Hands Full of Rocks

Snow globe moments and small towns

I have some memories that I think of as snow globe moments. One is watching Mr G walking about under the street light next to our driveway in his first 1-year-old snowfall, toddling through the crystalline magic. It was one of those really sparkly snowfalls, and the snow caught in the streetlight was dazzling. Him stumping back and forth down the sidewalk in his bundled-upness, watching the triangles of snow form on the tips of his boots, looking up as the snow tickled his face, staring at the beauty of it, all the world silent except for the sound of snow hitting snow.

Lovely. As much as I loved growing up in Colorado, I'm also loving watching my kids grow up here.

We 'chose' this town and location because my mom had a house she was looking to unload, and we wanted a house in which to have kids. It was a former student rental (20+ years), so, uh, ew. But we ripped out the beer-and-cigarettes (and worse) scented carpeting, repainted everything, gutted and redid the kitchen, and so forth, and have a house that is ... well, two bedrooms, six people. Small is not the wrong term. It has some issues - the property is tiny and on a corner (no 'back' yard at all), and the property is a seasonal streambed. The entire thing. The water flows around the house on both sides, and if the sump pumps fail, we get fountains out of the basement walls, literally - no dribbles, but nice arcs of rainwater into the basement. Goodie?

But location, location, location. We can walk to the center of town with small children. We can walk to the parades, open-air concerts, and festivals. We run into people we know, regularly. Date nights can include a long walk and window shopping, or stepping into a bookstore. I spent a nice chunk of time in labor with Mr G wandering Main St.

We can walk to events on campus, and because it is a campus, there are cool restaurants and arts events. The boys went with my mom to an opera on campus, and there are world-class events here in part because of the student population (which is almost equal to the population of the entire town - the town gets very quiet when school is not in session). Best of many worlds - good food, walkable locations, bike trails and parks, small-town events, and reasonably arts oriented, too. 

And then there are the fire trucks.

We're just a couple of blocks from the (volunteer) fire station. Miss M adores the fire trucks. Especially the ladder truck (who doesn't love the ladder truck? Everyone loves the ladder truck!).

We went down to Main St. to get haircuts, and while the girls were out front with their brother, leaping about on the sidewalk in the snow, the ladder truck came down the street. Clearly not in a hurry, no lights or sirens. The firefighters saw the girls leaping about and waving to them with glee, and they popped the lights and rang the bell (not the siren), and waved back.

The guy up on the back (steering the back of the truck) tried to look serious, but cracked a smile and waved to them when they jumped around some more, waving and waving and watching with joyful admiration and envy of the firefighters in the big red shiny ladder truck. (Miss M is particularly tickled that one of the volunteers is a woman.)

There's just something really nice about that whole scene. The college students grinning at the girls as they dodged their snow-joy antics, the fire truck lights and bell, the interaction with the guy on the back of the truck, the huge fat flakes of snow coming down over it all. 

Definitely a snow globe moment.

Love and cuteness

Yesterday, I was sitting in the car, watching Mr B and Miss M play some kind of running back and forth game at his bus stop.

It was one of those moments that causes me to overflow with joy, peace, love, satisfaction... everything is right with the world when a brother and sister are racing around, eyes alight, laughing, him coaching her on how to go about the game with affection and kindness (and no bossiness, arrogance, or frustration), her taking it in with equal grace and enthusiasm. They were both fully engaged in the game, 100% there, together.

When they noticed me watching (probably with 'that smile' on my face), they scowled at me - my noticing was an intrusion, and not really welcome. It took them out of the space, made them look from outside at themselves, reminded them that others might be watching, stole some of the 100%-ness.

I looked away, and they resumed their play, but changed it so the new game would not be tarnished by my noticing. 

I love that my children love each other. I know we set that up, encouraged it, coached the skills, and reminded them to engage with each other, trusted each of them to feel it. But it was still with fingers crossed and hope in my heart that they would not just love each other, but suit each other as well.

I have enough siblings (a LOT) to know that the 'click' is not there just because we're siblings. We don't all get along easily and smoothly. I get along with pretty much everyone, but even then, there are rough areas. Places that take some skill, patience, effort. And where I have to put in a lot of effort, the relationship is not as ... hmm, I was going to say 'strong/sturdy' but I think really it is that those relationships ONLY have the strong/sturdy, and none of the other structures and aspects. We basically don't connect as often, or for as long, when there is less of a natural fit. But at the same time, the love is quite an amazing bedrock.

My little brother M, who I sometimes refer to as the Golden Child (because he was), is a lovely, gracious, gentle, creative, and interesting person. Whenever we talk, it is as if nothing has changed, no time has passed, I could have just stepped out of the house back in high school and come back in, time folds, and we are as we have always been, at least once we reached adolescence. We don't talk often, but when we do, there is never any question of the depth of our affection for each other.

I'm glad that my kids seem to have that same thing. That same warmth, caring, open and comfortable love for each other. Even when they fight, part of the pain they fight with is that conflict between the love and what-just-happened.

My friend N asked how I stayed normal surrounded by such cuteness. The kids are definitely cute, too. But while the cute is sometimes overpowering, what really makes me go mommy-nuts, what makes me stop and grin stupidly while I watch them, or catch them up and kiss their heads while they squeal and laugh and demand to be put back down This Minute, is seeing the love they have for each other.

Top 57 list

So, yesterday was T-day two, wherein Miss R got a mild concussion, chin contusion, and tongue laceration to go with the puking incident from T-day one.

Sucky T-day for her this year. Sucky for ep, too, as he got to be full circle - caught puke on the first go, and was the source of the concussion on the second go (okay, so she really shouldn't have been RIGHT behind him on the stairs, where his heel could clip her chin really hard as he went up the stairs...).

Poor ep. Poor Miss R.

But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln... Well, other than that, it was a fabulous thanksgiving. One of the best in years, from most of the opinions I gathered.

We had initially expected 25 people, but four ended up not coming. S'okay, we managed. It just gave us more room to put the food.

We'd put in all 20 leaves in the table (yes, that is 20 leaves, the table seats 26 comfortably, or more somewhat on the tight side). Set out the good silver from both sides of the family. Set out the Waterford for the adults, and the 'training crystal' for the kids (pressed glass, but good heavy stuff, and if they break it, nobody will be heartbroken). The kids decorated the table with garlands and 'scatter leaves' (silk leaves with no stems). The nice holiday china was out, and the damask gold and cream tablecloths under it all, with forest green napkins both to match and contrast.

Lovely lovely.

Lovely also getting up at 6:something AM to get over there after staying up to midnight the night before making pies. Getting to my mom's at 7:30, drinking coffee and starting the rice for rice stuffing and chatting with my sister and her wife. Having my SIL do a latte run for me, and then on to peeling garlic for garlic mashed potatoes (one head of garlic per serving!). Rice stuffing (wild rice, jasmine rice, onions, carrots, celery, mushrooms, fresh herbs) in the bird, and bird in the oven, and then a short break. Mmmm, coffee.

Then a little chatting and hanging out with my sister and SIL and mom, and some discussion about the charity decisions for the year - my mom's charitable fund covers three moderate donations (or does at this point), and so we had to pick out three things that covered the ground we wanted. Still have to talk to one sister, but otherwise, we're good to donate to our selected causes.

Kids arrived with ep, and set to work - Mr G settling in to polish the silver (including the set my aunt found somewhere, mostly plate but a couple of decent ones in there), Mr B heading off to prep table setting (anything not already done), the girls (M and R) who knows where. My brother showed up briefly to drop a few items and head back off. Ep discussed his projects for the day (not cooking), and headed back out as well, shortly after dropping the kids.

Then more cooking - finishing up the potatoes, starting to cycle the other dishes into the warming process. Whoa, suddenly it was 1 PM, and AHHH, my skirt still needs to be hemmed (I caught it with my heel the last time I wore it, pulled it right out), and I'm not dressed and have zero makeup on, and people will be arriving soon!

I got dressed, ep arrived, found my socks (ack, where are my socks!), my SIL threaded a needle for me (I ended up not even getting the hem put back up, but I don't know that anyone either noticed or cared but me), I managed to be sufficiently put-together that I got a yowza look from ep, and a whoa-nelly look from my friend N (wife of my friend A), in the 'hello, I have never seen you look like that before!' way. Good, I hope. I was showing much more skin than usual, and I was wearing the 'tall boots' (I'm 6' 2" in those boots, plus they're knee-high). So, uh, anyway, hopefully a good impression... just not my usual covered up somewhat conservative librarian-with-an-attitude look.

And more hectic dance through the kitchen while everything got assembled and put together and we waited on three arrivals (who turned out to not be coming but hadn't said, sigh, NOT like them)... but then, dinner started, and we carried on, passed the vegan and vegetarian and non-veg food, and despite the potential for grousing that shows up with food differences, there was ease and comfort and enough for every dietary restriction to have gracious plenty and good stuff.

The list, though, I bet you're wondering where that comes in...

Well, my friends A and N are Indian (I've mentioned them before). We got to talking about movies that would be good cultural reference points for new staff coming over from India to get a sense of context, and give them any chance of catching half the referential jokes that are so common to US business. What is a cowboy, and why do people in reference to boring meetings say 'Bueller... Bueller...' ?

So we started the list, aiming for a top 10. Wait, can't leave that one off, so, 12. No, 17. 25. 32. Dessert was done and coffee was dregs as we got up to nearly 40. Laughing, we teased A and N that there would be a quiz next Thanksgiving. We compared notes on this vs that movie, Breakfast Club or 16 Candles? Tried to trim out the 'just a good movie' ones, leaving 'understand our issues' ones instead. A and N finally headed out around 8:30 or 9 with a photocopy of the list, but then we had more conversation and the list extended again... I finally left with it at 57 movies. Even if they had time to do one a week, that's more than a year's worth.

I'm going to put up a page for the list, later, but for now, here's the raw tally (some titles may be inexact): (My and my sister's combined top-ten are in bold)

1. Dr. Strangelove
2. That's Entertainment
3. John Wayne movie (any, or The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence)
4. Manchurian Candidate
5. Mr Smith Goes to Washington
6. It's a Wonderful Life
7. The General (Buster Keaton)
8. Forrest Gump
9. Tootsie
10. Citizen Kane
11. The Road to ... (any) (Bob Hope and Bing Crosby)
12. Some Like it Hot
13. Apocalypse Now
14. Viva Las Vegas
15. Oceans 11 (original, with Frank Sinatra)
16. The Godfather II
17. North by Northwest
18. Dirty Harry
19. The Pink Panther (not for the Americana, but because of the vast number of references that ended up in the culture)
20. Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles (both)
21. Robin Hood (Errol Flynn, not Kevin Costner)
22. Tarzan (Johnny Weismuller)
23. King Kong (the original b/w)
24. The Keystone Kops (any)
25. Sleeper
26. Take the Money and Run
27. The Blues Brothers
28. Terminator (just the first one)
29. Office Space
30. 12 Angry Men
31. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
32. All the Presidents Men (original)
33. Gran Torino
34. Driving Miss Daisy
35. The Wizard of Oz
36. Network
37. Casablanca
38. Star Wars (A New Hope, the first one)
39. Airplane!
40. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
41. The Breakfast Club
42. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
43. M.A.S.H.
44. Superman (Christopher Reeves, just the first one)
45. The Natural
46. O Brother Where Art Thou?
    
47. A League of Their Own
    
48. 1776
    
49. The Shining
    
50. Easy Rider
    
51. 7 Brides for 7 Brothers
52. The Music Man
    
53. Oh, God! (George Burns)
    
54. Groundhog Day
    
55. Guess Who's Coming for Dinner
    
56. Philadelphia
    
57. The Desperate Ones

PHEW! In return, A and N thought they might have four or five Bollywood flicks I needed to see... the rest, eh, not so much.

Feel free to dispute some of our picks, or add your own. The only rules are 'they are cultural touch-points (not just good movies)' and 'source of recognizable cultural references used in popular US culture'. No TV shows, no literature, only movies. And not the uber-challenging ones (we nixed things like The Color Purple on the grounds that that was more of an advanced course in US culture, rather than an introductory overview).

If you know some Bollywood (or 'Parallel' - the alternative indie type) movies I need to see, feel free to comment there, too.

Catching puke

Literally.

This being one of the ways the universe tests your parenting skills, we think.

Take one family gathering, add a lot of food, add a bunch of exciting cousins to play with, and shake.

Wait until one of the children comes and says their tummy hurts. At the first signs of heaving, stick out hands to keep it off the nice floor.

Because, you know, the finish on hardwood can get really messed up by puke.

Heh.

Or really, because, well, what else are you going to do? Scream? Leap back away from the child? Traumatize them for life?

Instead, ep caught. And I grabbed napkins and we grabbed towels (had been on their chairs as protection), and she yooked into those instead. Nice linen napkins... bleach is a good thing, yes?

Miss R is feeling much better after having rented and returned her entire dinner and dessert. 

So, that was T-day one. Ep's parents' house (nice old stone house, plenty of room), his brother and sister, their kids, an uncle and aunt, a foreign student whose host family were out of town, the bf of one of the cousins. Nice mix, all in all.

Today was prep for T-day two. Cleaning up, setting up the table (all 20 leaves in the table, taking up the full length of the addition my mom put on for just this purpose), various decorating and setup for the formal dining.

Tomorrow will be T-day two. 25 people (or 24, depending on whether my best friend from high school's husband shows up this year - some years he does, some he doesn't). My friends A and N (A from work, N his wife) will be getting their first go with an American Thanksgiving. Whoo, boy, poor things! KIDS! PEOPLE! FOOD! MORE KIDS! MORE FOOD! TALKING! MORE TALKING! MORE KIDS! MORE FOOD!

Woot? It is kind of hard to be dropped into that whole thing, BAM. Though maybe they'll be more used to it than we think, since it is probably closer to a 'small event' in the Indian experience. What, only 25 people? Piff. Nuthin. Heh.

Still, my family can be a bit much to take. They're all nice, but they can all, uh, talk. Even all the introverts.

But hopefully nobody will have to prove themselves by catching puke. Once a holiday is enough for that.

Research: Depression risk higher without a net (duh)

More research to tell us what we already know... but actually some very interesting stuff here, both as a parent and as an American... and actually, as an interculturalist (since that's a big chunk of my job).

This study showed that despite having WAY more population prone to severe depression genetically (up to 80%!!), populations where there is a strong community process in the culture have lower actual rates of depression. They describe it as having 'a culture of we' being the difference.

Interesting question arises for me - did this mutually-supportive community-oriented culture develop because there was a high disposition to depression (therefore much of the population needed support, so they drove the culture that direction), or did the genes not weed themselves out so much because there was a high social value on supporting each other - that is, it never mattered that the gene was there because it wasn't being expressed, and so nobody even knew that someone was prone that way? A bot of both?

It also has some interesting implications for people moving into other cultures. If you are one of the majority with the genes for major depressive episodes, and you move from your culture of 'we' into a culture of 'me' (like the US), how much net do you have to re-weave in order to avoid triggering the depression risk? Or does the upbringing make a difference, so that you are more willing and likely to ask for help when you need it?

Moms in the US know this resistance, I find. Asking for help is something we are taught over and over NOT to do. We should do our own work. Do it ourselves. Asking for help means we don't get full credit. Full credit matters. It is the individual success that shines. We're better than 'that' (whatever 'that' might be). The individual gold is cooler than the team gold. We can handle it. We stress about letting go of control. We feel ashamed of letting others influence our choices too much.

And then we sink. Because this is hard work, being a parent. We need that net. We need the resources, the shoulders to lean (or cry) on. The other hands to hold the baby so we can do something that isn't so constant for a moment.

Now, I had a net. My mom realized that she had taught us to be individuals as kids, but has not taught us as well how to be IN community. So she started working on that as I was reaching adulthood (and the majority of the sibs were out in the world). Community matters. Network matters. Being able to call in the troops, raise a flag and get a response, be comfortable reaching out when in need, those matter. She put herself center in that web in a lot of ways, but part of that was just because she didn't know how else to teach it. Part was just she likes to be in the middle of stuff, of course, too. ;) But I did catch the drift, and started building some net. So when I had my first child, I had three good solid strands of web.

Three. Seems kind of iffy for leaning on.

Wove in some more as I went.

Learned that some strands aren't up for being part of a web. Whoops, where did that one go? No idea.

Learned that some can only reach so far - they'd be there but they're not close enough, and supporting long-distance is harder for some than others.

Learned that others that I never expected would weave themselves in without even asking, and become warp and weft both.

Some go slack at times and snug up unexpectedly under me at other times. Some are woven through everywhere, and others just in one span. And hey look, I'm woven into theirs, too.

It ends up being very nice, once you get the hang of it. It helps having any idea of how to go about it. I'm kind of pushy about it, actually. Er. Rather a lot, really. Kind of blunt force. But I do let people slip back out of the web if they don't want to be there.

Mostly.

The contrast with the culture-of-me makes it harder to do it smoothly. There is no sense of weaving into the extended web as a way to make oneself safe - In community-driven cultures, one's reputation for helping others who are in relationship with someone becomes part of the relationship with that person. So, if I help your uncle, I am now woven into your web, too, because your uncle is part of your web, and you are part of his, even if we have never met. Those threads touch, and can be pulled on in need. But here? Here, so what? So you helped him, when have you ever helped me? Me me me... sigh. So it has to be more direct, here. Which means helping closer in to more people in order to be part of the net. Who has that kind of time?

Or, helping really big when someone needs it. That's part of the loudness of my web-weaving, I learned to help big. I actually like helping big, coordinating an effort or making sure something happens that is needed. But it can be a bit overwhelming for the quieter ones, and I bet it is a little bizarre to those from community-based cultures. 

Still, we're working on it. My family does have the genes for depression, so having a web is that much more important. After all, if a population with mostly people who are prone to major depression can avoid depression more than the US population just by being community-oriented, my family may be able to do the same.

Worth a try, anyway. 

Remembering to notice the fun

We had another adventure last weekend. Went to DC, to the National Gallery of Art, to see the Royal Armor exhibit.

It takes us 2+ hours to get to DC. 2+ hours back. We spend about 2 hours in the museum.

Sometimes the calculus of fun seems off. I measure time against the fun and go... wait, four hours of transit for this?

This, though, is fun. That's what it is about, no? My friend A is gently bringing me back to that whenever I talk to him. It isn't about the hours spent, or the details of what happened when. If I start going into the details I will get to the fun of it, eventually, too. My siblings 'get it' in the sense that if I go off on how my kids geeked on the Greek statues (who knew that my kids even knew how to say Calliope properly, let alone knew what her child's name was), they'll laugh and light up and know why I light up, too.

But I don't always tie it in. I end up stuck in the details, sometimes. Listing what happened, when, how long it took, where we went, like a statistical data dump. Boring? Nah. Or, uh, well, maybe? (wince) Certainly not real, not meaningful, no 'me' and no 'them' in the description. And without that, the trip redefines itself into less fun.

So, I'm working on remembering (and noticing, so I can remember) the fun. Nobody has asked me to (not even A, except with his conversational re-direction), but I think it's useful, now that I have noticed that I sometimes forget to catalog the fun, the joy, the laughter, the pleasure, the peace, the glee, the satisfaction, all the stuff that shows the fun. I sometimes just catalog the event, not the experience.

Cataloging the full experience is so much more ... well, more. I can't escape the tendency to catalog, I was born with that. I'll leave that there, as suppressing that would probably make my brain pop.

Anyway... the trip. First was Mr B's final pony-pal riding lesson - next session he's going to be with the big kids (8 and ups), in group lessons. Rainy and chilly, a good Boston November day... or maybe January day. Only we're not in Boston. I felt my inner wince as the shoulder injury from when Mr B fell down the stairs at Baba's manifested in an off-center and off-cadence posting effort. It took the full lesson to settle in with his horse, but then there was the satisfaction of getting her to pick up the canter and stay with it toward the end. I hope his shoulder gets better soon - it is a muscle injury, but it still bothers him a bit. Maybe shouldn't have done the riding at all... though he's using it in play. Muscle strength takes a while to come back after an injury. And then joy and shining eyes, showing big brother G the hawk that had taken shelter in the riding barn.

Long drive down, companionable silences and excited chatter from the back. Ep and I talking out 'stuff' that we're dealing with, remembering us, trying to tune a little to each other before we let go of our own needs and focus on the kids, letting them see what they want to see without setting up conflicts. The trip, after all, is for them. If we enjoy it, great, but it isn't about us enjoying it. And actually, we tend to enjoy these things more if we have ourselves tuned to the larger purpose and goal. Goal? Mr G and Mr B get to see the armor.

And then to the metro station. Gleeful stomping in rain. Shy-but-flattered glance up at the gentleman complimenting Miss M's colorful combination of attire (pink polkadot rain boots, flowered pink-and-orange pants, blue and green dress, purple coat, turquoise and navy umbrella). Affectionate and loving hand-holding as we walked, not just the mechanical 'I must hold hands for safety' but 'I want to hold hands with you'. Consideration and satisfaction as the youngest asked to be the ones to put the metro passes in the slots, and take them out, and hand them back to us. Wondering and wonderful and pretty funny oogling out the metro windows, with excited shouting out of things we passed, so delighted by just the Metro ride itself. Serious observation and practice of the skills for riding the escalator.

Lunch with Aunt L and a friend of hers. Relaxing into the tangle of requests and needs, desire and resistance, preference and decision changes that make up our kids deciding on what they want of what they can eat here. Fries, burgers (no bun, no 'stuff'), bacon, grilled chicken, pizza for the one who can have that, order up! The zen of feeding children - no specific emotions most of the time, just waiting, tending, offering, waiting some more. Miss R wanted something else, but waited out, she chose what was available without a struggle or a fight.

Then back into the rain.

Curiosity (why do they... oh!) and pride in counting the numbers for crossing the roads (the count-down to the light change), hurrying with hands held through the rain. The rich and satisfying warmth of the kids watching out for each other, in series or in combination - one checking on another, then another checking on someone else, making sure they're all together, making sure everyone is okay, helping with this, trading on helping with that, around and around, just barely at the noticeable level. I'm so used to them loving each other, genuinely and openly, that I forget sometimes how much that is part of how they act. Granted, they fight, too, but the excitement created few fights and more tending, lots of problem-solving with only a little coaching.

In the museum, the satisfaction of noticing (while we stand and wait for ep to get the coats to the coat check) that there are fossils in the marble floor (or whatever stone it is), spotting them here and there, look, another! Satisfaction again, watching ep coach Mr B thruogh figuring out where we are going, look at the map, find the gallery we want, and setting them off to wayfind. The easy touchdown of checking to see who is taking point, and who is sweep (I was sweep). And oh, the sculpture. No time to study it, absorb or take it in, but still time to see the girls' awe and wonder, and the boys' delight and assessment of what kinds they like best (busts don't interest them much, full body statues do). 

Ourtide the exhibit, the chance to try on armor, gauntlets and helm, heavy and dangerous-looking. Fully engaged set of kids, touching the things they can touch, looking through the books, asking questions. And a lot of time looking at the mural of battle scenes, spotting different items with shouts of excitement, look over here! Not too much for the museum, volume-wise, and enough engagement to make other people smile.

And then the armor, Mr G nearly nose-pressed against the glass, drawn in to the metalwork, soaking it up, soul-satisfied in the presence of skill and mastery of the art. Mr B and I spent more time together, looking at the horse armor, observing how you could see the shape of the horse it was made for, how broad the chest, and Mr B's gleeful grasping of the concept, pointing out how the eye of the horse statue they'd put it on for the exhibit was not in the same place as the eye of the horse it was made for, see, look, there! Imagining what the horse would sound like when it trotted, metal chiming and jingling. Picturing how strong the horse must have been, and what it would have been like to ride it. Shining eyes and glowing face on that, wonderful wonderful. Then back to the people armor, looking at color and pattern, comparing the real thing to the version in the portraits associated... minds clicking along, satisfaction and surprise and questions and curiosity.

And oh, the quizzing of each other on which statue was which deity, sharp satisfaction in knowing the answer, knowing more than mom does, being able to explain why and how, what clues and what signs were present. Watching Mr G teach Mr B how to identify Bacchus, and Hermes, his pride in his knowledge but also pride in teaching well, sharing the knowledge.

Some grumpies as the day went on, but mostly from MIss R, who was already grumpy (we think she's in a growth spurt again). Some problem-solving as we figured out how to manage the desired gift shop purchases (birthdays coming up), and how to do that without it being too much to do (sequential trips). Then the too-tight hustle and rush as we got everyone back through the bathrooms and back out into the rain and back to the metro and ... pause on the metro, dancing and laughing, working on the safety issues constantly but still letting the girls spin around the poles a little, just because.

And home again home again, boys chattering and playing in the back, girls first pensive and then asleep. Ep falling asleep with his fingertips resting on my leg companionably while I drove. Satisfaction.

A good day. A worthy adventure. Worth remembering not just what we did, but how it went.

Random Milling

This is the new nickname for our family.

Mr G came up with it last night, as the title of a tv show about us.

I laughed until I almost peed myself. Because he said it, with dry humor, in the midst of:

a) ep coming home late from work because his train was delayed (he had walked in the door, kids flung themselves at his knees for hugs - yeah, he's tall).

b) kids trying to get their ice cream for dessert (since we're all Montessori-at-home-ish, they each got out a utensil, requested the ice-cream bowls that have not yet made it down to their reach range, got out their own ice cream from the freezer, and were setting up step-stools at the counter/stove area for self-serving in tandem - and have I mentioned that we have one of those narrow shotgun kitchens designed by an architect who clearly had never set foot in a kitchen - even after we gutted it and rearranged it as best we could, it still sucks for more than one person at a time, and there were SIX people in there).

c) me trying to clear up dinner.

d) ep also trying to get to his dinner.

Yeah, Random Milling was about right. Plus the noise... wow.

Making it funny was the best possible thing, since I was about to drown under it all. I went and ate my ice cream on the sofa, by myself, though. Phew. Breathing room.

Funny, how the self-knowledge helps. And funny how the lack of it has hindered me. I had figured I was way more introverted than I used to be - actually, for years, ep has been half-apologizing to me for turning me into an introvert - but I hadn't really accepted it. Accepting it has made a series of lightbulbs go off for me.

This is why I hate being a stay-at-home mom. Kids on me nonstop, all day, no peace, and the only way to get them to stop is to go out - er. Whee?

This is why I go nuts when things get noisy.

This is why I am prone to the sudden outbursts of AAARRRGGGHHH! - okay, being a Thinker instead of a Feeler plays into that (my feelings come out of nowhere all extroverty). I also have sudden outbursts of LOOOOOOVVVVVVVE, too - out of nowhere I have to go hug someone. It probably makes no sense to them at all. Funny, one of the things I hear a lot in response to my affection is 'where did that come from?' (wince)

It has been much easier to be more affectionate openly now that I'm paying attention to how I show my affection, too. I just assumed it showed more, and that my mom's comment that I'm the least demonstrative of her kids (affection-wise) was an anomaly to do with our relationship.

Huh. Maybe not.

I know I am better at affection with my kids (and ep), say it more, touch more, etc., because they've taught me that they need that. But it still had hitches, hiccups, and tight spots. It's easier now that I can see with the perspective inward that I'd been missing. And it's nice, too. I can find ways to make it work better for me, and them, too. Effective starts coming in better on this one, now that I have a little insight into my own function.

Anyway, that's us. Random Milling.

Only, please, no reality shows about our life. :shudder: Even if the title is pretty darn hilarious.

Fall means charity

So, around here (that is, in our family), autumn is charity time.

I don't know how much it is a reflection of culture (harvest is in!), or logistics (ack! Have to get the charitable contributions in for taxes!), or other stuff, but fall seems to be our biggest chunk of attention to the charitable work.

Sunday I was part of the UU Fellowship service, talking about practicing our principles. The principles of being present, being in community, and taking action, in combination are a big part of what it means to be a UU. They're also a big part of our family process, on both sides (after all, those values are common to many other religions, such as the Quakers, being the other side of the family).

So Baba and I got up in church and talked about how we do this. How do we get the kids involved, how do we make it light them up?

How did we get kids to choose to do extra chores to pay for their public-radio membership?

How did we get kids out in the dirt, digging up history or planting trees?

How do we get them to send money to a girl's school in Afghanistan, or donate to Doctors Without Borders?

How do we get them to get excited about donating food to the food bank?

How do we get them involved in the research project for (hopefully) inoculating amphibians against the fungus that is killing them around the world?

We only had two minutes to talk, so I tried to make it short - but that meant we didn't really get to explain HOW in detail. More 'what' than 'how'.

A little on the how, though - like staying aware and open for the possibilities. Listen for the question that you can let them answer from their values. Like for public radio, explaining what a pledge drive is, but not asking them too much, or telling them, or lecturing, or bossing - just discussing, and asking what they think. Funny how they will come up with the idea that if they're listening, maybe they should support it, too. My kids are therefore the youngest contributors to the public radio classical music station they've ever had.

In coffee hour after the service, though, we got more questions. HOW do we do this? How do we get kids to want to help?

Following the kids is the core of it, for us. We don't make them do it, even if we set them up to do it. If I'm going to donate food to the food bank, I plan it to have the kids available to come along. But that's the cheap-ass version of the process. The deeper level is watching for what upsets them, and finding a way to answer that anger or hurt or fear or sorrow.

So, when my mom's house addition meant that some beloved trees were going to be taken down, my mom didn't just assuage their sorrow or tell them to deal or otherwise just answer that part of the problem, she promptly contacted the Nature Conservancy and asked if there were any tree-planting events going on that needed volunteers. So the kids in honor of the trees lost went and planted trees in a place where those trees had been lost long ago - and would now get to grow back in a protected and safe place.

It answered the pain with action.

And there's also the chance to follow someone else's passion that isn't mom-and-dad's. Like, my sister - aunts and uncles and friends are part of this. My sister has many passions, and is an expert on charities (it's part of her job). She found the amphibian research project that needed a push - they really needed to hire a grant writer, and she talked to them about funding that. And the kids donated specifically to that. She's also into the non-profit archaeology group that we dig with - she set that up, and got us psyched, got us started, and ... well, the kids got to light up on someone else's cool.

And then we celebrate that - the events are documented with more care than we give birthdays and holidays. Certificates of thanks are framed and put on their bedroom wall (at Baba's house, where there is more wall space, but where they see what they've done often). We talk about it with others, in front of them, show the pride we have in their willingness to help. We embed it in conversation with them, as well.

The opportunities are endless. We choose differently each year, but the point is to choose. Start, find something that lights them up. Whether it is a 'do-good' thing (Doctors Without Borders) or a 'fight for change in the world' thing (a girl's school in Afghanistan) or an arts thing (volunteering at the Art Museum) - it doesn't matter.

Starting matters. Practicing being aware of the community matters. Being open to the opportunity to create change matters. Doing it as a family matters. We do it all year long, but the peak is really in the fall, when we gather as a family-extended, and think about gratitude as part of Thanksgiving, and send our gratitude back out into the communities in which we see ourselves - local, regional, global. 

Christmas is so commercialized at this point, it is hard to fight back without undercutting the fun. 'Tis the season becomes too complicated, fraught, confusing.

For us, this is the season of giving.

I suck

Okay, so I only suck on some things.

Lately, however, I've discovered I suck at some things I thought I was good at.

Nothing, NOTHING, makes me more miserable than realizing I am incompetent at something.

All sorts of things can make me more sad, more scared, etc. - kids will do that. But when it comes down to me, feeling competent is important.

Hence practically everything I do as a parent.

But I still suck at some stuff. I hate the face-plant moments, enough that I will not avoid getting up, getting back in there, and trying to muck through and figure out what I did wrong and how to do it more right.

I'm okay with progress, too - I don't have to be perfect right now. I can be a continuing process. I actually am pretty process oriented, so if I'm working on getting better at something, I can count that.

In this case, though, I thought I was good at something, but ... um, maybe not.

For much of my life, I have thought I was an extrovert. I mentioned this a couple posts back. And I also thought I was an F - people first, values first, problem second.

But as I went through the exercises with my team (especially the followup stuff), I ended up much more comfortable in the introvert and thinking side. I realized that I feel I am supposed to be people first. To manage that, I put people-as-the-problem, so I can kinda keep people first (but really, the problem is still first).

I problem-solve people issues. Which is loads of fun, really. It is what I do for work (my new mini project is perfect perfect perfect for this - I totally love it!). But it also highlights that when it comes to the actual process and expression of feelings, I may not actually be that good at it. After all, I assumed I was good at it, so I didn't bother to try to build skills.

Which means that, hmm - when I feel angry, I am prone to losing my temper. No skill. And when I'm feeling overwhelmed or agitated or even thrilled and excited, I dump it at people I care about (instead of being able to manage the flow, attend to the intersection between me and thee, and listen). Again, no skill. And I'm not as good as I think I am about hearing other people's feelings and responding to them. Um, oops?

Analyze them? Sure. No problem! I can dissect someone's emotional process from 50 ft. I can spot how people work (and be relatively close to right), even if I know that I can't tell why something was felt (no mind reading).

I think I'm okay with conflict, too - or did. But maybe, maybe not on that one.

One of the big yank-up-short moments on this was my work friend A sitting down to go over the two types that were coming up as likely - he agreed that the type I was typed before (very enthusiastic, gossipy random and social) was wrong. He thought I was the rules-based orderly thinker. Okay, so I play one at work... I've worked on those skills for 20 years. But when it came down to looking at the type I think I actually am (geek problem-solver), there was one thing that I didn't think fit, and I wanted his level-set on.

What thing? The booklet said that this type of person is uncomfortable with expressions of feeling (self or others), and with conflict. Nah, not ME! I put a big X over the box on that.

And he disagreed. Heartfelt disagreement, actually. That much I could tell (sigh).

Er.

As it turns out, he's a feeler type, so you know what? I am going to have to trust his judgment on that. I did, of course, cross check (because I have to). I read through some of my blog posts on handling feelings. And man, do I go straight to the problem-solving first! It's not sympathy and compassion I offer, it is resolution. Which isn't bad as an end-point, but um, might help if I interwove more compassion in the process. I do, really, just not as much as is called for - I cut it short, get them to try to calm down too much too soon.

This is probably why Miss M avoids me entirely when she's feeling hurt. I do not help. I run out of energy for dealing with the hurt-ness fairly fast, and want it to be done. I know she needs to take her time, but she wants to take her time on it with me, and I start to tense up as it continues. Stop stop stop stop, please stop! Uh. Sheesh.

You'd think I'd be better at this parenting thing by now!

But, see, Mr G is a thinker like me, so his pacing is very like mine. No problem, I have this parenting thing managed (at least there, right?).

And then Mr B is a feeler, but he's an extrovert and will have his fit wherever, loudly (and his joy, too), so that it kind of goes everywhere and not just at me. I can let it flow in all directions and not have to address it too closely.

Miss R I know needs a lot of time, but she just wants a witness - so she'll be all feelings flying everywhere, but as long as I acknowledge that it is there, and stay out of her way, that's okay too.

And then MIss M. Whose feelings need to be expressed close up and personal... uh.

Yeah, I suck.

Sigh.

But at least now I know what I need to work on. It is useful, that - and maybe while I'm figuring out how to actually manage those feelings (instead of either dumping or cringing), I can figure out how to work them with ep, who takes the brunt of the dumps (and he's not up for that, either). And likewise, I can figure out how to talk with my friend A, who so gently guides the conversation back to what's important (the people), because I always start with the problem - and sometimes don't go anywhere from there.

I'm somewhat glad that I have the third set of filters clarified at this point - because I could use a little Acceptant Loving and Faithful from me to me. Ep starts there, and so does my friend A, and pretty much all my friends. Just as I do with them. (Though I have to work on Acceptant on the feelings expressions, apparently!) But having it said and written helps me remember to be that way with me, too.

One more skill set to add... goodie! er. Dang. But okay. Get up and try again.

Digging in the dirt

My kids have a passion for discovery (family trait, really). If they don't end up researchers and scientists, it won't be for lack of experience!

Saturday, my mom (Baba) took them on another of her 'enchantment' adventures.

For those who don't recall, after my mom and I had a little (er, huge) spat about where the parental boundaries were, we figured out some issues around roles and tasks, and I asked her to perform one very important task for us and our kids - provide them with enchantment. Make the world magical. I'm going to have to do decorum and education and health and all the boring stuff, and I don't want them to miss out on joy and wonder - I can do that, love doing that, but I will not get to have that be the only, core goal. I want it to be a big one, so delegating... well, it solved a lot of issues. Baba now has a place to put all her love and energy, and I have a lighter load. Plus I knew she'd rock at that.

Now, some of that 'enchantment' is mythology and fairies. But a lot of it is science, and some of it is social awareness, and some is history... whatever, she brings it from an angle guaranteed to enchant. Brilliant at it, actually. She finds ways to elicit the passion, delight, child-like glee, joy, wonder, however you want to describe it, with almost any topic. I don't know if she's tried math yet... but physics, chemistry, astronomy, biology, sociology... yep, yep, yep, and yep.

So.

For my Brother-in-Law's birthday, Baba gave him a chance to share his great passion (Geology) with his nephews and niece (the elder grandkids).

They went off to a spot he knows where the fossils just lie around on the ground waiting to be picked up, especially after a good hard rain. A little digging doesn't hurt, but it actually isn't necessary. They're not valuable fossils (mainly squid parts and some shells), but they're real. And many. And oh, real is so fabulous. And many makes the reward constant.

Real is here, and now, and past all in one. Real is shocking in its ability to make us feel the flow of time.

Finding them yourself is so much real, it makes the kids vibrate. I know there are kids who are not into this kind of thing, but I just can't picture them at all. Even Miss R, who is much more socially oriented is still very much into what could be found in the dirt. See her at the archaeology dig, for example, thrilled to have found a bit of ancient coal - even though she really doesn't understand how old is old...

I expected Mr G to be into it. And Miss L, his cousin, also. She has a fire in her mind that lights up like a blowtorch on stuff like this.

But Mr B is the one whose response charmed me most. And fascinated me.

Mr B took the time to go off with Uncle S, and sit down and learn how to look, what to look for, how to see the colors in the dirt that indicate 'this was a layer of sand' and 'this wasn't'. How to find where the best chance of fossil might be, to know and understand the layering of the earth, and let that tell him where the joy would be.

He told me later about how the rain moved the fossils over the terrain, and where that meant they would be found. And how the different soil types washed away, and what that looked like.

Joy and joy and joy, finding fossils. Not even just the easy 'laying around on the ground' version, but oh, the seeking, following their signs and cues, trying, and finding.

What an amazing way to spend an overcast September afternoon for an almost-8-year-old!

It's like archaeology, only faster. He loves that, too. He loves going to the dig, finding something, uncovering it, using his capacity for care and attending combined with his passion and openness to what comes - or does not come. Working on a team with essentially complete strangers (a friend or relative doesn't hurt, either), creating a unit working toward a common discovery. That's him all over.

And now he also has a grasp of one real-world application of geology. It's about getting down in the dirt, learning to look - or maybe learning to see. There's an intimacy there, a relationship between him and the earth, almost a conversation.

"Enchantment" definitely qualifies. What else would you call learning to hear the Earth whisper its secrets about the past?