Month: November 2019

Holiday Quiet

There is a quietness that comes with the holidays. It seems strange to say that when so many people are running around and stressed. But the running-around-stressed part is the preparations. It is the part where things must be planned, organized, purchased, set up. After all of that, when the holiday truly arrives, then I feel quiet in my heart. Quiet and peace and gratitude. Once I find the quiet of a holiday it no longer matters what did or did not get done. Once I’m inside the quiet all the things which felt so vital just… fade away.

This morning I had a list of tasks and a feeling of stress. This evening, I’ve entered Thanksgiving. We won’t be having our feast until Friday, so tomorrow I will have cooking projects. And Christmas music. And possibly a Christmas tree. Most years we wait until after Thanksgiving to put up the Christmas decorations. This year I needed to invoke Christmas a bit early. The first decorations went up yesterday. Invocation successful, my first period of holiday quiet arrived this evening.

I won’t be able to dwell in it for an entire month. I will still have many tasks to accomplish for Christmas, and the Kickstarter, and the wedding, and family, and basic household maintenance. Yet even when I’m feeling brain fry in full force, I will also have a little slice of quiet. Like background music in an elevator or waiting room. Completely unnoticed most of the time, but waiting for me any time there is a space between all the other things. I’m so glad to have some quiet after a particularly noisy year.

Annual Season of Holiday Brain Fry

The holiday brain fry is beginning early this year. I can tell because I’m already pulling back from reading news and social media. I didn’t consciously decide to do so, I just don’t have the mental bandwidth to absorb any additional information. This earlier-than-usual retreat is most certainly triggered by the overload of things from the summer combined with a month-long Kickstarter push that just concluded also combined with the seemingly-endless list of wedding preparation tasks. (The bride and Groom had their first “maybe we should just elope” moment over the weekend.) Oh, and holiday season begins this week, so I need to start thinking about gift giving while also making time to ship out packages every day instead of twice per week.

Yet tasks are getting completed. I just need to shut out extra noise and focus on the day in front of me.

Dance of Family

It was the quiet part of the morning when I was the only one awake. The thoughts in my brain had finally shaken themselves into an order where I could commit them to words, so I sat down to write. I don’t have a private space where I can retreat to write. I share my bedroom with my husband Howard and due to some family shifts, my office is currently also my youngest son’s bedroom. So I sit on the couch in the front room, which works fine in the morning before everyone else is awake, or later in the day when everyone is occupied with their own things.

The words were flowing when my 18yo came to the top of the stairs across from me and sat down. They were hugging a teddy bear tight, which is a behavior that screams “I’m stressed.” Within a minute I’d coaxed them to sit across from me on the couch to talk. They were worried about their upcoming volunteer shift. The first one they had to do and it was triggering a massive anxiety attack. We’d only begun to tease apart the emotions when Howard wandered down as well. He volunteered to make a smoothie for our child. The child made a choice about how to handle the shift. They got off the couch and headed out into their day.

The space on the couch was vacant for only a few minutes before my older son plunked himself into it to talk to me. He was happy after having a discouraging day the day before. I was glad to hear about his happy things. While we were still talking, my oldest daughter wandered into the room to give me a hug. I suspect if the couch had not already been occupied, she would have taken the space and talked to me for a bit.

It was like a maypole dance. I could almost see the ribbons of connections as my people moved around each other and around me. Howard made smoothies and breakfast for more people. I occasionally typed some words in and around the conversations. I remembered how the day before my youngest son had planted himself on the same couch spot to talk to me. This is family when it is functioning well. It was so quiet and non-eventful. Yet beautiful.

Right now all of my children live under my roof. Including the son-in-law-to-be who spends 90% of his free time here. Things will change again in January when the young couple will move out into their own spaces. It is an important step in their lives, and it will be nice on our end to move my youngest out of my office and into the room that used to be hers. But for now we have this special space where everyone is together and enjoying each other’s company. It is nice to have that again after years of kids living away from home and mental health turmoil.


Several times in the past week I’ve opened up the page to post to One Cobble and not had enough brain to find words. There has been a lot to track between wedding preparations, running a Kickstarter, finishing off home improvements, and shifting kids further into adulthood. So this morning, I’m tackling blogging first before any of those other things uses up my brain. I’m also giving myself permission to talk about all the things in scattered pieces instead of expecting myself to pull it all together into some sort of narrative whole.

Wedding planning is alternating between “this isn’t so bad” and “wow this is a lot.” We’ve decided to solve a lot of the logistical problems by finding local family-run wedding businesses and handing them money. This means we won’t be scrambling on wedding day the manage decorations (the venue is pretty enough it doesn’t need them,) food, or photography. Even with hiring professionals and eliminating some of the time-consuming traditions that have no emotional resonance for us, there is still a lot to handle. Much of the “things to handle” have more to do with the physical and emotional readjustments to switch into being spouses. They’ve been remodeling spaces so they can move in together after the wedding, discussing bank accounts and finances, etc. I’m part of all the wedding logistics, but much of this more important foundational work takes place between them where I can’t see. Which is as it should be.

We launched our most recent Kickstarter earlier than we would have preferred. We like to have the book completely ready for print before the launch so that we can deliver to backers more quickly after the Kickstarter closes. Financially, we needed to run this Kickstarter in June or July. Instead we spent the summer in massive upheaval where all my time went into home improvement projects and Howard struggled to find enough normality to keep up with the daily comic. Then in October I did the math and realized that if we wanted our Kickstarter to conclude before the onset of the holidays, we had to launch right away. (The holiday season between Thanskgiving and New Years is a terrible time to run a Kickstarter. There is so much else going on that Kickstarters get lost and don’t fund as well.) Now we’re in the last week of the funding period, and I’ve been spending a lot of time making noise on social media to bring attention to the project.

I finally reached a point in home restoration where I can declare it done. I gathered all the receipts and photos then submitted them to the insurance company. A small additional amount of money will be coming our way. I’d hoped for more, but noticed a phrase in the contract “additional money available if incurred” I was pretty frugal in my approach to replacing things, so I don’t think we incurred enough expenses to get some of that additional money. Which is a wash anyway. If I got that money it would only mean that I’d pre-spent that money, not that I could use the money to fill our financial hole. I have pictures of the restoration on our stairs, but that is a post all by itself.

A month ago one of my kids made the hard decision to drop out of college and focus on their mental health instead. Today we’re going to the school to make that official. Depression is like that, it can take weeks to follow through on a decision because each step feels daunting or impossible. Around the same time my son decided to move back home and also drop out of college so he could focus on working and personal projects. So we’ve gone from two college students to zero. Me scrambling to help them try out college was the right thing. They both learned important things about themselves and about how college works. Now I’m helping with the paperwork clean up after the fact. The next time either of these kids wants to try college, they’ll get to own the process more fully. I will do less scrambling because I’m learning that scrambling on their behalf deprives them of the opportunity to rise to the challenge of scrambling for themselves.

On that note, my high school junior is no longer on track to graduate. He’s pared back his schedule to what he thinks he can handle without my help. So passing the few classes he has is all on him. I no longer track his grades or assignments. This is on the advice of his therapist who says he needs to learn how to track his own things. Instead of me coming at him with lists and schedules, I am standing back and having conversations about how if he wants to graduate, he needs to do the calculations to figure out how many packets he needs to do and how quickly. If this kid graduates it will be because he decided to scramble and work hard. Graduation will be his triumph, rather than because he was slid under the wire by well-meaning adults who don’t want him to fail. I have a whole series of thoughts on the public school system and the societal pressure to keep kids “on track.” Perhaps I’ll be able to collect those thoughts into a cohesive post sometime soon.

Later this week I’ll be heading out to California to visit my parents. The plan is to help them with some household projects that they don’t have the strength or energy to do by themselves. My daughter and son-in-law-to-be are both coming as well. We’ve frequently joked about how we’re taking a vacation from all the things-to-do and renovation by traveling 12 hours to do different things-to-do and renovation. We do plan to take a day off and go tidepooling. They may also run off and see Muir Woods. It is going to be a good trip, after which we’ll come back and dive into the holidays.

That hits the highlights for now. Hopefully the trip away will give me new thoughts and some time to process them in writing.

Wedding Shopping

On Saturday I accompanied my daughter and her fiance as they went shopping for a wedding dress. From the moment we walked in we felt the weight of expectation. We were greeted at the door and assigned an appointment with a stylist who could be with us in just a few minutes. The store was full of women prepared to pamper and flatter because surely every woman wants to feel like a princess when buying a wedding dress. We were surrounded with racks of sparkling, flowing white. And somehow they all had a sameness to them which seemed completely unappealing. After a few minutes we were convinced that we weren’t going to find anything and we were making contingency plans involving going to a vintage clothing store, ordering off the internet, or perhaps even sewing.

Then the stylist showed up and listened to my daughter’s concerns. To the fact that she didn’t want anything sparkly or scratchy. She knew that having dress that rustled as she moved would grate on her nerves. She needed something that she could wear comfortably for hours at a time while having to mix and mingle with crowds of well wishers. A dress that was lovely, but designed for wearing not for flashy display. The stylist listened and helped her pick three dresses to try on. We were then led to an area with dozens of mirrors, dressing rooms on a raised platform, and a ring of chairs surrounding it. It was an area designed to put the bride on display. Fortunately we’d walked in during a quiet time, so we didn’t have to deal with other brides and their entourages. It was just us and a stylist asking “So does this dress make you feel like a bride?” while my daughter stared at her in disbelief and said “I have no idea what that feels like.”

Several other stylists stopped by since they didn’t have clients at the moment. They all kept asking “do you think this is The Dress?” and you could hear the capital letters on The Dress. As if we were on a quest to find the one true dress. Which seems like a lot of emotional weight to put on some clothing. We even spotted a sign which was obviously designed for women to hold up while taking Instagram photos.

And yet despite all the interest and expectation, the stylist was very good at her job. Once she realized that my daughter was more interested in a dress she could wear while running from a zombie apocalypse should there happen to be one mid-wedding than a dress which made her feel like a princess, the stylist changed which questions she was asking. (The moment of complete bafflement on the stylists faces as we were making running-from-zombie-apocalypse jokes was sort of priceless.) We were fortunate and surprised when the second dress turned out to fit all my daughter’s needs while simultaneously being lovely. The last act of the stylist was to have my daughter ring a bell to indicate that she’d found The Dress. I think the tradition is to ring the bell loudly so that everyone in the store could cheer. Fortunately the store was pretty much empty and the bell can be rung quietly too.

We were handed off to a seamstress to talk about alterations, she was much more practically focused and she was also geeky enough to laugh at zombie apocalypse jokes. My daughter has another fitting in three weeks and we’ll pick up the completed dress a comfortable month before the wedding day. So we have another task complete and we can move on to the next one.

Changing the Words

“I need to point out a language change I’d like you to make.” he said.
I was sitting across from my son’s new therapist. I’d spent the past forty minutes describing my son’s challenges and our current status.
“When you talk about your son’s schooling, you keep saying ‘we’ and ‘our,’ I want you to use ‘you’ and ‘your’ instead. Put the responsibility for his schooling onto him instead of both of you.”

The moment the therapist said it, I could see how such a small-seeming language shift could matter. Every time I said “we need to get that essay done.” I was shouldering part of the burden of the essay, and it is really easy for kids to just let mom carry things for them. They’ve been doing it since they were small for everything from coats, to toys, to expenses.

Since that appointment, I’ve been working to make the shift, and the effort has shown me how often I included myself into my kids’ struggles instead of letting my them own those struggles. I think I began it because I didn’t want them to feel alone against hard things. I also wanted to frame the struggle as “us against the mental health issues” instead of mom vs kid. It is also probable that I was including myself in an un-self-aware attempt to have more control over the situation. I feel pretty sheepish about that last bit, because I’ve been saying for years that I needed my kids to have some life-solutions that didn’t involve me, while I was simultaneously auto-including myself into their every struggle.

I’m only a few weeks into making this language shift and it is still hard because habit is strong. Yet I’m already feeling the differences in how I think about my kids and their challenges. I’m realizing that every time I help my fledgling adults, what I’m actually doing is slowing down their learning process by absorbing some of the blow of natural consequences. Usually I’m helping to appease my own anxiety, so that the terrible stories of possible outcomes don’t come to pass, or so that I don’t have to watch them struggle. It is hard to be able to help and to let someone else struggle anyway. Yet that is exactly what my kids need me to do for their long term good. Helping makes today better, but it prevents the development of resilience that will let them survive their futures.

There is a part of my mind that wants to dwell on the What Ifs around this language shift. What if I’d learned this five years ago? Was I wrong to do so much helping when they were struggling so hard? Can I do it now only because we’re far enough removed from suicide risk? Did my use of inclusive language in their early teens literally save their lives, or is it the reason we’re here with adults who can’t fly on their own yet? I can’t answer any of those questions and dwelling on them doesn’t really help anyone. We are where we are, and the best way forward is to accept where we are and focus on moving forward from here.

And for right now, moving forward requires me to learn how to change the words I use on a daily basis.