January 2013 – from midnight oil

Push ‘Pause’

January 17, 2013 frommidnightoilLeave a comment

Like this - but in a snow storm — Like this – but in a snow storm

When people ask me how we’re doing, how life is, I inevitably reply “crazy” and then immediately feel like an asshole. Here’s the thing – we are living the same life most of you are living (or have lived through OR are quickly on your way to experiencing). I, WE, are no different from any other working family with active, school-aged children. What I do is not exceptional, it’s what we all do.

Nearly every day is a sprint-to-the-finish mission to just effing lay down. We herd kids, we drive kids, maybe we even teach kids. We go from sports practice to music practice to off-season sports practice to homework time to are-you-seriously-telling-me-your-science-book-is-at-school and where did you leave your pants?! time. I’m not sure about you, but by the time I’m halfway through my dinner glass of wine I am ready to hit the ground. As in, I would curl up ON the ground, with or without a blanket, and go to sleep if anyone would let me. But the dogs need to go out and the dishes aren’t done and my work bag is glaring at me from the corner and, insert your own after-dinner demon. I do not tend to end my evenings reflecting on how well my day has gone on the parent, partner, teacher scale.

Thank God this has finally happened.

Snow came yesterday and graciously canceled all after school activities, freeing up two or three extra after-school hours for us. I had a migraine and I had papers to grade, but had the odd ambition to run and swim. I’ll fill you in soon on exactly why and how fitness and general self-care left my life for a few months, but for now just know that this was a rare event. I decided to pick Colby up from school on-time and head over to the University of Maine rec center for a run and a swim.

Colby was both compliant AND excited (an anomaly these days) and packed quickly. I planned for him to use the indoor track with me to run and then hit the pool and hot tub. When I came out of the changing room (single mothers with male children – we need an entirely different post about the inherent problems with this system) he was nowhere to be found. Three frantic text messages and ten minutes later I spotted him on the basketball court with a bunch of his friends playing a pickup game. Once I was done being pissed about his lack of communicating his whereabouts I was elated – I got my solo run upstairs!

After I finished my (first in a looooong time) ssllllloooooowwwww and sweaty two miles, during which I realized some running pants actually do require you to wear underwear, I went downstairs and found Colby like this:

Happy and sweaty, just like his Mama.

We swam in the pool and soaked in the hot tub and left feeling like entirely different (and better) people. We kept asking each other “Uh – why don’t we do this all the time?”.

It took nearly a million years to get home on the snowy roads, but it was the best spent time we’ve had in so very long.

Here’s hoping that I won’t forget this small fact: we need to play, to hit pause in the general craziness of our lives, if we plan on enjoying any of it.

Best wishes for a great day, friends.

Brussels Sprouts and Shenanigans

January 7, 2013January 7, 2013 frommidnightoilLeave a comment

It’s Sunday night, but contrary to our usual Sunday schedule, today went pretty well. Colby and I went to early mass, out to lunch, and then I dropped him off at his friend’s house for a bit. I sent myself directly to Starbucks to drink tea and grade like a fiend. In less then three hours I was able to grade approximately 120 assignments and make a comprehensive grocery list.

Matt has been a total BUTTHOLE. I get to say that because, well, I’m the one at the keyboard. But he really, really was and I was really, really pissed. We’re on the tail end of our first (horrific) home improvement project and while on most days we really are quite amicable, this has brought out the worst in both of us. I’ve made a point to be out of the house for the past couple of days so he could finish up his end without interference from me and also so he can’t be mad at me for sitting on my ass while I do work (that honestly, must be done while I am sitting on my ass). But I digress.

By the time Colby and I returned with groceries Matt was nice and apologetic which immediately translates into “everyone leave mama alone in the kitchen so she can drink a vigorous glass of wine while she cooks.”

Jam jar or wine glass? You be the judge.

So I turned on my own music and poured a glass a wine and got down to business with a bag full of brussels sprouts after I made as many ‘balls in a bag’ jokes as I could. What I ended up with was a loose approximation of Smitten Kitchen’s take on Michael Chiarello’s Winter Panzanella. Smitten’s adaptation is great, but I made a few tweaks myself. In lieu of spending an hour cutting squash, I bought a pre-cut bag and halved the pieces that needed to be smaller. I used a pound of brussels sprouts instead of a 1/2 pound and was quite glad that I did. The recipe called for them to be quickly cooked in salted water, but I chose to roast them in a 400 degree oven. Water in my salad grosses me out. I’m on my second glass of wine so I guess I’ll get that recipe up for you tomorrow. But really, try this. You all know how much and how frequently I love my chickpea panzanella and this is my new way to fill that void during the Maine winter (when I cannot stand to eat anything cold).

Look Dad! I finally ate my brussels sprouts!

I thought this was my sexy apron, but no one agrees with me. Seriously.

Colby says "next time - no vinegar based dressing" — Colby says “next time – no vinegar based dressing”

Matt says "next time - add beets and cook everything more." It's not my fault the man likes his vegetables overcooked, I'm just not going to do it for him. — Matt says “next time – add beets and cook everything more.” It’s not my fault the man likes his vegetables overcooked, I’m just not going to do it for him.

And the after-dinner shenanigans. Oy. That project I was talking about? The stairs and upstairs hallway are covered in polyurethane and someone left the radio on upstairs. We had to put Colby through the drop vent to turn it off . . .

-and drops down his Santa given potato chips for safe keeping - — -and drops down his Santa given potato chips for safe keeping –

-and he lands. And is hit on the head by a briefcase that followed him down.

Only here. Only on a Sunday. Eat your vegetables, friends. I’ve gotta go. Downton Abbey is on in 7 minutes!

Reality Strikes

January 6, 2013 frommidnightoilLeave a comment

I can come up with a million over-used euphemisms about the nature of parenting, but we all know what is really going on here.

Sometimes, this shit is not fun or easy.

While I feel like I SHOULD preface this with the standard “I love my child and am so thankful that he is here and healthy and ALIVE”, maybe we shouldn’t have to do that. Maybe we should live in a world where we all assume that we love our kids and are doing the best jobs we can do. Even when we are really, really frustrated and not digging the whole parenting job in general.

Here’s the thing, C and I had a wonderful day today, and these days don’t come often. It was one of those days where I could see the kid he was (and the man he’s becoming) peeking out through layers of pre-teen, testosterone-fueled angst. Like sunshine streaking through clouds of the most violent August thunderstorm. One minute he’s telling me all the reasons why being an only child will ruin his life and the next? He’s holding the door open for thirty people and, smiling, telling them to have a nice day. One night he will kiss me on the cheek and give me a hug before bed – for reasons unknown to me. The next morning he will stomp through the house with the thick, tangible demeanor of a teenager with the entire world against him.

On those bad days, when I pick him up at school and on the way home hear the litany of things he hates and all that went wrong at school and oh, by the way, he has two detentions next week – it’s all I can do to keep my hands on the wheel. I try to breathe deeply and imperceptibly, but some days I sigh in audible frustration and disapproval. Some days I say words that I can never take back – words he will remember for his whole life. I drive home those days and wish that I could be one of those parents who always liked their kids – one of the parents whose kids always wanted to be home and willingly went on family vacations. I remember what it’s like to feel that dislike, that disapproval, as a middle-aged child. I have spent SO much time trying to figure out what I can do to help – but this week I realized something.

I spend all my time trying to figure out what I can do to make him act the way I want him to.

There’s a twinge of manipulation in this that, the more I think about it , doesn’t sit well with me. His life is not going to be irreparably damaged because he doesn’t want to be on math team or because he doesn’t obsessively practice his penalty kicks. Does he have incredible talent in both of those areas? Yes. Does he need to be 150% invested to gain any benefits from these activities? No. My boy, he loves music. He’s more perceptive than I wanted him to be, but because of this, he loves poetry.Because he questions everything, he will sometimes get into trouble. Also, because has a keen ability to turn a humorous phrase. He can make an instrument out of garbage and a symphony out of any chore.

That, my friends, is more than enough.