Paper Napkin

So Long, and thanks for all the fishes.

I'm conducting an experiment in quitting. I want to see what it's like to not have a blog.

5 years ago I started this here blog. I was crazy as a loon at the time. I lived in Texas, where I did not fit in at all. My husband was in graduate school, and was gone so much I actually had to pretend he was on military deployment so that when I saw him I could be pleasantly surprised instead of resentful. I had 3 children under 6, and I yelled a lot. I was depressed. I knew no one, and it was a lot of fun reading blogs, writing posts, commenting on other blogs. It was a lot of fun feeling like a part of a community. It was a very bright spot in my life.

But my life is very different (read: much better) now, the blogging community has changed a lot (read: not for the better, in my opinion), and I'm not much a part of it any more. I don't have the free time I used to to spend on the internet, so I don't participate as much as I did.

Frankly, I didn't make the transition from blogging buddy to friend very well. I sent and received some presents, I had some phone conversations, but not much more. Even when I had the chance to interact face to face, I often didn't. It just felt too weird. I guess I need friendships to generate more organically or something. Maybe I'm just an odd duck.

Lately in the blogosphere some tragic things have happened. There have been deaths, divorces, job losses, and the recurrence of mental and physical illness, and I really haven't been able to offer much support other than a donation, or some kind words. Some beautiful things have happened too. Marriages and births, new pets and new jobs, and I really haven't been able to offer more than heartfelt congratulations.

I am a primate. Primates like to verbalize, and hug, and point. We like to give eye contact, and pick nits from our friends' fur. The best aspect of friendship is just hanging out. So much of myself and yourself is missing when we interact via social media, it doesn't satisfy the primal me.

But it's also been amazing to meet so many great people, and at least get a peek in the window of your lives. I never would have known Liz or Sam or Dana existed if it weren't for blogging, and my life is richer because of them and others. No matter how limited blogging is, and no matter how much I hate the word blog, it's wonderful. As you can see, I'm conflicted, which is nothing new, which is why this is only an experiment in quitting*. We'll see how it goes.

If I do blog again, I'll probably start fresh somewhere else, so email me at papernapkin@gmail.com if you want my new address.

One is silver and the other is gold

The dictionary defines a friend as a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

How does someone qualify as your friend?
Do you have to know them for a certain length of time before you award them the title?
Do you have to meet them in person?
Can you be friends with someone you never socialize with outside of a certain setting-- like your hairdresser or coworker?
What commonalities do you have to have with someone in order to be friends? Hobbies, philosophy, temperament, humor, politics, desires, dreams, outlook?
Do you have friends you've know all your life?
How many friends do you have?
Do you choose some people as your friends because they model what you want to be like?

I'm curious about the nature of your friendships. Tell me about their alchemy and composition.

The Last Mispronunciation

The other day Will and I were driving in the car. We drove by this gorgeous new hospital-- seriously the architecture makes me want to admit myself. As we drove by I heard him say "hospital."

"What, honey?"

"Nothing, I was just reading that sign."

"What did it say?"

"Hospital."

"What?"

"Hospital," he repeated.

Until that moment Will had always pronounced the word "hostiball." I never corrected my kids mispronunciations. I always thought they were adorable and I knew sooner or later they'd correct themselves.

When Emily was little she used to say caterpuddle instead of caterpillar, and a dog's tail was a puddle too. I guess because a dog's tail looks a little like a giant caterpillar.

Foods were always a gold mine of mispronunciations. Granola bars were gorilla bars, yogurt was yogrit, grilled cheese was girl cheese.

There were many more; I wish I'd recorded them better.

Hostiball was the last one.

The very last word my children consistently mispronounced had now righted itself.

I'm so thankful for every one of those mispronunciations. Each one gave me a lift, like sitting in the yard, and looking up to find a butterfly on your knee.

They stood like landmarks; points of reference showing how beautifully my children had managed to navigate the rocky terrain of language and human interaction, and how far they still had to go.

I marked the moment in silence. The wide field adjacent to the hospital slipped past my window; I made my way through the intersection, past homes, and a brick strip mall, and kept going.

Questions

I sometimes worry about Haley. She's the middle kid, which I think is a tough placement. She sometimes pretends she's more unflappable than she really is. She... how shall I put this? She believes rules are elastic, like a trampoline, and should be blithely bounced upon. So she gets corrected more. Or at least I feel that way.

We try to take our kids out for one-on-one time, and this week I took Haley out to get a smoothie. We sat and talked. Sometimes I ask questions that are open ended to get a feel for how the kids are feeling. Things like: What's one thing you would change about our family? Or what's your favorite thing about our family? Other stuff too, but the family ones are the only thing coming to mind right now.

So I said (bracing myself for her response), "I want to ask you a couple of questions. Who do you think gets in trouble, or gets corrected most in our family?"
"Will. Because you always have to talk to him about his rude tone of voice."
(Whew, one down, I thought.)
"Hmm, that's interesting. And, you know, your dad and I try to make things as fair as we can among the three of you, but if you had to pick somebody, who do you think gets treated the best."
"Duh! Me!" She exclaimed. "You know, 'cause I get a lot of special stuff."

Boy did I breathe a sigh of relief, that that's her perception. I think I'll ask Will and Emily the same question, and hopefully they'll think somebody else gets the reprimands while they get the good stuff.

____________________

Most evenings when we sit down to dinner we have a "conversation question". This is due to the fact that Aaron and I are rotten conversation starters. We can sustain a conversation, but we're bad at introducing a topic. Most of the time we don't feel like talking about the newest puffle at Club Penguin, or which Jonas Brothers song is the best (answer: none), so we conjure this little artifice to get the conversation moving. Sometimes the question is something I think of during the day, or we have a couple of question books we keep on the dining table to help us out.

I've written here and on Twitter about the differences between Emily and Haley. (Those links are worth clicking.) And the responses to tonight's question were pretty characteristic.

Me: Tonight's question is, "If, like the newspaper or milk, you could have anything of your choice delivered to your doorstep every morning, what would it be?"
Haley: A million dollars.
Me: Wait a minute. You'd want a million dollars delivered to your door everyday?
Haley: Yep.
Me: What would you possibly need that much money for?
Haley: Dude, it's money.
Me: ...
Aaron: How about you Emily, what would you want delivered everyday to your door?
Emily: A salad.
Me: A salad? You can have anything you want.
Emily: Well, not just any salad, a really yummy fresh salad. You can never have too much salad.
Me: ...

These kids slay me.

By the way, what would you have delivered everyday? (I said, "something inspiring wrapped up in a beautiful package.")

Sixes and Sevens, now with more elipses

I fancy myself a person of superlative decision-making skills.

Go ahead, give me a dilemma. Ask me to choose something, anything.

Except maybe which stocks to invest in. Judging from my most recent 401K statement, I should have just opened a Take All The Neighborhood Children To Disney On Ice fund instead. I would've ended up with about the same amount of money, and been in slightly less pain-- though not much. Besides, choosing stocks is more about predicting the future than making good decisions, and I never claimed to have that gift. So I can be broke and still have good analytical skills... or something... where was I going with this?

Oh yes, right, decisions.

When I make a decision, I take a look at the big picture, I weigh the pros and cons, and consider the people involved. I take a passing glance at my feelings, but try not to let them influence unduly, unless the decision is one of personal preference (ie: chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla-- pfft, give me a hard one). I try to listen to my gut, because when I ignore it I almost always end up in a big pot of trouble. This is the path I walk, which leads me to Resolutionville.

The times I have the most difficulty making decisions is when I can't move beyond Wishing Things Were Different. This is the large tree that sometimes falls across the path on the way to Resolutionville. If I can't Accept The Way Things Are, and be clear and honest about assessing my situation, then the path is blocked.

And that's where I found myself at 3:30 this morning. Mulling over why I'm X when I'd like to be Z, like those other people. You know, those people over there, with the greener grass? I could've been Z, but I would've had to do A, B, and C, which I was uncomfortable with. But now I'm wondering if I should've done, or maybe should still do A, B, and C. But what would doing A, B, and C cost me? Would I like Z if I got there? Is X so bad?

Etc, etc, on it went like that. And then I thought, "I don't really know all the ins and outs of what I should have done or not done, or what I should do now. But I do know this is not a good feeling. What is this feeling I'm feeling? Ambivalence. Ambivalence is not a good feeling... It's not a bad feeling either." And then I giggled, because I entertain me.

And then I thought, Elton John should have written a song called "I Guess That's Why They Call It Ambivalence" which would go like this...

I Guess That's Why They Call It Ambivalence

Deciding which way,
Is taking me forever.
Between you and me
I can honestly say
I wish that I were more clever.

My acumen
is nothing to brag about
Oh no it's not
Cause if I were smart
I would shit
or get off the pot

And I guess that's why they call it ambivalence,
Time on my hands is spent weighing equivalence,
Furrowing my brow,
Feeling conflicted,
I make a decision
then contradict it
And I guess that's why they call it ambivalence

(Other silly songs I've written are here and here.)