I'm Now in the Business of Arranging Marriages

“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

A fellow mom friend and I have decided to arrange the union of our offspring.  My (very funny and extremely fabulous) friend and I think that her eldest daughter and my youngest son would make a great match.  (Note:  My Fab Friend gave me permission to blog about her so...I'm totally running with it.)

My little Work in Progress

Her daughter is amazing.  She's gorgeous and smart and funny and she won more awards in the 5th grade graduation than any other fifth grader.  I think they were still calling out awards after she'd walked across the stage and sat down.  My Fab Friend and I think that Thing 2 and Gorgeous Girl would make pretty, smart babies and so we've set out to wed them when they've sown their hopefully-not-so-wild oats and established themselves in their careers.  Maybe just after they turn 30.

That's not so weird, right?  I mean, we KNOW what's good for our kids.  And, Gorgeous Girl is completely wonderful already and we all know that girls like to change people so she would accept Thing 2 as a work in progress graciously, I feel sure of it.  Besides, her mom and I would TOTALLY get along as in-laws and would surely throw an incredible wedding that WE would certainly enjoy.  After that, they're on their own.  After all, we did the HARD work and picked their mates for them.  Duh.

There are plenty of good reasons to arrange the marriages for our children:

• 50% of marriages end in divorce anyway, so obviously it's a crap-shoot from the start.
• We can already see that their genetic make-up would blend very nicely.  Who needs judgment clouded by silly things like love?
• They're friends already.  In about 15 years, they'll realize that being friends is really important in marriages anyway.
• If they get married, I know I'll always have access to my Fab Friend's makeup bag.  (That statement is FAR funnier than you know.)
• If we arrange the marriage, we probably already LIKE our future daughter- or son-in-law.  That's a huge bonus in my book because most people drive me nuts.
• We are assured that they'll always return home for holidays because their parents live within 10 miles of each other. 

 We haven't yet starting planning the nuptial celebration but we've planted the seed in our offsprings' minds.  Neither of them seemed particularly perturbed by the idea.  Granted, I imagine they both consider their mothers about half nuts anyway so they probably think we'll move on to some other hare-brained scheme before long.

They'll spend middle school years apart.  We'll plot the high school reunion meeting later.  I can picture it now....their eyes will meet across the crowded gym floor with the thumping lyrics of "If You Leave" playing in the background.  She will shyly glance at the floor while he makes his way over to ask her to dance....or maybe that's a Molly Ringwald movie I'm thinking of.

Regardless, it's nice to know that the future of one of my children is settled.  Phew.  That was WAY easier than I'd imagined.  Now, to work on Thing 1....

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Censorship

"Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?”
― Kurt Vonnegut

I am censored.

I am censored not by the police and not by the government but I am censored nonetheless.  Two people who have been closest to me are the ones who have said to me, "DO NOT write about me."   Even though I don't use names in my blog, there are people who are (or, rather, WERE) very close to me who don't want to appear here.

I think it's odd.

I won't write about these two people.  I won't write about any of our shared experiences.  I won't write about anything they've said to me or done with me. I am referencing them here right now because no one on earth has an idea of who these two people are.  THEY know who they are, of course, and they're going to be MAD that I'm even writing this much, I would guess.  But perhaps they no longer read the blog.  After all, they were incensed when they saw themselves here (one person had real references and the other one imagined), so I would assume that the oblique references right now are KILLING them.

We all see ourselves differently than our peers see us.  When I look at myself, I see someone who is irrevocably screwed up.  I see every single one of my flaws and I rarely see the good in me.  Others look at me and see both my flaws and the parts that make me good.  Still others only see the good parts. Perhaps those two people were afraid to see which parts of them I see.

I asked another friend permission to write about her.  She thought what I wrote was funny...and true.  She shared it with her family members.  They thought it was funny.  No one was hurt by it.  My intention is never to harm.  I only want to tell the truth as I see it.  Is that wrong?

I suppose the truth can be hurtful.  Sometimes, our actions are less than noble.  Sometimes we hurt people we don't intend to hurt.  But this blog has become an amazing gift that I have given myself.  It has freed me to explore layers and nuances of my experiences in a way that is unlike any other.  It's scary to bare your thoughts in a public forum.  But it's also freeing.  I explore my own selfishness and weird quirks out loud and, in doing so, I bring light to the parts of me that I didn't even know existed:  I can be more thoughtful and kind than I knew; I can be more fair than I thought possible.

Why wouldn't someone close to me want to be part of this experience?

The only thing I can think of is fear.  In bringing my own truth to light, I would potentially expose their truths.  And maybe they are afraid of their own truths.  Or maybe they simply don't want to see their truths the way I see them.  Neither of them are aware how much it pained me that they excluded themselves from this blog.  Neither of them understand that by excluding themselves here they are effectively excluding themselves from my life.

I read something recently (and I would attribute it here but I can't remember where I read it) about a person who went in to see a movie.  The movie was about his life and he was the star.  He saw himself exactly as he was. But then, he went into another movie and it was about his mother's life.  In it, he was a VERY different person.  He was sometimes rude and insensitive.  He went into another movie and it was his best friend's life.  Again, he was almost unrecognizable to himself.  People see us differently than we see ourselves.  It is sometimes painful to see yourself in the eyes of someone else.  I know it can be very difficult for me to accept certain truths about myself...but I am fairly brutal with myself and always willing to accept the worst about me.

Is it unfair of me to want to write about EVERYTHING?  Am I being insensitive to their feelings?  I don't know.  I'm still working through that.  All I know is this:  I gave each of those people my whole heart and I would have never put them in an unflattering light.  I practically have made it a full-time hobby to make fun of myself...not others.  Well, at least not others I KNOW anyway. 

I realize my tongue is cutting sometimes and my so-called "wit" can be acerbic.  But I wouldn't hurt the people I care about...at least not intentionally.  I guess they didn't want an unintentional barb to whiz through the 'net.

So fine.  I won't write about you.  Or you.  But I hope you'll know that this means that there will be forever a part of me that is closed to you.  Here's where I throw in the "na na na na boo boo" chant, I think.  Because hurt begets hurt, doesn't it?

Add your name to the list if you don't want to see yourself here.  Or, even better, help me understand why you WOULDN'T want me to write about you.

(I am so sticking my tongue out right now...)






   

Can You Live Safely Without Fear?

“There are two kinds of fears: rational and irrational- or in simpler terms, fears that make sense and fears that don't.”
                                                       ― Lemony Snicket

Note:  There may be some triggers in this post.  If you have triggers, please don't read this.  If you don't know what a trigger IS, you're probably safe to read it!

I am not a fearful person.  I have a tendency to leave doors unlocked, windows opened and curtains...well, who needs 'em?  I am all too aware that the dangers we, as women, face are often not from strangers but from the men who are a part of our lives.

• According to the U.S. Office on Violence Against Women, one in four women have experienced severe physical violence at the hands of someone they know.
• The U.S. Department of Justice estimates that 4.8 MILLION physical assaults and rapes occur against women annually.
•  Women who were sexually victimized as adults are more likely to report a history of childhood sexual abuse, according to a research study sponsored by the U.S. Department of Justice.  

I could go on and on with statistics but, since I feel a little ill after doing some preliminary research, I'm just going to let it stand that women are more likely to be victimized by someone they know.

When I was in college, I went sunbathing on a hill just across the street from the campus.  It was a place where we sunbathed often but this time, I went alone and I went after just about everyone had left campus for the summer.  I relaxed in the early summer air and I minded my own business while reading a book.  At some point, a man came by.  He was friendly and smiley and he asked me directions to Cameron Village.  I pointed the way and explained how to get there on foot.  As I talked, he moved closer.  Thinking nothing of it, I continued my explanation until I realized he had actually pulled his penis out of his pants.  I stopped talking and he took over, telling me exactly what he intended to do.  I don't remember his exact words now, but I do remember my reaction.

Disgusting Man: And I'm gonna (vulgarity, vulgarity, expletive, expletive)....

Me (smiling and friendly with his personal business in my face):  No, thank you!

Disgusting Man: (Continuing his litany of vulgarity)

Me (still smiling but shaking my head, in a very friendly fashion):  No, thank you, really.  No thank you.

Disgusting Man: (Vulgarity, vulgarity)

Me (smiling broadly):  No, really.  No thank you.

I reached back for my shirt to find some cover for myself since I was (obviously) feeling increasingly uncomfortable.  The vulgar man grabbed it out of my hand and told me I wouldn't be needing it.  At that point, I crab-crawled backward as fast as I could, stumbled to my feet and ran as quickly as my bare feet could carry me across the street.  I was shaken and slightly nauseous but I did get away from him.  He was a coward and we were in a public place.  He didn't follow me but ran away in the other direction.

Other experiences have haunted me more than this one because they were at the hands of people I knew, but this is an example of how quickly and easily a woman is victimized.  I don't want to be afraid.  I don't want to feel like I have to walk in groups.  And I don't.  I go everywhere alone.  Sometimes I go at night.  Sometimes I go in the MIDDLE of the night.  I refuse to live in fear.  Most of my friends say I am not living fearlessly but stupidly.

I want to trust people.  I do.  A couple of incidents happened just this year, however, that lead me to believe that people simply (sadly) cannot be trusted.  I won't go into details of either incident but, suffice it to say that I felt violated by both.  My trust was misplaced and I was deeply saddened by one incident and frightened by the other.  Both have led me to believe that I need to make some changes in my behavior and the things I do to protect myself. 

What do you do to feel safer?

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An Open Letter to My Sons' Future Roommates, Significant Others and/or Spouses

“Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”
                                                        ― Benjamin Franklin

Dear Future Loved Ones,

First of all, you HAVE to know that there is only so much a mother can do.  People are just...wired...the way they come.  I've learned that genetics has a huge role to play, so you might want to look at their grandparents.  Or even their great grandparents.  The blame does rest somewhere, but hopefully, it doesn't rest with me.

You may not believe this, but before Thing 1 was born, I was determined to parent intentionally.  I decided that I would read the books and do the research and be fully involved in raising human beings who were nice.  And fairly normal.  And equipped to deal with life's trials.  I wanted them to be people that YOU could live with and maybe even ENJOY living with.  So, I set out to parent them with my own limited skill set and negligible natural nurturing ability.

This weekend, we went over the magical uses of bleach in cleaning.  If they are trying to tell you that they don't know HOW to scrub a toilet, please hand them a clean soft cloth and point them in the direction of the bathroom.  They know how.  They've done a LOT of toilet scrubbing even if they won't admit it.

But there are other things I'm teaching them, too.  And, believe it or not, I do much of this with YOU in mind, Future Loved Ones.  See, I don't want you to hate me.  I really just want you to give me the Gold Star of Parenting.  Can you do that, Future Loved One?  I really just want you to LIKE ME.

So, here are a few of the things I'm doing now with you in mind (you can thank me later or at least ensure that I wind up in a nursing home without the really LARGE cockroaches):

1. I teach them about conflict.  We discuss that you simply can't have relationships...ANY relationships...without conflict.  AND, conflict is resolved through intentional communication.  We use feeling words in my house.  For example, "I felt annoyed when you sat on my head while I was playing that video game."  We discuss our actions.  "I sat on your head because...well...it was THERE."  And we discuss the resolution. "I wanted to hit you when you sat on my head, but instead, I discussed my feelings with you.  I'd appreciate it if you never again sit on my head."  Naturally, sometimes I arrive in the middle of a conflict when fists are already flying, but I pull them apart and we go over the communication thing again.  
2. I teach them about kindness and caring.  We don't kill bugs in my house.  (OK, we DO kill those tiny little microscopic ants that seem to invade the house every spring...but I simply can't count those things as living creatures.)  We trap spiders and take them outdoors.  We try to rescue the animals that our homicidal cat, Charlie, brings in through the cat door.  We respect all creatures, great and small.  If you ask one of my kids to kill a bug, they will get a water glass instead to escort the bug out of doors.  Especially if it's Waterford glass (that's totally an inside joke that I'm not going to explain here...lends an air of mystery, doesn't it?) 
3. I teach them about relationships.  Everything they learn NOT to do, they learn from me.  Their mother is a complete disaster when it comes to relationships...ALL relationships..so they've learned what NOT to do from the master.  Besides, we also have episodes of the Gilmore Girls playing continually in the background.  If you can't learn how to treat people from 42 minutes of a television dramedy, then you simply aren't paying attention.
4. I teach them about life's little frustrations.  You cannot grow up with me as a mother without experiencing a myriad of hiccups and bumps along the way.  I am, to put it mildly, a maddening human being.  They've grown up with me.  They fully expect people to break out into song and/or dance and to call them anything but their own names (e.g., Frito Lay, Thing 1, Thing 2, Dr. Pepper, Tinky-Winkys, Monkeys, Pepsi, Chirruns, etc.).  If they can live with me, they can live with ANYONE. 
5. I teach them that, above all, coffee is the most important thing in life.  You probably think I'm joking.  I'm not. Thing 1 is going to be a fabulous coffee drinker.  He won't be the "bring you coffee in bed" type because he's in a veritable coma in the morning.  But he will appreciate it when YOU bring HIM coffee in bed.  Thing 2 is going to be the "make you breakfast and bring you coffee in bed" type.  You're welcome.

Future Loved Ones, I know that my kids are easy to love.  They're cute and smart and funny.  They have quirks, yes, but I think they're good human beings.  They've been recycling I don't even know how long.  And deforestation drives them nuts.  They are usually kind but they enjoy America's Funniest Home videos tremendously so they obviously have a little bit of edge to them.

Be nice to my hoodlums, Future Loved Ones.  Their tiny little hearts were broken by divorce and I'm sure that's going to come into play.  Just remember that those wounds CAN heal with time and patience.  We're doing the best we can to keep them whole and feeling secure.   They might be scared of commitment or they may even believe it isn't possible...but I know that, if you're really RIGHT for each other, you can make things work.

Try to overlook me, if you can.  I am impossible to get along with and as long as you understand that from the beginning, we'll work through things.  I'll keep my nose out of your business and offer advice and my company only when asked.  I do look forward to meeting you someday.

Until then, Future Loved Ones, guard your own hearts.  Keep yourselves safe and as unwounded as possible.  Life scars us all, I understand, but I hope that your scars will be only on the surface and few and far between.  Regardless of your scars and your quirks, though, we will love you the best way we know how.  As a matter of fact, we love you already.  

With much love,
Your future Second (or Third or Fourth) Mother

Behaviors I Simply Can't Control

“It is impossible to understand addiction without asking what relief the addict finds, or hopes to find, in the drug or the addictive behaviour.”
― Gabor Maté

I am sitting in Nirvana.  Mecca.  I have found the Holy Grail.  I am living the Ultimate Dream.  I am surrounded by riches untold.  Imagine, for an instant, your Personal Happy Place.  Close your eyes and just be there for a moment.  What does it smell like?  What sounds come to mind?  Doesn't it feel so good to go there for only a second just in your mind?  I am THERE.  Right now. 

My Happy Place is a bookstore.  I know that some edgier, far more earth-aware and community-friendly people prefer the independent bookstores run by bespectacled women in Birkenstocks who smell ever so slightly of earth and flowers.  But I am talking about the BIG BOX CHAIN of Barnes & Noble.  You hipsters will be thrilled to know that the origins of B&N were not unlike those corner book shops you favor currently.  It was started in the 1960's by the company's current chairman, Leonard Riggio.  He was an employee at the New York University bookstore while he attended school and decided he totally had the bookselling number.  He opened up a store in Greenwich Village with a small investment and a fairly plain name (his gift did not lie in naming): The Student Book Exchange (SBX).  He was pretty good at it.  By the 1970's he had six more stores.  He was really good at all of that, too, and managed to acquire a flagship bookstore on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue with the name of, you guessed it, Barnes & Noble.  Today, Barnes & Noble has morphed into the bookstore and internet sales mecca you know and love.  It's a Fortune 500 company with almost 700 stores nationwide not to mention one of the biggest e-commerce sites on the 'net.  And it's MY Happy Place.

All of that, believe it or not, is an aside.  I have a tendency to get curious about things and look them up immediately.  Since this is my blog, I get to share all of the information (or at least tasty tidbits) I learn.  My children are accustomed to this and are never surprised when, in the middle of an evening dinner discussion, I leap up and say "We HAVE to learn more about this!" and the Google-fest begins.

So, I walked into the B&N tonight with a smile on my face and my ever-present Nook tucked into my purse.  One of my FAVORITE things about the Nook (over the Kindle competitor) is that I get to go into any B&N store any time I want and read books...for free.  With Starbucks.  (Did I mention the word "nirvana?")  At the sight of ALL THESE books, though, my eyes glaze over and I begin to actually moan in my mind (although, admittedly, I think I moan out loud sometimes during these bookstore adventures).  "Oooh, I want to read THAT!"  "Oh, I had no IDEA he had a new book out.  Where have I been?"  "THAT looks interesting."

The displays beckon an addict like me:  New in Paperback!  New Arrivals!  For Grads!  Noteworthy Selections!  Must Reads!  Classic Favorites!  Everywhere I look there is something new to see.  I do have to admit feeling a little smug, though, when I stopped at the Noteworthy Selections display and realized that I had read about 75% of their choice tidbits.

As much as I love (love, adore...I mean, REALLY LOVE) my Nook, I do admit that I miss actual books sometimes.  The Nook satisfies my need for instant gratification (I can have ANY BOOK I WANT RIGHT NOW!) and the light and adjustable font size really have done wonders during my marathon reading sessions (I can read HOURS longer without tiring on the Nook which is great for my eyes and TERRIBLE for dealing with my cluttered house).  But books!  Oh, I just spent a good 20 minutes wandering around stroking (LITERALLY STROKING) book covers and even opening a book wide to stuff my nose into the middle of it (sorry to whoever buys that copy of Khaled Hosseini's And the Mountains Echoed...I couldn't HELP IT).  I will STILL stop by the Bargain Books section on my way out because I simply cannot resist a hardback with a price tag of under $7.

I am in my Happy Place.  And I have Starbucks.  And I can read a little taste of And the Mountains Echoed while I'm here.

Addictive behaviors CAN be fun...

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My So-Called Single Mom Life

"I'm a single parent.  What's your superpower?"
                         --From a bumper sticker

It's after 4:30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.  I've been awake since just after 3 a.m. but I decided that it would behoove me to toss and turn for more than an hour.  3 a.m. to 5 a.m. sleep is often elusive.  My doctor told me a few years ago to cut the caffeine but who can LIVE without caffeine?  I woke up thinking about the gazillion things that have to be done here in the last week of school and my brain exploded into about 5 million tiny to-do lists that forced me down to the kitchen for what?? Oh, that's right...more caffeine.

Destined for a life of fuzzy slippers and misshapen housedresses

I am tired.  Not just because it's the wee hours of the morning and my brain is on fire.  No, I'm tired because I have to think of EVERYTHING.  ALL the time.  This is, naturally, my own fault because if I had to pin blame on who made me a single mother my finger wouldn't waste any time at turning on me and pointing directly in my face.  Oh, you didn't have it so BAD when you were married, did you?  You whiny, silly creature.  Well, THIS life is what you get when you turn your nose up at marriage, missy.  

So, yeah, I know it's my fault that I ended up here.  And now, as I tell my children all the time about life, I have to deal with the consequences.

On any given day, I:

• get the kids up, lunches made, out the door (one in the car, one on the bus)
• feed the dogs and the cat
• buy groceries
• pay the household bills
• worry about the gutters that need cleaning and the wood that is rotting on my house
• mow the lawn
• make dinner
• clean up after dinner
• think about what's for dinner tomorrow night
• worry about that light on my car's dashboard that keeps coming on
• think about when I need to change the car's oil
• worry about trying to figure out what NEW car I need and, even better, how to pay for it
• go to work and try not to focus on what needs to be done at HOME so I can get my stuff at WORK finished
• figure out summer camp schedules/plans
• wonder if I will be able to take a REAL vacation again...ever
• worry about how my kids are suffering in their broken family lives

 That's a partial list.  I think I'll build on it as more things come to me.  The point is this:  I don't have a partner.  I can't say to anyone "Hey, if you'll mow the lawn, I'll make dinner!"  There are no bargains to be struck.  Things slide.  And that's all my fault, too.  Because, quite honestly, I COULD get it all done if I just FOCUSED.  I could work from sun up to sun down and some of the hours in between and my house could be clean, my lawn could be mowed and my children's clothes would be all put away instead of draped over the ends of their beds waiting for THEM to put them away.  But I don't have that kind of focus.  I don't have the personality that thrives on work, work, work.  Things slide. And I wake up at 3:00 a.m. worrying about all the things that are sliding.

So, I make bargains with myself.  OK, if I can get dinner made and the kids started on homework BEFORE 7:30 p.m., then I can take a walk.   Or, if I get three loads of laundry done today (which requires one load going in first thing in the morning and the second load started at lunch), then I can watch 30 minutes of the Gilmore Girls before bed.  

I realize that moms who are married are ridiculously busy and overwhelmed, too.  I know all about that.  But, here's the thing:  at the end of the day, you have someone to look over at (in loathing or in love) and say, "MAN, today SUCKED, didn't it?"  And you have someone there who loves those little hoodlums just as much as you do.  And you have someone there who can say, "Screw the laundry, let's watch the whole first season of 24!" And, somehow, just having that other person there makes all the crap a little easier to deal with.  All I have is a mirror.  And that mirror is often so harsh and judgmental.  Crappy mirrors.  Remind me to add "get rid of mirrors" to my to-do list.

OK, fine. I'm having a little pity party.  Mostly because it's 5:00 a.m. and the last week of school and I have so many undone things on my list that really must be done and I'm TIRED.  And there are things that WON'T get done and I'll feel guilty about them for the next three months until the new list of Things to Feel Guilty About overwhelms the current list and I forget all about the transgressions of early 2013 because they've been replaced b the NEW transgressions.

Endless, vicious, single mom guilt circles.

I've vented enough for today.  But it's too late to go back to sleep.  Guess I'll start some laundry.  Maybe scrub some floors.  WHERE is that to-do list???

If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or subscribe to the e-mail list.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive. 
       

Understanding Introverts

“The last introvert in a world of extroverts. Silence: my response to both emptiness and saturation. But silence frightens people. I had to learn how to talk. Out of politeness.”
                                                                     ― Ariel Gore

I'll have to admit something:  I spend a LOT of time alone.  Like, a LOT of time alone.  And I don't mind it usually because I'm actually a partial introvert.  People who know me are often surprised by that because I have such a LARGE extroverted side.  When I'm in a group, I am often loud and boisterous.  I tell stories and crack jokes and yell at people from across the room.  But I also don't mind the quiet time I get at dawn with my two four-legged beasts and a pot of coffee brewing.

What I DON'T understand, however, is people who are mainly introverts...the people whose extroverted side is hidden under layers of solitude so deep that they don't even LOOK for it.

I have an introverted child.

Moms who like wearing sock monkeys on their heads?

Extroverts say this in a whisper almost like we would say something like "My child is addicted to drugs."  We say it because we cannot, for the life of us, figure out how it happened.  We scratch our heads and bound into their rooms (uninvited and, for the most part, unwelcome) saying "HI!  Is there anything you want to TALK about?"  The introverted child blinks at us and slowly shakes his head no.  We bow our heads, dramatically.  Defeated and deflated, we walk away thinking that somehow this child doesn't LOVE us.  This child isn't CONNECTING with us.  It isn't the truth...we ARE connecting.  It's just that we have to figure how how to meet them where they are instead of the way that is most comfortable for us.

I have spent a great deal of time studying introverts because I want to understand the child who lives with me in a seemingly very different world.  My former-mother-in-law is a genius about this sort of stuff.  She has built a very successful career coaching people about this very sort of thing in business.  (OK, I don't want to diminish what she does...she's TRULY amazing and fabulous and has a very successful business and I will at some point write an entire blog about her if she would let me.) She gave me a book several years ago called Mother Styles:  Using Personality Type to Discover Your Parenting Strengths.  If you have a child who is markedly different from yourself, you will DEFINITELY want to buy this book.  I've read and referred back to it about ten gazillion times so my copy is fairly worn at this point.

I am an ENFP on the Myers Briggs scale.  If you don't know your Myers Briggs personality type, I highly suggest you learn more about yourself using a free online test to start with.  There are qualified professionals who administer this test but this little test will help you understand the basics. Myers Briggs offers 16 different personality types based on preferences.  My son is most likely an INTJ or an ISTJ (which would be the EXACT opposite of me).

As an ENFP, I YEARN for acceptance and approval.  I get very passionate about things...about EVERYTHING, really.  I loathe details and am easily able to drop what I'm doing (in the middle of whatever it is) and head off in an entirely different direction.  I enjoy people...talking with them and learning to understand them (until they bore me) and I truly need to feel appreciated and loved all the time.  In a word, I am INTENSE.  And, yes, I know...I'm EXHAUSTING.

As an opposite personality type, my son spends a lot time internally-focused.  He really doesn't care about other people's feelings (he doesn't want to HURT their feelings...he just doesn't spend any time THINKING about other people's feelings).  He makes decisions logically based on rational thought.   He is constantly gathering information.  He values intelligence, knowledge and competence.

So, take a look at the above.  I am basically a flighty nutcase and my son is the grounded reasonable person.

This morning's conversation went something like this:

Me:  Are you HAPPY?

Son:  Well, sure.

Me:  Do you hate that question?

Son:  Well, I don't mind it.  You ask it fairly FREQUENTLY though.

Me:  Should I not ask you if you're happy?

Son:  Perhaps if you decreased the FREQUENCY of the question, it would be better.  Say, maybe only ask once a week instead of five times a day.

Me:  I'm just concerned about whether or not you're HAPPY.

Son:  We've been over this.  I am not UNHAPPY.  I'm just never going to be happy like YOU are happy. 

I must drive my son absolutely nuts.  He has gathered huge quantities of information about me in his short life with me and I think he's determined that if anyone is going to be reasonable and rational and make good decisions in our household, he is going to have to be involved.  What I'm trying to get him to understand is that my way WORKS most of the time...except when it doesn't.  He has learned to deal with the ebbs and flows of excitement and adventure that surround me on things as mundane as a trip to the grocery store.  I am certain he will breathe a sigh of relief when he walks out of my house to begin his life on his own .

I try to accommodate my introverted son.  I know he doesn't like surprises (and I LOVE them!) and I know he doesn't really want to talk to me all the time.  I am growing accustomed to this and I work hard to make sure he feels as comfortable as possible in my hectic life.  I try to warn him as far in advance as possible of changes in plans.  I try to avoid changing my mind about dinner in the middle of going to dinner ("Oh! I KNOW we were going for Mexican...but let's try SUSHI instead!").  I try not to let it hurt my feelings when he's not jumping up and down about my latest announcement ("It's FAMILY GAME NIGHT!"  or "We're going to the DRIVE-IN!").

My poor son will spend a few more years getting tossed around by his mother's whims.  And I will continue to desperately thumb through the pages of Mother Styles in an attempt to be the stable and thoughtful adult figure he requires.  Hopefully, the one point that I get across to him will be the fact that life really IS a Great Adventure.  And, maybe, someday he'll find that there IS joy in having a mother like me.

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