Decorating Dilemma
Amidst the past 6 weeks of not being able to walk well, the downstairs bathroom was pulled apart and worked upon. This wasn't a "Hey! You don't have ENOUGH crap in your life happening, lets do construction" type thing. Here is the low-down. In typical chaos in motion fashion, the night before we were to leave for Las Vegas (in mid February) I hear a "HONEY!!! COME DOWN HERE!!" from the Good Doctor who had gone to the basment for our suitcases. (Because of course it was 10pm and we were just starting to pack... at 10pm... for a 7am flight....)
I ran downstairs to see a large puddle of water on the bathroom floor. How dare our 20-something year old water heater decide to spring a leak NOW!!?? As overwhelming as this was, I WAS happy we were still home, and it didn't happen while we were on vacation, filling the basement with 80 gallons of water.
Since we needed a new water heater, I asked the plumber how hard it would be to move it into a closet that was down there,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well put in a water softener,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well replumb the two pressure systems we have for our water,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well put in a shower,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well move the toilet too.
RIGHT??
Anyway this was all going on in the past 8 weeks, and I think I had been downstairs about twice in that time. Trust me when I say, there laid a small amount of fear in just exactly what I would find in the basement, left to the hands of children, and adults with power tools. Today, tired of the 3 year old carrying sawdust back up the stairs on his socks, I decided go down to sweep and clean up down there. I was wonderfully surprised with all the remodel work, not so much at the the fact the basement had regurgitated toys everywhere.
When the plumber moved the toilet, he had to break up the concrete to move the lines and pour new concrete afterwards. I was sweeping up and noticed that the cats inspected the concrete work, because of course they would.
and if he was going to do that, he may as well put in a water softener,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well replumb the two pressure systems we have for our water,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well put in a shower,
and if he was going to do that, he may as well move the toilet too.
RIGHT??
Anyway this was all going on in the past 8 weeks, and I think I had been downstairs about twice in that time. Trust me when I say, there laid a small amount of fear in just exactly what I would find in the basement, left to the hands of children, and adults with power tools. Today, tired of the 3 year old carrying sawdust back up the stairs on his socks, I decided go down to sweep and clean up down there. I was wonderfully surprised with all the remodel work, not so much at the the fact the basement had regurgitated toys everywhere.
When the plumber moved the toilet, he had to break up the concrete to move the lines and pour new concrete afterwards. I was sweeping up and noticed that the cats inspected the concrete work, because of course they would.
So now I am left to wonder... I WAS going to do an industrial chic style in the new bathroom, but maybe I should go for cheetah print everywhere?? :)
or Cougar?
Unbiological sisters
My daughter will never have sisters. For that, I am a little sorry, but we had her. And given the fact my grandmother was one half of three sets of twins in her family, I wasn't going to tempt fate and end up with twin girls. Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter to the moon and back, but one Leah is all we need. She has the "skills" that in her adulthood will make her unstoppable. She will be in charge of hostile corporate takeovers, or will be responsible for spinning politicians sex scandals into sympathy inducing after-school specials. In her childhood, the traits make me want to drink by 8am. Besides, we bookended her with two brothers who will eventually be no less than 6'3" tall, and potential dates will have to get by them first, so we just didn't want to mess with our master plan. So there are no sisters in her future.
I have a sister. She is 13 years older than I. She had grown up and moved on by the time I was about 3 or 4, so in my childhood, I don't remember seeing her a lot. When I was 9 or 10, she made me an aunt, which was really cool and really frustrating all rolled into one. In my child mind, it was hard being upstaged by a chubby, cute and perfect GRANDchild. 363 days later, it happened again. We have not had the chance to share a lot of those sister experiences I hear about from women with sisters, partly because of the age difference, and partly because of the paths our lives have taken. But we share the same eyes and eyebrows, that remind me of our mother. We share similar walks and somehow we managed to harbor all the intelligence, most of the wit and all of the beauty that somehow escaped our brothers.
I want my daughter to know, as sorry as I am she won't have a biological sister, she will find herself blessed with some unbiological sisters, like I have been. I don't know where hers will come from, from which part or parts of her life, but she will find them. I didn't find my first until probably late high school or early college. These women are a part of my life. It is important for her to know that in terms of friendships, it is more about quality, than quantity. Women will enter her life, and we, her parents, will sniff out the fake ones before she does, and that she should trust us. I want her to know that if someone just seems too amazing/rad/cool/grandiose to be true, and her gut is screaming "FAKER!" she needs to trust her gut.
What will her unbiological sister feel like? Upon meeting her, she will feel like that college sweatshirt you should have thrown out 10 years ago, but can't. She will feel like she has known her, her whole life. In her first meeting she will find herself talking forever, and then feeling sheepish and embarrased afterwards because she admitted in her first meeting that her best hair days are on the 3rd day of not washing her hair, and she may be wearing the same shirt as yesterday because it was just too cold to change. She will feel an initial click with this person, like two cogs aligning. Like a tiny piece of herself got completed.
I have but a handful of unbiological sisters. These are the women who get me, love me and who I would let fold my underwear, and even my husbands underwear. They are those friends. Some I have known for 10s of years, some for a mere few months. I am separated in physical distance from a couple miles, to hundreds of miles from them. I have seen some yesterday, and some not for years. It doesn't matter, the bond is real, it is dynamic and it is forever. These are the ones who, if I get knocked down, will say, "Stay down, I've got this."
That doesn't mean it is always butterflies and unicorns. I need her to know there will be times she will fight with her unbiological sister. It will hurt, but it will be honest. Honesty is always the most important thing. For her to be honest, and for her to hear honestly. They will ask her those tough questions she doesn't want to answer, because she knows those same questions have been rolling around in the corner of her own head, and she doesn't have the answer to them yet. But her unbiological sisters will ask, and they will talk, and cry, and there will usually be wine, chocolate and Kleenex involved in these heart to hearts. There will be waxes and wanes in her sisterhoods, that will coincide with relationships and babies and just the beautiful beast of life, but the bond will always remain. And she knows she can always call them at 3am.
She will never have to guess with her unbiological sister. She means what she says and says what she means. When sushi night's Dynamite roll ends up causing gastronomic explosions the next day, her sisters will trust her when she tells them to go shop and eat, she will be ok, just bring gatorade later. Sisters do not play martyr. They will help because they want to, or can, or are able. They will expect nothing in return. They will sit outside her bathroom while she bathes, in case her wobbly self decides to fall getting in or out of the tub.
Her sisters and her will go through the trenches together. I'm talking about surviving the dirty, hard, ugly stuff together. I'm talking divorce, miscarriage, surgeries on babies, lice, bad relationships, job loss, depression, and grieving. Ugly, messy situations that will require unconditional love, understanding, and a lot of chocolate, wine, laughter and Kleenex.
She will need to know that no man will or should take the place of these sisters. Men were not created for these roles. That is why God made them differently. They have male refrigerator blindness, and we don't. They can write their name in the snow, and we can't. Men are to fill a different role in our lives. And they usually don't like dark chocolate and talking as much as your sisters do.
She will understand why Frozen is such a great movie, and will find herself wanting to watch it by herself, with no children around. She will, at some point, sit and wonder how she was so blessed to have such amazing women, these unbiological sisters be part of her crazy beautiful life. And then she will also realize just how blessed she is to have so many amazing unbiological Aunts. And then she will remember she should phone her mother.
Her sisters and her will go through the trenches together. I'm talking about surviving the dirty, hard, ugly stuff together. I'm talking divorce, miscarriage, surgeries on babies, lice, bad relationships, job loss, depression, and grieving. Ugly, messy situations that will require unconditional love, understanding, and a lot of chocolate, wine, laughter and Kleenex.
She will need to know that no man will or should take the place of these sisters. Men were not created for these roles. That is why God made them differently. They have male refrigerator blindness, and we don't. They can write their name in the snow, and we can't. Men are to fill a different role in our lives. And they usually don't like dark chocolate and talking as much as your sisters do.
She will understand why Frozen is such a great movie, and will find herself wanting to watch it by herself, with no children around. She will, at some point, sit and wonder how she was so blessed to have such amazing women, these unbiological sisters be part of her crazy beautiful life. And then she will also realize just how blessed she is to have so many amazing unbiological Aunts. And then she will remember she should phone her mother.
Kids: The cold dixie cups of reality
There is one thing that has become totally clear to me through this experience and that is the facts that kids are awesome. I'm not referring to the perfect medicine they deliver of sloppy kisses, big bear hugs and the continuous supply of drawings that say "I love you Mom!" Those are are all amazing and cherished. But I am referring to their blunt honesty.
When I walk into a room, I can see the collective thought bubble form above the blank faces of adults. I feel their eyes gaze in wonder at my peculiar gait. Then usually, before a parent, in sheer desperation, can dive in with a hand to cover their mouth, a clear, loud and young voice will say "HEY! Why do you walk so funny?" The mortified parent acts as if I've been pelted with verbal rotten tomatoes. Frantically apologizing and shushing the inquisitive child. The reality is the way it feels, to be outright asked, is like a cool cloth to a feverish brow. It is a cold drink on a 102 day. It is refreshing and welcome. You see, I am aware that I walk funny. It isn't like for a moment I've momentarily forgotten that I strut. When kids see me, they are just observing. They are taking notes. They just ask what everyone is thinking. Kids are awesome
A couple weeks ago, in an attempt to give my kids some normalcy, we went to a movie. As we left, and I struggled and strutted through the mob of schlumping boots and blonde heads, my own son loudly announces "Hey Tucker! Did you know my mom can't walk good?" He announced to God and everyone, in case anyone was wondering, that in fact his mom can't walk well. There was no judgment in this, just a statement of facts. Just a big bucket of reality that he threw into the air and let sprinkle down amongst the droves of kids at the cinema that day. His declaration was met with a collective "Ok, cool, where are my Sour Patch Kids?" as they piled out into the gray parking lot. Kids are awesome.
As I lay curled up on his mom's couch, my son's buddy, Xav, delivered me a scoopful of sweet honest love. Xav and my eldest son are cut from the same quirky piece of God woven cloth. He approached me and said "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..... I'm sorry you walk funny." Taking his hand, I replied, "Thanks Bud! I'm sorry I walk funny too." His concern for me was conveyed by what he sees: Me walking funny. It was a big fat sweet 9 year old version of love and concern. It melted my heart. Kids are awesome.
If imitation is the highest form of flattery, I am a rock star amongst 3 year olds. I see them taking these giant big wobbly steps with their arms out, bobbling and giggling. If it is a particuarily bad day, where I may have some tongue clicking, I will hear my 3 year old walking around clicking his tongue, as he plays. They just see me doing something different, something they find amusing and they mimic me. Taylor Swift has her red lipstick following, I have my goofy gait-tongue clicking posse. Kids are awesome.
I've decided I'd just like to create a group of truth seekers, comprised of kids, to send out into the world to ask the questions we all wonder. They can operate under the name Battalion Why. To the Kardashian Clan, a blunt and honest: "Why are you famous?" To the sandwhich making teen with a love for piercings: "Why do you have holes bigger than a tube of lip gloss in your ear lobes?" To the professional sports players: "Why do you make gazillions of dollars for playing a game?" To the Secretary of Defense: "Why don't you just bring our Moms and Dad's home?" To the weathermen: "Why do you get paid for your weather predictions?" And all these people would answer these questions, because they are just kids.
They ask with no judgment, just sheer curiousity. They note the obvious. We are all curious, but as we age, we struggle with what we SHOULD ask, or wonder. We err on the side of never saying anything, or asking anything. Trust me the person you are wondering about is fully aware they are walking funny, or have lost their hair, or are missing an arm, or is a walking pile of grief due to a death. The person is fully aware, and they are aware YOU are aware. But kids, they just notice, and they just ask. They are the tiny buckets of reality. And they are awesome.
Peace
I lie awake again at night
Your jagged breaths punch the blackness
My cheek lies against curls that smell faintly of pizza and laughter
Your small back curled to my chest
The chest holding the heart you've heard from the other side
I curl your soft chubby fingers in my tired palm
So much uncertain
so much unknown
But at this moment I know peace
