Hassle

My friend, Pam and I went to lunch yesterday. We had a waitress who was probably late 40's but was trying really hard to look about 25. She was bleached blond and had that lip liner issue that makes me want to turn into an intrusive old lady who uses her licked thumb to clean off other people's faces. (Either keep up with your lipstick or quit using liner!) And she had definitely spent too much time in the tanning bed. She was a little forgetful (or tipsy, not sure which) and mentioned that it was her five children that had made her that way (forgetful, not tipsy). She could have left it at that, but she went on. She explained that her children had made her crazy. That when her 17 year old daughter had come to her and asked to live with her dad that this waitress/mom/forgetful tanner had tried her best to look pathetic and sad but inside she was doing the happy dance. She was basically telling us that she was relieved to be rid of her teenage daughter. I laughed appropriately (?) and in my own subtle way tried to end this weird conversation.

Pam emailed me last night and asked if I was going to blog about this lady. Hmmmm.

At dinner Anna Grace asked me how many more bites of her grilled cheese she had to eat and how much more soup she had to slurp before she could be done. Caleb said, "As many bites as it takes." I teasingly asked him if he'd always wanted to say that and he said that's what he'd tell his own kids someday. Then I asked them both if they wanted kids when they grow up. They said no.

"Why?"
"Because kids are a hassle."
"Seriously???"
"Yes," giggling.

That got me thinking. Have I communicated that I think kids are a hassle? Have I, without being a blond, overly browned 40+ waitress, communicated that parenting is a heavy burden that I'd rather not carry? Do they really think that I'd do a happy dance if I was relieved of the responsibility?

Now, having lived with a teenager for almost a year and anticipating Caleb entering his teen years in just under two months, I can understand a certain amount of relief. Imagine someone else being responsible for the day-to-day decisions or for controlling the facial reactions to the mood swings that come with middle school.

There have been many times when I've acted like it was such an inconvenience that they had to eat to live. I've been put out when they ask me to tuck them in at night. I avoided getting down on the floor and playing with them when they were still into Thomas the Train. I've preferred reading a good book over engaging them in conversation. I've put in a second movie for them so that I could have more uninterrupted time to do what, exactly? I've rolled my eyes when they asked me the same question for the fourth time in a row. I've complained (loudly) that "no one picks up after themselves." I've said no to countless offers to play "a quick game of Monopoly." And they're going to leave.

They'll be gone before I know it. And there will be regrets. I hate it, but it's true. I will wish back all the meals, the bedtime prayers, the missed conversations, the repetitive questions, the strewn socks and the endless games. I already wish them back and they're still here.

I don't want to live a life of regret. I don't want to see this like it's a done deal. I want my words and my body language and my attitudes to reflect what's REALLY true about my life. I want to cherish the days that I get to spend with my kids. I want Emma to know that taking her shopping for a dress is fun because it's an excuse to spend time with her. I want Caleb to know that sitting on the edge of his bed at night isn't an obligation but an honor, pure joy. I want Anna Grace to know that helping her with her torturous 4th grade homework isn't torture, but that it's a chance for us to learn together and for me to cheer her on.

It boils down to being thankful, deep in my heart, don't you think? I want to be filled up and overflowing with the knowledge of what I've been given. I want to look at my children and have visions of wrapping paper and bows and cake with ice cream. They are 3 of the 4 best gifts I've ever received. And they better believe it!

Couch

Ok. So. My sister, Lorraine knew this day was coming. And I'm not even going to verbalize it, like out loud. I'm just going to write it down and hope that she doesn't bring it up. I hate my couch. Ben's eyes are avoiding mine. He's trying his hardest not to scream, "I TOLD YOU SO!!"

We've had several couches over the years. The first, a white couch from the 'damaged room' of a strip mall furniture store in a po-dunk Georgia air force town, cost us about $200. If. Then we added to our living room furniture by paying a small sum for a friend's brown velour-ish puffy couch. You know the kind: the head cushions are attached at the top edge of the couch so that when you're moving the couch they hang upside down like they'd rather be anyplace but on this crappy couch. When we made the move to Denver we rid ourselves of the brown couch, but hung on to the white(-ish) one. My folks came for our first Colorado Thanksgiving and my mom agreed to help me reupholster the couch. I was really into different fabrics combining on one piece of furniture, shabby chic. So we did a mint green for the body of the couch and fruit fabric for the cushions. Then there was a really cool 50's couch that I paid $15 for at an estate sale. Out went the re-do and in came the old, yet original. Ben detests garage sale, consignment store, goodwill anything so we decided to do the next purchase right.

Out went the old, yet original and in came our first brand new, undamaged couch , love seat and chair. We went to Krause's sofa factory where you could design your own stuff. Pick a style and then pick any fabric you desire. Well, much to Ben's dismay, I chose a gray/brown/green color for the couch, a sunshine yellow for the love seat and a plaid to tie it all together for the chair. And I use the phrase "tie it all together" in the loose sense. We hung on to that furniture for quite a long time. And before we moved to Asheville we sold it for nothing at a garage sale. The gray/brown/green (our family couldn't agree on what that color was exactly) was stained and the yellow love seat had red kool-aid on it.

We moved to the furniture capitol of the U.S. And I had about $800 to spend on a couch. That's not a lot when you're trying to pick a good, solid couch. We went everywhere and everything just seemed boring, too traditional. I should have gone with it. My sister, Lorraine, tried to help me learn from her mistakes. They got a great deal on their living room furniture but the legs have fallen off and the fabric is too nitch-y. She told me not to settle. "You want a sofa that will stand the test of time." Instead I went to Sofa Express and picked a white background with black/gray ticking stripes. That was two years ago. The other day I was trying to get my vacuum extension under the couch and realized that part of the frame has broken and it's sagging an inch or two from the floor. My parents avoid sitting on the couch because once they're IN there, they need assistance to extricate themselves. The fabric is dingy and I would give anything for a boring, traditional couch in a neutral forgettable color. Can I get an AMEN?