One Cobble at a Time

For most of my life I’ve been a girl who hangs out with guys. This tendency started very early when I realized that the people playing the interesting games were all boys. Who wants to play hopscotch when you can be playing Clash of the Titans? Because I’ve hung around with guys a lot, I’ve been present for many rants, tirades, and laments about the foibles of the feminine half of the human race. I’d listen and resolve never to be as frustrating, demanding, or confusing as the female which featured in the story du jour. But finally at the age of 33 I am coming to terms with the fact that some of these female idiosyncrasies which drive men nuts are hardwired into the female brain. I am female, therefore they are part of me and I just have to learn to live with it.

As a logical, thinking being I can do much to temper my innate feminine reactions. I do not demand gifts of flowers as proof of affection. That has always been a point of pride for me. But I can not deny how much I light up with delight whenever flowers are given to me. Also I may not demand flowers, but I do emotionally require evidence of love and affection. If Howard has been really busy and distracted for an extended period of time (say a couple of weeks) there is a part of my brain which begins to wonder if he still loves me. It is ridiculous. I know it is ridiculous. He tells me that he loves me every day. He’s stayed with me through everything for 13 years. There is no reason I should doubt or feel unappreciated, but that need for regular affirmation is hardwired into my brain. Fortunately I’ve been able to train that little affirmation requiring demon to accept gifts in the form of dishes done, hugs given, jokes shared, etc. I’ve forced that demon to recognize the kinds of gestures which come more naturally to Howard. In this I am different from many women who try instead to train men to feed their demon correctly. I’m glad I’m that much different, but no matter how hard I may try, I can’t make the demon go away, just go quiescent.

And then there is the whole issue of hormonal surges. Some days everything makes me want to cry. Things which made me happy one day will be cause for tears the next. On such days I have to recognize that the crying demon is out for a romp and just looking for a cause to latch onto. The emotions can be so out of whack with reality that it is ridiculous. I remember one time, shortly after giving birth to Kiki, I sent Howard out on an errand. It was a critical errand that needed done, but while he was gone I was throw-objects-at-the-wall furious with him for being gone. Fortunately the emotion was so far out of line with logic that I was able to recognize it and not blast Howard with it when he returned. Emotions are like that all the time. I have to examine my emotions and try to figure out if they make sense. If they don’t then I still have to deal with the emotion, it doesn’t go away, but at least I know that I’ll probably feel differently tomorrow. If the emotions do make sense, that is a different issue entirely.

So there’s my rant on being female courtesy of today being a Mood day.

At the end of March Howard will be attending Emerald City Comic Con in Seattle. We are considering making it a family vacation trip as well. We’ll be stopping in Boise on the first night because it’s approximately half way and because my sister lives there so we can crash at her house. The road from our house to my sister’s house is a familiar one, so we intend to make that a straight shoot. The road from Boise to Seattle is not familiar and here is where I’m asking for help. What sights are there to see between Boise and Seattle? We don’t mind going a little off the path for something really cool and may even consider adding a stop with enough incentive.

The kids and I will stop by the con for awhile, but probably not all day. I’ll need other things to do with the kids on a Saturday in the Seattle area. Any suggestions would be appreciated. On Sunday I’ll be locating a local LDS congregation and going to church with the kids. Howard will probably be announcing this trip from his front page as we get closer to the event. There may even be a Schlocker meetup separate from the con, I know of lots of you who live in the area.

I would love to get together with Seattle area LJ friends as well. There’s lots of stuff that can be crammed into this vacation, I’m just trying to figure out what it all is so that I can start sorting things in my head.

Last night I had the opportunity to drop everything and come to the aid of a desperate need. One of my friends had a 3 am medical emergency which required her and her husband to run off to the hospital. I went to her house to stay with her kids. In this case the medical emergency was quickly resolved. She and her husband were both back home by 8:30 am. I am so glad that she called me. I’m grateful for the opportunity to make a horribly frightening situation a little bit better.

I am grateful for this chance to give because I have so often been on the receiving end of such gifts. When I had my own medical mess 8 years ago, many people rearranged their lives to make mine easier. At the time I was simultaneously grateful and embarrassed at all the help I received. Over the past two years since Howard began cartooning full time we have received many gifts of money, toys, games, clothes, and good will for which I am always simultaneously grateful and embarrassed. But I keep the gratitude and shrug off the embarrassment because I know what it is like to give. I know how it feels to really want to make someone’s life a little bit better and to be actually able to do it. By graciously accepting needed help, I am giving that opportunity to someone else.

I miss having the funds to give. I see so many places where I would love to be able to help, but can’t afford to do so. However I do have hands which I can put to work. Last night and this morning there was a clear cut opportunity for me to physically step in and help someone; to look my friend in the eyes and say “Don’t worry about your kids, I’ll manage just fine.” She may think that she owes me something for my help, but I know that she doesn’t. I know I’m just trying to pay forward all the gifts and services that have been given to me. My friend has already given me the gift of trusting me to answer her frightened 3 am phone call.

Don’t be afraid to ask people to help you. We are all our best selves when we are helping each other.

Small actions can have huge consequences, just ask anyone who has ever seen an avalanche. I believe that most problems, like avalanches, have small beginnings. If problems are correctly managed while they are small, then the problems never proceed to the point where they are unstoppably crushing everything in their path. My whole parenting style is based upon this belief. I teach my kids to work now so they’ll already know how before they hit high school. I teach them to manage money now so they won’t be clueless spendthrifts when they have their own incomes. I make very clear that hitting and biting are unacceptable expressions of anger, to prevent having a violent teenager or adult.

It’s a good theory, but the reality is much more complex that what I just described. I just gave the clear cut examples. So many other parenting decisions are more murky. For each decision I try to peer into the future and figure out what the possible repercussions might be so that I can make the best possible choice. Say that Gleek doesn’t want to go to Kindergarten. Letting her stay home may allow her to have a welcome day off so that she’s ready to go back the next day, or it might teach her that school is optional and she can get out of it if she throws a big enough tantrum. If I make her go to school she might settle in and have a great day, or she might be angry and resentful all day long, causing difficulties for her teacher and classmates. Which is the right choice? I can’t tell at the moment of choosing. All I know is that the choice takes me irrevocably down one branch of the possibility tree. Tomorrow I may be faced by exactly the same choice, but I will be in a slightly different place because I’ll have yesterday’s choices behind me as a precedent.

Patterns matter more than incidents. I’ve said that myself many times as I try to come to terms with an unpleasant event. I believe it is true. A single incident of leaving Gleek with her teacher and walking away while she cries for me, does not carry as much weight as the many days when she trips off happily to school. BUT if the incident is big enough or traumatic enough, it will be remembered. This is particularly true with younger children who thrive on patterns, but remember incidents. We all create stories about our lives based on the things we remember. What if the only memory that Gleek retains about Kindergarten is being abandoned there by her mother? What will that older Gleek tell herself about her Kindergarten experiences? So incidents do matter. I can’t let incidents just stand by themselves. I have to talk them through with the child. I have to try to make sure that the conclusions which the child draws from the incident are ones that will give the child good options for the future. But even talking over incidents is a choice with possible repercussions. Kids don’t like to be talked or moralized at. They may choose to shut me out and limit my power to influence their thoughts.

Then there is the case where I am deliberately attempting to set up a pattern. Link just acquired a retainer which will help his jaw grow a little larger to fit all of his teeth into a neat row. From where I am standing, this seems the best possible choice for him. But I can’t deny the possibility that there may be a variable that I can’t see from here. Perhaps growing his jaw will misalign his teeth, creating a need for braces rather than preventing a need for them. Perhaps the mushiness of his speech won’t go away after a week. Perhaps he’ll learn bad speaking habits from constantly having the retainers in his mouth. Every day I see him put his retainers in his mouth and one or more of these thoughts flits through my head. I watch the retainer go in and realize that I am choosing to let it continue because I still believe it is best. I will probably continue to believe it is best until I’m either proved right or shown to be badly mistaken. Either way the evidence will only arrive after it is too late for me to reverse course.

Every day I make hundreds or thousands of seemingly small parenting decisions. The odds are good that at least some of those decisions will cause me problems in the future. I try to stick to firm trails and watch my step, but it will not be the steps that I’m watching carefully which will bring the grief. I can’t know if I’m doing this parenting thing right until it’s too late for me to go back and fix things. So I live with this gnawing sense of failure because I know it is impossible for me to get it all right. A day like yesterday when I stomp furiously off the path leaves me wondering if I can handle this job at all.

Then yesterday was followed by this morning, when Patches took himself to the toilet sans prompting. Somehow despite my agonizing and self doubt, my kids continue to grow and thrive. They find happiness and achievements that are completely unconnected with anything I say or do. Then I wonder if my actions carry as much weight as I fear that they do. Perhaps instead of watching all my steps carefully I need to look up from my feet, take my children’s hands, and watch the scenery as we walk together.

For a mother of four downtime is elusive. There are days where I desperately want to have just 20 minutes to myself. I check to make sure that all the kids are occupied and then I sit down to eat while reading a book or to write a blog entry. If I get to finish my meal or my entry, I walk away feeling calmer and ready to be a nice mom again. But almost invariably one of the kids needs something or gets hurt or picks a fight. Then I have to interrupt my relaxation time to be a mom. If my little bit of downtime is interrupted it doesn’t count. I have to start over to resettle into my “I am relaxing” mindset. Today is my third day in a row of too little sleep. This means my need for downtime has been greater than usual. It is worse in the afternoon and evening because those are my low ebbs of energy. Unfortunately evening is a very high maintenance time of day.

Part of me wants to lock myself into my office, turn music on loud and tune out all the noises. Unfortunately that would mean the kids would be unsupervised. They’d probably fight over something. Then there would be hitting and yelling. Or someone would need something and come pounding on my door. Or they’d just sit where they are and holler for me to come to them to solve all their problems.

On one level I understand that all of these things are simply because they are children. They are by definition immature. It is my job to be mature. I have to model good behavior and pass judgment and mete out punishment or rewards. I just get so tired. I need to go to bed tonight just about as soon as my kids do. Then I get to get up and do it all again tomorrow.

Oh and while I’m griping about things, today was cold and gray all day long. There wasn’t enough sunshine.

At least lunchtime was really nice. Howard and I spent an hour together in the kitchen talking and making plans for this coming year. I liked that part of today. And I got stuff done. Not all of it, but enough.

For the past several weeks Howard has been suffering from allergy attacks. We finally figured out that his allergies were better during the night when the furnace wasn’t running and the worst hit just after the furnace came on in the mornings. Hot air isn’t usually allergenic, so we decided to blame the dust that the furnace blows back into our house. I resolved to pay for a duct cleaning. Then I called around and found out that there are $90 duct cleanings that I can duplicate with a home vacuum cleaner and there are $750 duct cleanings which get the whole system truly clean at the expense of my budget. I decided to try vacuuming everything out myself and to clean the filter really well to see if that would make a difference for Howard.

Many of our heating vents are in the floor. I had no idea that floor vents were such magnets for detritus. In fact I am now entertaining the theory that each vent is the home of a little gnome who hoards things. I’m not sure I can explain the quantities of junk in any other way. Each gnome had very definite preferences as to hoarding material. In my boy’s room I hauled 6 handfuls of crackers out of the vent along with random small toys. The girls room contained a comparable amount of beads and sunflower seeds. The vent nearest the front door had 78 cents in change and piles of sawdust. The vent in the corner of the living room had dead ants and cheerios. The vent in the kitchen was the most eclectic. It contained random food crumbs, crayons, a pencil, bits of paper, and a mousetrap.

Having cleared the vents, I tackled the air intakes. This is when I learned why $750 might just be worth it. The dust inside those intakes could have been measured with a ruler. I vaccumed out as much as I could reach. Patches was fascinated by this whole process. He hovered beside me holding the flashlight, helping remove and replace screws, and sometimes even vaccuum. He loved it, he wanted me to go find more vents and intakes to vacuum. I felt tired and grubby, but there was still the filter to clean.

Usually when I clean the filter I take it out on the front lawn and spray it off with a high power hose nozzle. This is January, the hose is full of ice. So I took the filter up to the bathtub. I decided to use soap and hot water because I remembered that much of the dust I vacuumed was kind of sticky. It was amazing how quickly the tub water got filthy. I kept swishing and soaping and emptying water and refilling and soaking. Finally the filter was almost back to it’s original blue color. I allowed it to dry and stuck it back in.

What have I learned from all this? That I should probably clean my vents more often. Also, spraying a filter off with the hose does not get it as clean as washing in hot soapy water. I sure hope that it all makes a difference for Howard’s allergies. he has been really miserable lately.

I must have missed the bulletin which announced a huge sleepover in my room last night. Both Gleek and Patches got the bulletin though. Patches arriving in my room is fairly frequent, so that wasn’t too surprising. Gleek’s visit was prompted by a truly terrifying nightmare. I know this nightmare was terrifying because as we approached bedtime this evening she curled up in my lap and cried to me while she told me the details. She also requested with big watery eyes that I please allow her to stay up until Howard and I go to bed. Then she can just go to sleep with us and be safe. Specifically she wants Howard to snuggle her because he is the safest person. I didn’t give her request a definitive answer because there were three other things going on simultaneously to the conversation. Gleek ready to snuggle and talk is a rare and precious event. I really wanted to savor it and focus on her, but Patches was having a meltdown because he couldn’t get ketchup to come out of the bottle. After 5 minutes of distress I finally set Gleek down for a moment and blorked some onto his plate, at which point Patches set to whining because he’d already run out of hot dog and now had nothing to dip in the precious ketchup. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Then Patches dissolved into full-on crying because Mommy Laughed At Him. So Patches needed snuggles and Gleek needed snuggles. Both wanted undivided Mommy time. Moments like that are one of the hardest parts of parenting. It seems like I’m always being tugged in multiple directions by conflicting needs.

The three of us snuggled into the rocking chair and had a talk about dreams. Gleek talked about her dreams and Patches seriously discussed the dreams of his stuffed Yoshi. Apparently Yoshi has sad dreams that no one will play with him. (I think that Patches was discussing his own scary dreams, but doing it safely by displacing them onto Yoshi.) Gleeks dream featured monsters with glowing red eyes which catch people and suck out their souls. We talked about what causes dreams (no more Harry Potter for a while methinks) and what we can do to make them less scary. We dreamed up a whole arsenal of imaginary weapons that Gleek can use should those monsters dare to show up again.

After all that it was 8:30, no homework was done and no kids were in bed yet. Today was supposed to be the day of re-establishing a normal schedule. Sigh. At least Patches is in bed asleep. Kiki and Link are both quietly working on homework and Gleek is laying on a couch not sleeping until Howard gets home to snuggle her. I figure I’ll concentrate on the older two for awhile. Gleek may fall asleep on her own, thus solving the issue. One night of catering to a particularly frightening dream isn’t a problem. I do have to watch for patterns though. Hopefully she’ll have good dreams tonight and by tomorrow night the nightmare will have faded enough that it won’t be as big a problem.

Oh, and Link acquired a retainer today, so needed to talk over why he needs it and what it will and won’t do. Why do they all have emotional crises on the same day when I’m so worn out?