30 Days of Truth: Day 12

Day 12 -- Something You Never Get Compliments On

Well, this is turning into 30 years of truth, isn't it? Oh well, good thing I am not writing this blog on a deadline or anything.

Is this supposed to be something I never get compliments on but I should because I am awesome at it? Or something I never get compliments on rightfully so because I suck at it? Guess I'll answer both.

Something I should get lots of compliments on but I don't: parenting. Like every parent, I think. It's hard. So so hard. To do it well, at least. But no one is here watching, no one goes, "Wow, you could have just put the kids in front of the TV this afternoon, but you didn't. You packed them up, you took them to the park, you put them first even though you weren't feeling well." No one gives you a medal for taking the time to cook them something nutritious when you really just wanted to drive through somewhere. No one can possibly know the sacrifices you make over and over, moment after moment. It just comes with the territory. I got a lot of warm fuzzies teaching other peoples' kids, kind notes from parents, compliments from co workers, thanks from the students. I miss it sometimes, but I know that the good choices I make for the girls are an investment in their future, and that is thanks enough for me.

Something I will never get a compliment on ever: my attention span. I do nothing in a linear fashion. Ever. I am the one who leaves the milk on the counter, who gets halfway into 6 different projects all at once, who can't just sit and watch a TV show without ALSO surfing the net. I am absolutely a poster child for untreated adult ADD. I'm so used to it. I don't mind it. I don't find that it limits me in any way. (Except for having a TERRIBLE memory. That part I would like to fix.) It's just how I roll. It drives poor Dearest to distraction half the time, to the point that I have considered getting medicated just for his sake.

Here's a dumb joke, but it's a pretty good summary of my day-to-day life, except add two toddlers to the mix:

I decide to water my garden.

As I turn on the hose, I look over at my car and decide it needs washing.

As I start toward the garage, I notice mail on the table that I collected from the mail box earlier. I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table, and notice that it is full.

So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first.

But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mail box when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my check book off the table, and see that there is only 1 check left.

My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find the can of Coke I'd been drinking.

I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over.

The Coke is getting warm, and I decide to put it in the fridge to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the table catches my eye - they need water.

I put the Coke on the table and discover my reading glasses that I've been searching for all morning.

I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to water the flowers. I set the glasses back down on the table, fill a container with water and suddenly spot the TV remote control.

Someone left it on the kitchen table. I realize that tonight when we watch TV, I'll be looking for the remote control, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the front room where it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor.

So, I set the remote control back on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill.

Then, I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day:
- the car isn't washed
- the bills aren't paid
- there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the worktop
- the flowers don't have enough water
- there is still only 1 check in my check book
- I can't find the remote control
- I can't find my glasses
- and I don't remember what I did with the car keys.

Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day, and I'm really tired.

I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail.

30 Days of Truth: Day 11

Day 11- Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

That was easy, wasn't it? Well, it's true. The girls get me the most compliments, not just because they are cute but because they can have very outgoing personalities. In the right mood, they are downright impossible to ignore. Case in point: pushing them around Target with Sophie yelling "Mewwy Cwistmas!" and Liv saying "Ho ho ho!" to every one we pass. I try not to be one of those crazy moms who get addicted to their kids getting attention, but I do feel a weird pang of jealousy whenever a child near us gets a compliment and the girls don't. Madness, right? But they are such an extension of me, it's hard not to take such things personally.

Besides the girls though? The thing that comes to mind is my handwriting. Which is funny because for years I had horrible handwriting. Then I took some drafting classes in college, and my writing changed to all caps forever and people seem to like it. I had to work very hard to re-train myself to write in proper D'Nealian in order to teach Kindergarten!

30 Days of Truth: Day 10

Day 10- Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn't know.

Well, hmm. This one is tough. I can be remarkably good at letting go. I surprise myself sometimes. And pretty much every one I associate myself with is on my own terms these days. I don't run in a social "pack" anymore, I don't have a work group of acquaintances that I am obligated to hang out with. I pretty much spend time with the small handful of people I choose to spend time with, and most of them (here I am thinking about Amy and Susan) are pretty darn awesome.

I might come back to this post and edit it if someone springs to mind, but so far... nope.

(Was that artful dodgery? Because if you would have asked me this question 5 months ago, the answer would have been much, much different.)

30 Days of Truth: Day 9

Yes. Hello. Where were we then? Ah, yes. Day 9.

Day 09- Someone you didn't want to let go, but just drifted

Well this is an easy one.

D and I were, in the words of our teasing co-workers, thick as thieves. That is a fact. Over the course of years she drifted from being my acquaintance, to a pretty good friend, to one of the few people on the earth before whom I could reveal myself, be honest and truthful and raw and bare, and not in my usual tongue-in-cheek fashion. With D I could be me.

Our togetherness was made convenient by the fact that we worked together, sweated and cursed and laughed side-by-side 40 hours a week through 2 shows and 6 years. When the time came for me to move on, career wise, I hoped that we would stay close, but a little part of me knew that things would never be the same. We stayed pretty tight for a while, but her move to the other side of town sealed the deal. We drifted. Me having two babies didn't exactly help.

We got together for lunch the other day, and I was reminded how much I missed her quirks, her sense of humor, and how easy it is to talk to someone who really knows you, even if it's been 6 months since you have had a conversation and you are trying to entertain 2 toddlers while attempting to string together a cohesive sentence.

Seeing D again was, in a way, comforting. I was reminded of the fact that she carries with her a bevy of friends from years past, and while she doesn't keep in touch with all of them on a regular basis, I know they still mean a lot to her. I guess I've been added to the ranks. And I'm ok with that.

30 Days of Truth: Day 8

Day 08- Someone who made your life hell or treated you like shit.

I was in the "gifted" homeroom in 6th grade, which in my school system in Michigan was considered Middle School. I had been in a variety of gifted programs in a variety of school systems, since we moved so much, some of them fantastic, some of them a total waste. This program was FANTASTIC. We were taught to be self-sufficient learners, make choices that corresponded with our learning styles, and to use creativity to process and present facts. I loved the class. I learned so much. But I always had the feeling in the pit of my stomach that the teacher didn't like me. And, more than anything, I wanted to be liked.

Organization does not come naturally to me. I live a neat and tidy existence now, but I have to work very hard to maintain it, and it was really only in the past 3 or 4 years that I would say I have gotten "good" at de-cluttering. As a child, left to my own right-brained devices my backpack was a mess, my possessions were jumbled, papers got lost. At the age of 11, I really needed HELP.

What I did NOT need was my teacher upending my desk and screaming at me in front of the whole class when I couldn't find something.

I did not crumple externally. I remember standing there with a dumb half-grin on my face, too mortified to dare show it. But inside, I felt so small. And bad. And stupid. It marks, I think, the beginning of my adolescent self-loathing, of being limited by my own feelings of inadequacy and angst. I spent the remainder of my youth waiting for those I respected to upend my desk, literally or metaphorically. The experience didn't make me a more organized person. It just made me very certain that there was something "wrong" with me.

I had kind of forgotten all about the incident until a year or so ago, when one of my friends who teaches upper elementary told me about losing her cool towards one of her students. "This girl," she said, "is a sweet person, super smart and really a good kid, but her desk is such a MESS! I couldn't stand it! So today I dumped it out and made her sort through it in front of everyone."

I stiffened, and felt a wave of disgust wash over me. I told her that a teacher did that to me once, and that it was really humiliating. My friend is not the kind of teacher who gets a charge out of embarrassing her students. Maybe the teacher who did that to me was not either. I looked her up when I started writing this post, and she's actually very highly acclaimed, leading symposiums and publishing research. Maybe she just had an off day, maybe she really thought I had potential and was frustrated with my self-limiting habits. Maybe, at the end of the day, she actually liked me. But when I think about it, even 20+ years later, I feel hated. And small. And ashamed.

30 Days of Truth: Day 7

Day 07- Someone who has made your life worth living.

Well, now. That's an easy one, isn't it? They drive me a little (or a lot) crazy sometimes, but their quirks, humor, personalities, and love make every day worth living.

Have I mentioned (I'm almost afraid to) that they sleep now?

30 Days of Truth: Day 6

Day 06- Something you hope you never have to do

It's a fact. Your parents age. Generally speaking, (if you are lucky, I guess) you outlive them. I understand that it's more than likely that I will some day bury my parents. And while I'm not exactly thrilled at the notion, it is not the thing I hope I never have to do.

What I fear, more than that, more than illness, and even more than death, is them losing themselves before their body gives out. I don't mind the notion of having to care for my parents in their old age: of being sure they are eating, and taking their medicines, and getting out and about when they want to, and keeping them company when they want it. I see it as my responsibility. I know how hard they worked to take care of me when I was dependent, and I am happy to return the favor. It's the thought of walking into their room and meeting blank eyes, the thought that I might have to re-introduce myself to those I love the most, that bothers me.

It doesn't run in the family, Alzheimer's. My grandparents died because their bodies failed. My grandfather is in his late 80's and despite a stroke that has left him wheelchair bound, he is entirely "there." I hope it's something that we as a family do not have to endure. I have seen what it does to those suffering with it, how it confuses and agitates you to not know where you are, or who you are. I have witnessed how cruel it is to those trying to support its victims- making sacrifices and being met with hostility and sadness day after day.

I hope I don't ever have to remind my parents of who I am.