The single life...

One more thought that kept rattling around in my head during my recent business trip without the family....

As I am a people-watcher...I, well, watch people...all the time...

Often I make up stories in my head about the people I watch.

But the thought was constantly in my mind as I watched the hurried, harried travelers this past weekend...how many of them are lonely?

This culture tells us that kids are burdens. That to be single and free is the ultimate lifestyle...you know....nothing to tie you down...

But I was so thankful for my family...as I missed them so...my life is so full of love...

I am, if you say burdened...then blessed overwhelmingly with my "burdens"

Traveling Solo

Had a very strange experience...

I traveled withOUT my kids and dearest hubby last weekend.

I had to go to take care of some business in the South with the choir I manage so I was up early on Friday, leaving home at 5 am. Traveling by shuttle to the airport got me there 2 hours prior to my flight. Then...the dreaded words came after a 1 hour delay..."Flight XXX has been canceled" Gotta love it...

I was re-booked on another airline for a flight 3.5 hours later (for those of you keeping score at home...that amounts to 6.5 hours of chill time in the airport.) They lost my bag, of course, and I was without a change of underwear...but something else was strange...

I had no children with me.

Professional business travelers when faced with the above scenario get ticked...some, red hot mad. While traveling with our entire brood, such news would have nearly caused me to stroke...but alone, in the airport....now that was interesting...

I was entirely self-absorbed. I did computer work. Read a book nearly through. Went to the bathroom whenever I needed to. Chose the "restaurant" where I purchased my breakfast and lunch. Cut no one's food up. Completely zoned out for periods of time...looking at nothing....thinking about nothing. Played a computer game on my laptop. It was amazing...

And the joy...no, the peace I experienced during this "disaster" of a traveling day revealed some truth in my life...

When a day stranded in the airport...seems that it is as pleasurable as a day at the spa...

You've got a hectic life...

Fair Time...with my family...

It's been six years since I could share the local fair with MY family.

I've spent the last six years broadcasting live from the fair, a radio talk show. And, telling the truth, for the first several years...I loved it. It was great fun to see people, to listen to them and then to use them as show material.

But today...a rare treat...I was exclusively at the fair...with my kids. We took leisurely walks through the animal barns, sat aimlessly watching a magic show, enjoyed obscure sights and sounds and just ENJOYED the fair.

What a joy. What a joy!

Life is so often too busy...rushed...adrenaline our fuel of choice...but not today...

Had a long time listener see me. She inquired of my non-radio life and she said...

"You look so healthy...so rested...like you're really ENJOYING yourself..."

Yeah...you can say that again...How could I not?

...these are the good days...

Conflict...does it make the world go 'round?

I've been pondering some deep thoughts recently.

Okay...not deep for any of you Mensa cardholding readers...but deep for me.

Conflict, as constant as the sunrise and it's setting.

Yet, as Westerners...we mask conflict and the anxiety it creates with all sorts of tools. Anyone for a cigarette? Too uncouth now? How about a drink? Would you feel better if you just went shopping and bought something new for your home or your closet? A nice dinner out with a big, decadent dessert?

Maybe the "feeling" of conflict is only afforded those of us who have little concern for anything vital...abundant food, medicine, clean drinking water...many children no doubt think that water has always come from the tap at the sink...not the river. We've got no crucial, survival things to worry about...so we can mull over offenses and miscommunications.

Many of us will do anything to avoid conflict. We lie to ourselves...to others...

"Its really not that bad"..."No really, I'm not upset with you"..."I'll just get over it with a little distance."

But living life, a life where you're in the present, takes courage to face it.

Just reflecting on the past week there's been a fair amount of conflict and each time a choice to make. To live in the present, to feel the anxiety and yet to push through it and face up or to avoid it...anyway I can.

There's that moment, when the conflict is close and personal, when you're emotions can lead you to rage or tears...and it takes intent to maintain control. To choose the correct words, ones that you'll not regret, not unduly hurtful...but still honest...on point.

Does it ever get easier?

Because as a Westerner...the most intellegent question I can muster is...does it ever get easier?

Easy does it...right?

The Sunday Night Swap

I've seen it in two different parking lots around my home here lately.

On Sunday evening....about 6 pm...two cars pull up to parallel spots at the end of the parking lot. In the spots far removed from the store.

They're not there to shop, they're certainly not there for fun...they're there to fulfill a court-ordered arrangement...the child swap...

Sometimes the cars have other passengers in them...the new wife or boyfriend...the "exes" meet out back near the trunk where they hand off the offspring.

I'm drawn to it.

The human drama of a kid's life when he swapped from one house to the next... He hugs tightly the departing parent...obviously unwilling to let go...but he has no vote...definately not the age of majority...

I lived it.

I'm not a particulary "navel gazing" type. If I spent too much time thinking about the deep marks left by the shoes of the past on my soul...I'd have to deal with it...I'd rather not.

Clearly...I'm not in touch with a therapist...

Yet, this drama lived out in parking lots around my home grabs me at tender spot...and I experience some some sort of foundational memory...that stirs me powerfully...like my very identity is scraped again by the rake of "disfunctionality."

I'm not pious or delusional about divorce...it could happen to the best marriage...even mine...

But somewhere in the "Mommy and Daddy want to do what is best for you, even though we don't live together anymore" I felt like merchandise...swapped in the grocery store parking lot...

...Every Sunday night...

There's a BARBIE in OUR HOUSE?

My 5 year old exclaimed today..."there's a BARBIE in OUR HOUSE?"

It was so funny that my darling husband and I busted out with involuntary laughter.

Perhaps you don't understand why this is so funny? Ah...you see...

We are a BARBIE FREE home. At least we used to be.

While I know that in itself makes our home bizarre...I've endured many barbs about our Barbie Free policy...but I've remained firm in my resolve...until...

Last summer when we traveled to China and stayed at the legendary White Swan Hotel in Guangzhou, we received, as everyone does, the "Going Home Barbie." Specially produced by Mattel, the "Going Home Barbie" is for adoptive families. Barbie, blond and impossibly built as usual is attired in a short little skirt, equally as impossible high-heels and a Chinese Baby.

I know quite a few adoptive families. As yet, I haven't seen one mother who looks like Barbie. But you see, that's what brings me back to my disdain for her. No one looks like her that hasn't been either surgically enhanced or digitally remastered.

I'm saying Adoption Barbie should look like many of us adoptive moms...desperately in need of a manicure (who can afford them after paying for the adoption costs), in good walking shoes (chasing after 1 toddler is tough...but for some of us adoptive families...try 3 or more) and in an ample skirt (because many of us eat chocolate for the final weeks of stress waiting for our Travel Approvals!)

So today my 7 year old found the "Going Home Barbie" and was dancing around with it. This is largely because we have never had a Barbie in the home. Periodically the question comes up from one of my kids "Mom, why don't we play with Barbies?" And I drone on with my cerebral explanation that "Barbie is anatomically impossible." "I don't want you girls to think that the ideal woman looks like Barbie." "You're beautiful and capable just the way God made you, whether a brunette or short, etc" Truthfully, I'm in touch with the reality that all they hear is "WE DON'T ALLOW BARBIE HERE. WE HATE BARBIE."

So imagine the utter disbelief in the voice of my 5 year old as she stumbled out of bed this morning and beheld with her unfocused eyes... A BARBIE in the hands of her sister....INSIDE her home! She exclaimed in the most curious, amazed and dumbfounded fashion...."There's a BARBIE in OUR HOUSE?"

Note to self...find a new resting place for Going Home Barbie...sleeping with the fishes?

I Said I'd Never Own a Mini-Van

Yeah...well...

When the dear husband and I first married, I laughed, heartily, at any suggestion of a minivan in my future. It was a shocked, throw your head back, scoff indignantly..."I'm far too cool"...sort of response. I saw minivans as wholly too grounded, too common for the future I had in store.

Was it my mother who said..."Never say Never, Dear!"?

Today, as we await our final travel authorization to adopt the latest in our string of blessings, otherwise known as kids...we went vehicle "looking." I should add at this moment that I lost my minivan innocence about 8 years ago now. Truly, I loved my minivan. In a possessive, "you satisfy my every need" way. I had not only compromised from my staunch position of disdain for the minivan...I now cherished one.

But, as we await child number 7, the minivan is not sufficient. It leaves much to be desired. There's not enough room, not a big enough engine for the weight its pulling around and the children are growing in size and number!

So today, we began vehicle "looking" for the "mothership." Literally. The mothership...as I have come to know it ...is a 12 passenger, 1 ton, Maxivan. Nigh only one year ago the darling husband tried to get me to consider the Maxivan...but I laughed...strangely reminiscent of days gone by when discussing the minivan. But today...I am ready for the mothership...I sat in the captain's chair tonight gazing back over the 2,3 no 4 rows of seats and imagined just how many times I would curb those tires. I considered how I may have missed my calling as a public transit driver or a friendly school bus driver...now...I'm readying myself to pilot my very own mothership. Gone are any and all concerns about being "cool." Now I want all that space so I can silence the "She touched me!!!!" screams from the vehicle!

I think I'm falling in love again...

Need a ride?

"Self-Check Out"

I have hated them.

I hate the new "Self Check Out" stands cropping up at my area grocery stores and retailers.

At first, I was enticed. Some of us, I think, have a little curiosity as to the mysterious role of the checker at the market. It's facinating to hear the beeps, marvel at the bar codes and to wonder if you had to; could you beat your checker in a check-out race?

These things should be outlawed.

First of all, due to the world in which we live, there is rightful concern on the part of the stores that someone will take advantage of the system and try to steal from them. So the machines are hyper-sensitive and prone to flash the red light above your station indicating that an idiot is trying to check out. I've had more conversation with the "Self Check Out" attendants than any checker who did the work for me in the past.

Secondly they are an absolute magnet for kids...who like you, wonder all the above things about the mysterious role of grocery store checker. They cannot wait to be the one to scan the things by their barcodes, hear the beep and push buttons on the touchscreen to complete the transaction.

Everytime I've been lured to those blasted things, I've regretted it.

Today was no exception...

I was trying to check out with 3 items + 4 kids = the idiot alarm being sounded 4 times!

The scale is so sensitive, that any toddlers fingers can set off the light. The magic eye thingy that reads the barcode easily scans things twice when you're trying to break up some hand to hand combat between 2 year olds, again setting off the idiot alarm. Then, inevitably, something rings up incorrectly so I HAVE TO ASK FOR FURTHER ASSISTANCE, to clear up the problem.

Everytime I've been lured...I've regretted it...everytime...

I'm swearing it off...no more self-check out...or else I'll likely be self checking IN to a mental institution!