The Cared and Feeding of Young Men

Now that our youngest is 4 and 1/2 and can steadily reach glasses in the cupboard and the water faucet independently, we have moved across the border to a new phase of parenting.

We have four young men in the house. Granted, each one requires a very different regimen one from the other. Two are on teen vitamins, for example. One still chews gummy vitamins and takes flouride. And the fourth licks the sour powder off of the gummy vites and leaves them on his plate.

1. The eldest, J. "To take care" of him means giving him money and leaving him alone to do his thing. Take Thursday of this week. He left for school at 7 a.m. After school he pulled his drum line out for extra marching band practice and then arranged for his own band to use the a school room for an hour-long jam session. They wrote three songs.

After that he hiked to Subway ($) and then hopped a bus to the Auditorium Theater in Rochester to cheer on a classmate in the Stars of Tomorrow competition ($). I picked him up at 11:00 p.m. from a dark, deserted parking lot.

16 plus hours away from home.

2. 13-year-old N. We took his poodle to the groomer's yesterday. Little did I know the process would take HOURS so while we waited we went out to breakfast, treated ourselves to carmelattes, and completed the family's grocery shopping. We poked through buttons in an antique store. We picked out some pleasant smelling cologne.

It was a rare pleasure to spend time alone with him. We talked about modesty, media, cell phones, his girlfriend (good friend) and more. Later in the day he STAYED with us when we went to the local amusement park (in the pouring rain).

This morning I dropped him off at his girlfriend's house - and I won't see him again until tomorrow afternoon (he will rendezvous with a friend, go camping, and more in the interim).

3. 6-year-old W. Since he and his younger brother didn't go to the Amusement Park last year, the whole show is new and exciting. He is old enough to ride some BIG rides (although he still suffers from panic attacks. Yesterday he rode the corn popper alone and cried. But wanted to go again when the ride was over). He has learned to read so he is now aware of prices and menus. He was thrilled to get his "first credit card" (a season pass).

4. J., 4 and 1/2. The dog just bit him. I really need to find a new home for that poodle.

Business as usual

The store where I work is being renovated and we are expected to maintain "business as usual" during the project. Carpet layers glue and cut under our feet. Sign hangers work on ladders over our heads.

The store smells horrible from the fumes emitted by liquid cement, un-encapsulated epoxy and sawed metal. Our eyes and throats burn and we feel nauseated and dizzy.

We've alerted our Supervisors and I have written several notes to HR. Yesterday I asked if "Health & Safety" had given their blessing to the situation. Is it really safe for us to be there?

It's hard not to feel angry and resentful. There is no "relaxation" for our sales quotas or store goals. At night, I'm exhausted.

I feel robbed of time with my family. Last night I threw away another pair of gas permeable contacts.

Why are we, as a culture, so unwilling to take a break from "business as usual?"

Even in our relationships we sometimes choose to retreat in times of discord rather than "rock the boat." In my experience, further ugliness grows when what was needed was a "clearing of the air."

I'm all about clean air.

Seeking Wisdom

I'm reading a book about the Christian's approach to the internet by Tim Challies called The Next Story. Last night's chapter described how, ironically, a Google Search for the terms wisdom and truth brings up Wikipedia as one of the top two or three references.

With thousands of authors and truth that changes hourly, Wikipedia is hardly reliable.

Where do I seek wisdom? Where should I seek wisdom? I'm inclined toward Proverbs...Psalms...memorizing Scripture.

Sometimes I go to my Grandmothers, both of them mature Christian women. I appreciate and welcome their perspective.

I've realized that my sister might have a different perspective on a situation. I've asked for her insight. She can hold me accountable and speak truth to my ears.

Is it gossip to share one's heart in confidence? Is it gossip to bring a perceived darkness out into the light?

Sometimes I do vent out of anger or desperation.

Is it wrong to for ask for help?

God gave us families and churches to be "the body" - to bring various strengths to each job. He didn't intend for us to have to go it alone.

I'm going to have to look this one up. And not on Wikipedia.

The overcrowded garden

I am something of a plant collector. In the Spring, I pack a hand trowel and scissors in my vehicle so that I can snip off and dig up small pieces of plants and put them in my gardens.

I treasure the lilac bushes that I dug up as shoots from along the driveway of an old, decaying house (pictured...aren't they amazing??!!). I look forward to seeing my Poets Daffodils bloom every Spring, after finding them abandoned under brush along the road.

Similarly, I treasure the cuttings and divisions given to me by friends and family. I have a rhodey from The Pillars, sedum from a trailer my mother bought and sold, and fern peonies from my grandparents' flower bed. Somehow, I remember the origin of each plant....she who can't remember what she wore yesterday.

I usually put these cuttings and divisions away into the ground in whatever free space I can find in one of my gardens. This year, I noticed, my gardens had become very, very cluttered and overgrown. Oregano mint from my Amish friend Gracia has overtaken the bed by the barn. Great Grandma Myrtia's rose bush has taken over the circle garden in back.

Today I began to thin and relocate some plants. The goal is to make room for some bushes and plants with better "bones" and evergreens that might show in the winter.

I found myself struggling. Every time I pulled a plant I wondered how and where it would fit in somewhere else. All the beds are overgrown.

The overcrowded garden is a metaphor for my life. Sometimes I have to thin out even activities that are in and of themselves "lovely."

Last summer I worked three jobs. One in case I lost the other. One because the town couldn't find a sub. I also took renters at the cottage to help with expenses. I'd leave work at 10:00 p.m. and then head to the lake, cleaning up or preparing for guests into the wee hours of the morning.

My husband and the boys helped. They painted the picnic table and benches, weeded, cleaned up the beach, vacuumed, and more.

I missed just "sitting" by the water. I missed my family. By August, I was exhausted.

In January we made the decision to sacrifice rental income for a season.

The decision hasn't been "popular," although some former renters have been wonderfully understanding. Today, Mother's Day, I heard from two of them who said, "it's OK." "We understand."

The plants in my garden grow and flower when there is ample space and nutrition. The beds look better with plants that have "substance" and deep roots.

I'm hopeful that our decision to keep things "quiet" at the Lake will eventually provide for "room to grow."

Game's Up...Phew!

Mr. WestBerryMom recently cleaned off the shelves in the boys' room to make a place for them to put their clothes and underwear. From the shelves he pulled our collection of board games, some sewing supplies, and boxes of buttons.

The boys instantly became interested in the games. They opened Monopoly and played for several nights. Cranium Cadoo and all of its little pieces were strewn across the living room.

It's sad, but I HATE games. I don't enjoy cards, puzzles, or hide and seek.

I considered elementary school gym class and recess to be the highest forms of torture because of jump rope and tag.

Baby and bridal showers...all good, except for...yep...the games.

Over the past year I'd noticed someone close to me seemed to be playing some sort of mind game. Avoiding a topic and then avoiding me all together. Our relationship, even though we kept to the topics that were "safe" for the other person, became strained.

The other "player" created elaborate strategies. She "pretended" to be willing to talk but failed to show for meetings due to illness and schedule conflicts.

She never came out and said "I just don't want to meet." Until yesterday.

And today I am walking on air. Skipping to my lu.

The game is over.

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I stumbled across this list...The Top Ten Games We Secretly Hate

Twists and Turns

Today I'm thinking about life's twists and turns. During the past year, in particular, I've marveled at unexpected, dramatic world events. Events like the earthquakes and tsunami in Japan that changed the course of life for the entire country with a ripple effect all the way to my small town and my little family.

The Japanese woman I help care for lost her entire childhood village. We have been careful to safeguard her from the news, in order to protect her happy memories.

Similarly, I've been touched by instances where people I know have headed in very unexpected directions.

Take the case of Troy Christ, a former classmate who found his mother dead in his childhood home and then set the whole place on fire. Wow. That was unexpected.

I'm amazed to meet the granddaughter of exiled Venezuelan politico Rafael Tudela in one of my classes.

My dear friend Montse is raising her family in Kobe, far from her homeland of Spain because she finds the country aggressive and poor in spirit. She was always an ambassador for Spain and Segovia. I recall bouncing up the steps to the Roman aqueduct and posing for a portrait by a medieval wall during our honeymoon visit to her parents' home.

Where will my children's life paths lead them? How can I prepare them for the twists and turns?

Who will I meet today along my own journey?

I have Julieta Venegas' song "Otra Cosa" on replay today:

intento hacer una historia
que sea real como ninguna antes
contemplandote sere
paciente dejare
que sucedan las cosas
como deben ser
sin apresurarlas


Side note: I have a dream, to some day walk part of El Camino de Santiago. Hand in hand with my dear husband.

Breakdowns

We are into May and the weather continues to be cold and soggy. Days are dark. My customers and coworkers are cranky. Farmers are nervous as the growing season is severely shortened at the front end. I had a HUGE argument with my parents.

It's the end of the semester and I have a high pile of grading to work through. I'm easily annoyed by students' requests to know their grades ahead of the Records Office's due date. Technical difficulties plague my on-line course.

And I'm sick. Sore throat. Achy body.

Like a car with warning lights flashing and smoke pouring from the engine, I see my mind and my body heading for a potential breakdown. Quick fixes like hot coffee, dark beer and rosy perfume aren't helping in the usual way.

"Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burnin' burnin burnin'"

Music helps. Prayer helps. Seeing my youngest boy run naked and dripping wet from the tub to the couch makes me smile.

I called my Uncle and my Grandma today. We talked about mental health and stress and breakdowns.

The "overheated engine" warning light turned off. The "maintenance needed" light has dimmed.