Juggling Life

Have You Heard The One About The Mother-In-Law?

I have been married for a long time. It will be 21 years on August 1. I have a fairly "strong" personality. In a good way, of course. My mother-in-law has a rather "strong" personality. In a good way, of course. You know that whole saying about magnets and like repelling like? I don't either, but there should be one.

Anywhoo . . . My husband is the oldes of 5 kids and I was the first daughter-in-law. Therefore, I was the one inventing the proverbial wheel.  While the wheel rolls pretty smoothly now, 'twas not always so.

When we first married (and remember, I was almost a child bride) MIL was used to having all her kids around her on all holidays, Sunday dinner, pretty much any time she wanted all her kids around. Which was frequently. You see where this is going, right? My family was my Mom and my niece. Obviously I'm not going to ditch them on all holidays (nor would Mr. Fix-it have wanted me to). I thought the easy answer was to merge celebrations. Thanksgiving was the first major holiday after our wedding.

Since we all lived within 5 miles of each other and my mom had a fairly large house and I am a really good cook (this story leaves no room for false modesty) while MIL is what I call a "can and box cook," why not have everyone to my mom's house where I would cook? Genius, right?

Only, my MIL is all (to Mr. Fix-it) "No, I don't think so, it's traditional for me to cook Thanksgiving dinner." So then I'm all to Mr. Fix-it, "Maybe you should remind her she never had a DIL before." So he does, and she grudgingly agrees to come and she's super nice about it to me and asks what can she bring and I suggest a ham since there's going to be 15 people and their family loves ham and she say's sure and then she doesn't bring a ham but brings a store bought pie. We didn't do that again.

Anywhoo . . . Things continued in that passive-aggressive vein for some time until she and I had a major blow-up in which I told her I thought she was very selfish and inconsiderate and did not appreciate sly digs and guilt trips about our not being at her house at 8 a.m. on Christmas morning and not staying the whole day on Easter and yada, yada, yada.

It was uncomfortable, it was awful, and it was also the best thing I ever did as far as my relationship with my MIL goes. Why? Because it was honest. I was able to quit smiling outside while seething with resentment inside. My husband loves his mom utterly, but he was right behind me as I walked out the door that day. And while he was sad that he had to go visit her without me for a few months, he always said he understood my position and that I was right.

Eventually there was a funeral, we were both there, we let bygones be bygones (aaah, the healing power of weddings and funerals). From that day on, we pretty much "got" each other. She knew I couldn't be manipulated and I knew she was a strong woman who liked things her way, but knew when to call a truce and a draw.

Which brings us to the book review portion of this (lengthy) post.

I hooked up with Sally Shields through MotherTalk and she sent me a copy of her book to review. It's light and frothy and would make a fun shower gift (especially if the MIL wasn't at the shower and you read aloud from some of the rules).

But here's the thing. These rules would never have worked for me. I think that's because I'm not afraid of confrontation. Not everyone is like me though; there are plenty of people that are happier if they can find a non-confrontational way of dealing with people. If you have a friend like that that's getting married, this book would make a great gift. If you have a friend like me, it would also make a cute gift--just know that she'll read each rule and say, "I don't think so!"

My husband and I will be celebrating 21 years of wedded (mostly) bliss this August. My MIL and I will be celebrating approximately 18 years of a respectful and loving relationship among two women who have a lot of people they love deeply in common. Plus, she is a great lady to shop high-end purses and make-up with. Most importantly, you couldn't ask for a greater Nana--in the end isn't that the most important quality in a Mother-in-Law?

Independence Days

I believe you can tell what personality characteristics a person values most by looking at their children's behavior and dress. We parents work hard to ensure that our kids possess those skills or talents we value most.

I came to this realization when my children were fairly young. They were often ahead of their peers in certain behaviors and I realized one day that all those behaviors were related to independence and self-sufficiency. For whatever reason (my family of origin, my personality), I think it's really important to be able to take care of oneself and not be too dependent on others.

I was never a mom to say "don't do that, you'll hurt yourself." Instead I would teach them how to do whatever it was they were wanting to do. When they were toddlers it was conquering the playground equipment, climbing to the top of the slide, learning to pump on the swing at an early age, diving off the high dive at 2+1/2. Much of what my kids did made other mothers at the playground or pool look at me like I was a freaking lunatic. But my thought was that if I didn't teach them to do it, they'd do it anyway when my back was turned and probably get hurt in the process.

I really value my reading personal time. With four kids, if I spent my time doing everything for them, that would be all I ever did. Consequently, they could all pour their own cereal and milk and make a sandwich by the time they were three. Those skills aren't really that hard--what is there to making a sandwich besides getting the bread out, squirting on some mustard, spreading it around with a butter knife, slapping a piece of turkey on it, and eating it? Of course they're not going to do quite the cleanup job I would like, but eventually they'll learn. It's not that I was lazy (in the end, redoing the cleanup job until they learned to do a good job themselves was probably more work than making the sandwich myself), I just wanted them to learn to do it themselves. That extra work I put into teaching them when they were young has paid off in spades as they've gotten older.

A big part of my teaching/parenting was based on natural consequences. If you forget your lunch, you'll go hungry. If you forget your homework, you'll get in trouble with the teacher. If you forget your permission slip, you won't go on the field trip. My kids got one rescue a year--and that started in Kindergarten. I'd bring you your lunch, your musical instrument, your homework packet, your jacket one time. After that, sorry. There have been entire years where I never took anyone anything. They learned pretty quickly to keep track of their own stuff.

Schoolwork followed the same pattern. I wasn't the one going to school--they were. After 3rd grade I didn't even ask if they had homework; I assumed they would know if they did and they would do it. Our home environment was conducive to taking care of business--no TV or video games during the week, ready availability of poster board and other school supplies at all time, but it was their responsibility to keep track of what they needed to do. There have been "F's" on assignments (usually in the elementary grades) and Danger Boy had to make up his first semester of Physics this year in an after school class. He ended his freshman year with a 3.67 though, with no help from his parents whatsoever. Two of my kids have gotten into the colleges of their choice without any involvement on my part (if you don't count the tens of thousands of dollars and the looking at schools).

Chores, both paid and unpaid, have always been important. Everyone in my house, boys and girls, knows how to clean a house--from toilets to baseboards to the inside of the microwave. I have had friends who say their kids don't have time for chores. If I had to choose between giving my kids the opportunity to do chores or to play a sport, I'd pick the chores. Luckily, we've found there's plenty of time for both. The same goes for jobs. They need them to pay for their own gas and entertainment. To those who say their kids don't have time, I say ask yourself this question, "Do they have time to surf the 'net, text their friends, and watch TV?" I rest my case.

This is not to say that all is smooth sailing, I think we frequently have more dissension than families where the parents don't expect the kids to do things on their own. Our kids have been known to  grumble and moan. We have been known to grumble and moan. But, and this is a big but, I know that when they are on their own they will be able to get up on time, work hard at college and/or a job, and clean a house, all without any help.

Grown-up Girl and MVP are both mature enough now to let us know they appreciate that they are way more self-sufficient than almost all of their peers.

Back to the beginning and what you know about parents from the way their kids behave; these are some things I've observed: If your child is dressed in a mishmash of colors and their hair is wild, you probably value creativity and disdain conformity. If you do everything for your child and prefer him or her not to be too independent, you may have had to grow up too fast yourself and don't want that for your child. If your child is wearing the haircut you deem appropriate, rather than the one he/she wants, you probably value conformity highly. I myself can let the hair slide, but don't do mismatched clothes.

I'm not saying anyone's way is more valid than the others (well, I do actually have some opinions in that arena, but . . . ), I just find all this a very interesting sociological observation. What is the one thing you are most intent on teaching your children?

How Enthusiastic Is Too Enthusiastic?!

Today I attended my third promotion/graduation ceremony in the last 3 days. There was my daughter's 8th grade promotion, my son's high school graduation, and the promotion ceremony for the 5th graders at the elementary school at which I've been doing my field practicum.

These events are important because they mark life passages (although according to Reluctant Blogger, the U.K. doesn't participate). They're also kind of boring, usually too long, sort of miserable if they're outside, and usually the ceremony itself is a bit anticlimactic. At least that's the way I feel about it. There are other people who disagree; or maybe they agree and are trying to liven things up. You know the people I'm talking about.

 

Yes, they're the people with air horns, the enormous balloon bouquets, and the lungpower to bring down the house.

Now I'm the first to admit that unless we've been drinking, my family is pretty much like John Corbett's family in Big, Fat, Greek Wedding. We just don't hoot, holler, and oopah! very much. At least not in public. And I'm totally in touch with the fact that it would be a pretty boring world if everyone behaved exactly the same.

Except . . . what happens when your family's desire to exuberantly celebrate your child's accomplishment means that another family doesn't even get to hear their child's name announced? Or when your big bouquet of Grad! balloons (hello, it's promotion not graduation) prevents another family from seeing their child cross the stage? Or when you shove in front of someone else to get your camera shot and prevent them from getting theirs?

There are some things I put down to cultural differences in celebratory style, and that I can understand. But I just don't get how it's not  plain rude to have your celebration prevent someone else's. I guess I think that The Golden Rule should apply across the board. Am I a party pooper or do I have a point?

A Matter of Faith

Last Wednesday I attended the funeral of a woman I'd known for 18 years. I'm not sure how I feel about a reporter attending the funeral, but the journalist did capture it very well. I guess you don't really realize how intrusive the media is until it hits close to home. That's a topic for another day though.

I've blogged, in a joking way, about my experiences with religion. Today I'm going to be serious.

I am not a churchgoer. I wasn't raised in any religion. I did go to vacation bible school with friends and occasional church or temple services. I've tried a couple of different churches as an adult. It's just not for me. When it comes down to it, I have to describe myself as a secular humanist. I strongly believe in the golden rule. I'm very disturbed by all the evil that has been perpetrated in this world in the name of religion. Religion as "the opiate of the masses" makes a lot of sense to me.

And yet . . .

Sometimes I really envy people who are strong and secure in their religious faith. The best blogging example I have is Angie at KEEP BELIEVING. She and I are polar opposites in so many ways; still, I have no doubt that if we ever have the opportunity to sit down together with a drink we will talk all night. I know Angie draws her strength from her faith and I see what a huge, positive difference it makes for her in her life.

Becky (whose funeral I attended) and her family are devout Catholics. Her husband, Jim, is in the midst of what has to be one of the most painful things that could ever happen to a man. Were he rendered speechless, helpless, hopeless, and immobile by what has transpired, no one would question it. He has not been rendered any of these things. Instead he displays a strength, fortitude, and forgiveness that is amazing to behold.

I know he stands tall in the face of tragedy because he has his faith. He believes in God's plan; he accepts not knowing what that plan is. I know faith helps Angie cope with uncertainties in her life with grace and humor. I admire what these people have.

Yet, this thing they have is called "faith." Dictionary.com's second definition is  "belief that is not based on proof." Faith requires a leap.

I am not a leaper. My thought processes are concrete. I don't gamble; if the odds are not in my favor I'm unlikely to give it a shot. I believe what I see. This way of being has worked for me so far. I've been a happy person my whole life operating this way. Secular humanism suits me.

And yet . . . 

I am happy for those that have their faith. I can see what a positive influence it is in their lives. I can see the good that comes out of it on a personal level even while I am skeptical of much of what transpires in the name of faith on a global level.

I am so happy that I live in a time and place that allows me to live with a value system that works for me, while others can live with the one that works for them.

I Think I'm More Together Than Maria Shriver

I had no idea what I was going to write for Thursday. I like to tackle a timely, culturally relevant topic, but I'm having a problem with that. Since I don't HAVE to think intellectually for school, my brain has decided to take a vacation. Oh I still have lots of thoughts; I just can't string them together in a coherent fashion. Maybe next week. This is the best I could do this week . . .

My book group is reading Maria Shriver's bestseller

It was billed as a quick read and, yeah. I read it on the mile walk home from her house.

My initial reaction to this book was that "OMFG, if her name was not Maria Shriver this thing would never have made it past the slush pile let alone be published." Seriously, it's pretty bad. The bulk of it is a poem she read at her nephew's graduation ceremony--and she is so not a poet. I'm a little embarrassed for her.

I actually admire many things about Maria Shriver--although I generally want to cook her some fattening food when I see her on t.v. I mostly enjoyed her interview with Oprah-- the mutual admiration society thing got to be a bit much though--"I like you so much! No, I like you so much!" The point is that I think she's a very good-hearted person who is doing her best in life.

But seriously people, perhaps I should be the one penning a bestseller full of advice for living a fulfilled life. This is from the book:

Just who did I want to be?

When I reflected on that question, I realized I'd been answering it wrong my whole life. I'd always answered it with my resume. But the true answer, I saw, is about my heart, my values, and my soul. Who I am, not what I am.

It took her 52 years to figure that out?! If I hadn't gotten that message by age 25 or so, I'd have spent a whole lot of time depressed. Since most of us won't achieve a fraction of the outward trappings of success that Maria has, we'd better be happy with who we are and not define ourselves by what we do.

The fact that this book is a bestseller really has me scratching my head. Are there that many people for whom this message is an eye-opener? If so, how sad. Has anyone else out there read this? I'd love to hear what you think. Am I just a curmudgeon who is happy with who she is? Thoughts?

Thinking About Literary Stuff

Usually on Thursdays I spend some time pontificating and sharing my opinion about something newsworthy and culturally relevant. Today, not so much. This is what I'm thinking about. It's okay if you're not interested. Neither am I. I can't wait to get down to fleshing out my thesis statement to a satisfying 7 pages (in MLA format).

Mrs. Bennet, in Pride and Prejudice, and Emily Tallis, in Atonement, share a similar quality of ineffectuality. This ineffectuality is not as benign or stagnant a characteristic as it sounds. In their respective novels, you can clearly see how each mother has influenced the family dynamic and thereby shaped the action of the story. Were these mothers stronger or smarter or more present, neither novel would have unfolded the way it did.

This will be way more fun than blogging!

Happy To Be Me

 

Overheard the other day:

Care Bear: I have a type A personality.

Social Butterfly (looking at her BFF)????

Grown-up Girl: What do you think type A means?

Care Bear: Laid back.

Grown-up Girl (pointing at me): She's type A.

Drum Roll please . . .

Care Bear: Oh! So it means uptight.

---------------------------------------------------------

I am an oldest child. I am a type A. I am RESPONSIBLE.

There have been times when I've felt these traits are a bit of a curse. Why can't I be more carefree? Why do I always have a schedule? Why don't I just blow off work and school and go hang out at the beach? Sometimes I want my middle name to be footloose and fancy free. Maybe I shouldn't always know the due date and be the group leader and have a system for everything. But I do.

This is all not to say I'm a huge drag. Well, I am sometimes. But I truly can be quite fun and funny. I'm just a work before play person. Protestant work ethic and all that.

Anyway . . .

Over the last couple of weeks my best friend needed a person like me. A person with the skills of taking charge, organizing, thinking of all the details and getting a whole lot done in a short amount of time. This person needed to have the time to do this job on no notice. I got to be that person. Because I possess those (sometimes annoying) skill sets and because I make it a practice to work as far ahead in my schoolwork as possible (my momma taught me that you never know what will come up), I got to be that person.

I helped make a hard time in someone's life easier. I was a key part of giving a wonderful man the send-off he deserved. I gave his girls something to remember forever, when they've had so much taken away from them. I did a job that could never have been done by Miss Footloose and Fancy Free with no systems in place.

So today I salute myself and all the other Type A, borderline OCD, neurotic, uptight, workhorses of the world. There's more to us than just being fun-suckers; we're useful! And while that may not be fun it certainly is fulfilling.

Uncle Sam Wants Who?

Big Red will be turning 18 in a couple of weeks, so he received this in the mail:

 

Okay, his card isn't quite that large, but you get the picture.

Selective Service Registration

WHO MUST REGISTER
Almost all male U.S. citizens, and male aliens living in the U.S., who are 18 through 25, are required to register with Selective Service. It's important to know that even though he is registered, a man will not automatically be inducted into the military. In a crisis requiring a draft, men would be called in sequence determined by random lottery number and year of birth. Then, they would be examined for mental, physical and moral fitness by the military before being deferred or exempted from military service or inducted into the Armed Forces.

Guess what Grown-up Girl did not get for her 18th birthday? You guessed it--no mandatory Selective Service Registration for her.

Without going into what I think about SSR as a matter of policy, or the odds that we'll ever have a draft again, or my views on war in general, I have to note that only males are required to register. And that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to me.

I am a feminist. I happen to be a feminist who has spent my adult life fulfilling a very traditional role, that of stay-at-home-mom and homemaker, but I am a feminist. And as such, I believe that women are capable of doing any job a man can do and deserve every opportunity men have.

If a woman deserves the same rights and opportunities as a man, does it not follow that she should have the same responsibilities? I believe it does. I can't think of a single reason that my son should be expected and possibly ordered to serve his country, but my daughter should not.

I have discussed this with mothers "in real life." What I find is that mothers of only girls are appalled at the idea. Mothers of only boys have never really considered the idea. And mothers who have both boys and girls may be surprised by the idea, but they concede that it does make sense that equal rights should also entail equal responsibilities.

Personally, the idea of any of my children going to war terrifies me. It would be worse if they went because of a draft rather than having entered the military voluntarily. I just can't imagine thinking that it would be acceptable that only our sons bear this burden.

After all, we've come a long way, baby--and sometimes, along with the upside, there's a downside.

Not Getting The Logic

I've seen the videotape of the beating of the teenager in Florida by a group of her classmates. It is almost incomprehensible that a group of girls could do that to anyone. When I try to imagine my teenagers and their friends and teammates participating in something like that beating, I just can't picture it.

I can't fathom what these girls lives must have been like up to this point for them to think that this was okay in any way, shape, or form. You get a little taste of the parenting from the video of one of the parents who says the whole thing is blown out of proportion and it was "just" a one-on-one fight. ????

The ages of the kids that were involved in this beating ranged from 14 to 18. All the participants are going to be tried as adults. Now, I don't understand the whole beating, videotaping, horror show at all. But I really, really don't understand how you can try a 14 or 15 year old as an adult.

Has the prosecutor ever been, had, or known a 14 year old? Read any research on the development of the frontal lobe in adolescents, and the role that plays in decision-making? There is no way a CHILD of 14 can be expected to behave as an adult. That doesn't mean they can't be expected not to brutally beat people, it just means that we don't expect 14 year olds to be held accountable in the exact same way adults are.

I'm not up on all the legal background of trying teens as adults, but it seems that there are some fundamental lapses in logic when we choose to hold them to adult standards. We recognize that kids this age aren't responsible enough to drive, vote, drink, enlist in the military, and a host of other activities they might want to engage in. Most states consider them under the age of consent for sex. We mandate school attendance for students this age. If their parents are unable to support them, we put them in foster care--we don't say "go out and make your way, you're an adult now."

Yet, it seems to be the trend to treat teenagers as adults when they do something wrong. I'm just not getting the logic. What do you think?

Heartbreak and Hope

This morning (Sunday, April 6--I'll be posting this sometime later), I got to do one of my favorite things in the world. I slept in until 8:30, then woke up and started reading a book I got on Wednesday night. Thanks to a delivery of toast in bed from the lovely Social Butterfly, and the fact that teenagers really don't need you on a Sunday morning, I was able to stay in bed until 12:30 finishing my book. Sometimes it is a wonderful life.

The book was "beautiful boy" by David Sheff. It is "a father's journey through his son's addiction." I read the story that led to the book in the New York Times in 2005. When I heard that both David and his son Nic had books out, I was anxious to read them. The fact that I am on a serious memoir kick is an added bonus.

I found this story to be heartbreaking, raw, thoughtful, thought-provoking, and generally amazing; albeit in a way that is sometimes disheartening, depressing way, but ultimately hopeful. I think all of us can learn something from the lessons the Sheffs  learned the hard way.

David Sheff wrestles out loud with issues that all parents deal with, even if our kids don't turn to drugs. He is particularly eloquent when he reflects upon the role his divorce might have played in his son's turning to drugs.

I'll share a couple of the things he said that really resonated with me. "I am present, but I am absent. Parents can only be as happy as their unhappiest child, according to an old saw. I'm afraid it's true." Yes, it is definitely true.

This next passage makes me think I was on the right track with my Teens Will Be Teens? post. He's talking about how he wished he would forced his son into rehab when he was still under 18, which was when they (David, his wife, and Nic's mom) were thinking a lot of Nic's behavior was teen experimentation, "In addition, a period of forced abstinence during the formative teenage years is better than that same time spent on drugs. Forced treatment in a good program accomplishes at least one immediate goal: It keeps a child off drugs for the time he is in treatment. Since the less someone uses, the easier it is to stop, the longer he is in treatment the better."

I'll be reading Nic's memoir, "tweak" soon. In the meantime, I'd love to share this book with one of you. So (drumroll, please), I'll be doing my first giveaway--a gently used, less than week old, copy, of "beautiful boy." So leave me a comment, I'll toss your name into the proverbial hat, and pick a winner. How does Sunday sound? If you're interested, leave a comment.