Month: October 2014
Landmines in the Bedroom
I remember listening to a teaching once in regard to couples who were engaged to be married soon. Each of the couple grew up in a family where that family dynamic was their “normal”. Instinctively each of them would be bringing that “normal” into their new marriage. The opportunity for a collision of worlds was inevitable and to be expected. The goal in understanding this truth was to begin making their own new “normal” together as a new family.
My personal enlightenment to this truth hadn’t come from a nice clean-cut teaching early on in our marriage, but rather in the trenches of real life experience. Like many newly married couples Marm and I worked out our “normal” as each situation arose.
I grew up in a “normal” where bedtime was strictly observed and routine was important. Brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom, got my drink, said goodnight to the folks, and went off to bed in my room. There was no talking or making noise, and I certainly didn’t come out again until morning. I had no problem with this routine what-so-ever. It was my normal.
Fast forward with me now and you find a married man with a house full of children. The crib over the years had always been beside our bed. The babies were at hand in our room for easy access during the night, and for a sense of belonging and being close to us. Our family “normal” looked completely different from the ones we had grown up with as kids.
Our children loved to sleep with us. This was fine when they’re very little, and very practical. Having the baby in the bed with us was amazing and I loved it. As they grew bigger and slept at every angle known to man, it became more of a challenge.
To solve this dilemma we made beds on the floor in our room for the kids. Sleeping bags, pads, blankets, pillows, and “stuffies” of varied shapes and sizes were everywhere. A birdseye view of the room would never be a picture that made it into a “Boudoirs of the Rich and Famous”. It was a deliciously chaotic scene.
After the bedtime preparations were complete the kids would crawl into their floor beds and begin dropping off to sleep. We loved having them so close, and they did too.
Mornings were a bit trickier. I was the first to rise in our family, the proverbial early bird. 4 or 5 o’clock was my normal time to wake up, and as such required the utmost quiet. The first thing I had to do before making a move of any sort was to remember where the kids were on the floor the night before. Let’s see, one on the floor by my side of the bed, one at the corner at my end of the bed, one over on the floor by Marm’s side at the end, and so on. That’s how it looked when we put them to bed anyway. It’s morning now and they have had the entire night to change things up. It was that “move at every angle known to man” thing.
The second thing to do was make a visual inspection. At 5:00 in the morning it’s still dark outside, so night lights were my heroes. “Shoot, they’ve moved,” I would whisper under my breath while beginning the assessment. Once I made out their new general locations it was time to move on to step three. Where are their appendages?
I can still feel to this day placing a carefully misguided foot down on top of an arm or leg that shouldn’t have been there. How can a child all curled up at the bottom of a sleeping bag have their arm sticking out just waiting for me to step on it? I wish I had home movies of me negotiating this maze. I would carefully thread my way in and around their little bodies silent as a mouse . More than once I had accidentally stepped on the long hair of one of the girls and felt it tugging on their head. The little groan from within the pile of blankets confirmed my findings. Yep, that was hair.
Ultimately and after a wildly awkward balancing act that should qualify me as a prima ballerina I would make it to my dresser and closet for the much-needed clothes for the day. It didn’t take me long before I was putting said clothes in the hallway the night before.
Marm and I would laugh together as I would relate these morning antics to her. We would remind each other that it wouldn’t too long and the kids would want to move to their own rooms and beds. Sadly, that was all too true.
It’s ironic that I am actually the only one who remembers these morning moments. After all, I was the only one awake to see them. Secretly I’m nursing the idea that some day soon my grandchildren will be old enough to sleep over, and maybe they’ll be the next set of landmines in the bedroom.
In coming!
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Too Pooped to Party
Back when Marm and I were in college and were “just being friends” we discussed things from A to Z. It never mattered how important or frivolous the topic. We loved to be together and spent hours talking to each other. She was the best friend I ever had and I simply couldn’t wait to see her each day.
One day while we were talking she asked me, “How many kids do you want to have when you get married?” I told her, ” I want a large family. Six is about right. How many kids do you want to have when you get married?”
“I want a large family too,” was her reply.
This didn’t surprize me since I already knew how much she loved children. I remember another box being checked off in my head in regard this wonderful woman. I was beginning to think she might be the one, but wasn’t willing to admit it to myself yet. I was already falling in love with her at this point.
Obviously we did get married and we did have that large family. Five wonderful children: Annie, Aaron, Abbey, Amber, and Amy. They are our filled quiver, our “handful”. Our house was full. Full of love. Full of memories being made. Full of surprises. Full of noise. Full of bedtime routines. Full of sleepless nights. Full of sick kids at times. Plainly put, it was packed full of life.
I remember how Marm and I would collapse onto our bed after an unusually hectic day and look at each other with that dazed “deer in the headlights” look. I asked her once at such a time, “Back when you asked me how many kids I wanted to have, did you ever envision all of this?”
“Nope, never did!” was all she said as she just sat there and stared. This was that rare quiet moment of the day that was filled with absolutely nothing, and we were too exhausted to actually enjoy it.
Here we were alone together. No kids clambering for something. No one yelling. No one doing something sneaky. No cries for water, another story, or another prayer over them. It was our time and whoop-tie-do.
Exhaustion warps reality. I remember how we would interact through the day. Short comments, my huffing and puffing at requests for needed help, her frustration in not wanting to have to deal with one more thing. It was so easy to be irritable. Impatience was always around the next corner. Miscommunication was inevitable and caused its own mess. Where were the days of ease when all I wanted was to see her as soon as possible; when being with her was enough and talking with her was the highlight of my day?
It was so easy to lose sight of her, of us, and the dream we had back then. Here we sat, a crumpled couple on the bed of our life. A heap of folk beaten down by the routine, whooped up on by the fulness we created. Then I would stop and see her again and see something at that moment I never told anyone, maybe not even her. Here was the lady I chose, the love of my life, and she said, “Yes”. She was more beautiful to me than ever as she sat there with her hair a bit ruffled, her clothes showing signs of the day’s activities, looking tired and worn out. I fell in love with her all over again and silently vowed to be less irritable and impatient. I told myself I wouldn’t huff and puff anymore when she needed help. I would listen better and communicate clearly.
As the years passed and our adventure unfolded I would break all of these vows numerous times, but I’ve never stopped trying to keep them no matter how impossible it seemed.
Marm is and always will be my dream come true. And our family? They are now and always have been our dream come true. We aren’t as exhausted as in the past and it’s easier now to remember who we are together. Exhaustion brings an altered sense of reality about life while one is in the midst of it. I remember our times of being “too pooped to party” and the woman I shared it with, both then and now. We are living our dream together, and I am still head-over-heels in love with her.
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Embarrassment is Inevitable
I have to laugh when I hear the language of parents unexpectedly streaming out of the mouths of their children. If you want to know how parents react to life, just wait for the toddlers to start talking; they’ll tell ya. Embarrassment goes hand in hand with the parenting of our children. It’s unavoidable. Sometimes we get away with just a smidgen of it, but other times…there’s no place to hide. Nothing is sacred!
We were having dinner at our friends’ house one evening. We had met Gary and Linda at church. They were older than we were and had no kids at home. We had three at home and were fully engulfed in our adventure. Gary had the most unbelievably infectious laugh. It was a deep, rumbling from the gut, house shaking, conversation stopping belly laugh. Anyone who heard it, loved it. It didn’t matter where he was or what was happening at the time. If it was funny to him, he laughed, and then everyone else laughed.
Gary and I were relaxing in their livingroom. The ladies were prepping in the kitchen, and the kids were playing here and there. Gary was sitting in his easy chair and I was sprawled on my belly on the carpeted floor. I remember being tired and the soft carpet felt delicious. It was a great opportunity to doze a little before dinner and relax from my hectic schedule.
As I lay there I remember feeling a bit bloated. That “gassy” feeling that we all get from time to time. I knew that once dinner was announced I would excuse myself and briefly step outside. The carpet was so alluring I simply didn’t want to get up until I absolutely had to. Hindsight would say differently.
I can only imagine how inviting it must have been for Abbey as she saw me there on the floor. Abbey is our third child and second daughter, and she was as cute as they come. There has never been a mean bone in her body. Seeing me spread out on the floor looked like a normal part of our wrestling ritual and was too good to pass up. So without so much as a, “How do you do?” Abbey came up from behind and jumped squarely on my lower back. There was an immediate and explosive response.
Yep. You guessed it. I farted. This was no light duty sissy fart either. This was the kind that was supposed to happen to other people so you could laugh at them, and never…ever… while visiting at someone elses home. Sorry folks, but it was a cannon-shot, and I was suddenly flushed and bright red in the face.
That was all it took for Gary. He let out one of his famously instantaneous belly roars. He laughed and laughed and laughed. The house shook and still he couldn’t stop himself. Now everyone was laughing because it didn’t matter where you were in the house when it happened. Everyone heard it.
Why is it that when something like that happens there are so many things that zip through your mind in a flash?
Maybe I can pretend it didn’t happen. Was it really that loud and obvious? Do I come up with a snappy comeback? I should just play dumb like I don’t know what anyone is talking about.
Nope! This was one of those “no place to hide” moments. I was caught dead-to-rights. So, I did what everyone else was doing at the time. I started laughing at myself and this harshly embarrassing moment. There was nothing else to do. This took the notion of “getting to know people on a personal level” far beyond where it was ever meant to go.
It was a good lesson for me. I have a tendency to take myself too seriously. It’s a great mile post that I can look back on when I’m in that “oh so serious” mode of mine. Note to self: laugh with those who laugh, especially if you are the one caught in the cross-hairs of embarrassment.
There would be other moments to come because embarrassment is inevitable for parents. Ask me how I know? Go ahead…ask me, I double dog dare ya.
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“And it’s a bunch!”
Parents have opportunities in life that are unparalleled. You know as well as I that our kids can catch us flat-footed at any time. My dad has stated more than once over the years, “There’s no manual that comes with kids when they’re born.”
In some ways I agree with that statement, but will certainly offer up that, manual or no manual, there are those moments for which we are dismally unprepared. It’s hard enough at times to know what to do, but when your kid does something so audacious that all you want to do is laugh, it makes disciplining them nearly impossible.
Such was the case in the fall of 1986 . We had just recently moved to the Columbia River Gorge area. We were busy settling into the new home, the new job, and the new church. We had spent the last four years working in a small church on the coast of Washington state. That was the only church experience Annie had known. Our new church was larger in comparison. Regardless, Annie was undaunted.
One fine Sunday morning we went downstairs to the church basement and picked Annie up from Sunday School/Children’s Church like usual. She was her bubbly self and wanted to show us what she had found in her classroom. To our surprise Annie proudly presented us with a pile of money.
“Where did you get that?” Marm asked her.
“I found it in my classroom,” was her honest reply.
“Where in your classroom did you find it?” Marm persisted.
“It was in a little box-shaped like a church,” she piped happily.
Our daughter had just pilfered the Sunday School class offering and was pleased as punch about it.
Marm and I exchanged quick looks and whispers asking ourselves, “What are we supposed to do now?”
We determined that it wasn’t a huge deal since it was done in complete innocence. Yet, it was important enough to be addressed, after all she did rip-off the class offering. Having quickly decided how to handle it we chatted with our pastor and brought him into the loop. He agreed to talk with Annie about what she had done.
There we were standing in his office. Annie was in front of us with her back to us, and couldn’t see our faces. The pastor was facing Annie and we could see his face clearly as he talked with her.
Pastor Greg very gently explained, “You know Annie, it isn’t right to take things just because we see them. The things we see belong to other people and it’s important that we leave those things where we found them.” He further explained ,”God loves us and doesn’t want us to do that to other people because it’s stealing, and stealing is wrong.” I thought it was going quite well, then he asked her, “Annie, did you take the money out of the little church box in your Sunday School classroom?”
Annie was simply beaming as she stated excitedly, “Yes, I did… and it’s a bunch!”
Marm and I sharply caught our breath at this point stifling our cries of surprise. We pursed our lips together so hard it hurt and were visibly shaking as we kept ourselves from laughing out loud. I was starting to sweat from the effort.
Poor Pastor Greg could see us clearly from where he stood and was helpless to do anything since he had to maintain that touch of seriousness so needed to make his point. Seeing him pretending not to be affected by her answer made it all the worse for us as we tried to hold it together. By now, tears were streaming down our faces and our hands covered our mouths.
Once he was done and Annie had handed over the contraband we all hugged each other and laughed hysterically. “Can you believe she said that,” was all we could say to each other.
Where do our kids come up with this stuff? I’m at a complete loss. On the flip side, it does serve as a good reminder for me. Don’t take things so seriously that I forget to laugh at life a little.
“And it’s a bunch!” What a line.
Curls & Capes 