Introductions Are In Order

If you are old enough you probably remember the days of AOL and those words we all waited, breathless, to hear.  "You've got mail."  Of course, this was back before most correspondence was done via email and it was all still very new and exciting.  Mention this to any teen and he will look at you as if you're legitimately crazy.  After all, why wouldn't you have email?  These days, the same breathless excitement fills our chest as we pore over our faceook pages.  Looking, of course, to see who and how many "liked" our latest status update or comment.  It's as if we believe that someone "liking" our status means that they like us.   But reading someones status gives us even less insight into who she is than reading a blog.  Writing this blog, one of my hopes is that I will be able to communicate, to some small degree at least, who I really am.  Of course, I do hope you'll like me.  No need to tell me if you don't!

Getting to know me means getting to know my family.  If I was stranded on a deserted island there aren't three other people I would rather be with!  Of course, Jeff and I would probably waste time joking about whose fault it was that the boat crashed, while Q bemoaned the lack of any art supplies and Z began happily deciding how to hurt herself first.  But we would be together.  And the first thing to know about me is that I find the most happiness in the moments I spend with each of these people - the hectic moments, the joyful moments, the angry moments and the (rare) quiet moments that weave all the others together.  They are both the ship I sail in and its' anchor, the storm and the shelter from it.  So, let me introduce you to my favorite people and, in getting to know them, you'll learn a little bit about me along the way.

My husband, Jeff, is by far the kindest, most honest, compassionate and selfless person I have ever met.  I know, you're rolling your eyes right now, thinking, "Well, of course she thinks so!"  Well, I do, but keep in mind that living with a saint isn't always easy.  Take, for example, his penchant for truthful answers in every situation.  While admirable, it does lead to conversations like one we had about 12 years ago:

         Me: "Honey, I got my haircut! What do you think?"
         Jeff: "Ummm...I'll get used to it."

Now, we have both learned a lot in the years of marriage since then.  Me, not to ask questions I don't necessarily want completely honest answers to and, him, that not every question has to be answered at all.  Here is how today's version of that same conversation might play out:

        Me: "Honey, I got my haircut! It looks great!"
        Jeff: "That's wonderful, I'm glad you're happy with it!"
        Z & Q: "Mommy, what happened to your hair?"

Which brings me to the real reason I married him.  Not because he is so wonderful, although that is true.  But because he makes me want to be a better person.  He makes me want to be more kind, honest, selfless and compassionate.  He brings out the best in me and loves me despite the worst.

About five years after I married this paragon of virtue, we decided that despite some very serious health problems on my part we wanted to have children. We assumed that conceiving a child would be as easy as deciding to have one.  After three years of trying, one cycle of IUI at the office of a "reproductive specialist" and 10,000 dollars later we had our oldest daughter, Q.  She is seven now and, although I love her with a passion and ferocity that only another mother can understand, she seems far more her father's daughter than mine.  She shares with him a love and talent for creating things, for music and for shopping (which I hate).  Like him she is honest and generous almost to a fault.  There isn't a visitor that comes into our house that leaves without a gift of some sort and she never has any money because she always finds reasons to give it to her sister.  What she did get from me was the same quickfire temper that I had as a child, a tendency to wake up more than a little cranky and a love for peanut butter.  She will tell you that her greatest disappointment in life is having a mom that is not at all "fashionable" and that she dreams of growing up to be a ballerina, a paramedic and a winning contestant on American Idol.

After Q joined our family, Jeff and I didn't think a whole lot about having more children.  We figured that, since the doctor told us we would probably not be able to conceive on our own, we would just worry about it if and when we decided to have another.  Three years later, and two days before I was scheduled to have a much needed and serious back surgery, we discovered I was pregnant with our second daughter, Z.  She hasn't stopped surprising us since!  Z is the reason all of our furniture is bolted to the walls (not safety latched, bolted!), she is the reason why silence in my house scares me and she is the reason why, more often than not, our family is laughing.  She is so smart it sometimes frightens me, but has no common sense at all.  Parenting Z is like what I imagine riding a bull in a rodeo would be; fast, terrifying, exhilarating, dangerous, amazing and exhausting.  She is 4 now and will tell you that her dream is to grow up and be a pastry chef with her own little booth by the side of the road, selling donuts, cakes and pies to people passing by.  Also, a submarine pilot. 

Well, those are my people and altogether they make me into so much more than I would have ever been on my own!

Me? A Blog?

I love blogs. Not blogging (this being my first, I don’t know about that yet) but blogs written by other people. You know when you are driving at night and you see light pouring out of one window in a house, perhaps with a person or two framed in it as they go about the end of their day? To me, that is what a blog is like. One tiny, lit window looking in on someone’s life. It’s only one window, and very small as it only gives you a peek at a single aspect, one sometimes enigmatic picture of who the blogger is. And therein lies the danger in consistently reading a person’s blog. The reader, having loyally followed the writer, sometimes from the blog’s very creation, can easily become convinced that she actually knows and understands who the writer is.

But seeing one painting does not give you all that much insight into an artist’s whole body of work, and reading one blog does not mean that you have your finger on the heartbeat of who someone is. Sure, maybe you have a really clear picture of what they like to read, what recipes they have mastered or the latest thing their husband did that sent him to the doghouse. But their dreams? Their fears? All of the little bits and pieces that come together to make up a whole, wonderful, neurotic person? Not a chance. That would take more than one written blog. That takes time and energy put into a relationship. That takes more.

So, why a blog? I’ve asked myself why I think other people might want to peek into my lit window. The truth is, if I were you, I would probably pass this one by. Maybe that’s just insecurity. Not about my writing skills which, while nothing special, aren’t embarrassing either, but about how interesting what I have to say about my life might be. How interesting my life is. So, given that, why a blog? A combination of things I think. First, I like to write but haven’t done a lot of it since my kids were born - just no time or energy! My sister is always telling me I need to do something for myself and writing, even a tiny blog, gives me the satisfied feeling that I have. Also, friends keep telling me that I need to write down the crazy, often hilarious and sometimes infuriating things my youngest daughter Z says and does. Since I don’t scrapbook anymore and don’t keep any kind of journal, this seems like a good way to remember these things so I can share them with her later. Also, when she has stripped off her clothes for the fourth time in one day, unlocked the ‘child proof’ front door and gone outside so she can “feel the bee-u-tee-full wind on her booty,” writing out my frustration may prove therapeutic! Finally, now that I have a laptop I can write while engaging in my favorite activity - lazing around on anything soft and flat. With all that in mind, why not a blog?

So here it is. I don’t really have a plan for it. It’s probably won’t be about anything in particular. Just a grab bag of what I am doing, reading, feeling, watching, listening to and learning. Feel free to drive by and take a peek in…I promise to keep at least one light on!