a year now…

It’s been a whirlwind year. I find it hard to believe it’s almost Thanksgiving again. Mike turned 40… in true Mike fashion, quite uneventfully. Griff turned 13… in true little Mike fashion, equally easily. Eliza turned eight, and it was a big, fat deal. Mike has presented at two conferences (we’re quite proud, if a little jealous of his travels), and I was promoted at work (and given the way things have gone thus far, quite convinced I made the wrong choice in moving up). My brother got divorced and remarried this year (he’ll always be able to refer to 2011 as his ultimate comeback year.

As always, I’m ready to get along to the Christmas season. I’ve finished most of my shopping, and I’m ready to start wrapping so I have things to put under my tree when we put in up in a week.

But this year, I find myself thinking a lot about my parents. It’s been 15 months since, on my 16th  anniversary, they sent me a letter telling me how my marriage was in danger. It’s been a year since they chose not to come visit us any longer because they cannot abide by the one request I made and set up as our ‘house rule.’ The House Rule is to keep whatever they think we’re doing wrong with our lives to themselves while they are with us. I don’t care who they tell when they leave us… tell my brother, my grandparents, their friends, church family, associates, people in the check-out line at the Piggly Wiggly. Just don’t tell me about how they feel I’m sinning by this or that. Don’t tell me how I’m a bad wife or mom because I do or don’t do this or that. I’m 41 years old, and I’ve been married 17 years now, and whether I’m a good or bad wife is between me and Mike. If I’m a good or bad mom is, unfortunately, yet to be determined. And it will be determined by my children.

But my parents weren’t able to agree to that. And so they haven’t been here to see us in 18 months. And it saddens me on multiple levels. I hate that they are missing out on these lovely little people living in my house. And it saddens me that they chose having the opportunity to be right over, well, me. I tell my kids all the time that there’s nothing they could ever do that would stop me from loving them, that would make me not want to see them.

A dear friend of mine was telling me about a bit of drama in his family’s life and about how upset he was with his parents for their interactions with his brother with whom he is upset because of his brother’s inappropriate behavior. He asked me, as a parent, how I would act. And I told him that I’d probably tell his brother, as his parents have done, that I didn’t approve of his behavior but that I would then do exactly as his parents had done… I’d bring him lovingly into my home and continue to be what I had always been. I reminded him that if his parents are doing this for his brother, they’ll be this way for him if he ever needs them.

I cannot imagine what would drive a child from my life. And I look at my life and I wonder, I seek to understand what makes them feel that we … I … am so unacceptable that they cannot spend time with us without the option of telling us what sins they see in my life.

That said, that heartbreak and little girl uncertainty admitted, the truth of the matter is that outside of the aforementioned sadness, the last year has been so much easier for us as a family. The visits from my parents were not easy for us. The tension caused arguments between me and Mike (arguments which Griff would say are very rare, indeed). Mike didn’t enjoy dealing with me and the unhappy anticipation of what they would be saying to me… because it was never a question of ‘will they say something’ but ‘when and what will they say?’ Griff hated their visits because he and Eliza would be left alone with them during the day while Mike and I would be at work, and my dad was always critical of Griff, whether of his physical stature or of his choice of hobbies or whatnot.

I admit, our last Thanksgiving, shared with people who love us for who we are, not for who we should be, was delightful. Frankly, it was the best we’ve had in years. And my kids are well-loved even without my parents. Graciously, my parents have proven to be supportive and encouraging to my brother during this last year, and they have been becoming the kind of grandparents to his daughter that they haven’t been lately to my children, and I am grateful. Maybe they, too, have learned from this experience.

One of the things I’ve been passionate about through the years is that we choose our family as we get older and as we move and don’t live close to family (because Mike and I have never lived in town with family). And we have always been blessed to have various people who were close to us and who were loved like family (a friend at work said to me the other day that I was family… nearly brought me to tears). Family is what we make of it.

And what I am trying to teach my children is that love is important and timeless and precious. And for now, for me, that is enough.

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Tagged with: Family • Thanksgiving

the day after…

One of the advantages of having older kids is that the day after Christmas, when they’re playing with their new toys, they really don’t require my attention to do so. So now that family has flown home, I’m alone with a hot cup of chai enjoying a few peaceful moments.

This was, quite simply, one of my best Christmases ever. My brother and his family flew over on Wednesday, and we had the best visit. We did just exactly nothing. Pretty much. We had one toddler, one bossy seven-year-old, one mouthy 12-year-old, and one quiet 13-year-old to entertain us old folks. We stayed up late playing games, went out to get ice cream, drove around to see Christmas lights and got yummy pizza at the fun place downtown, and Nicole and I shopped and got mani-pedis. A groovy time was had by all.

And my picky eater nephew told me on his way out that the food was good.

My parents don’t speak to any of their siblings for various reasons, the most simple being that they just don’t agree on things, and my folks aren’t willing to abide by the agree to disagree theory. John and I and Nicole and I work hard to build relationships between ourselves and between our kids because we don’t want that to happen to us. Visits like this are good for all of us. I felt badly, though, because I know my grandmother missed all of us, wished there was a way that she and my grandfather could have been here with us all.

We were joined, however, by Mike’s brother and nephew and by our adopted grandparents here in Florida. Nana and Pops joined us for Christmas Eve lunch, and we all had a super time. As we talked about it later, John talked about how easy it was, which is characteristically unlike meals with our parents. He commented on how lovely they are toward us when they have no actual ties to us. How our own family really ought to be that way.

As I look across my neat and clean dining room/front room, I think about my brother saying last night at dinner that since they arrived, my house had exploded. And at that point, it did look a bit like that. It was the best explosion we’d participated in as a family in quite some time.

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Tagged with: Christmas • Family • love

and so it went…

A few months ago, I wrote a post entitled ‘and so it goes’ about an on-going struggle I have with my parents and their need to advise me of the sins they see in my life. At the time of that post, I hadn’t answered my weekly call from my parents for several weeks and wasn’t certain how to proceed. Soon after, I decided, as usual, to ignore the whole affair and move onward.

I placed a call to them one random Saturday and chatted about our usual superficial topics and moved on. Things were fine. You know, our version of fine. And in my reality, it’s a pretty good fine, I think. No one’s on drugs. No one’s abusing one another (I know, Terri, that some might view this as emotional or verbal abuse). A nice, superficial fine.

The first year we were in Florida, my parents came to visit for Thanksgiving, and they’ve just invited themselves ever since. It is my least favorite holiday anyway, and their visit only enhances my feelings. A few weeks ago, while on the phone with my mom, I heard my dad tell my mom to ask me if they were still invited for Thanksgiving. Griff was sitting next to me, so I simply said yes.

The next day, I sent a simple email telling them that I understood that Dad felt it was his Christian duty to point out our sins but that we didn’t feel like we needed him to do that. We are living our lives in the manner we feel is best. And we are requesting they not do that. I said that if they could come visit and not critique our lives, they were more than welcome. Weeks passed.

Last night, I got an email telling us they couldn’t abide by our request and that they would not be joining us for Thanksgiving. I was stunned. I probably shouldn’t have been, but I was. I am.

It is inconceivable to me that someone would choose the option of telling someone what they see as a sin in their lives rather than the opportunity to see a grandchild who lives halfway across the country. I don’t understand it. I am disappointed… in them, and in ways I cannot explain, in me.

Both of my parents have ended friendships when they couldn’t agree. Neither of my parents speak to their siblings. I have every intention of continuing to make calls and to continue my lovely superficial relationship, and while I certainly hope it is not the case, I wonder if this is the beginning of the end for me… if I am being written off just as their siblings were.

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Tagged with: Family

and so it goes…

If I have a friend who brings nothing to our relationship, I don’t continue with that friendship. If I have a friend who brings negativity to my life, I cut my ties with that friend. I am too old and have too many things in my life that demand my time to waste my time on people who drain my time and energy and lifeblood without bringing something positive to my table.

Why is it I have people in my life who bring mostly negative energy and yet I tolerate it because they are blood relatives? What makes blood more important than anything else?

I got a letter from my father on our anniversary (last Friday… 16 years… yay, us!) telling us that he felt led by God to remind us that our marriage was in danger if we didn’t join a church. That we weren’t being good parents because we weren’t taking the kids to church, that we were putting other things in ahead of church.

Now, I’m not usually one to respond. I’m aware that my dad enjoys debating and drawing people … me and my brother, my grandmother, specifically … into debates with him that he won’t discuss fairly or allow anyone to leave in a reasonable manner. When I was in my teens and early 20s, I didn’t see how he handled things, how he manipulated us into these destructive interactions, but once I moved out and was on my own, I was able to see that not everyone interacted in that manner. And I was able to begin to establish my own way of handling things.

Mike and I married when we were both in our early 20s, and we built this lovely way of interacting that is open and honest and has none of the trappings that I had/have in my relationship with my parents. And now that I know that I don’t respond well to that sort of relationship, I just don’t bite when he tries to engage me.

But that letter… on my anniversary.

I sent what I thought was a calm and reasonable emailed response. I told them that our marriage is on really solid footing and that we’re quite happy together. I told him that we’re aware that the world is touching our children, as he stated, but that we believe that it’s our responsibility to nurture their spiritual foundation, not the church’s.

I told him that he was completely right, that we did feel that church wasn’t more important than other things. We feel that each individual’s personal relationship with Christ is more important than all other things. Church is an extension of that. As it turns out, we had already chosen a church earlier this summer, but I hadn’t told them (as with most things).

Within hours, I got a response from him that was highlighted by my father’s use of multiple Scriptures. Now, my parents are the most God-fearing individuals with the most in-depth knowledge of Scripture I can imagine. I am in awe of their knowledge. That said, they have both on occasion used both Scripture and their knowledge of it a weapon. He mentioned that it is his responsibility as a father and grandfather to rebuke us when he sees us sinning.

Well, lovely. I haven’t responded to that one.

Now, again. These are dear, sweet, Christian people. Which is what makes me feel so conflicted about all of this. I hate that they offer unsolicited advice, rebuking. I wish they would keep it to themselves. Their visits, their cards with the advice, their letters and calls… they cause more stress within our marriage than provide help.

And yet, on the rare occasion that I stand up for myself and suggest that they need to give us some space or defend our choices, they respond so vehemently that it hardly seems worth the effort. It is draining. To date, they haven’t said anything too harsh to either of my kids. They’ve said things about my kids to me, but not to the kids. The day that happens is the day all bets are off. I’ll put up with a lot myself, but I won’t put up with anything regarding my kids.

And yet, what’s up with that? Seriously. What does that say about me? I’m willing to stand up for my kids but not for myself. I’m not sure what it says, but I know it’s true.

And I know that the experience reminds me of several things…

I am safest with completely superficial topics with my parents. I remember why I gave up on the hope of having a meaningful relationship with them years ago. I remember why I work so hard to foster important, meaningful relationships with Christian friends.

I am so grateful that I have a clear vision of the type of relationship I want to have with my children both now and as they grow older.

And I am deeply thankful to have been able to be a part of various families through my life who have built really exceptional relationships with their children and their children’s children and who have provided me with superb examples to follow.

And I am blessed to be friends with both my brother and my brother’s wife, and I count it a deep blessing to be able to discuss these things with them. Neither of my parents are on speaking terms with any of their siblings, and I think they are missing something so wonderful. I am so terribly grateful to not miss that.

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Tagged with: church • Faith • Family

happily happy … even ever after

Next week, Mike and I will celebrate our 16th anniversary. I am delighted to say that we will celebrate it happily. There were times during this last year when I wasn’t so sure.

Mike and I have always been easy. Things between us just flow. We have had difficult times… times when the world around us was difficult, when situations were difficult, when this or that wasn’t easy. But rarely have we had times when things between us weren’t easy. But this last year was pretty much one long exercise in not easy between us.

As I approached my 40th birthday, I had to do some looking at myself and my life, and I was unsettled for a time. In the midst of that, I had a man hit on me & I was flattered, I admit. And then for a period last year, Mike didn’t so much groove to me for reasons of his own. As I talked to my girlfriends about what I was going through, I was surprised (but reassured) to discover how many women in my age range were struggling with similar issues.

Choices we made 10, 15, 20 years ago that seemed reasonable at the time seemed to have snowballed into something unmanageable now. Sure, hon, I’ll take a job doing something I don’t love so you can pursue your passion but once you’re all established, I’ll switch to something more suited to me. You go get your degree & I’ll put you through school with the understanding that once you’re done, it’ll be my turn. Little sacrifices that made sense, that were supposed to be just the beginning in a tit for tat situation somehow turned into a lifetime of something else. Tit never turned into tat. Old habits turned into lifestyles. And too often, we looked up and wondered if we made the right choices.

But, blessedly, with some work, we ended the year as we began it… happily together. Last weekend, as I got a pedicure, the nail tech laughed after I told a story (because I will tell a story!) and said, “You’ve lived. I can tell in your laugh. You laugh so you don’t cry, to keep things together.” I thought that was the best compliment. Because we have lived, and we are laughing. And in some ways, I’m grateful for this last year, hard though it was, because it reaffirmed for me that this is exactly where I want to be. Even when it’s challenging, I want to be with Mike.

To be walking this path with him, to figure out this life as we go along… seems like a pretty good deal to me.

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Tagged with: anniversary • Family • Mike