Hands Full of Rocks

Well, that's been a while...

Phew, it has been ages since I posted anything!

Mainly, life has been full. Full of full.

But also, I think I tend to blog more about the challenges, the things I worked on and overcame. It's kind of boring to write about good news. Yeah, we work for our good news, but a lot of it is just who we got as kids.

But I do know that some of that easy-ish that we have now is payoff.

So, when I am laughing with Mr G at bedtime, and teasing him about something or other (maybe about growing a soul patch), and the banter gets around to 'But WHY would you want me to find you annoying, Mom?' it comes out that even if other kids relish complaining about their parents, he sees absolutely no reason to join in. I don't need to give him fodder for the teen angst, because he declines to need it. At least not yet. Because he thinks we're pretty darn fine parents.

And when Mr B is past the urg-I-don't-wanna boundary of changing from one task to another, he more and more often greets the new task with competence and clarity. We still have work to do on the transition skills, but boy does he have the concept of competency, will, and focus. Watching him ride, after nearly five years, is heart-bursting and humbling, because his dedication and love and will, even if not as speedy in development as other kids, is so steadfast. Feeding and tending that until it rooted in him to bedrock was all we did, it was him who grew. What used to be burning passion is now a steady glow of satisfaction. And while it was work to feed and tend that, not every child will grow it - it may not be their way, or it may just be not the right thing for them yet. It was luck that we found (and could feed) that which he could grow.

Miss R, now in school with her brothers (and sister), slowly bringing her ember burn to bear on new ways and things - which means she is rocketing in reading and writing, something she used to avoid. Once she fires up on something, it goes on a while. She's being a leader at school, and kind, and considerate to others. The skills we have worked on endlessly (and with great frustration at the apparent lack of success when it comes to her siblings - or us for that matter) have unfurled at school, the School Child version of her is Fantastic.

Miss M, likewise in school, fierce and sporty and always kind to others. Sporty was a surprise, a bit, though her determination to be friendly to everyone was not. She's become more thoughtfully protective of herself, choosing what she exposes of the things she cares about, keeping her passions out of the limelight where others might dim the shiny with a negative opinion. While I'm sad for the loss of her 'I don't care what YOU think, I like what I like' determination, I had been a little concerned that she lacked some social astuteness. No longer on that - she is balancing the load, allowing for the ways in which she is different without charging through everyone on that point (bringing her stuffed shark to school as her toy for her birthday week, and being happy to put up the photo of her at the shark tank in the aquarium, but not really talking about sharks all that much in social play, for example). 

Ep is immensely patient, which means he hangs on by the tattered edge of frazzle many days, when I'd have been long gone into Yelly Mommy mode. I suck at being the dad, but he's fantastic at being the mom. Pretty fine man, that one. I have a coworker who has taken to calling him Prince Charming. As in, "You'd consider taking a job like that one, huh? How could you manage the commute? Oh, wait, you're married to Prince Charming." Periodically I get in the habit of not talking about Ep, because he is so far beyond what most husbands do. He truly husbands. I'm incredibly lucky.

And me, work is WOW busy, and AAAHHHH! crazy, and fascinating, and energizing, and I love the people I work with still. The tasks engage every place in my brain, scramble my resources (in the scrambling jets kind of way, not eggs), and get me going... far too much.

On top of that, I am now at the age that my peers are starting to 'die young' - so another mother is gone with a child and husband (plus family and friends aplenty) left behind. It is at this age that I think we start to feel 'only the good die young' - it is so incredibly wrong to have these people dying. Unfair. Their loss is not redeemable. And at the same time, the things I learn from what happens and who connects and how we carry on is illuminating. I have made some deeper connections through these losses, too.

All of the good stuff is payoff for the work we have already done, and all the challenges are just opportunities to work on something else, which will in turn have its own payoff. Or not, as I'm sure there are dozens of things I've worked on and forgotten about since. But enough payoff to feel like the work is really starting to be worth it.

Mr G has done his Coming of Age. He's taken on a service project at church of his own will and intention. He and his cousin took over Christmas decorating at my mom's. He is gaining about an inch a month in height. The growing is showing, now. Before it was all tending, and now - look. Look at what they're becoming! It's just awe-inspiring.

It also takes up a lot of time. That plus work (where I'm doing a fair bit of growing, myself).

Oh, boy! Girls have noticed The Boyo... (again/still)

So, Mr G has a wee problem.

He's cute.

Oh, such a problem to have, but given the 12-year-old-girl-hormones-thing, and his tendency to think in terms of 'I am an island unto myself', we have something of a challenge on our hands!

Ah, but the fun, too!

Maybe not so much for him, as he finds it disturbing (though also gratifying by the smile he couldn't quite suppress) to have girls come up and just stand there watching him on the playground. Or talking to him about his hair. Or hearing from his friends that so-and-so likes him.

When he says 'likes me' the sound has italics. 

LIKES. Like, uh, 'that kind of like'. AHHHHH! he says, run away!

He's confounded.

Not sure what to do.

Flattered.

Weirded out.

A bit overwhelmed.

All of that.

And he's Mr G. So he didn't at first buy it - were girls really that hot over him?

So he tested the theory. He went and sat by himself on the playground. Looked pensive, and thoughtful, and solitary. Girls kind of wandered nearer and waved and smiled. The way he said it sounded like they giggled, too, though he didn't say so.

He was freaked a bit by it.

So I told him he had a simple solution - stop sitting by himself looking pensive.

Heh. Kind of like saying 'if it hurts, stop doing it'.

He didn't find that so funny. Darn.

Anyway, we've been talking the last few days as a result, about the Girl Thing. And the Girlfriend Thing.

He was thrilled with the idea that he could use us Parents as a stick to beat them back with. Mr G, if a girl starts getting to the 'would you go out with me/be my boyfriend' level of conversation, you have my direct permission to say, 'Sorry, my parents won't let me have a girlfriend until I'm (whatever age he chooses to say, I suggested 14 was a fair start).'

They might argue or pout or count him out as too reliant on his parents, but hey, still problem solved.

And in the meantime? We talked about how to be friends with a girl. Talked about asking her questions, being nice but not encouraging excess, and allowing her to just be friends. Giving her room and time to chill out a bit, calm down, get to know him for real instead of just watching him on the playground and admiring his hair and his fabo new teeth (braces off!).

I asked him if he thought any of the girls he knew were cute.

I got The Look.

The OhPleezeYouMustBeKidding look. The look had italics, too.

Still, I thought it a fair question. And he gave it a fair thought, but couldn't come up with how to answer.

Me being me, I gave him a multiple choice answer to select from. He picked (very paraphrased as I was rather direct with my comments): "I'm not really interested in prepubescent/near-pubescent girls, thanks."

Okay, so he already has a preference for high school-to-college-age women, with their, er, physiological maturity in evidence. So to speak.

But he's also handling that aspect well - he thinks dating a girl who is not physically demonstrating a greater maturity is kind of freaky. Ew! Girls that age are not ready to date.

He likewise has a strong preference for waiting himself - he thinks both he and his peers should be much more grown up first.

Which isn't to say he won't be looking at the older girls. He already does. He'll admire the older girls/women, but he really does not want to act on it.

Fine by me, all around.

Still, the start of some new conversations. About learning about girls from girls, and understanding that they are different from each other as well as different from him, and being okay with that. I want him to be able to hold to the statement he made when he was seven: that girls are just people, and there's nothing wrong with being friends with them.

It's kind of the Acceptant Loving Faithful thing, starting up for real. A new set of filters to bring in focus - remember that they are themselves, accept that even when you don't understand it, act kindly and with affection toward your friends, and act faithfully toward them and yourself.

Starting with Acceptant for now.

He seems okay with that perspective. Considering it. Taking it seriously. We'll talk strategies for conversations that don't go to heck immediately, and how to set a boundary (and how annoying it is to have to set it repeatedly, but also how very hard it is to fight hormones so some compassion and patience required in the process).

Is it weird that I think it is really really FUN to get to where we're talking sex, and dating, and pornography, and the implications of being too friendly, STDs, social risk, and heartbreak? I am thrilled that he went to Ep first, told him what was going on that was bothering him (Girl. Likes me. Help!!).

I'm also glad he then came to me after talking to his dad, and asked if dad had filled me in (Nope, he hadn't had time, but it was nice to not have shared it yet, on this go, as that set the tone and required he fill me in on the whole deal). And then that he went ahead and told me. Just let the conversation roll.

It's really exciting to me to watch him hit this stage, to see the teen inside the boy peek out, to watch the suppressed satisfaction of being attractive to someone leak out around the edges, but at the same time see the will to make sane choices remain.

I love that we get to have these talks. That he trusts us with it. I don't fool myself that all the kids will be that way with us - they're each so different. But I'm glad I get to have this child for my first run at it. I'm sure I'll make some mistakes, but hopefully nothing too catastrophic.

And meanwhile, I'll let him carry on working on learning how to be friends with girls. Hormonal preteen/tween girls.

Provided they don't go all weird on him, anyway.

Acceptant, Loving, and Faithful in action

My mom has taken my older two kids (Mr G and Mr B) off on a two week jaunt around the US Southwest and West. They're due back on Tuesday night.

It has been interesting as a parent to follow my mental track along this process.

At first, I was very fretful - were they going to be okay, would there be enough that B could eat on his diet, would there be enough that G would like enough to eat. Would they get along with their cousin L, or create friction? Would they be helpful? Safe, Respectful, Kind? Would their choices be Effective, Prudent, True?

I fretted most about food and medicine - health and wellbeing being so core to what a mom's job is.

And then I heaved sighs and winced over behavior. Hormones! Mr G playing it cool, a little too disengaged at times, a little too testosterone poisoned at others. Decorum, please? Show that you understand the rules of society, at least a bit (but still find ways to have real let-down-the-hair fun).

I tracked their routes daily, doing flyovers of what they were seeing on Google Earth. I wrote up notes on Facebook for family and friends, hunted up good photos, thought about what they were doing.

And then...

I let go.

Took me a bit over a week. Which I suppose isn't too bad, given that they're 12 and 8, but maybe a bit long given they're with my mom. It isn't like she'll let them fall through a crack, starve, or make stupid choices. She will let them make mistakes, but just enough room to feel the ouch, and not enough room to cause damage.

The whole point of this trip is that it is a coming of age journey. Being out in the world among strangers, seeing the vastness of our nation, touching down on the things that were our family experience as children (since we grew up in Colorado and spent a lot of summers driving similar routes). They're doing daily journals, and sketching what they see, and tending to their spirits (my mom being the retired minister). They brought an altar cloth made just for this trip, and a chalice to light each day, and things to think about that are beyond just 'wow that's pretty, what's next?'

It's a growing up opportunity for them, and for me.

Acceptant hasn't been too hard for me with my kids - they have always been insistent on being who they are. Any time I don't accept that, humbly, the ouch resides only with me. Authenticity is in their blood, and we have supported that all along, with school choices and activities, discussions over dinner, and listening to the emotional earthquakes they weather through the normal course of life.

Loving, either. Fierce wolf mama, here, but also that easy watching of them with the smile and that sense of being flooded with love, immersed beyond anything that ever was before they were in my life. It permeates every cell and fiber.

Faithful is the harder one for me, so far. Granted, I'm dealing with children, still. I am their backstop, the safety net, and the responsible party. Along with others, of course, but for me this is a deeply held process. My mom was the teacher of competence, primarily. She was the one who taught me how to shop, not by doing it with me, but by talking me through the thinking process, and then sending me off to do it on my own, then discussing the results. She's also the one who stood there looking so loving and sad, as I stood there in her bedroom doorway, and told me that she could not make my choices for me, it was up to me to choose my own way, and that the hardest thing she ever did as a parent was to watch her child struggle and do nothing. It was also the most important. I remember turning away from her doorway, still sobbing in my teenage misery, but feeling stronger somehow, more able, trusted. She had faith that even if I made the wrong choice I could right it again, find my way through. It isn't that she didn't talk with me about stuff, it was just that the decision was mine, when it came to my own life.

Some areas of faithful I have no trouble with, but the totally letting go, having this process be outside my life and control, took a few days.

My mom has only called a few times, and none of those times have I spoken with my children. She's given a little feedback, asked some questions, told the upper level stories of her own experience (having fun, most days).

She called again this morning, and this time talked with epeepunk. He listened, laughed, talked about funds for a couple of additional purchases in Navajo Country. And then hung up.

I expected my gut to go HEY, I NEEDED TO TALK TO HER! I expected to need to be that one step closer in the link between me and them, tighter in the information chain.

But I didn't. I just felt that rush of love, golden flooding through my veins, joy at their joy, humbled again by their presence in my life. Acceptant of their them-ness, Loving as an act of letting them go outside my reach without trying to catch them back at every juncture, and Faithful that they will grow into themselves beautifully along the way, do well, thrive, and where they struggle, find resources and new paths and new strengths and skills. They'll figure it out, not without the net, but without having the net create a single path for them to take.

I miss them, but not terribly. Even the missing them is Acceptant, Loving, and Faithful, now. I think that's good practice for later. Coming of age isn't just for the child, but for the rest of the family to remember that this person is not always going to be a child.

What a fabulous gift for them all.

New signs of being older

Mr B last night calmly opted to take a loss of TV privileges rather than take a bath. Okay, not entirely calmly, but with distinct preference for that, and no screaming or crying - just grumbling.

Hum.

I let him, because in the end the intention is to have him bathed, and he's taking the bath this morning, before school. What I wanted was for him to just comply with my schedule, because baths in the morning are a pain in the rear. He opted not to, recognized that opting out was a problem for me but decided that opting out was still that important to him. So he took the hit.

Okay, then. Now what?

It used to be that the sign that I was parenting a child who was no longer there (that is, that they'd outgrown my techniques) was that I was getting all the way to yelling and still not getting a response in the direction I wanted. Now, it is that I'm getting to negotiated consequences that don't entirely make sense.

Really, if he was a grownup and preferred a morning shower to an evening one, it would be a minor annoyance at worst. I would certainly be able to find a way to accommodate. He has done the morning bath once before, on time and properly with only a little 'please stay upstairs while I bathe' annoyance. I'm skeptical that one success means always success, but I don't have reason to think it will be terrible... so two days of no TV for an inconvenience? Bzzt. Methinks that's the wrong answer.

But it is a nice signpost. Pointing right at 'hello, he's older than your parenting.' Now I get to learn how to parent this new age for him. It won't be the same as parenting his brother at this age - so very different in needs, style, personality, direction... but there are some places I understand, number one being the need to sit down and get to the heart of a matter together and listening to what he wants first, rather than just choosing for him and trying to convince him I know better. Not that this isn't true for younger ages, too, but it becomes THE method, instead of being situational.

Granted, some days he isn't older than the 'mommy knows best' parenting (yes, you WILL get in trouble going to school looking like that). He's in that range of disregulation where he's swinging wildly back and forth between years younger than he 'is' and much older. Needy and emotionally hungry and fragile one moment, mature and self-contained another. One minute he's figuring out a solution with his brother, the next he's making faces at him and poking him with a toy.

Nine is coming up soon. NINE, how did he get to be 'going on nine'? But nine is a good year, so far as I know. I only have the one experience with nine, but I liked it rather a lot. I've never been much of one for nostalgia about my kids when they were younger, fortunately. I think I'm just surprised that they aren't always the same age, whatever age that is now.

Or rather, whatever age it is that I already know how to parent.

Growing up

This morning, there was sunlight and warmth and seeds to plant, so the girls and I went outside to play in the springtime-ness of the day.

A large stick was found, and dragged about with the same kind of glee one expects of puppies - or really, 5-and-a-half year olds in spring.

Then ooch, the disaster. Miss M had put the stick down. Miss R had made to walk over it, one foot across... Miss M then decided to grab the stick and run with it, which meant she picked it up while Miss R was still in mid-step-over.

One ouchy scrape later, Miss M is racing down the sidewalk (not even having noticed that she injured her sister), and Miss R is standing there clutching her leg and peering at the white scraped up bits of skin and crying...

I paged Miss M to come back and handle the problem.

And she did.

She came back, apologized, looked appropriately stricken, ran inside to get an ice pack while MIss R limped to the steps to sit in the sun... When Miss R declined the ice pack in a snit (too small for the boo-boo), Miss M didn't take it personally, and just ran back inside to get another ice pack (bigger one).

She asked if she could do anything to help. When that was NO, she stepped back out of the way and let Miss R have her time tending herself. But she didn't vanish, and kept her attention around her sister, peripherally aware and waiting.

And then as Miss R came up for air from her extended stay in 'woe is me' (she takes longer with her feelings than Miss M), Miss M was right there, offering to play ball with the Wounded One, cheerfully rolling a ball to her (ball is huge), laughing and encouraging her to kick it harder.

A small break in play had them standing together for a moment, and I heard Miss M say she was really sorry, and she'll try not to scratch her sister with a stick ever again. A peripheral glance over showed Miss R giving a nod and then a big hug back to her sister, and then they were back to the ball rolling game.

And all I had to do was get Miss M's attention in the first place. No other coaching! Uh. Whoa? Growing up!

Meanwhile, this morning, Mr G asked if he could use 15 minutes of his 30 minutes of computer game time. We only just announced that we wanted to limit the game time to 30 minutes a day... like, maybe two days back? We did explain why. And he listened and frowned with considered thought as I went through the issues and concerns with extended game play time. But he just rolled into it like it was no biggie, just 'okay, new limits, no problem'...

More growing up. So so so so so so so cool.

These little people are amazing. The more they grow, the more I really GET my mom's statement that it isn't the kid rearing that is the coolest part, it is the adult they grow into being. Yeah. These are going to be some very cool adults.

Acceptant Loving Faithful is a good outward filter, too

I have had a rough week, personally. Lots of past history (abuse-related) coming up due to some other events. Just one of those bad cycles, though I haven't had one this bad in a very long time. I tried to track back how long it has been (I initially thought 10-12 years), but the last time this bad, where it was interfering with my daily functioning, was 15 years ago. After 15 years, I didn't really expect it to ever happen again.

Kinda took me by surprise. Which meant I had a hard time getting my feet under me. Huge physical reactions, getting the shakes at work, having to work at not crying in meetings. Bad, in other words. Fortunately, just two days of bad, and then three days of waiting for the next flashback or surge of emotional pain out of nowhere... meanwhile, trying to build a social net, and leaning into the net I already have (letting people know that I might need some support, and why).

What does this have to do with the triad? (Acceptant/Loving/Faithful) I realized that while these three filters are my internal measures of action toward others, they are also what makes others' actions toward me feel 'right'. The more attuned to this triad a response it, the more it feels good, appropriate, effective. Hmm, the more it is acceptant, loving, and faithful, the more it feels safe, respectful, kind, and the more it tends to also land in effective, prudent, and true, too. 

Pretty cool, that.

Two of my coworkers (one also a friend) are extraordinarily good at this. It is part of their character, though it comes out in different ways, and with different emphasis. And okay, the 'loving' part is not the same definition as I'd have for ep - but 'loving-kindness' is definitely there. They let me be me (even if that's not what they would expect of someone else), they respond with warmth and caring regularly (more often than I would expect, certainly), and they have faith in me. That last one really matters - without the faith in me, I end up feeling weaker, not stronger. They trust me to handle myself, which includes asking for what I need. I know where I'm likely to err, and their faith in me helps me ask for help in just that space, instead of being treated like I can't handle things at all (which would just make me angry if I didn't give in to it, and ashamed if I did).

Both of them helped me get my feet under me. Interestingly similar strategies to do so. One spent a longer time on the acceptant part of the conversation (listened and asked over a longer span), but they both did all three. Just having the conversation was important to getting my balance. And having the conversation with those three filters in evidence was the critical part.

Interesting to feel how that feels applied back. I could read through those filters how I am valued. More than interesting, humbling. Makes for some thoughtful moments about how much I need to stay attuned to that in the other direction - if I feel this way when someone else is acceptant, loving and faithful toward me, then I can expect that my kids will feel this when I am the same toward them.

I suspect I have been using this triad much longer than I thought I had. When I think now about my other friends and relationships, the ones I think of as 'best' are all a match to this triad, which I came up with specifically for talking to my kids about relationships of all sorts.

Using the triad as an outward filter (for that which is incoming) may also be why I have an easier time being friends with people who have very different values from mine - it isn't what values they have that matters most (maybe some, but not most), but the quality of their ethical exercise. If they are true to their values, I can trust them to be true to their values. I know where they are, and where they will go, and what matters, even if I don't believe the same things. It is easier for me to be acceptant when I know the other person is true to their values. There's more to it, of course, but that's a big part.

Meanwhile, loving is a direct return in the middle - even if the form of loving-kindness from them is not the exact form of loving-kindness I express back.

Anyway. Back on my feet, now, I think. I had the second of the two conversations yesterday, and this morning I woke up not feeling scraped raw. Much better.

If you could see what I see

You'd have a thing for my husband. Maybe. Certainly I do.

Right now, through the door of the office, I have a perfect view of him. Sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by Miss M, Miss R, and Mr B. Working through the Valentine's cards, writing names for them, problem-solving their who-gets-whats, asking patiently which one goes to Emma, and here, let me show you how that is folded, now you can do it...

Sharpie in hand, music playing in the background, everyone cross-legged on the floor, happy chirpy voices chiming in, his voice below theirs. His head tipped down to listen, his hair down his back, being patient even after a long weekend of cooped-up in the snow with everyone.

Yeah.

Some days I can see the future

I suspect that I tend to 'see what the future looks like' when my kids are acting like sane, responsible, mature individuals. The other days are just learning opportunities, right? (Right???!!!)

On the good days, we get:

Mr B, still half-sobbing from pain where his sister accidentally dropped her empty oatmeal bowl on his foot, and putting real emphasis on the empathetic tone: "R, it's okay, it isn't your fault, I'm not angry at you. It was an accident." And bringing the bowl to the kitchen (gimping all the way, tears of pain still leaking down his face) so it wouldn't happen to someone else. Safe, Respectful, and Kind.

Miss R, turning around in the kitchen to see her sister has come in from the snow and is wet to her knees (coat now discarded) and shivering, spins around and runs from the room, to return post haste with her favorite flowered fleece sweater: "M, here, here, this will keep you warm! You can put it on. I'll go up with you to look for dry pants and socks! Come on!" Safe (health stuff falls under 'safe'), Respectful, and Kind.

Mr G, pleasantly talking on the phone to Auntie A when he's home by himself after school (paraphrasing): "Sorry, I really shouldn't chat right now. I've got homework to do, and if I haven't made progress by the time Dad gets home with the girls, it will be a Problem." Respectful, plus Effective and Prudent.

Miss M, putting on her watch (Christmas gift from my friend A) in the morning, pausing a moment to admire it, then saying, "Can you email A an' tell him thanks again for the watch? I really like it." Respectful and Kind.

Sigh. Them are the good days.

Granted, those are usually the very same days where we also get:

Mr G commenting on my personality (participating in social chitchat) in the most arrogant and dismissive manner, publicly, in front of other parents. Thaaaaanks, babe. Not Respectful. And boy are we still just introducing Acceptant, Loving, and Faithful at this age... 

Miss R yanking a plastic knife out of her sister's hand (cutting the webbing of her thumb on the way) because she wants to be the one setting the table for tea, and then screaming that Miss M's crying in pain and fear (blood! AAHHH!) hurts her EARS. (Why does that make me just want to slap her upside the head? I didn't. I just made her help with the bandaging up. And set a rule that she can't help set the table until she's better at not yanking things from her sister's hands when she wants whatever it is.) Not Safe.

Miss M snootily pointing out that SHE got her coat on RIGHT AWAY when Miss R is having a hard day with even the idea of clothing, let alone the coat. Yeah, I'm not talking to you, dear. That's great, but it isn't the point, please stop trying to position yourself as the 'good child'. It's not Respectful or Kind.

Mr B screaming at the top of his lungs (shrieking, really) and charging up the stairs trying to grab at Miss R, because Miss R cut in front of him and ran upstairs for bed first. Not Safe, Respectful, or Kind.

Sigh. 

I pretend that the future only has the first set. La la la la la I can't HEAR you! (Whoops, I don't think that was Respectful...)

Starting out right

Ah, New Year's.

The chance to officially start again. Granted, I don't wait for that kind of formal opportunity much. I start over all the time.

But last night was Hogmanay, which is one of the great joys of Scottish Dancing for me. Live music (fantastic live music, the kind that makes the dancers 'woot' and clap while dancing, and demand to repeat dances rather than move on to the next one). People I've known since I was 14 gathered in their finery, reconnecting on and off the dance floor, some having come from half way around the world. A lot of young punks I've never met but who are also fired up by the music and the dancing, floundering their way through a dance with determination and that anxious passion that I remember from the same age - there and trying and willing and joyful. And a whole slew of the next generation, some of them now hitting their growth and looking like their near-adult selves, others still tearing around at knee to hip level, and a few babies making their way through dances against someone's shoulder or on a parent's hip.

Ep and I met through dancing. Our courtship was not a courtship (I kind of cornered him - okay, not really 'kind of'), but the cornering I did was possible because of the dancing. He knew me as much through the partnership of the dance as from chatting and hanging out after the dancing was over (sometimes into the morning, crashing at the house that hosted the dance). Some of my boyfriends (most of whom were dancers) were better dancers, but he's up there for skills. And damn, the eye contact ... the man has beautiful eyes.

We haven't danced much in years. Too many conflicts, and kids who would run out onto the dance floor to follow us. Plus knee pain, but I could get around that. Now, the kids are easier to let loose without fear of them causing a train wreck. I can still get through a dance, but I'm way out of shape for it.

Still, I danced with ep last night. We picked an early Strathspey in the program, in case I oped to dance more later.

I didn't end up dancing more later, but it was a good one to pick. There's a part of the dance that has 'space' in it to push the flirt. Eye contact. Showing off the dance skill. Holding 'just that distance' in a turn with no hands around each other, doubling the speed on the turn to loop around an extra time in the gracious space that was left for a slow and stately passage. Timing ourselves one against the other, 'covering' so closely that it is impossible to tell whether he adjusted his timing to mine, or I adjusted mine to his. On the few points where our hands met, getting that read through his whole body, feeling not just his grip but knowing through that the strength of his arm, how that translates through his upper body, down to knowing how stable his footwork is. I'd forgotten that I could tell if the floor was slippery where he was dancing by the information I got through my partner's hand. Pass by and watch his eyes, and pass by again, stretch and reach and matching the length of our steps, coordinating our timing of the figure of the dance to the music, letting the music tell us both what to do.

Yeah.

That's the way to start again.

Music is a huge part of our marriage, but dancing is equally core. Dancing is where I learned who ep was, when he was so quiet and private that talking would have taken three times as long. And dancing always reminds me, without any overlay of whatever challenge we're facing in the logistics of everyday life. Dancing takes us back to just us, in context of our friends and family, in context of our entire history, from the moment I first saw him sitting on the back of his parent's couch at a dance class at their house.

Even with the winces from using muscles again after too much time away, and the intersection of strangers and friends in the pattern of the dance, or maybe because of all that context... one dance with ep as my partner is all it takes to start again, and start again right.

Plus, you gotta love a man in a kilt. Mm, mm. 

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.