Month: November 2011

Red Shoes and Wishing

By / November 4, 2011 / 6 Comments

“You’re allowed to want things.” I said to myself. I didn’t quite believe it. If I began wanting things then there would be conflict between the things that I wanted and the things which my husband or children wanted. The simplest way to avoid the inevitable conflicts was to remember that what I wanted most was my family and to either let go or fold away the other things. So I pressed myself small, trying to take only the spaces in our lives which no one else was occupying. I got quite good at it. Unfortunately the process squeezed from my life those things which re-energized me. I was less and less able to meet needs because I had less and less to give. It came to a crisis and I formally told myself “You’re allowed to want things. Even if they are silly. Even if they are impractical. Even if logic dictates that you’ll never have them, you’re still allowed to want them.” I breathed a big sigh, and tried to believe it.

I was out of practice at wanting things. It took time for me to remember. I began by creating small things, a pressed flower picture, River Song’s journal, a clean space in my house where my things could live. The process is ongoing. I’m still seeking which things call to me, feeling the call, and then waiting patiently to see if my brain will explain to me what these symbols mean. My long-neglected amazon wish list has begun to fill up. I don’t know that I will actually buy most of these things, but collecting the list of wishes has been fascinating. I can see how the physical objects are actually representations of qualities I want in my life. The stationery box with all the little compartments appeals to my sense of organization and to my connection with the teenage letter writer I used to be. The journal with the faux aged leather cover speaks of connections with things that last and with words. The movie Julie and Julia appeals to my desire for transformation into something stronger. The white eyeliner I admired so much on women in a television show is an expression of my desire to be and feel beautiful. It isn’t things I want so much as qualities. If I happen to acquire the things, they can serve as reminders to seek the attached qualities, but I can accomplish this without spending money if I am mindful.

Layer by layer I unfold these pressed together parts of my self. Each layer unfolds some new thing I want as a part of my life. Some of them are quite surprising. One day I discovered a desire to own red shoes. I’m mostly a brown and black shoe person. I like being able to wear shoes with many different outfits. Yet I wanted a not-at-all-sensible pair of high heeled red patent leather pumps. Not any particular pair, or rather I haven’t yet found the perfect pair. But I’m looking. Red heels are for women who are beautiful and unafraid. They walk confidently with their flash of color which often doesn’t match anything else they are wearing. They are like one of those Japanese paintings with a single spot of bright color as a focal point. Dorothy wore red shoes and they gifted her with the ability to travel home. Other fictional red shoes danced their wearer to death. I feel cautious about red shoes, but I am allowed to want them. If I find the right pair, with the right fit, at the right price, I will buy them. In the meantime I will try to gift myself with the qualities that are represented by red high heels.

Allowing myself to desire things has led to conflict. I’m learning to live with that. I’m learning to navigate the conflicts and that sometimes the process of navigating a conflict is better than creating a peace which only exists because everyone is careful not to bump in to each other. I’ve been surprised to discover that three quarters of the conflicts I must navigate are me against myself. Howard and the kids are quite happy to shift around and make space for me. I have a hard time making space for myself. I agonize over which desires matter more, where I should spend my efforts, what I should do. My frantic scrambles to get it right disrupt the flow of what could be. Many of my wish list items, and my growing collection of quotations in my River Song journal, carry themes of peace and courage. “Be not afraid.” I am telling myself in hidden ways. “It is okay to make mistakes. It is okay to fail. It is okay to be ordinary.” But also “Seek beauty, seek small happiness. Stop. Breathe. Feel.”

I am trying. I’m collecting more things on my wish list to see what qualities my deep self would like to have. I’m also watching for the right pair of red shoes.

Homework Time

By / November 2, 2011 / 3 Comments

Helping my children do homework is kind of fun. Arguing with my children because they’d rather pick a fight than do the work is not fun. Standing guard over my children so they don’t distract themselves is alternately boring and frustrating. Unfortunately most homework times feature the second two far more than the first. The work they are assigned is not too hard, nor does it take them too long. If it were only the homework we’d have no challenges. But my children are… children. They lack the emotional maturity and skills to understand that sometimes the best way to get out of something is to go through it as fast as possible. I’m teaching perseverance and problem solving right along with spelling. I’m teaching them how to read a text book along with answering the history questions. I’m teaching neat handwriting along with the math. With those hidden lessons considered, then the true challenge of homework becomes apparent and their struggles with it become understandable. The thing I have to remember when I’m biting my tongue and counting to keep my temper, is that the struggle itself is the teacher. It is when we are struggling that we grow. Which I suppose should apply to my own struggles and have more patience with me as well as with them.

New Rules, New Complications

By / November 1, 2011 / 4 Comments

This morning I declared a new rule; that for every candy wrapper I found outside of a garbage can, I would confiscate one piece of candy. It was not a reasoned or calculated declaration, just the natural response of knowing that the influx of Halloween candies would mean garbage all over the house. Sometimes these in-the-moment rules feel brilliant in the moment of creation. Sometimes they are. Other times, not so much. The problem with new rules is that they then have to be enforced. In theory since I am both the maker of family rules and the enforcer thereof, no problems should result. Yet they do.

My new rule was immediately met with rules lawyering. What if Gleek left the wrapper out, but I confiscated a piece of Patch’s candy? How would that be fair? I answered that perhaps they should just pick up any wrapper they saw rather than stopping to worry whose it was. The first confiscations occurred within thirty minutes. The first post-confiscation argument about fault happened thirty seconds later. This is where rule enforcement breaks down. Now I know that any confiscation will likely result in an argument. Instead of instantly applying consequences when I see a wrapper, I pause. Is this a good time to deal with an argument? Should I pretend I didn’t see the wrapper and hope they’ll snatch it up? Should I draw attention to the wrapper and give them a chance to clean it up? The rule will be most effective if I apply the consequence quickly, efficiently, and without comment. In theory it will solve the problem of candy wrappers. However it also creates hidden incentives. If Gleek has a candy stash and Link only has one piece, he has no incentive other than good citizenship to clean up his wrapper. An angry child might fish wrappers out of the trash and strew them all over the house on purpose in order to get a siblings’ candy confiscated. Suddenly instead of a simple action and consequence I have to start listening to cases and weighing motives. The rule which was supposed to make my life simpler can instead be a time sink.

Then there is the issue of co-enforcement. I made up my new rule instantly without consulting Howard in advance. In this case he liked the rule, but what if he disagreed with it? We’ve done that to each other before, requiring the other to decide between parental unity or discipline preferences. Even when we agree on the rule and consequence, our enforcement techniques will differ. The kids will quickly learn which parent is more lenient on which rules. They will take advantage of this knowledge.

All of this makes rule making sound futile. Yet it isn’t. The creation and abolition of rules helps our family define who we are. All those arguments about “Why should I lose my candy when he left the wrapper on the floor” are really discussions about compassion, fairness, and boundaries. We’re learning methods of confrontation both good and bad. Sometimes it all goes wrong and ends with slammed doors. Other times we wend our way through argument into laughter. Bit by bit we define who we are when we are together as a family. Rules come into existence as they are needed and they wisp away when the purpose has passed. Hopefully somewhere within the next three days this particular rule will help us re-define ourselves as people who throw garbage in the trash can instead of waiting for mom to pick it up.