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Even good days can be exhausting

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The alarm rang this morning after I’d had only 5 hours of sleep. I was up late last night providing morale support for Kiki who was scrambling to get a project done, and who did not really need my help, but who devolved in to over-stressed tears if I was not sitting near her radiating calm. It is exhausting to radiate calm for several hours in a row late at night. Kiki finished her project, but morning came at the same time as usual.

Fortunately today is St. Patrick’s Day. This meant that getting ready for school was made more interesting by the search for green clothing. Woe betide the grade school child who shows up without green on this very important day. Because of the holiday the kids were speedier than usual about getting dressed, which was nice. Also the possibility of leprechaun adventures at school helped. I hear that Patch’s class was particularly hard hit by a leprechaun who played many tricks, but who also left treats. Once the kids were at school I went back to bed for 40 minutes. I knew that the rest of the day was going to be exhausting. I was right.

Link had Moms and Muffins, which is when I spend an hour in his classroom listening to him read and eating a muffin. This is an enjoyable event for both the child and me. They even give each child a book to take home. It was a time for me to consider again how the books that adults think kids (particularly boys) ought to like do not always intersect with the books that kids actually like. I looked at the book selection and thought “Oooh!” Link looked at the exact same books and thought “meh.” Most of the kids were excited to get the books they picked, so the selection really was appropriate, just not to Link’s taste. We had him pick a book that his sisters will like and then he read to me from his library book.

Next came The Cleaning of the Kitchen. This was in preparation for the two hour long Business Meeting. We figure we look a lot more professional when meeting with partners if the papers don’t stick to syrup puddles on the table. The business meeting was very good, but two hours of focused attention is tiring. And the brain spinning on Tasks Which I Now Have To Do is also tiring.

The meeting finished up only minutes before kids arrived home from school, so I headed straight into Mommy mode. Fortunately the kids scattered to friends’ houses, then Kiki called for me to pick her up. She’d stayed after school to meet with her math teacher to get a better explanation of an assignment. She did this voluntarily even though she is already earning an A in the class. I have an awesome daughter. I decided that my awesome daughter and I had both earned a trip to Wendy’s so we went to get food. For the next 90 minutes she and I had one of those conversations which wander everywhere and where she opens up about social situations at school. When one of these conversations starts, I have to clear everything out of the way and let it just flow because this will be my only chance to hear about Kiki’s life as it is right now. I have to encourage the conversation and participate even though I am tired and my brain really wants to shut down. So Kiki and I discussed fast food, SuperSize Me, lunch at school, the funny thing that happened in German class, that boy who likes her, that other boy who likes her, how she can make the boys stop being idiots, why the boys are idiots, when they are likely to stop being idiots, the boy she kind of likes, the fact that attractions make life difficult, and, coolest of all, how Kiki stood up for someone who was being picked on even though it required her to confront a peer in front of lots of other people. If I’d cut the conversation short I would have missed all of that and I would have missed the all too rare moments when my teenage daughter is actively seeking my advice about her life. It was a wonderful conversation even though I was tired.

Then my brain melted and an hour or more disappeared into the internet. If you find it laying around, feel free to send it back.

Then there was Link’s Gymnastics class, and grocery shopping, and frozen burritos for dinner fed to kids in front of a video, and delivering Link to scouts. After all that I should have made the movie stop so kids could do homework, snack, and bed. Instead I popped popcorn and sat with Gleek and Patch for the last 30 minutes of Angels in the Outfield. It isn’t a movie I like, but the kids do. It was so nice to just sit. It was even mildly interesting that the DVD was glitching, randomly skipping seconds and turning the subtitles on and off. It says something that I did not even care.

I love my kids. They did not argue or fight about going directly to bed when the movie was over. I feel better for the brain-dead movie time. Not ready to accomplish stuff, but less zombie like. I think I shall have an early bedtime now.

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Book suggestions for 5th grade boys

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Last fall I chronicled my challenges in finding books that Link could love reading. The wealth of suggestions lead to a list of books for 5th Grade boys. I would now like to praise to high heavens a couple of books in particular. They are books filled with words that Link will choose over video games.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney This book bridges the gap between comics and novels. Most of the story is told in words, but every single page has an amusing cartoon on it. Link was a little doubtful when I first handed him the book, but within minutes he was laughing out loud. As soon as he finished it, he asked for me to get him the next one. In fact he was so desperate for the next book that he spent his own money to buy it. So that’s how we got Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Roderick Rules. Now Link has finished that one and is begging for the next one Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw. I’ve put it on the wishlist to wait for a time when either Link or I have some spare money. In the meantime we’re on the waiting list at the library. These books are going over really well with lots of boys. I’ll also need to get him the Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Do It Yourself Book which looks like an ideal way to encourage Link to do some writing as well.

The other book I’d like to praise is 15 Minutes by Steve Young. Link read part of this book to me out loud. It is wonderful. The narrator has a great sense of humor and explains stuff so that the reader just feels like he is hanging out with a friend. Link laughed several times while reading and was happy to struggle through some of the challenging vocabulary. One of the nicest things is that the chapters are all really short. This prevents Link from feeling overwhelmed by endless pages of words. 15 minutes also goes on the wishlist so we can acquire it. It may even go on the bedtime story list because I think Gleek and Patch might enjoy it too. I know it amused me. It does for middle school boys what Junie B Jones does for first graders, amuses parents as well as kids with witty observations and very real situations.

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Scattered evening

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Yup. I was right. As soon as I reached the clear space in the schedule, things arrived to fill it with busy. Good thing I like busy.

Unfortunately the busy sometimes has collateral damage. I nearly forgot Gleek’s gymnastics class this afternoon. It was already 15 minutes past time for the class to start, but I could tell from Gleek’s face that missing it would be the end of the world. So we dashed to the car and managed to get her there for the last 30 minutes. Thus the end of the world was averted. Family home evening was also a bit scattered. Patch was in charge of the lesson and I could not get him to pay attention long enough to decide on a topic. He was too busy creating a story book. He’d carefully folded and cut a piece of paper so that he had an eight page booklet. He’d drawn pictures for every page and was carefully sounding out the words. This is the kindergarten equivalent of drafting a complete novel. I was loathe to interrupt, but everyone else was waiting on him. In the end Kiki saved the day. She planned and executed a lesson in such a way that Patch felt like he had done it. I was so pleased with them both. Then Link decided that for our activity we would begin watching the first Narnia movie. He had never watched the whole thing. I realized that neither have I. I’ve seen lots of bits and pieces, but never sat down to watch from the beginning. I was surprised to discover that the film is far more compelling and enjoyable when I watch it in order. I shouldn’t be surprised about that, but I was. We didn’t get to finish tonight. It is a long movie and the kids had to go to bed.

So tomorrow I need to help Patch finish his book and sit down with Link to finish watching Narnia. Also tomorrow is the Moms and Muffins event in Link’s classroom, a business meeting, some writing to do, and Link’s gymnastics class. I’ve written it all down in my planner, so hopefully I’ll be able to track it all.

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Professional Jealousy inside a Marriage

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A few weeks ago, in preparation for an online interview, Howard invited his fans to ask him questions. One of the questions asked was more appropriate for me than for Howard. The question was “How does Sandra feel about all the attention you have been getting lately?” I presume the attention referred to was Howard’s front page appearance in our local paper and a couple of lecture invitations. The first thing I need to make clear is that Howard getting more public notice than me is not a new development in our marriage. He has always been more in the public eye. For most of our marriage I liked it that way. The real difference lately is not that Howard is getting more attention (although there is a bit more lately), but that I am somewhat visible instead of completely invisible. So how do I feel about being primarily noticeable as the support crew rather than on my own creative efforts? Am I ever jealous of Howard’s fame?

The short answer is that I am always happy for him. I love to see him succeed. I know how hard he works and I know that the attention he gets is not more than he deserves. When Howard is happy, I am happy. Additionally, I love Schlock Mercenary and anything that helps it grow makes me happy as well.

This answer is true, but it is not complete. It accounts for 95% of my reaction whenever Howard gets public acclaim. The remaining 5% is made up of much more selfish voices, whose responses are complex and layered. Yes this small percentage of me sometimes feels jealous. All human beings want to be recognized for their efforts. We all want praise and respect. It is very natural to want more for ourselves when we see an abundance being showered on someone else.

The occasional pang of jealousy is greatly reduced by the knowledge that without my help, Howard could not accomplish what he does. I am essential to his business, creative, and emotional processes. I know it. Howard knows it. And he expresses appreciation for it frequently. Therefore any success that Howard attains, is also my success. Howard is not shy about publicly giving me credit even if the public doesn’t pay much attention. I would probably feel much differently if Howard did not constantly praise and credit my efforts. He knows all that I do. I know all that I do. It is enough. This is the same emotional curve that many editors and creative support crew must ride. Private satisfaction rather than public acclaim carry the day.

Harder to manage emotionally is the comparison between my own creative efforts and Howard’s. I write stories, I write a blog, I’ve published a book, but none of these things have earned even a tiny fraction of the attention that Howard’s work earns on a daily basis. This is not for lack of trying on Howard’s part. He is very good about bringing my things to the attention of his fans, but he can not make them love what I do. I’ve had to accept that his audience is not my audience. My work does not get to piggyback on the swell of his success. Part of me grieves over this. It would be so much nicer if my efforts for Schlock Mercenary allowed me to skip some of the establishing steps for my own creative work. But careful reflection has made me glad that I can not piggyback. This way if my work ever does succeed I know it does so on its own merits rather than on Howard’s.

So then the question becomes am I ever jealous of the time I spend on Schlock Mercenary that I could be spending forwarding my own creative work? Of course I am. I’m also jealous of the time I have to spend doing dishes, playing with kids, eating, and sleeping. All of these things take their turn being what I desire most to do. They all are part of me and part of the things I love doing. If I could empty my life of these things, I could fill my days with writing. I could push forward a career as an author. Perhaps someday I will be able to push harder on the writing, but that is not what I need to focus on now. Emptying my life would probably empty my writing as well. Besides, I love the editorial work I do for the Schlock Mercenary books. It taps into and satisfies a piece of my creative psyche that is not touched by writing words alone. As we’re able to afford employees, I’ll probably hand off the shipping and office manager type work, but I suspect I’ll hold on to the editorial tasks.

One thing I do get jealous of is Howard’s convention attendance. Only “jealous” is not the right word. I don’t want to go instead of him. I want to go along with him. I want to meet the amazing people he gets to meet and share in the fun times. But this sadness does not drive a wedge between us because it is my choice. We could arrange for me to go much more often than I do, but I choose to stay home and provide stability for the kids. Knowing that it is my choice rather than some external denial makes staying home easier to bear. I also know that in the long term I will be able to go more often. Conventions will always be there, but the time for me to care for my young children is finite. I must care for them now, knowing that the future will have more public gatherings for me.

The most important thing to note is that the 5% of me that dissents about celebrating Howard’s success never sticks around for very long. I might feel it in passing for an hour or a day, but never longer than that. It comes in a flash and leaves just as quickly. On the few occasions it does not depart quickly, Howard and I have discussions where I air my feelings. Invariably Howard makes clear how important I am to him and how much he loves my creative work as well as me. And when I look into his eyes, I know he means what he says. Somehow compared with that, public acclaim seems a very unimportant thing indeed.

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Saturday cleaning

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This morning I declared that the house to be an electronic-free and friend free zone until after the kids got some chores done. The kids promptly ran outside and stayed there for most of the day. This resulted in a very quiet house which I still count as a win. Patch did relent in the late afternoon and do his chores, but the others will be unhappy to discover that their chores will be waiting for them tomorrow and that the ban will still hold until the work is done.

So I had a quiet house today and no urgent business tasks to fill it. Additionally, Howard took off for an event, thus making the house even more empty. I drifted about for a bit before deciding to do some cleaning up in my room while listening to an audio book. Somehow “some cleaning up” turned into “spring cleaning” which included airing out all the bedding and scrubbing the master bathroom. I took several breaks throughout the day. A couple of times I decided to use a break to sit down and blog, but my brain was still untidy. It wasn’t a lack of things to blog, but rather a surfeit. I had too many pieces of possible blogs floating in my head and nothing was coalescing. I sometimes solve this problem by just starting to write. Today I did not feel like pushing anything, so I closed the computer and drifted back to cleaning. Then there was a nap.

It was a long, silent day. I did not really talk to anyone. I spent long periods just sitting without doing anything in particular. Then without any fanfare, suddenly the words were there. I knew exactly how to start the entry and what the shape of it would be. So I opened the computer and wrote about Link and practicing. I waited all day to find words and they came. I love that feeling, when I have the right words. It also feels good to be sitting here in my clean bedroom with the windows open. In another month the windows will have to stay shut so that Howard does not have to suffer allergic reactions. But today the weather was warm and the fresh air feels wonderful.

I need to make more Saturdays feel like today. I think I’d be happier and my house would be much much cleaner.

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Practicing

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The summer when I was 9, my older brother and I spent two weeks at Grandma’s House in the mountains. Somehow it was always Grandma’s House even though Grandpa lived there too. The house belonged to Grandma, but the large workshop/garage behind it was Grandpa’s space. I loved Grandpa’s garage. It was huge, and dark, and smelled of metal. I was only allowed inside if Grandpa was right with me. He frequently escorted me in and let me help with his projects. Grandpa was always tinkering with something. This particular summer he was very focused on physical fitness. He rearranged the area around his garage into a sort of military-style obstacle course. He bolted a chin-up bar between two trees, set out rows of tires on the ground, there were things to climb over and under. The piece de resistance was a rope spanning the distance between two trees 30 feet apart. One end of the rope was close to the ground, the other end 15 feet up. It looked impossibly high to my nine year old self, but I think I would have turned myself inside out if Grandpa asked me to, so I gave it a try.

I suspect my brother and I complained on multiple occasions as Grandpa ran us through this fitness course. I seem to remember Grandma scolding him to not push us so hard. But I don’t remember complaining and I don’t think he pushed us all that hard really. What I do remember is climbing along that rope as high as I dared. Grandpa helped me down and praised me for my efforts. I was so glad to have done well. Then I stood and watched as my older brother attempted the same feat. He only managed about a third of what I had done. My pleasure withered and part of me wished I had not done so well. I did not want my brother to feel bad. It was one of many times that I became forcibly aware that some things which came to me easily were a struggle for my brother. Looking back, I know there is an advantage to being petite when doing a rope climb like that one. My brother was 11 and had developed the stockiness that most boys do at that age. It is a physical preparation for the growth spurt that is to come, but while it lasts, it makes all sorts of physical things more difficult to accomplish. At the time I only knew thatl I had earned praise and my brother had earned admonitions to work harder.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that rope climb lately. I think about it as I watch Link, who lags in both fine and large motor control, and then I watch Gleek, who excels in these same areas. Link is two and a half years older than Gleek. My brother is two years older than me. I can see the same pattern. I try to buffer it. I try to praise Gleek for her accomplishments without making Link feel bad. I pay close attention so I can praise Link for the things he does well, particularly if I can find one where Gleek does not outshine him. The whole situation became much easier when I read this article about praising kids for efforts rather than results. Suddenly I was able to praise all of my kids equally and in front of each other. I was able to make clear to Link that part of the reason Gleek excels in physical things is the amount of time she spends practicing them. She is constantly running, jumping, climbing, or dancing. It should surprise no one that she has gotten very adept at these things.

It is good to have a solution for what to say to the kids, but it still leaves the underlying problem that Link has with motor development. It is a negative feedback loop. Link does not feel good about his physical capabilities and so he avoid situations where he’ll need to use them. This means he never practices them, which in turn means he never improves. Like my brother, Link is a quieter person. His thoughts and feelings turn inward and he always seems fairly content with life. But time and again I discover that he notices and feels bad about his differences. He does not like feeling weak. In his own quiet way, Link has been processing the information about practice and he has begun applying it to physical things. Taking tumbling was his idea. It is a good idea, but the tumbling classes focus on advanced skills. Link needs to practice more basic things. He needs to become comfortable climbing ladders. He needs to be able to cross a set of monkey bars. He needs to jump confidently and land on his feet rather than in a giggling heap. And so I am taking a page out of Grandpa’s book. We have begun using our swing set and that of our backyard neighbor as a sort of fitness ground for Link. So he practices climbing up to the monkey bars and then back down. At first he was nervous to even try. In very short order, he got comfortable doing it. Soon we’ll have him kick off from the ladder to hang and drop. Day by day he will get better until he can swing himself across the monkey bars solo.

That is the practice that Link knows he is doing. I’ve also instituted some practicing that he does not recognize as such. I’ve begun to require him struggle through fine-motor tasks that he usually asks me to do for him. Pouring milk is something that is so easy for me, but for him it is a struggle to lift that heavy jug and balance it carefully while pouring. It is hard to watch him pour, knowing that spills are inevitable, but unless I let him practice he has no chance to master these skills and he needs them. He needs to open containers, and cut his own nails, and fix his own hair. I have even begun to suspect that some of his lingering childishness (he comes across as young for his age) is because he is still physically dependent in dozens of small ways. I’ll be watching with interest to see if that ebbs as his capability and confidence grows.

I want Link to have more confidence before he is sent forth into the wilds of Junior High. I know how cruel peers can be at that age. My brother had a rough time. He survived because he fell in with a very good group of friends. I can not guarantee that the necessary friends will appear for Link, but I can help him practice the things he needs so that he will not be so inviting a target. The good news for Link is that video games are far more widely accepted now than they were when my brother was his age. Being good at video games actually counts for something with peers where it used to be additional cause for ridicule. Link and I have one more year before he makes that transition. I hope I can make it count. For now I just send a silent thank you back to my Grandpa for a helpful key in seeing a problem and finding a solution.

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Crazy Dinner

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Howard was off at Dragon’s Keep for a game night. Kiki had been dropped at her friend’s house for an all night gigglefest slumber party. I decided that the remaining three kids and I deserved some sort of a treat too. The best treat I could think of for me was not having to think about cooking dinner. Unfortunately buying fast food or pizza tends to run over $30. We’re trying to watch our spending. The other alternative was frozen pizza, but I really wanted something more exciting to offer the kids. This is when I remembered Crazy Dinner.

When my parents came to watch the kids while I was at Ad Astra, they took the kids to the grocery store, gave each of them $5, and told them to pick what they wanted for dinner. The kids loved it. They made their selections and then all the food was brought home and shared. I decided to give this a try. We could have a treat dinner for $15. Link, Gleek, and Patch were thrilled with the idea. They’ve been trying to talk me into doing this ever since Grandma left. We hit our first snag when I did not have five dollar bills to hand them. They really liked holding the money in their hands and making their own purchases. Next time I’ll make sure I have the cash. This time the kids just had to suffer with letting mom do the paying.

I fully expected to be in the store for 30 minutes or more while the kids dithered over what to buy. But Link already knew exactly what he wanted. He headed straight for the frozen pizzas, where he selected exactly the same kind of pizza that we had in our freezer back home. Patch also picked out a frozen pizza. Gleek was far more interested in sweet things. She selected Capri Sun drinks and some yogurts. I grabbed some jalapeño cream cheese poppers for my treat. Within 10 minutes we were in the check out line and headed home. …and so we’re having frozen pizza for dinner, but it is extra special because the kids picked it out all by themselves.

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A quotation for the day

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“Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking forit. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have acheived a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever.” Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

I am like a fish swimming in water made of good things. I am supported and nurtured by all of these blessings, but I am so accustomed to them that I forget they are there. Instead I focus my energy on the obstacles, the disruptions. I need to remember to see the good things, to see the water. I need to continually strive to participate in the joyful things which surround me daily. I can choose happiness.

Someday I may find myself a fish in the desert. If that time comes, I hope that I can still find joy and happiness in the dew. I hope I can still choose happiness.

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Seeing with eyes of beauty

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I’ve been reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It is a beautiful book. Ms. Gilbert has a way of spinning words so that I feel I am there with her in Italy, or India, or Bali. When I close the book and my eyes refocus on my surroundings I am a little disappointed. There are no tropical flowers here, nor many singing birds. This is Utah in early March. All I have is tufts of green poking out of the ground, a mere promise of flowers to come. And then I get in my car and drive down paved roads on any one of a dozen mundane errands. It is all so prosaic and unlovely. Nothing like walking in India or riding a bicycle down Balinese roads. But then I stop and think again. Eat Pray Love is not meant to inspire dissatisfaction, quite the opposite. It is about finding peace and joy and beauty. Ms. Gilbert had the glorious opportunity to live for a year in foreign places. I am not likely to have that opportunity in my life. I am likely to spend most of my life in automobile-centered America. This does not mean that my life lacks beauty or poetry. To many people the world over American life is very attractive. I think happiness lies in finding the beauty that is around me all the time. Ms. Gilbert found women splitting rocks in India to be beautiful. I can find beauty in the amazing dance of pedals, levers, and wheels to operate an automobile. I can look at the concrete expanse of the cul de sac and consider it a wasteland, or I can remember the endless games that my children have played with the other neighborhood kids across that gloriously smooth expanse. I can lament my lack of flowers, or I can watch the spring bulbs grow and find beauty in the cycle of dormancy and renewal. I just need to look around me and see my life with eyes that are looking for beauty, rather than eyes who seek source for complaint.

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