What does it all mean?

This week we lost one of our parents. He was not ready to go, but his body was not willing to cooperate. Very sad.

The last few days, the family walks around in a stupor. The chores at home, the problems at the office, even the kids struggles seem meaningless. Did I ever tell Tom that I loved him? That I appreciated all he did for our family?

We live our lifes. But what do they mean? We get so caught up in our daily routines, that we become them. What is left after you take away your employment/career, errands, education, meals and chores? Your personality. Your relationships. Your feelings. So we ARE feelings. Feelings about what you like and love, what makes you happy, who makes you happy. So perhaps, the most lasting effect you have have here on earth is to leave good feelings in other people. Confidence about themselves. Fun, happiness and hope. Because that is all there is.

The rest of the week I will be writing thank you notes to the many thoughtful people whom my father-in-law touched. Then maybe those people who were saddened by the loss of Tom will feel appreciated a little, too.

Give Less, Get More?

This goes totally against my female thought processes. Stop giving.

When we were listening to the Venus/Mars book on tape, this topic was discussed. It was an eye-opener to me. Men are keeping score. I don't consciously keep score. Never have. Giving is just second nature. Being helpful to family members is a reflex.

My hubby needs a hand, dinner, or didn't get to the dishes... I help. Since he is keeping score, he owes me for each favor I do him. This was news to this brain. I help because I choose to. If I didn't want to give, I have that option. Each time he did something for the family or for me, he then felt he was caught up. He had given back. I see him working away, feel guilty because I am playing Sudoku, and pick up my pace. Then he has to catch up again. Poor guy. It would helped if I was aware of the scoreboard years ago.

This last weekend, he invited several guys over to watch football. He says he wants to keep it "simple." This is said to reduce any stress I may be feeling about what to serve. I normally cook a couple things and spend the game time running food and drinks up and down the steps. So I call him on it. "Sweetheart. I am glad you are having friends over. Are any of the wives coming?" No. They weren't invited. He assumed (no doubt, correctly) that they would rather have the afternoon free. "So," I say, "I could go shopping during your game?" After a brief moment of shock, he says, "OK. I can get the food." My look of disbelief spoke volumes. But he never fails to amaze me. He says, "I don't usually get the food because you do. If you don't I will."

Sheesh. Why didn't I think of that. All these years, I just needed to sit down. His sense of scorekeeping would have caused him to take a shift being the host. Now, if only I liked football.

Stop my children from growing up!

When we were newly married and watched our friends have children, they told us to enjoy them now, because once the children start school the clock spins even faster. Before you know it, they will be grown and gone. I made a point of trying to live in the moment, but 16 years have whipped by and I think I blinked. As I design yet another graduation invitation for another niece or nephew, I realize that my oldest is next. I crave the days with a little baby to hold, even though I also remember wishing she would take a nap so I could get something done. My husband laughs asks why I would want that time back. "They are so great now," he says, "and we don't have to chase after them." Parenting is so bitter-sweet. The next 10 years will also go by in a flash, and then I will be home with an empty nest, wishing I could have my babies again. :( There is always volunteer work.

Husband Earns Points

As we have practiced how to get along together over many years of marriage, my husband has become a bit of an expert on the politically correct way to say things to me. Perhaps this was spurred on my some angry outbursts on my part, but either way, he has persuasion down to a fine art.

If he wants me to switch the laundry, he doesn't ask, "Could you switch the laundry today." He carefully weaves, "[Sigh] I didn't have time to switch the laundry this morning. I can get to it when I get home tonight." This works on several levels. If I am also overwhelmed, it will wait until tonight, and so goes our crazy life. Buuuuut, since he knows I try to help him when he is overwhelmed, I will probably go down and switch the laundry, with a smile on my face. We're both happier.

Compliments are nice, and kind words go far. He has provided these during our entire relationship. Somehow the understanding of how to ask for my help or cooperation without raising my hackles has an even bigger impact on the day-to-day life together.

This is not the only art he has mastered over the years. He discovered a few years ago that flowers or cooking sooth the savage wife-beast. I smell cinnamon at this moment while he is making chocolate bread pudding. And we didn't even have an argument. He just discovered that in addition to being fun, cooking special treats earns him points. 'Cause if the wife ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

Next task, the art of talking to the kids.

Holiday Traditions

We asked the kids, "Do you want to attend the gingerbread house decorating fundraiser again this year?" Their answer was a quick, resounding, "yes!" It appears that last year we created a new family tradition when we attended this event. They raved about it. I remembered it as enjoyable, crowded and uncomfortably warm. The memories the children pulled forth held a little magic. So we went again. More magic.

Sometimes it seems the magic of the Christmas tradations is not made of actual events, which have the same ups and downs of family life, but the selective memories preserved from each event. We tend to remember the good, and the laughter. So every year we make new holiday traditions, trying to recreate some spontaneous fun or unplanned event that stuck in our childrens' minds as magical.

This year we will revive an old holiday tradition of making plaster-gauze masks on New Years eve. We have probably succeeded in pulling off this group activity five times over 20 years. But to the children, it is a priceless element of the family holiday season. My youngest will join his older cousins who remember the tradition and it will be set in him too. That is truly the beauty of the season...

Life with Children

Do all parents wonder what they did with their time before they had kids? The toddler years are expectedly busy because you are running after fast and dangerous little critters. The only purpose for chairs is for them to climb on and fall off of. You never get to sit down.

The young school age years are a series of the call, "Mom," "Mom," "Mom, Look!" You may become accustomed to this crazy series of interruptions, but it does become apparent as soon as you try to make a long phone call, or need ten minutes to finish a puzzle... in quiet. There is no 10 minute interval of quiet with school-age kids.

Our oldest is mid-high school age. She is a challenge on a whole new level. It is both enjoyable and dangerous that she will not need me for hours on end. How much space to give? How much contact is enough, without invading her privacy? The mystery continues. The only thing I have learned from 37 kid-years of parenting is that by the time I figure out what to do, the problem has morphed into a new one.

And I wouldn't give up a minute.... except when they bicker!

Love Thyself

My body is not what it used to be! I was never a model with willowy
limbs, but this is sad. Really.

One day I was talking to my beautiful, willowy niece. She told me to
"love my tree". It turns out that she has trouble loving accepting
her body as well, and reminds herself to love her tree when she
starts to criticize her own body.

Reality is that I am rather attached to my body, and better make the
best of living with it. Of course, I still have goals to work out
more, eat less, eat more healthily. Accepting myself while I meet or
ignore these goals, on alternating days, is the trick. I have noticed
that my svelte sisters worry just as much about their bodies as I do,
but are much closer to a willowy tree. Maybe the satisfaction never
comes. We are dissatisfied with our body image no matter what we look
like: 17 firm and fit, 45 soft and rounded, or 47 firm and fit. The
trick to being happy with your body, therefore, is not to be the
perfect size or shape. It is to accept what we have, learn to
appreciate it, and not try to be a different tree.

My husband walked into the room today and made an appreciative noice
as I reached up to trim a plant. I laughed. Surely he must be joking
that he appreciated the view my short robe provided as I reached up.
Or maybe he wasn't joking. I think he loves my tree.