Tag Archives: Kids

The Two Ryes

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Once upon a time…

…I didn’t care what people thought. I didn’t think anyone was reading this blog and I felt free to write whatever the hell I pleased. Mostly, I talked about the days, the things that filled them, and the people who swerved in an out of my life. And then it happened, I wrote about work and my boss read it, tipped off by my “superior” – I use that term loosely. I was frustrated and heartbroken at being passed up for a job I’d earned. I didn’t name names and I was very vague about the incidents that occurred. At work, it became a HUGE issue and I had a serious talk with human resources about it. I was forced to apologize, made up a story about something or other, and eventually got off the hook after being threatened with termination. Truth is, they overreacted and were building a case to fire me by knit-picking and picking on me. I wasn’t easy to work with, you see. I didn’t kowtow to them and I didn’t let them to get away with bullshit. It cost me my job. In the end, however, it wasn’t the job for me and I’m happier now as a freelancer. I also don’t ever regret standing up to assholes, not matter what the outcome.

Since then, I’ve bit my tongue. Now that my blog is connected to a bigger world through Twitter and Facebook, the people I know can now easily find this blog. If I didn’t want anyone to read it, I wouldn’t link the hell out of it, would I? This also means that people I want to read the blog can find it, but so can people I don’t.

I suppose I can’t really blame Mary Fisher and Jonathan Meiners for my own self inflicted censorship. At least they got me thinking about what I write and who it affects. I was no longer able to let it all hang out and became concerned with pissing people off. Who had I let myself become? Someone who cared what people think? That’s not me.

As kids came into my life, I censored myself a bit more, thinking they might stumble onto my blog and learn a few curse words; not that they didn’t already know curse words. I also didn’t want my now-husband’s family to think I was uncouth. Except, I am a bit uncouth. I curse like a sailor and I read Charles Bukowski. I write what’s on my mind as it comes into my mind. I don’t plan, I just write. I log in and whatever comes out, comes out. Or…that’s how it used to be, anyway.

I contradict myself. I am uncouth, but I am also gentile and fancy. I used to like the way I wrote. I took my lessons from Bukowski and Salinger; the two Ryes – “Ham on…” and “Catcher in the…”. I wanted to be eloquent, sweet, charming and a bit of artistic foul.

Jerky bosses and the clean minds of small children.

I used to date a guy who made me cry all the time. One night he said, “I’m not making you cry, you’re making yourself cry” I argued that no, indeed, he was making me cry. It wasn’t until years later that I understood what he meant. What he meant was that I controlled how things affected me. If someone called me an asshole, it was my choice to get upset. I could also call them an asshole right back. It was me choosing to react a certain way; not one person (besides me) controls how I feel. Now, not to say that mean boyfriends don’t have some effect on our emotions, but how we react is what matters. Let’s face it, I was probably crying to make him feel bad about the way he treated me.

On occasion, people say things that make me cry, but it’s always my choice to cry or not. I realized that life isn’t about what other people do to me, it’s how I react. If some fuckhead boss makes my life hell, I have options. Those options aren’t always clear, but in the end, what I do in relation to those heinous acts is my doing.

I chose to censor myself. Who I am and what I write is in direct correlation to who I decide to be and what I choose to write. It’s all on me. So, do I worry about pissing people off? Sure I do. Do I worry about hurting people’s feelings? You bet. Should I let that stop me from doing what I want to do? Well…let me get back to you on that one. This does not mean I give myself free license to say whatever I want despite who it hurts. I’m not that kind of person anyway. I don’t enjoy hurting people’s feelings.

This gets confusing when I stop to think about it. To be free and speak my mind, I must also censor myself to some extent. If my husband is acting like a jerk, it’s probably not a good idea to tear him a new one in front of the whole world. Those conversations are best left to private discussions – the way they’ve always been. I suppose it becomes an issue of respect. I respect my husband and his feelings. I care about him and saying he’s a jerk online probably wouldn’t make him feel good. Also, he’s not a jerk. If he was, I suppose I wouldn’t care either way. He is, in fact, a pretty sweet guy and I love him a lot.

So there…choices but on a case by case basis. Censorship and free will, with respect for my friends and loved ones. I guess it’s always been like that, but I can’t be afraid to cuss or complain about a hard day. Oh, and I also can’t complain about my clients. That would be bad.

With so many people to consider, whats the point, you may ask? Do the really bold writers worry about what their wives will say or do they just say it and take the consequences? It’s obvious that Bukowski didn’t give a shit what anyone said and he died a drunk. He was also a poet. There are always repercussions, I guess. Any writer must face the fact that not everyone will agree with them. My objective isn’t to alienate myself, but to get things off my chest…in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone? I can’t promise anything. Let’s just say I’ll try.

A Glimpse at Motherhood

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AJB has 3 lovely children. Each one of them is unique, intelligent, kind, considerate, generous, loving, and a billion other wonderful adjectives. Over the 5 years I’ve been a part of their lives, I’ve realized that even the best of children are still that…children. I’ve also come to realize that when your mother tells you “you’ll understand when you have your own kids” she is not only right, she is foreseeing the future. My mother is overjoyed that I have finally seen this truth.

AJB’s kids visit with us every Wednesday and every other weekend. Sometimes it seems like too much, other times not nearly enough. I’ve only ever had cats, so in the beginning it was a difficult transition. I went through a bit of shell shock and was frustrated because I teetered on the border of wanting to be their friend, but also not wanting to allow them full reign over the house. You see, it’s important they like me and not see me as some kind of wicked step-mother or psycho harpy stealing their father from them. For kids, it’s confusing enough when your parents don’t live together and you’re split between two homes. Add another woman into the mix? Kids often wonder how they should partition their affections. If they hate the new woman, it’s easy. If they like her, it’s difficult because they feel loyalty to their mother.

I have the unique perspective of seeing what it’s like to be a mom without actually being a mom. The best part is that all I really have to do is be their friend. And that’s pretty cool. The problem with most moms is that you can’t fully be your child’s friend – not when you also have to be the disciplinarian, the maid, the cook, the counselor, and the chauffeur. More times than not you’re the person nagging them to pick up their socks 20 times a day, cleaning the dishes, reminding them to do their homework, helping them with their homework, and not doing any of the things you want to do. While you’re helping your children become better people, you lose sight of the person you used to be. All of this happens so slowly, it’s the day they leave for college that you find yourself scared, confused, and not sure what to do with yourself or how to communicate with people your own age. 20 years later you find yourself asking “OK, what now?”

Losing yourself in your children is a concept that scares the crap out of me. I like who I am and I’ve spent many years trying to figure that out. As a woman, I am naturally inclined to motherhood and I like the idea of my own children (or child). On the one hand, I want to create kick-ass human beings and there are so many good things about kids. On the other hand, I don’t want to forget who I am or spend the next 20 years picking up dirty socks that aren’t mine. I also want to travel, work on my career, discover things, and zone out to video games everyone once and a while. I also like the idea that if, if I ever wanted to, I could just pick up and leave. I might not, but the option is there.

There are people who say that you can retain yourself and still have children. I wonder. I think about all the moms I know and I find that in order to “stay cool” you must (at least somewhat) ignore your children to concentrate on your own life. And then there’s those moms that give it all to their kids and end up resentful and bitter.

I think one of the biggest mistakes moms make is allowing their families to believe that the house cleans itself over night. When I stay up late cleaning, I think, they’re going to wake up and not even notice the house is clean. It’s always this way. They leave, come back on the weekends and the house is magically clean. So who’s fault is it that kids don’t pick up after themselves? Mine. Their parents. The kids would do it if we asked, we just forget to ask. Next thing you know it’s 2am and the house looks like a tornado blew through it.

Truth is, moms really have no one to blame but themselves. Moms are, innately, the schedule keepers and the ones who keep a house running. Dads do alright, but if given the opportunity, they will happily let someone else do it – because it’s not fun. Therefore, in order to have a harmonious home where everyone chips in, moms have to make it happen. It’s a good deal of work to maintain that level of machine-like operation in a home. Not all moms are up to the challenge. Rather than pull everyone away from their homework, TV watching, internet surfing, or phone talking – which is a hassle – sometimes it’s just easier to do it themselves. Resentment follows.

Answers? No answers. Just comments.

I Just Made Dinner…

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I was sort of thrust into an unfamiliar role: Soon to be step-mom for 3 kids; one of which is a teenager and the other two are soon-to-be teenagers. Many people have called my situation a “ready made family”, but there’s nothing ready made about it. In fact, I’ve come to realize that making a family takes a great deal of effort and patience. They’re not my kids and I have no real obligation to do anything with them or for them. Thing is, I love AJB’s kids. They’re 3 of the greatest kids I’ve ever met and I feel as though I’ve really lucked out. Granted, there have been bumps along the road, but nothing that a little logic and patience can’t overcome. Or perhaps it’s the other way around?

That said, I’ve always loved cooking. I love experimenting and making food that results in yummy noises at the table. I have a fairly exotic palate, but AJB will eat whatever I place in front of him. I’m also a vegetarian with vegan tendencies. AJB’s kids are not and do not. Unlike most kids, they’ve seen the world and have done a great deal of traveling. Although, like most kids, they also enjoy just about everything that’s bad for you, filled with sugar, loaded with carbs, and made on an assembly line. They enjoy easy food that is wrapped in too much protective plastic and slathered in far too many preservatives. If that wasn’t enough, AJB’s twin boy is an extremely picky eater and doesn’t handle change very well. I, however, believe that food directly effects your health, mood, and longevity. Good food from good sources means you’re in tune with nature, your community, and your body.

So how do I balance my needs and the desires of AJB’s kids? It hasn’t been easy. They visit every Wednesday and two weekends a month. On those nights, I try to cook, but sometimes it’s just not possible. We end up ordering take-out or pizza for the umpteenth time. In order for me to cook, I need to prepare rather heavily. This means shopping once a week and making a meal plan. I also work best with recipes or items I know and love. I’ve also figured out that if I introduce organic/vegetarian meals that look and taste like the bad foods they love, the reception is a lot better. For example, tonight I made organic, homemade pizza followed by organic/macrobiotic poppy seed cookies. Both went over very well. If I were to say “you know, you’re eating macrobiotic cookies,” first of all, I’d have to explain what macrobiotic is. Secondly, they might not like them as well. AJB’s twin boy always seems to ask me what’s in the food and I tell him, but I never use terminology like “vegetarian”, “vegan”, or “gluten-free”. It’s not important. What is important is that they enjoy it and so far, they have. Once or twice they’ve commented that the pasta was weird, but they ate it anyway. So, there you go.

Learning to feed 3 children with 3 different personalities has been a challenge, but it’s one that I’ve grown into and have come to enjoy. It’s a far cry from where I was a few years ago – wondering if I could handle it, having mild panic attacks at the thought of being a step mom, and fretting that I might blow a quiet fuse. You know what? It’s all gone so well that I can’t say I have any complaints. What I really want, besides feeding AJB’s kids good, healthy food, is for them to recall these days with fondness. To recall that their future step-mom was pretty cool and she always made good eats. When they go off to college, they’ll think back and miss these home cooked meals. It’s so important to sit around the table and eat together. It’s the foundation of a happy family and I’m more than content to do my part.

It’s funny, people have always told me I’m good with kids and I guess I am. I often wonder about having my own kid(s). I’ve stepped into the step mom role rather well and am trying to maintain a good balance between being cool and being responsible. It’s a lot harder than you think.

* I want to start taking pictures of the food I make. Some of it actually looks really nice.