside, herded by the 12 year-old next door and as soon as the man drove off, they ran across the street to a parent's house to report the incident.

It turns-out Teen and a neighbor had noticed the car a day previously and took video of his car and license plate. The police were called and he was arrested from his car which according to a witness had many toys lying on the front seat...for loitering...since he didn't actually have opportunity to talk to any of the kids.

We are thrilled that given a second chance all kids did all things right (except Teen and Boy who didn't even tell us about a suspicious car let alone that they filmed it! - that has been dealt with) But, sadly we do not live in a world where second chances are the norm. To my greatest relief, in this case they did.

So, the kids got lots of positive reinforcement - they even all rode in the police car to identify the car/man. Then we began walking the narrow tightrope of reinforcing vigilance without fear... A difficult line to be sure.

Picture (not-so) Perfect

Summer, a time when families are packed into cars or onto airplanes for that elusive escape from everyday life. Whether leaving for a "staycation" near home or traveling across the country, there is much planning that is done, kinks that need to be worked through, before jumping into the car. Some families worry through the planning, where will we stay and for how long; others worry through the budget, how much can we spend and where. While I do spend some time fretting through these details, this year I have a much larger issue to face: how to pose in pictures.

Laugh, it's fine. It seems trivial, but the lack of photogenic-ablity has hounded me for years. Coming from a family that can strike a pose on command, it is infuriating to be the one sibling in snapshots who has eyes closed or an open mouth in every shot.

Is this ability to show yourself as you are on film innate or a result of practice? I have no idea.

But while I should be fretting about activities to keep the kids entertained for 22 hours each way in the van or how to stretch our budgeted dollars for a family of six I will be found, instead, doing the modern-day equivalent of kissing watermelons. Yes, you know and if you don't take a look at any teen's facebook photos for pictures of bathroom mirrors all around the country I will be striking a pose again and again to find that perfect look. A 21st century photo-ninja, with muscles so attuned I will automatically be in position each time a camera is drawn...hope I don't run into any large tourist groups!

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Raising children is a leap of faith: we guide, model, and talk 'til we're blue in the hopes that our efforts will create adults who are happy, compassionate, successful individuals. And more often than not the modeling poses the greatest pitfalls.

Not too long ago Boy joined an organization for kids. It seemed the perfect opportunity for him to socialize and enjoy a sport for which he was quickly developing a passion. Things seemed great until Hubby took him to an event. Suddenly, our eyes were opened to some not so subtle undertones of elitist and racist beliefs the members held. As Hubby told me, if it had just been a couple of the teens using the n-word we could chalk it up to a few bad eggs, but these comments were heard and overlooked by parents again and again. Though it was difficult, we pulled Boy from the group.

As parents we knew we couldn't condone such beliefs by remaining a part of it, and though we could have spoken against it - after all such behavior flies in the face of their mission - but we felt it wasn't our place and would not benefit Boy. So, Hubby searched until he found another club for Boy and I am happy to report it has been a great fit for our family and our values.

It was easy to walk away from that. But, I am struggling, daily, with walking away from another group that has values/rules that are an affront to me. It is my religion.

I am not a lapsed Catholic. I am a disgruntled Catholic.

 Raising three girls in a church that clings to old systems denying women the same rights as men in too many instances is a problem for me. Being a part of a religion in which my children have been told that being gay is a sin - by teachers not clergy, and therefore easy for me to explain away at the time - is an issue. Living in an age of reason, when the Church seems to be reverting further back through history is unacceptable to me. Yet I have not left. WHY?

Because I am a sucker for tradition. I love the ritual and the peace and having the words when my own fail me. I want my children to be a part of that, to have words when everything else seems to be falling apart. There are things I adore about the Catholic Church. Beliefs I hold close in my soul.

But, it may be time for me to move on - to find a church that holds the same values regarding society as I do, values I want my children to have as adults. I have asked the kids to attend a service (is it called a mass at an Episcopal church?) this weekend. It makes me nervous, not that I haven't attended services at other churches, but I haven't been "scouting" them before. Will we have to be rebaptised, recommunioned, and reconfirmed? I don't know. But, for the sake of modeling I think I have to look into it.

On the bright side, since I continue to make mistakes with the "new words" the Catholic Church is using it may be a good time to change...

Little Fluffy Clouds: God's Rorschach Test

In a typical drive to school Youngest can be heard explaining the shapes of clouds from her backseat domain. When she stumbles upon a particularly interesting or surprising form of cumulus the excitement is reflected in her rising pitch and insistence that I crane my neck to catch a fleeting glimpse which I always say I see regardless of my viewing success. 

After these moments I am sometimes struck by the beauty that surrounds us daily. Yet, while I appreciate the beauty and sometimes marvel at Youngest's ability to find an entire farmyard in white balls of fluff, I simply see sky with various levels of accumulated precipitation through my windshield.

Until summer comes. 

It isn't a spontaneous change occurring the moment school/work ends for a long break. No. Instead the ability to create sky images eases slowly into my thoughts until suddenly I look up and spot a cartoon T-Rex looming above my van or catch myself driving toward a happy doll with pigtails and a pet dog. It is then, like today, that I know my brain has finally released the stress of daily lesson plans and test scores to fully embrace the care-free attitude that is summer's hallmark for young and old. 

May we all find time to take God's Rorschach test at least once this summer, and find we are happier for having laid upon the grass and frittered away an hour or two. Happy Summer All!

Life's Happily Ever After

Nervous laughter bubbled up in response to some comment about the need for make-up beyond her standard eyeliner and lip gloss. Hearing herself she wondered at the school-girl sound and the anxiety it betrayed. Fixing her hat in the mirror, for life is too turbulent to begin in a veil, she relented and allowed her sister to swoop goopy mascara across her lashes. She was ready.

At the tender age of 23 she placed her chilled hand into the warmth of her best friend’s touch and promised to love him through good and bad. Forgetting, if only for that moment, that such things as struggles and anger are natural.

As the happy honeymooners reflections morph into middle age with laugh lines and bits of gray she contemplates the use of mascara for a much needed date night. Recalling the naiveté she exhibited once she looks deep into her eyes and wonders at the life they have created. While the joys and fairy tale moments have indeed been wondrous, she smiles knowingly for these things would not have taken place without the disagreements overcome, the anger soothed with caring words, and the committed bond to see through the difficulties to the joys ahead.

Jostled from her momentary reflection by chubby little fingers seeking purchase enough to pull up on her pants she hears her name called from another child wanting a referee or cook or some other need met. Quickly she smears some mascara across her lashes, lifts the little bundle and sets out to settle things at home before she and her love can celebrate the anniversary of the beginning of their greatest adventure.

Happy Anniversary to my best friend, my partner in crime and everything else. Though it is a few days late, I am sure you understand – because well, life just keeps going.

Fathers Day

Here in Sunnyville flexibility is not just an attitude it is a survival mechanism. Hubby has been practicing and perfecting this skill since Teen was first handed to him in the hospital, 17+ years ago. Having begun his parenting journey with little exposure to infants and a gag reflex that went into hyper-drive over anything infant-Teen expelled, he didn't once question his role in the parenting picture. He was in. 100%.

Having this determination to be a great father to each child in our home, he has been forced to embrace flexibility. Whether he is perfecting Teen's rhetoric skills through debating the most vital character in some trilogy, taking Boy out shooting clay pigeons, discussing the latest in stuffed-animal clothing with Youngest, or caring for BabyK he adapts to the situation. 

In no area is this adaptation more overt than in the caring for BabyK. Knowing she would visit with her parents throughout her life and that we are not them, we began by calling ourselves Aunt and Uncle...this would be fine, except she being barely one is not picking it up, probably because everyone else in the house calls us and refers to us as mom and dad. So just recently, in an effort to get her to call us something, we began to refer to ourselves as Mama M-- and Dada B--. Of course she still hasn't uttered those syllables to us though she says dog and cat, it must be the fur

Well that is until this morning. As we were all minus snoozing Teen at breakfast I looked to BabyK and said "Since today is Father's Day, maybe today you could say Dada B--." She paused with her jelly covered biscuit hovering near her chubby cheeks, looked to the end of the table and clear as a bell said, "DaDa." then continued eating, oblivious to the praise poured forth from Boy and Youngest and the surprised and endearing smile from Hubby. A well-deserved title of honor and meaning, if not one of biology. 

Happy Father's Day to my husband and all the other Dada's out there!