Friendships

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I’ve been thinking about friendship today and loneliness. I have many people that I consider friends. The would, and have, dropped everything to come help me in a time of need. I would, and have, dropped everything to help them. I am richly blessed to know so many good people. Yet most weeks I don’t see or speak to any of my friends who don’t live in my house. I tweet, comment, and generally interact online with all sorts of lovely people on a daily basis, but that is not the same. I attend church every week, but often I sit by myself and only engage in a few sentences here and there with my neighbors. I used to have a group of friends who gathered every other week for a girl’s night, but then half of them moved further away and the rest of us had our lives shift. We don’t meet anymore. For several years I had regular handwritten correspondence with some of my friends, but that dried up this year too. I stopped having the energy to reply.

I didn’t notice as all of this was happening. I’ve been turned inward this year; very focused on family, business, and emotions here in my house. But somehow I’ve come to a place where my in-person interactions with friends have dwindled to scattered lunch appointments. I did it to myself. Some of it was necessary because I had to conserve my resources of energy. But I’d like next year to be different. I’d like to be around friends more often. I just need to remember how that works and how I make it happen.

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Snow Falls Again

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Snow is falling today. Each flake is tiny when landing on the ground, but they have been falling all day. They land on the piles of snow which still have not melted from the snow storm before this one, or the snowfall before that. Most winters the kids are hoping we’ll get some snow in time for Christmas. This year it has been on the ground for weeks. I stepped outside in it, to feel the hush which always comes with snowfall.

Then I thought back all through the year to another day when snow fell, way back on February 9th, when I wrote another post that talked about snow, but was really about many other things. I read that post today while I was gathering information for the 2013 Tayler Family Photo Book. When I wrote that post I was at the beginning of my year. I’d had a hard week and knew there was quite a bit of emotional sorting yet to do. The week was harder than the post makes clear. At the moment of that post I did not know how long that sorting would take or how complex the emotions would become. I look back with sympathy for my past self. It got so much harder in the next couple of weeks. Then it got harder again before it gradually became easier. It is now December and we’re not done sorting yet. Reading that post makes my heart hurt and I realize how very emotional the process will be when I begin pulling together my annual book of blog entries. It will dredge up all the memories of the hard things which happened this year. Part of me wants to just close the door and move on. We’ve made our shifts, transitioned into a new familial life stage. Next year might be a time when we can just settle in and be glad. I would love that, but I have to finish this first. I have to read through it all and remember it. In that process I will be able to let go some of the trapped emotions that are attached to the events.

Snow is falling, illuminated by the Christmas lights on our front yard tree. I don’t know what the weather will be for the rest of this winter. Perhaps it will all be as snowy as the past few weeks have been. I hope that the emotional weather for next year is not as tempestuous as the year just past. It seems logical that it would be, but I can’t control that any more than I can dictate to the sky whether it should snow. All I can do is clear away the snow that has already fallen so that I am better able to handle what ever comes next.

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Declaring Indpendence, Patch’s Turn

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Tomorrow Patch and his 5th grade classmates are meeting in the library to declare independence from their teacher. She’s been being very unfair to them lately. Deliberately so, since she is teaching them a unit on the American Revolution and wants to have a discussion about how it is sometimes important to declare “no more” and stand up for principles. So tomorrow they’re all signing a declaration of independence and refusing to go to class until the teacher accepts it. Then they’ll all have a Christmas party. I’m sure the teacher will be quite relieved, because she’s been sending emails to parents telling us what she’s doing and how she hopes it will play out. When Gleek went through this experience with the same teacher, they had their revolution on Thursday prior to Christmas break. This crew tolerated things a little bit longer, but then the teacher threatened the Christmas party. So tomorrow will be an exciting day. Then after that we’ll get to have a breather from school, which will be lovely for all of us.

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Thinking About Cultural Heritage

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I am an American citizen with fairly standard-issue Northern European mixed heritage. This means that sometimes I feel boring, or like I don’t really have a culture to call my own. That is an illusion created by the fact that my culture is everywhere. I am represented in every book I read, every show I watch. I spend the vast majority of my days swimming in my traditions and culture. They are as pervasive as the air and I pay them about as much attention. This means that I do not truly understand when someone else has a driving need to connect with their heritage and a vital need to protect it from absorption and dilution. I can intellectually comprehend, but I’ve never been alienated or separated from my culture of birth. I don’t have that emotional experience, which means I should listen carefully when those who do have it, choose to speak in a forum where I can listen.

I do have one aspect of my life that is non-standard. I’m a born and raised member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, commonly known as Mormons. On my mother’s side I am steeped in pioneer heritage, stories of people who trekked across the wilderness in order to build a place where they could practice their beliefs freely. That heritage is praised and used to shape modern LDS culture. On my Dad’s side is a conversion story, which is also a strong part of LDS culture. We love stories of people changing their lives in response to personal spiritual experiences and exercises of faith. My childhood is steeped in this culture and my adulthood continues to be, because I choose it, even though there are aspects of modern LDS culture that trouble or annoy me. Note that there is a difference between the doctrines of the religion and the culture that forms around them.

Any time there is a news article or media event that throws general attention on the LDS faith, I feel anxious. Often the attention is neutral or positive, but I still feel cautious anyway, as when I heard about Book of Mormon the Musical. I did not know whether that play would accurately represent my faith or culture as I experience it. Logically, I knew that a misrepresentation would not do me any harm, but I paid attention anyway. I pay similar attention to any other news stories relating to Mormonism. I worry that people will make assumptions about who I am based on what they think they know about my faith and culture. I know that there are some people who will automatically be antagonistic toward me because of it. Yet I skip most of that negative attention, because my sub-culture does not show on first glance.

Then I think about what it would be like if my Mormonism were written on my face. What if, like the Jewish people in Nazi Germany, I had to display my cultural alignment for all to react to every time I went out in public. When I imagine that, I begin to understand what it is like to be a person of color in the United States. Then I begin to understand why the “It’s a culture not a costume” campaigns matter. Some people are not given the option to blend in. They have no choice but to stand out wherever they go and that makes them a walking target, not just for hateful things, but also for people like me, who mean well, but are still fumbling around trying to understand. I don’t understand. I haven’t lived it. This means that I should listen on these issues more than I should speak. I should give my attention to when people tweet about Being Black on University of Michigan campus (#BBUM) and the twitter hashtag #IAmNotYourAsianSidekick. And if I’m tempted to think the issues are being blown out of proportion, I should remember to do a comparison of the google image searches for Caucasian and Asian. Then I should think about how I would feel to have my heritage represented by such a search.

We are all products of our cultures, and one of the aspects of white American culture is to assume that our experience of life is what everyone gets. It is not true. Life is not fair. We all have different difficulty settings and if we’re aware of that, then we have a chance to see all the people around us as equals who are shaped and made interesting by their cultural heritages.

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Tracking All The Things

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My brain tracks things. It does it automatically, sometimes without my consent. I’m not sure when it started. It is possible that I’ve always done it. I know for certain I’ve been at it for at least the past decade. This capability is, mostly, very useful. It is the reason that I am able to run so many projects in parallel. It is the reason that Howard and I hit deadlines and one of the reasons we’re able to make a living at what we do. I love my ability to track, but there are times when it is problematic.

Just last week I was out to breakfast with my friend Mary. She told me about some upcoming tricky scheduling between a work event and a family event where she had to travel extensively in between. During the conversation, I felt my tracking brain click on and I knew that some part of my brain would be paying attention to whether Mary was able to make her tight connections. There is no point to me tracking that information. Mary is a grown up. These are her events, not mine. And there is nothing that I can do to affect the outcome. My life would be more contented and less stressed if I could spend that day happily oblivious to Mary’s travels. And I’ll probably spend most of that day not thinking about it. But at least a couple of times, my brain will ping “I wonder if Mary made her deadline.” and then I’ll go check.

This happens to me every day. My brain pings me about a dozen things that it has chosen to track. Was there a follow up to that internet kerfluffle? Did so-and-so manage to make that souffle? Don’t we need to start scheduling that meeting for that project which is three months down the road, but we need to start now? I haven’t seen a schedule from AnyCon yet, I should email and check. I’m constantly thinking of things before the people, whose jobs the things are, have had a chance to think of them. I do my best to reign it in and make sure that my tracking does not adversely impact others. The good news is that while I can’t stop my brain from pinging me, I am not compelled to follow through on the pings. I can answer a ping with “That’s not really my business” and move on with my day. That thing is likely to ping me again until the deadline is passed, but each time I can dismiss it or act on it as seems appropriate and logical.

Unfortunately in the parenting arena things get murkier. It is easy to see that my friend’s travel plans are not my job. But what about my child’s homework? Obviously the child needs to do the work. Obviously it is my job to teach kids how to face homework and get it done. Obviously young children need an adult to help them track and teach them how to track. Obviously children under stress need more help than usual. But there is an area where things are much less obvious. I have to figure out at what age I step back and let the kids track their own things. The ages differ according to child, previous experience, and ongoing stress level. I’m really good at stepping in and giving lots more help. I’m much less good at stepping back. If I know what the assignments are, I want my kids to snap to it and get it all done because then those assignments will stop pinging in my brain. What my sixteen year old needs right now is space to sort and track his own assignments. He needs to find his own ways of getting things done. His ways are not my ways and that makes my tracking brain crazy. It pings me all the time about his work, and my job right now is to tell it to shut up, because tracking is his job, not mine.

The good news is that eventually my tracking brain will recalibrate. My college kid is home now and my tracking brain is treating her like any other visiting adult and not trying to track all of her tasks and things. Though I don’t ask for details about the work she needs to complete while she is here. Details are hooks on which my tracking brain gets caught. On the whole I suspect that this aspect of how my brain works is outside of normal, but it is more of a benefit in my life than a detriment, so I’ve just learned to manage it.

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Christmas Present Ponders Christmases Past

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It is predictable, right around December 15th, I’ll write a post about how maybe things are slowing down a little, then I’ll not blog for several days because. Nope. Not slower. It is also common for me to write a December post where I’ll think out loud about how our Christmas traditions are different than they used to be, or how I’m trying to shift things and let go of the concept that Christmas is mine to create. Then come Christmas day, I’ll likely write a post about how it all turned out fine despite the fact that I thought I was ruining everything. The refrains are all familiar, rather like the Christmas carols which fill the air. I have these variations on the same emotional tunes played out year after year.

Perhaps that is why this year I haven’t played many carols, or really done much of anything to consciously create a Christmas mood in my house. I put up lights. I put up the tree. These things make me happy, but other than that I’ve been letting the holiday exist or not without much effort from me. Naturally this has resulted in a vague guilt that I ought to be doing more, or perhaps a vague regret that my days are spent just keeping all the necessary parts of our business, educational, and household things running. I feel like it would be nice to do Christmas things, but I’m already over extended. So I let go of the things I can’t do and tell myself that it is okay. It has been a very long year and I’m worn out.

I’m discovering that small kindnesses mean much to me this Holiday season. A Christmas card from a friend I’ve failed to write for six months, a bag of treats from a neighbor who I used to speak to far more often, and email offering to help because I sounded tired or stressed in a blog post. I treasure these things because I’m not able to give such small kindnesses lately. I can see how little effort it would cost me to do similar small kind things. I feel like I ought to stretch far enough to write thank you notes, to stop by and say hello to a friend, to make a treat. I keep choosing not to. I’ve already extended and extended far beyond what I would have thought I could sustain last year. To do more is beyond me. I appreciate greatly when someone else offers me a piece of their time or energy. Small kindnesses are not insignificant.

I’m not particularly stressed in each individual day. When people ask me how I’m doing or how my day is going, I answer “good” without pause for thought. Because things are generally good. The kids are aimed in good directions for growth. We’ve had a good business year. Our many projects are coming along. We’d always like them to be coming along more quickly, but nothing is stalled. All of the things are good. There are just a lot of things and there have been all year long. It leaves me wanting to clear out and simplify rather than add the complications of Christmas celebrations. Proper celebrations come from a place of joy, not obligation. I have moments of that, when for some minutes or hours I’m glad for the holiday season and for family. Then I’m back to making sure all of the day’s things happen.

I think it will begin to feel like Christmas when the kids are out of school. Then I’ll take them shopping or to the movies. The feel of our house shifts during the Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. I’m glad for it because it is good for me to step out of the regular necessities of our schedule. I also miss our regular routine and the happy feeling of getting work done. So the holiday season will begin for me on Friday, four days before Christmas. Which is about when it came together last year. Only last year I spent most of December feeling like I’d failed for not making Christmas permeate our house earlier. Perhaps my niggling regrets represent a step toward acceptance that Christmas now is different than it used to be and it is okay.

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Contemplation in the Christmas Season

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We have reached that point in December where life has slowed down enough for me to contemplate all the things I would like to do as celebrations of the season, but which I’m not likely to actually accomplish. I love the idea of a daily quiet contemplation where I light a candle and spend some time just sitting with the Christmas tree. I feel peace in those moments, that peace is the point of Christmas for me, connection to a natal event long past, connection to loved ones in the present, and expressing appreciation for all of it. I dearly want to carefully contemplate and select gifts for all the people in my life. I want to write handwritten notes. I want to give out tokens of appreciation. The reality of my holiday is that I might have a contemplative moment once or twice per week during the first part of December.

Only ten days remain between now and Christmas. In order to give gifts to everyone who matters to me, I’d need to sit down and make massive lists. I’d have to live by those lists and scramble to assemble and deliver everything. That effort would completely obliterate my attempts to find peace and contemplation during the holiday season. The two desires for Christmas celebration are mutually exclusive at this point. So I am going to do what I always end up doing, I’ll muddle my way down a compromise path. I’ll give some gifts, but not others. I’ll write some notes, I’ll give some tokens. Then I’ll hope that my neighbors will not feel slighted when I don’t make plates of treats to give away. I’ll look at the few Christmas cards on my wall, remember the years when the wall was covered, and know that this is the natural result of me being too busy to send cards out any time in the past five years. I still love both sending and receiving cards, but something has to go.

Our church Christmas party was tonight. It was a lovely event, good food, good company. The program was brief, but heart warming. It was a good balance of all the things a Christmas party needs to be. Howard, Link, and Kiki left early because they wanted to get back to the game they were playing together. Gleek and Patch played running games with all the other kids. I visited with a few friends, had one really important conversation, and then stood off to the side and observed. There have been times when I was fully invested in my community of neighbors, when I had important things to talk about with all of them. Lately I drift through, touching down in the community only lightly. I feel bad about that, because I know that it is my choices that keep me adrift. I would be more connected if I did things like making plates of treats for neighbors, or went out of my way to have conversations with people I have not spoken to lately. I have not given very much to my neighborhood community in this past year, all of my energy went into family, business, and keeping promises made to backers and customers. At some point in the future, maybe next year, I’ll connect with my neighborhood again. I do what I can and what I feel inspired is most important at the time. I did not spend this year wrongly.

We have one more week of school. During that week I need to help my two youngest kids select and acquire presents for their siblings. There are other holiday essentials to be planned and brought to fruition. And of course there are piles of homework that I get to guide my youngest into completing. It is plenty to track, but tonight I have a Christmas tree in the dark and a quiet hour to feel calm. It is well.

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Logistics Brain and Writing

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I haven’t been blogging as much lately, which often happens this time of year when my logistics brain takes over in order to manage the complexities of December scheduling and shipping. But I miss it. I miss unspooling long thoughts into words. Today I drove three hours to fetch Kiki from college and I spent most of that time sorting thoughts into probable blog entries. There are half a dozen of them and now I know what they are. Hopefully in the next few days I’ll be able to steal some time to write them. For tonight I’m going to have a Friday evening with my kids at home.

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An Evolving View of the Twilight Series

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I read Twilight about six years ago. It was after the third book in the series came out, but before there was a movie. I wanted to know what all the buzz was about, because I’d heard both raves and pans. I began reading and was pulled right in to the relationships portrayed. Then three hundred pages into the book, it suddenly had a plot instead of just a relationship. I enjoyed the book, but then I started to think about it. The more I thought, the more things I found that were of concern. It is one thing for a grown woman to read it as escapist fantasy, but I worried about young girls who were still forming their ideals for relationships. There is so much unhealthiness in the relationship between Edward and Bella. I was also concerned that Bella is so blank. She only makes one decision in the entire book and has to be rescued from the disastrous consequences. When my teenage daughter, Kiki, decided to spurn the books and join the anti-Twilight camp, I was glad and I never bothered to read the rest of the series.

Fast forward about six years.

A few days ago Gleek brought home Twilight from her junior high library. She told me that she had it, almost embarrassed, not sure that this was a thing that was allowed. She knew that lots of people hate the book. She knew her older sister dissed it. Yet she read the back cover and it sounded interesting to her, so she brought it home and she asked me if it was okay for her to read. Then I had a decision to make. At twelve, Gleek is at exactly the impressionable age that I was concerned about reading the book. If I told her not to read the book, she would probably obey. She’s a good kid. But I also know that the reason she’d obey is because she trusts me and I want to retain that trust. Someday she may ask to do something that I really feel is bad for her, something she wants desperately, but I have to deny. On that day I want her to know that I don’t just say no on a whim. I want her to trust me. Honestly, Twilight does not merit that level of concern. It is a romance book, probably no worse than half a dozen manga books that Gleek has read. So I told her my concerns about the series. We had a conversation about relationships and stalking. I told her why people love the book and why others hate it. Then I let her make her own choice. She decided to read it.

She loved it and will certainly be reading the rest of the series. And so will I, because I want to be able to talk about the things that happen in detail. I want to be able to reference specific scenes as examples as we have an ongoing conversation about how teen and adult relationships work. We’ll get to talk about how all people want to be desired and protected, but that those drives can lead them down dangerous paths if they are not wise. Those are really good conversations for us to have when she is twelve and most of this stuff is theoretical. So I suppose that a young girl reading and loving Twilight can be a good thing, which is not something I thought I’d hear myself say six years ago.

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Skipping Elf on the Shelf Does Not Make You a Bad Parent

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I see articles about Elf on the Shelf, Kindness Elves, or November dinosaur adventures, all of which are traditions that require daily creative effort from parents after they’ve put kids to bed, and I think that maybe parents don’t need to do that stuff to be good at parenting.
Actually, let me take out the qualifiers.
You don’t need to do that stuff to be good at parenting.
If you love it and it adds joy to your life. Great. Go for it. If it burdens you, do something else. Find a tradition or point of connection with your children that brings you joy: read stories, play video games, go on walks, parent child yoga, whatever. The point is that you share something, not that you attempt to contort yourself for the current popular fad.

I’m so glad these things are popular when my kids are too old to care. I’d have been terrible at them. Twenty-five-year-old me would have felt like a failure for being terrible at them. You can ask my kids, I was a horrible tooth fairy. And it is okay. My kids are happy. Their lives are full of their own creative efforts. They are not emotionally scarred because they had to dig the teeth out from under their pillows and hand them to me in order to get paid. In fact, that has become a point of connection, a family joke.

So I say to parents of young children, skip the dinosaurs and elves unless they genuinely make YOU happy as well as your children. You don’t need the stress.

An additional note of caution: time and energy intensive traditions may not be possible every year. This year’s joy can become next year’s overwhelming burden. If it was fun last year and you hate it this year, find a way to let it go.

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