The Joneses

My feathers get ruffled sometimes.  Sometimes they get bent out of shape and even fall out.  Other times they seem to just get smudged a bit.  However they get ruffled, I don’t like the irritating feeling it brings to the surface of my thoughts. 

Recently I’ve had a serious case of keeping up with the Joneses. Not in the way you think, however.   I don’t feel the need to rebuild our deck, or to hire personal trainers for all of us, or get a new car because everyone else is.  It’s actually been happening in the opposite direction lately.   The Joneses of the world have been questioning or commenting on choices we’ve made about this and that.  A sort of “aren’t you going to send your children to this school or that school?” or “why are you staying home when you could be doing x, y or z?” or “aren’t you going to the Internet safety program this week?” kind of things.  

To be frank, it’s not really a concern of anyone’s but ours as to what we choose to or not to do as a family, with our time and what activities we participate in.  It’s almost as if the Joneses are upset that we aren’t keeping up with them.  It’s been a challenge these last few weeks for me in this area to say the least.   I really try to be respectful of this when I have an opportunity to chat with my children’s parents, our friends and family and our neighbors.  I don’t ever want someone to feel as if they are inadequate because they aren’t doing x, y or z and would never go out of my way to make them feel less for not doing so.

Am I being too general?  Are you still with me?  

I think at times, the Joneses forget that every family is different. We don’t need to attend the Internet safety program at this point because I’m sitting RIGHT there when they are on the computer and if they delete the history, then they aren’t allowed to use the computer.  

Just because we don’t give blood on a regular basis, doesn’t mean we don’t care about our community.  We do many things and participate in many local events to help others.  

  

We will choose a school for both of our children that best meets their needs because WE know our children and how they learn and how they are in the school environment. 

Our schedules are busy, just like the rest of yours are, and if we get a chance to be home together and play Apples to Apples and poker with cheerios, then that’s what we will do.

Our family is unique just like yours is.   We just choose to be less vocal about our activities perhaps than others because that’s how we are.

Don’t get me wrong, though.  I love hearing about what everyone is up to, the concerts, the volunteering, the birthdays, and the new windows going in the house.  I want to hear about all of it, but I don’t want to be made to feel bad for not doing the same.  That’s just not fair.  

I may share certain parts of  our family with the world through this blog, but I don’t share everything here or with friends and family.  Some of that is for us, and for us to call our own and define who we are.  I hope to never make anyone I know ever feel less of a human, parent, mother, father, friend, sister, brother, etc.,  because their activities are different than ours. We all want our families to be well rounded.  I think that’s the common goal we lose sight of, but we must remember that everyone does it differently.  Our way may not be your way, but it works for us and what doesn’t work, we work on.   That’s the beauty of raising a family. 

I love my family and all our quirks and talks and activities and jokes and time together.  It’s our family.  

Tuesday Talk

Some random thoughts and observations on a Tuesday in October.

This morning’s sky was one of witches and broomsticks.   It was the most unusual orange, grey and cloudy sky.   The trees came alive against the backdrop of color, though.  Amazing if I say so myself. Too bad I didn’t have my camera with me. (I’ve now put it in my purse for just these occasions.  Won’t miss out on the next photo op.)

I think I’m losing more hair than ever.   I feel like the autumn leaves of hair.   In a matter of a month I think I could make a pretty decent wig.  Maybe I need to switch shampoos?

If I were to make a list of all the things I need to get done, I think I would have enough to publish a book.   Mind you, these aren’t “buy groceries”, “do laundry” types of things, but more along the line of  “hang pictures in the basement”, “create a school work organizing system” types of things.  The good kinds of things to do, but it seems like there are just so many to do.

Did you know that you can buy a deer head mounted, a pink candy dish, two embroidered pillowcases, an army jacket, old teaspoons, and cow bells all under one roof?   Mom and I (doesn't she look cute in her jacket and scarf? - Four different people told her so!) spent over two hours in an antique mall this afternoon and had a fantastic time checking out all the treasures, trying on hats and laughing together at everything. I bought a $5 farm bucket, my name in Scrabble letters and a vase that says “family” up the side. With such a long name, don't you think it would be worth more than 13 points?  I left the velvet chipmunk however, in section CH45 if you want to pick it up.  It was only $11.95.

She didn't get it.

Antique shop finds

I love the sound of my boys playing outside.  I know I’ve written about this before, but it is the most terrifical sound ever.

Both of my boys came home with report cards today.   Between the two of them, we have a total of 4 A+’s, 10 A’s, and one A-.   How ‘bout them apples?  So proud of them.

If I say “potato”, you say “ricer”.  (You had to have been there.)

I’ve put off turning the heat on for three days now, but it looks like I’m going to have to break down and just turn it on.   The chill is nice outside, but I get a little irritable when it’s inside.  It’s that or put on my gloves with no fingers and a hat and another pair of socks and a ….

My neighbor’s front door is decorated so beautifully with grapevine wreath, fall vines and orange lights in the evening.  I’m so jealous!   I may have to try my hand at keeping up with the Joneses and make me a replica for my very own front door.  I’ll let you know how it turns out.

  

You CAN Get A CAN

Remember my post a few weeks ago, “But My Actions Don’t Show It”?  Well, have I got news for you.   Check out these photos.  We did it.

  

We’ve recycled for two weeks now and it feels great.  We only had three bags of trash in our normal trashcan this week.  Three.  You think I’m joking, but it’s true.   Who knew so much of our trash could be recycled?   It’s a great feeling knowing we have done our part these last two weeks to help cut down on the exorbitant amount of trash that goes out into the world.   

The best part is we actually get “credit” for recycling.  There is a little microchip on the front of our recycle bin that weighs the amount of recycling and “credits” our account with points.  The points (just like travel miles) add up and can be used for free movie tickets, or coupons at restaurants, etc.   It’s a win win situation for everyone.

The best part is that it feels good to be doing good.   We had to make space in the garage for another large trashcan, but we managed to do it and have all been surprised at how easy it was to do.  I probably spent and extra half hour over the last two weeks rinsing bottles and cans, but that’s it.  It really wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.

I would encourage each of you to call your trash company and ask about their recycling program if you haven’t already done so.  They’ll bring you the supplies to do it and in a matter of minutes, that can will be filling up with every used plastic, tin and cardboard scrap you have.  I think I’m going to start saving our “credits” for a trip to Hawaii.  Won’t that make a great blog post!

Do You Hear Voices?

We all want to be heard.  Clearly.  Fully.  Completely.  I think it’s our nature to speak and expect a response.  We want acknowledgement from that special someone, and some days, from anyone, that our words are worthy of someone’s ear.

I was only there for four hours to fill in for their teacher.  They needed to be heard.

“My little brother lost his two bottom teeth and I think he’s growing now and is almost as tall as me.”

“I got this one from my friend’s dad, who travels for work and gets lots of cool things.”

“I love this book because it’s got drama and action and made up things.”

“If you want us to get quiet, you have to turn off the lights.  I don’t think it’s a very good idea to do it all the time though, because then we get used to it and don’t actually get quiet.”

“I have a joke for you.   Knock, knock. Who’s there? I love.  I love who?  I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Is it raining outside yet?  I hope it rains because I don’t want to go to soccer practice tonight.  I don’t like to run.”

Their little voices could have told me stories all day.  I tried to listen as time allowed, but had to cut some of them short so as to stay on task.  That’s hard to do because once one of them gets your attention and tells you their little nugget of a story, then the rest see that you provided attention and a reaction, so assume you will do the same for their story. 

This was only four hours of my day yesterday, but as I sat in bed going over the day in my mind, I realized that we all want someone to just listen to us.  We don’t always need a solution or a huge reaction, but just an opportunity to be heard and be understood.

I find myself cutting off my own children because the phone rings or because I’m getting my shoes on or the cat just threw up.  What am I telling them?  I don’t have time for you right now?  That’s never my intent, but am sure it’s interpreted that way sometimes.  I’ve tried to say, “Let me finish this.  It will take three minutes then I can give you my full attention.”  Easier said than done.   It’s a good practice on paper, but in the midst of things it gets lost.  I need to be more mindful of them and just listen to their voices.  They need me to listen. I need to hear their voices.   Do you hear voices?

A Pretty Little Box

Is it too late to try and decide what I want to be when I grow up?  I hope not because I feel like I’m in eighth grade again and am trying to figure out what I like and don’t like; what is interesting to me and what is not.   It seems this last month, my mind has been spinning in every direction.  Finding focus has become a challenge. 

One minute I’m dreaming of starting my own magazine, the next I’m jotting down ideas for a book, and a minute later I’m thinking about buying a goat and trying my hand at soap making.  Maybe I’m going through a creative dry spell?  Whatever it is, it’s been challenging to say the least.

Maybe I need to keep a journal of all these random thoughts to see if there are any common threads that I can piece together. Maybe I need to just sign up for a class of some sort.  Maybe I need to do a little of everything.  It’s not about being bored, because I am not bored and I have 368 things to get done by the end of the week and love the sense of accomplishment I have when I throw the “to do” list in the trash recycle bin. It’s more about direction.  There are too many paths in front of me that all look very enticing and could sure use a big sign to suddenly drop down from above and point me in the right direction.

I think we are all continually searching for our purpose and perhaps that is what this is about?  I’m not sure.  I’m happy and love being wife and mom at home.  I wouldn’t give it up for anything.  It’s not even about that either.  It’s knowing that I have many talents and gifts that I’ve been given and I’ve put them in a pretty little box on my shelf and keep staring at them instead of opening the box and using them.  I need to act and stop thinking, but act on what?  That’s where I get stuck every time.   Perhaps being stuck is where we have to be at times in order to appreciate the times when we’re not stuck.  Does that make sense?  I hope so. 

Maybe the best solution is to simply put every idea and interest I have into a jar and just pull one out and go for it.  Hmmm.  I wonder if I have a really big jar?  Off to the kitchen.