Maybe Santa Claus Ate My Pants

It's a mystery. It's a miracle. My son's school uniform pants have vaporized. Yep, disappeared. Right before our eyes . . . well, almost.

It all may have started when he had a day off this past Monday. Since it was a day of civil service, a day to be productive citizen, I called upon my 8 year-old son to clean his room. Nothing makes an 8 year-old a more productive part of society than a clean room. Not only does it have the immediate and obvious benefits, it also contributes to a feeling a harmony in the community/family that cannot be understated.

However.

Now we are embroiled in an unsettling mystery. A struggle between fantasy and reality.

There are no uniform pants.

This will happen when an 8 year-old is sent to his room with the vague instructions of, "Clean it." What constitutes clean to an adult, namely orderliness, constitutes unnecessary compulsion to an 8 year-old. No, to an 8 year-old, clean is more a matter of "out of sight, out of mind." Those pants won't be a problem any longer. They have been removed from the back of the chair and put . . . well, let's not get bogged down in the details. The chair looks clean, doesn't it? Okay then.

Not until the return to school, Wednesday morning, did the mystery reveal itself. There are no uniform pants. Anywhere.

Now, you and I know they are somewhere. Pants don't just disappear. Pants don't just vaporize. But my son's big brown innocent eyes reflect the honest belief that they did just disappear. To him, that is the most logical explanation. Not that they are stuffed under the bed. Not that they got pushed to the back of the closet. Not that they got jammed into the emptiest, yet least logical, dresser drawer. Nope. That is far more far-fetched in my son's mind. The pants have ceased to exist. He is sure of it and is at peace with it.

Isn't it interesting -- I'm using a positive word here, did you notice? -- how our children are so much more open to these possibilities than we are? To use a more accurate word, how about "bizarre?" Why and how can they honestly believe that pants just de-materialize? I mean, it's not like the adults in their lives have fed them a steady diet of the mystical. No. There is no big, white bunny that comes to their house every spring, lets himself in, and leaves behind baskets of candy and toys. No one ever snatches their lost teeth from under their pillows in exchange for crisp new dollar bills. No one ever took them to see a kindly old man dressed in a furry red suit who takes note of their every wish and does his best to deliver a few weeks later. Nawwww.

I don't know where these kids get these ideas. Pants . . . disappearing? Now that's hard to swallow.

Time . . . Is A Many Splendored Thing.

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. I know it sounds cliche', but, seriously, where did the time go? Or should I say, where did I go?

Fifteen years ago, I was 24 years old. I was working full time and going to college full time in the evenings. I was half-way through my undergraduate degree and had made up my mind to attend law school thereafter. I was full of plans, confidence, and ambition. I knew what I wanted and how to get it.

My fiance'/now husband was the same. He also worked full time and attended college full time. We chose to get married in January as it was semester break. We couldn't afford to take any time off from school; we were that focused. Returning from our honeymoon, we both began new jobs -- part time and attended college full time, during the day. We finally finished our undergraduate degrees. My husband found a job in his field and has been very successful. I attended law school and graduated in 1998.

I played at having my own law practice for approximately a year. Upon getting pregnant, I gladly folded up shop and embraced my new life as a new mother. Eight years later, I am a stay-at-home mother to two wonderful kids. When I got married, I was out of the house at least 14 hours every day for work and school. Homework and studying, additional. Now I am home round the clock. Some days, I don't even get out of the house except for driving my kids to and from school.

That is not to say I am not happy or not fulfilled, but it is certainly a different lifestyle than I had been living. And I am a different person. Is this who I am? Or was that who I am? I guess I could answer yes to both questions as time certainly changes people. But the truth is, I do feel like I am not all I am supposed to be right now. That driven person. That competitive person. That confident person. Where is she? I think she is lying, buried under the layers and layers of ashes of self-doubt that is parenthood. Does anything really rock your self-confidence as much as parenthood?

What's that Jacqueline Kennedy quote? Something like, "If you bumble raising your children, nothing else you ever do much matters." I have always remembered that. There is no more important job on earth, yet there is no more complex and confusing one. If only our children knew how uncertain their parents often are. It seems for every decision one makes in parenting, there is an equally good argument for the other decision. And you're talking about lives here. The lives of the people who are most precious to you. No small thing. In college, if you make a wrong decision, your grade suffers. In parenting, if you make a wrong decision, your child suffers. Big responsibility.

Maybe I need to work outside the home to regain my confidence. Or maybe I need to work outside the home to relieve stress. My husband, ever-so-stressed at work, would laugh to hear me say that. But, really. To work at a job where, occasionally, you KNOW you have done something correctly; to have an instant gratification or reassurance that you've done good. That is appealing and would probably feed a certain part of my soul.

I am bumbling here. Just thoughts.

I just know there is a need in me for something more. I just don't know what, specifically.

Fifteen years ago, I knew everything I wanted and how to get it. And I did it. And then I wanted something else. And I got it. And now I want something more, but I don't know what it is or how to get it.

I thought we grew wiser as we grow older.

It's Pea Soup In Here

Today, I cooked for the first time in at least a week. Well, okay, I don't know if I can call this actual "cooking." I assembled a fine split pea soup in my crockpot. Yum. We had the ubiquitous Christmas ham bone languishing in the 'fridge, just waiting to fulfill its ultimate calling: soup base.

This is the best recipe for split pea soup. Easy, tasty, reliable. (It can be halved, too, if you have no use for 4 quarts of soup, though it does freeze beautifully.)


2 pounds split peas -- rinsed
1 ham bone -- (If no ham bone, I have substituted 2 smoked turkey wings OR 1/4 c. ham base)
2 onions -- chopped
2 stalks celery -- chopped
4 cloves garlic -- pressed
1 bay leaf
3 quarts water -- (Try to use chicken broth if not using a ham bone.)
salt and pepper -- to taste


Put all ingredients into a crock pot, except the salt and pepper.
Cover and cook on high for 4 to 5 hours or low for 8 to 10 hours, or
until peas are very soft. Before serving, remove bones and bay leaf.
Salt and pepper to taste.

***

Beyond that, I'm still trying to get over this blasted pneumonia. Perhaps this is nature's way of making sure I am chomping at the bit to make the necessary changes this year. Somehow, with each passing day of "taking it easy," the call of the treadmill gets louder, the appeal of simple, healthy, whole food gets more enticing, and the more eager I am to get moving.

Breathing, Knitting, Healing . . .

I'm still down with pneumonia today. It's difficult to be enthusiastic about living each day in pursuit of my own excellence when it is a monumental undertaking just to walk a flight of stairs. However, I am freshly showered and in fresh pajamas and willing myself to be cured of this SOON.

But, today, I am resting -- yet again. I've dug out the log cabin blanket I starting knitting last winter. I put it away when the weather got too warm to want an afghan in your lap constantly. It seems just the perfect project to snuggle under while I convalesce.



This is a fun project, but the longer you work on it, the slower it goes. It's all garter (knit) stitch, which is good for when you don't want to think; the most challenging aspect of the project is choosing the next color to work with. (The instructions and pattern can be found in Mason-Dixon Knitting by Kay Gardiner and Ann Meador Shayne.) I highly recommend that book for a creative and easy-going look into knitting.

Well, I'm off to knit a bit and plan my next move to fabulousness . . .

Ready, Set . . . Where Am I Going?

So I have a year to prepare myself to turn 40. It's not that I dread turning 40. It's more that I view it as a checkpoint of sorts. A "how am I doing so far" moment. I'm glad I have one more year before checking in to answer the tough questions. I need time.

Today, it is gray . . . outside and inside. I have spent the past 2 weeks sick in one form or another. It started out with a cold. Then it became the flu. Then, full-out pneumonia. Because my daughter and I were sick, our family missed seeing our extended families for Christmas. We stayed home and were . . . well, sick. She's all better. (She's 5.) I'm still floundering. I view this as a warning sign, a wake-up call. Time to start taking better care of myself and being the woman I want to be, not the person I am by default.

A year from now, I don't want to be gray. I don't want to be weak and sick. I want to be strong and vibrant.

I have some work to do.

In order to see where I'm going, I guess you need to see where I am:

I am 39 years old. I have a law degree, but am currently a full-time stay-at-home mom. I have 2 children. My son is 8, in third grade. My daughter is 5, in kindergarten. My husband is generally wonderful, though, there is always room for improvement. Although I am generally healthy, I have a good deal of weight to lose. I must lose this weight to become the woman I want to be (much more on that later, I am sure). I also need to begin fulfilling my own creative and intellectual needs. While staying home to raise my children is certainly rewarding, as they grow and change, I become more mindful of my seeming stagnation these past 8 years. Yes, I have learned many things. I can calm a crying baby, keep a house clean while keeping a child amused. I can make bread from scratch and accompany it with a wonderfully soulful soup. I can remove most any stain from most any fabric, and I can quiz any single-digit multiplication table while driving or doing the dishes. However, I honestly question my capacity to think critically sometimes, to hold a train of thought for more than 45 seconds. I cannot remember what it feels like to be paid for my time or talents. While I have found much inner satisfaction in the work I have done these past 8 years, I must admit to a growing craving for outside validation, a yearning to rejoin the outside world where there is quantification of time and value.

Is this making any sense?

All this to say, I am happy, in general, with how I have lived my life so far, I do have some things to do before hitting that checkpoint:

Lose weight.
Begin earning some income.
Become more confident in myself and my abilities.

I am sure there are many more things to add to this list and more specifications to be made. For now, that is my list. I have one year. Each day will further those goals. Some days that furtherance will be in small ways; other days will be great strides. But each day will be a step in the right direction.

As Martha Beck said in O Magazine, 2004, "Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require, not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking, but a full-on metamorphosis."

Butterfly wings, anyone?