Friends are like flowers

There's a children's song that goes "friends are like flowers in the garden of life". The bridge is: Are you a daisy? Are you a rose? Are you a dandelion?

Hmm.

I may be getting old and curmudgeon-ish. My recent trials have left me with the distinct impression that friends are indeed like flowers. Some are just plain beautiful (like my Spred friends who helped me garden!). They need to be cultivated and appreciated. They are beautiful flowers or even healthy, nourishing fruits and vegetables!

Some are very clearly weeds and need to be dug out and composted. I am reluctant to do this with real weeds, let alone people who are destructive in my life. But it has to be done sometimes. For example, if one is a recovering alcoholic that person might need to "weed out" old drinking buddies. In my case, I am discovering that people who do not understand my situation and think I should be doing more for them than I can, are destructive to me. I like to be of use to others - but in my spare time! Not as a full time occupation or on demand. I don't actually HAVE a lot of spare time. I am very reluctant to "weed" these people out. But I have noticed that the ones that need the most help are often the ones who have very little trouble finding a new savior. I may be very expendable and not particularly important to them.

Then there is the bamboo. You can't get rid of it really. In our case, we inherited it from previous owners. I think we all have some bamboo people in our lives. These are people who, for one reason or another, you cannot get rid of, who are naturally beautiful, but who can be incredibly invasive if not contained. Building boundaries around bamboo is the hardest task facing this gardener both physically and metaphorically!

Marriage

Me (with a sad sigh): I don't know what's happened.  There was a day, not so long ago, when I had a routine.  I did laundry everyday and put it away before it got wrinkled.  Your sock, t-shirt and underwear drawers were neat and organized.

Him: Is this some kind of weird woman thing where your self esteem is tied to MY underwear drawer?

Me: Well, when you put it THAT way it sounds kind of silly, but yes.

Him: Well, put your energy into something else.  I am perfectly content to have MY underwear drawer in chaos.

Me: Blank look of shock.

It IS his underwear drawer.  Even after 37 years of marriage, it's still HIS underwear drawer.  My value as a person really shouldn't be based on whether or not his jocks are folded.  Should it?  His mother IRONED not only boxers but briefs.  But I'm not his mother.  I'm his partner.

I've known him since I was 15 years old.  But lately I've noticed that he's changing rapidly.  In fact, I think he's aging quite well.  When I listen to what he is saying, I'm always amazed.  The last 60 years of experience is suddenly coalescing into brilliance and wisdom.

For our 15th wedding anniversary, we took a bunch of couples out to a park that was formerly owned by a married couple who were famous for, among other things, their happiness together.  We had everyone make plaster masks of each other and then we sat in a circle and talked about the masks we put on those to whom we are closest.  It is a sort of short hand caricature of who that person is, or was the last time we looked.  For a relationship to grow, we each have to be willing to release our partner from the stiff, plaster masks we create for them, and see them for who they are this minute.  Then we took of each other's masks and promised to see the real beloved.

Lately, he's busting out of his white plaster cast in strength and beauty.  I really like him in living color!  I was giddy in love with him long ago.  I'm not so giddy now.  I love him with a more, um, dignified passion.  But I think I love him a lot more today than I did on our wedding day.

Tweet

So now I'm on Twitter.  What a fascinating way to waste time!  I haven't really learned much about Ben, but I do know that Wil Wheaton passed his driver's test 100% and that a lot of people don't want Neil Gaiman to shave his beard.  His photo is clean shaven, so how do they even know he HAS a beard?  He points out that his beard is like Schrodeger's Cat - which I think is a good point.  


Chicago Tonight wanted us to text in our opinion on whether Rod Blago is guilty or not - and people did.  I don't suppose the judge or jury were listening.  Technology gives us such brilliant opportunities to display our ignorance.  The irony of saying this in a blog is not lost on me.


Then they interviewed a woman journalist who has written a  book about her experience caring for her elderly mother.  But, since she is a journalist, she seems to think she can extrapolate from her experience to that of every person caring for an elderly parent.  She made some pretty broad statements about how unfair it is that "society" still splits duties along gender lines - lawyer stuff to her brother, buying diapers to her - and that this is the case in most situations.  How does she know that?  You'd think a reporter would get some, you know, hard data before making generalizations like that.  But no.  She's just going on her own experience.  Which makes her book a memoir, which is fine, but it isn't news.


I'm crabby.  

History

Prostate Cancer update:  Charley's back at school and doing okay.  It turns out that the biopsy of his prostate showed a tiny bit of much more aggressive cancer than the original biopsy showed.  It was very localized and the blood test at one month showed he had no cancer in his body.  So that means he was probably right to have his entire prostate removed.

On the other hand, recovery is a lot worse than we had been told by the doctor and his nurse.  It's a lot worse than most of our well-wishers predicted.  "Oh my uncle, brother, neighbor had that done and it was no problem at all."  I think that uncles, brothers and neighbors don't like to complain to people outside their immediate family.  That is understandable.  But what I don't understand is why the hospital educational system was so misleading.  For example, they told us many times that it would be 3 to 6 weeks before he was back at work.  He was in no condition to go back to work at 3 weeks.  He's a teacher, not a brick layer or something.  He does have to stand all day, but he doesn't have to pick up heavy things.  Even so there was no way he could go back at 3 weeks.  

Even at 4 weeks, it was difficult, but he went back.  This was partly because he was worried about work and partly because he was spurred on by the "3-6 weeks" prediction.  He figured that he was still at the young end of people who have prostate cancer, so he "should" be on the short end of the recovery spectrum.  When he went back to the hospital on Wednesday of week 4, the nurse asked him when he thought he'd be ready to return to work.  She was surprised to learn that he was already back.  None of the other guys who had the surgery the week he did had returned to work yet.  So he IS at the short end of the recovery spectrum, but why in the world did they say 3 - 6 weeks if it's really 4-8 or even 6-10?  That's just one example of their overly optimistic predictions.  The entire process of recovery has been much more difficult and painful than predicted.  Post-surgical catheter care is a whole other story and not a pretty one!

It was actually quite nice to have him home.  I wonder how much of this was due to having 3 weeks away from school and how much of it was the shock of facing his own mortality.  Whatever the reason, we had a chance to notice that we still really like each other!  We spend so much time getting through life that it's hard to take time to notice why we are doing it and with whom we are traveling.

I've known Charley since I was 15 and we've been a couple pretty much since we met.  I'm going to be 60 in August, so that's 45 years!  He really is my "Life Partner."  It was lovely to have the time to talk about that and talk about plans for the future without him jumping up to go to work or to work downstairs on lesson plans and IEPs.  

Life is really hard and unpredictable.  It's that way for everyone of us.  It's easier if you go through it with a friend.

I don't know how you do it

I went to the 40th birthday party of a good friend last Saturday.  I had so much fun!  She is the single mom of a very delightful fourth grader.  I always enjoy these two because they obviously have so much fun together.  

There were two conversations I particularly enjoyed.  One was with  a single mom of two active boys and the other was with a step-mom who is writing a book about her experiences navigating the very tricky waters of negotiating child care issues with the ex and her new spouse.  I was delighted by the skill and wisdom of both these courageous women.

I had a great conversation yesterday with my wonderful DIL (Ben's wife) about the shock of having a 3 year old.  ("Even if you say Puleeeze, no still means no.")  She mentioned how much she loves Ben because he gives his time so generously and patiently to their three challenging kids.  I remember the struggle of raising Ben.  He was never aware that he had changed in any way.  In his opinion, he was always exactly the same person he had always been, but annoyed by my failure to "get" him.  Meanwhile, I had to scramble to adjust at least annually to this completely new person living in my house with new requirements and challenges for his faint but following mom.  

My brother Bil and his wife also have three kids.  The last time I visited, I was amazed at the skill with which she juggles, every day, the very different interests and needs of these three individuals.  When I talk to Bil, he talks about the stage of development and the needs of each kid in a careful, thoughtful way that shows he is aware of how fast they change and how carefully a good Dad has to pay attention.

I stay home all the time with my adorable Peter Pan who never changes, never grows up and has such a fragile hold on life.  We know way too much about medicines and hospitals.  We also know all the toys at Target and Toys R Us from infant to about 3 years old because in the last 29 years, we have purchased ALL of them.  Some of them twice.  Whenever I manage to get out I get such lovely compliments, "You are amazing.  I don't know how you do it."  Well, right back at you, folks.

I know that every one of these superheros has bad days and days when they doubt their ability to cope with the challenges life has presented them.  But they are doing absolutely amazing jobs juggling careers, relationships and the ever changing challenges of child-rearing.  I don't know how they do it.  I really don't.  They are each so incredible.


So hats off to Sue and Emily; to Sara and her family; to the brilliant woman whose name I forgot with the two boys; to Ben, Cher, Tasha, Tahreq and Zora; to Bil, Lisa, Jack, Faith and Will and to everyone else out there who cares about raising children to be responsible adults.


Actually, I do know how we do it.  We get out of bed every morning and try again because we love them.  Great job!