I am not a television watcher.
Prior to Ron coming into my life (and subsequently my home), I watched very little television. I had a couple shows (bad ones, I might add) that I would flip on during the few times I was at home. I had a tiny TV left over from my early years with Scott, so there was no real pleasure in the viewing. Television is not an escape for me. Robbie takes after me in this attitude. While he likes the concept of having show that he follows, he prefers to read books or draw, even during his viewing time. This is a frustration to Ron at times. Robbie and I only half focus on most movies we rent, instead moving between our books and the movie.
I have two shows I now watch (but not religiously enough to be consider a true follower). I am a huge fan of Anthony Bourdain's and I watch him on No Reservations (but never on the proscribed night it airs, just in re-runs when Ron is flipping through the channels). I have had a couple people point out that really, I am not so addicted to the show as much as I want his life of travel and new experiences. It is of the 'arm chair traveller' mentality, not the television or celebrity fan mentality that I approach my viewing.
Ron is different. Television (including movies at home) is his relaxtion method. He zones out, assuming the 'position' on the couch and could be satisfied watching just about anything. It is the mental escape he needs, not the stimulation.
This has pretty much held true for our entire relationship--however, the last couple days have been an exception. I discovered the 'What Not to Wear' Marathon and glued myself to the set from the early evening until bedtime the last couple evenings.
There was something about the ugly ducklings becoming beautiful swan's that really struck a chord in me. I found myself sensitive to their insecurities and recognizing that, while the show has plently of shallow moments there is a humanity to it that redeems it.
How many times have I stared in the mirror or looked in my closet (or even, as I did yesterday, try on 3 different tops) and realized, sadly, my shortcomings in appearance. As much as I try to focus on the 'inner beauty' I realize that right now, my insides pretty much match my outsides. They are sad, tired, and out of shape. I would guess that many women go through these periods in their lives. The times when, for all of the 'right reasons' we focus on the 'right things' but neglect to focus on our own selves, or if we do, we torpedo our efforts through a sense of guilt or lack of self control. I notice that the happier I am, the more self control I have.
It is self perpetuating, this sense of decline. The less attractive one feels, the less self control one has, the more one creates a field of self destructive landmines (or maintains a sense of apathy).
It is why, right or wrong, I am 'allowing' myself the guilty pleasure of another 'What Not to Wear' marathon if the opportunity should arise.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
After
Its over. We have just completed the orgy of giving that is Christmas at my house. The children are spent, and our wallets empty.
This year was difficult as Ron struggled to understand why everyone on the planet would accept his Xmas wishes and return them with the exception of his mother.
Ron's mom hasn't talked to Ron since a week before a planned trip to Toronto at the end of September. Needless to say, as a wife, mother, sister in law and daughter in law, I have many emotions surrounding the situation. I will not get into the details of his mother's issues except to say that this is a behavior pattern for her that is irrelevant to anything that her family has control over and that this is certainly not the first time she has cut family or friends from her life, and more than likely won't be the last.
My conundrum is how to deal with this issue. How do I, as a loving wife, express my concern, anger and lack of understanding with out boiling over to recriminations? I am angry. On the behalf of my son, who has physically lost loving grandparents (including both of Scott's parents, and Ron's dad) and who has been abandoned quite callusly by the 'surrogate' grandmother that Ron's mom had become. How about Hannah? No call, no card, no nothing on her 4th birthday? How, no matter what issues or psychosis envelops a person how can they 'punish' a 4 year old?
I am trying (hard) to follow Ron's lead.
Ron called. He spoke fearfully to his younger brother and asked if he could have Hannah wish his mom a Merry Xmas. He was rebuffed. How wrong is this, no matter what the mental state of his mother?
Ron encircles himself with 'family'. Every where he goes he creates more family. There is the real Hutzul family (who in a series of phone calls reassured Ron of their love, understanding and support) that includes his sister Jen, her husband Dom, their children and his family. There is his grade school family...Colin, Mike and the Beaumiers who would love, just love to step in as Grandparents. There are the Pikes, a family of friends that condensed down somewhat to a core group.
Ron has, to some extent, reconciled himself to the fact that his biological mother is not someone he can count on to nuture his needs as a true mother should. He learned early on not to count on her. The lesson, I am sure, has been bitter. All the more amazing that he has evolved to the point he has and is working to be 'the better person'.
True motherly love is unconditional. Mothers should be their children's greatest cheerleaders, most staunch advocate, and if the occasion arises a mom should be the one sitting firmly next to her child even in the most difficult of circumstances. I applaud the mom's who, when confronted with the hideous facts of their children's indiscretions will go to the mat in their defense. It is how it should be. It is our job to make sure that our children have our shoulder, our arms and our hearts throughout their lifetime and even after we are gone. Scott, Robbie's dad, still feels the warm embrace of his mother Helga even though she left this earth 10 years ago.
Ron's nickname with his friends is Mother Hen. What does this tell you about him?
This year was difficult as Ron struggled to understand why everyone on the planet would accept his Xmas wishes and return them with the exception of his mother.
Ron's mom hasn't talked to Ron since a week before a planned trip to Toronto at the end of September. Needless to say, as a wife, mother, sister in law and daughter in law, I have many emotions surrounding the situation. I will not get into the details of his mother's issues except to say that this is a behavior pattern for her that is irrelevant to anything that her family has control over and that this is certainly not the first time she has cut family or friends from her life, and more than likely won't be the last.
My conundrum is how to deal with this issue. How do I, as a loving wife, express my concern, anger and lack of understanding with out boiling over to recriminations? I am angry. On the behalf of my son, who has physically lost loving grandparents (including both of Scott's parents, and Ron's dad) and who has been abandoned quite callusly by the 'surrogate' grandmother that Ron's mom had become. How about Hannah? No call, no card, no nothing on her 4th birthday? How, no matter what issues or psychosis envelops a person how can they 'punish' a 4 year old?
I am trying (hard) to follow Ron's lead.
Ron called. He spoke fearfully to his younger brother and asked if he could have Hannah wish his mom a Merry Xmas. He was rebuffed. How wrong is this, no matter what the mental state of his mother?
Ron encircles himself with 'family'. Every where he goes he creates more family. There is the real Hutzul family (who in a series of phone calls reassured Ron of their love, understanding and support) that includes his sister Jen, her husband Dom, their children and his family. There is his grade school family...Colin, Mike and the Beaumiers who would love, just love to step in as Grandparents. There are the Pikes, a family of friends that condensed down somewhat to a core group.
Ron has, to some extent, reconciled himself to the fact that his biological mother is not someone he can count on to nuture his needs as a true mother should. He learned early on not to count on her. The lesson, I am sure, has been bitter. All the more amazing that he has evolved to the point he has and is working to be 'the better person'.
True motherly love is unconditional. Mothers should be their children's greatest cheerleaders, most staunch advocate, and if the occasion arises a mom should be the one sitting firmly next to her child even in the most difficult of circumstances. I applaud the mom's who, when confronted with the hideous facts of their children's indiscretions will go to the mat in their defense. It is how it should be. It is our job to make sure that our children have our shoulder, our arms and our hearts throughout their lifetime and even after we are gone. Scott, Robbie's dad, still feels the warm embrace of his mother Helga even though she left this earth 10 years ago.
Ron's nickname with his friends is Mother Hen. What does this tell you about him?
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Christmas Spirit
I have the holiday spirit finally!
Every year the as the holidays race towards me, I get a sense of fear and foreboding. A preemptive feeling of being overwhelmed. Do I have all my presents purchased (and can I afford them?), have I finished my Christmas cards? Have I met all of my obligations for events, responsibilities and activities? To compound the list of 'have to's', I have two birthdays, Hannah's and Ron's (the 20th and 23rd of December respectively). The government also chooses December as the date that property taxes are due. Can you imagine the gall?
This year I took a deep breath. Ron let me order the cards which diminished the 'ordeal' of perfection, we had a small and low key birthday party for Hannah and we chose gifts for ourselves that reflected our desire to 'downsize' in preparation for our move to Canada.
More importantly, we distilled the joy of the holidays into activities that provided us with pleasure without going overboard. We decorated cookies (pre-made dough, hand made florescent green frosting, and LOTS of candy sprinkles), but we didn't deliver them to the neighbors, we just made them for us.
We determined that none of us eat the stuffing, so, really...why stuff?
Our Nutcracker experience was a local ballet troupe in a high school gym, but the story was no less mesmerizing and the music, well...it was the Nutcracker and really, what more do you need?
Really, what is this season? Are we celebrating Jesus's Birthday? Is this the pagan festival celebrating the winter solstice? Did the candles burn in the temple for 8 crazy days and nights? Does each culture have a holiday to celebrate in December by happenstance, or...
Are the holidays a time to bid goodbye to the year before, reflect on the gifts that are friends and family, to bring brightness into dreary winter days and to take a break before beginning the race all over again.
If that is the case, I believe I have the holiday spirit!
Every year the as the holidays race towards me, I get a sense of fear and foreboding. A preemptive feeling of being overwhelmed. Do I have all my presents purchased (and can I afford them?), have I finished my Christmas cards? Have I met all of my obligations for events, responsibilities and activities? To compound the list of 'have to's', I have two birthdays, Hannah's and Ron's (the 20th and 23rd of December respectively). The government also chooses December as the date that property taxes are due. Can you imagine the gall?
This year I took a deep breath. Ron let me order the cards which diminished the 'ordeal' of perfection, we had a small and low key birthday party for Hannah and we chose gifts for ourselves that reflected our desire to 'downsize' in preparation for our move to Canada.
More importantly, we distilled the joy of the holidays into activities that provided us with pleasure without going overboard. We decorated cookies (pre-made dough, hand made florescent green frosting, and LOTS of candy sprinkles), but we didn't deliver them to the neighbors, we just made them for us.
We determined that none of us eat the stuffing, so, really...why stuff?
Our Nutcracker experience was a local ballet troupe in a high school gym, but the story was no less mesmerizing and the music, well...it was the Nutcracker and really, what more do you need?
Really, what is this season? Are we celebrating Jesus's Birthday? Is this the pagan festival celebrating the winter solstice? Did the candles burn in the temple for 8 crazy days and nights? Does each culture have a holiday to celebrate in December by happenstance, or...
Are the holidays a time to bid goodbye to the year before, reflect on the gifts that are friends and family, to bring brightness into dreary winter days and to take a break before beginning the race all over again.
If that is the case, I believe I have the holiday spirit!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Did he or didn't he?
I have a new obsession.
His name is William Shakespeare, I think.
Wikipedia says that he was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language. However, there is controversy (and apparently there has been for some time) that the man who wrote what we think of as the Shakespeare canon was not the man born in Stratford upon Avon, who acted in plays in London in the late 16th, early 17th centuries. Candidates suggested by their 'advocates' include the Earl of Oxford, Francis Bacon, the Earl of Derby and even Queen Elizabeth I. I am currently reading a book (one of many that I am reading on this topic) that is clearly in the man from Straford's camp, but is asserting he was a crypto-Catholic and is using circumstancial evidence to support his views.
I think I understand why I find this subject so interesting. I have always maintained that history is subjective and I believe historians would agree. We, as human beings, approach the world with very specific points of view and generally we examine the past with our point of view in mind.
Recently we were visiting with our friend Thomas up at our cottage and he asked if we thought Hannah would remember the experiences she was having at the time and recounted an experience from his childhood that he recalls as one of his earliest memories.
We all have early memories, but are they really the actual events that we are recalling or are they the events recreated with our current point of view in mind? I would argue, that, like the many educated scholars studying the works and life of Shakespeare, we are imprinting the past with our current opinions, beliefs and rose tinted glasses.
My memories of Robbie's childhood are a mix of guilt and pride. Guilty because I know how difficult it was for him to have a 'broken home' but full of pride because, well...I survived and so did he, and look at him today...bright, strong and ready to take on the world! Ask Robbie and he sees our 'time together' as damn near idyllic. He recounts the trips we took (the 35 pools we dunked in at La Quinta being one of them), the 'happy hour' dinners of cheap bar food and the goofy parties I threw for him (with a grocery bag standing in at the pinata) as some of his 'best memories'. I look at the life we have now and think, man, poor Robbie, he never had this...he never did that...and I can't believe I fed him in bars at age 4!!! If you were to record on tape our memories separately, you might be lead to believe he was not actually THE Robbie I took along for the ride.
That, I believe, is how history happens, and how even the most straightforward of stories can be retold again and again, but like a game of telephone, alter slightly over time to become something completely different.
I believe that Hannah will 'remember'.
His name is William Shakespeare, I think.
Wikipedia says that he was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language. However, there is controversy (and apparently there has been for some time) that the man who wrote what we think of as the Shakespeare canon was not the man born in Stratford upon Avon, who acted in plays in London in the late 16th, early 17th centuries. Candidates suggested by their 'advocates' include the Earl of Oxford, Francis Bacon, the Earl of Derby and even Queen Elizabeth I. I am currently reading a book (one of many that I am reading on this topic) that is clearly in the man from Straford's camp, but is asserting he was a crypto-Catholic and is using circumstancial evidence to support his views.
I think I understand why I find this subject so interesting. I have always maintained that history is subjective and I believe historians would agree. We, as human beings, approach the world with very specific points of view and generally we examine the past with our point of view in mind.
Recently we were visiting with our friend Thomas up at our cottage and he asked if we thought Hannah would remember the experiences she was having at the time and recounted an experience from his childhood that he recalls as one of his earliest memories.
We all have early memories, but are they really the actual events that we are recalling or are they the events recreated with our current point of view in mind? I would argue, that, like the many educated scholars studying the works and life of Shakespeare, we are imprinting the past with our current opinions, beliefs and rose tinted glasses.
My memories of Robbie's childhood are a mix of guilt and pride. Guilty because I know how difficult it was for him to have a 'broken home' but full of pride because, well...I survived and so did he, and look at him today...bright, strong and ready to take on the world! Ask Robbie and he sees our 'time together' as damn near idyllic. He recounts the trips we took (the 35 pools we dunked in at La Quinta being one of them), the 'happy hour' dinners of cheap bar food and the goofy parties I threw for him (with a grocery bag standing in at the pinata) as some of his 'best memories'. I look at the life we have now and think, man, poor Robbie, he never had this...he never did that...and I can't believe I fed him in bars at age 4!!! If you were to record on tape our memories separately, you might be lead to believe he was not actually THE Robbie I took along for the ride.
That, I believe, is how history happens, and how even the most straightforward of stories can be retold again and again, but like a game of telephone, alter slightly over time to become something completely different.
I believe that Hannah will 'remember'.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Happiness
I had a long conversation this morning with a friend who is going through a divorce. While this separation came as little surprise to me, there were none of what I call the 'big A's', adultery, alcoholism, addition or abuse instigating the break up. My friend was just 'not happy'.
This conversation, and a discussion Ron and I had at the breakfast table this morning made me start thinking about happiness and marriage. I read an article the other day about divorce and how people were no more happy after ending a marriage then before (unless the 'big A's' were present) because it isn't a marriage that makes one happy or not happy, but a sense of inner happiness that extends out to your daily life.
There are also studies that suggest we are born with a certain level of satisfaction in life and that some of us have to work harder then others to be happy.
Ron & I have been struggling with the daily grind and both of us have been testier than usual. I find that I am trying hard 'not to be angry' in my daily interchanges with him and the kids, and I believe (in watching his facial expressions and first responses) that he is doing the same. My statements to him about us being 'less angry' led him to comment that anger was a symptom of our not being happy, not a cause.
Thought provoking statement: Instead of trying not to be angry we should work harder at being happy.
I created a list of things that make me happy. I have a feeling if I execute on more of these things (and encourage Ron to execute on his own list) I will be 'less angry'.
Running makes me happy. Especially on the treadmill with music on.
Driving with the top down on a convertible by myself with Santana cranking makes me happy. I sing at the top of my lungs, which doesn't make anyone else happy, but is why I like to do this alone.
Eating with chopsticks makes me happy. I don't know why, but it does.
Watching a family member accomplish something makes me happy. Robbie being in a play, Ron doing a speech at a fraternity event, Hannah singing in Japanese...anything that puts them in the spotlight for positive reasons. I like running the side lines cheering my team on.
Gossiping with friends about inconsequential things makes me smile. Not work, just stuff that doesn't matter.
Accomplishing a goal. This one is huge for me. I have a huge bent towards execution, versus just planning. Ron likes to plan things but doesn't have to execute them. It took me a long time to understand that just because he wants to do something doesn't mean he has to. If I get an idea, I have to execute it because I love to finish something I start.
Being by the water makes me very happy. It can be the Healy, our cottage lake, the ocean, Lake Tahoe from a ski lift or a fire pit on the beach. Looking out on water helps me gain perspective. I genuinely believe you can't be angry by the water.
Change makes me happy. I mean life changes, not nickels, dimes and quarters.
Roses make me happy.
Fire pits, fire places, and candles that are burning make me happy.
Bathes make me happy.
New places, new people and new ideas make me happy.
The list could go on and on.
If I could check off a third of these items I am positive I would be 'less angry'.
What makes you happy?
This conversation, and a discussion Ron and I had at the breakfast table this morning made me start thinking about happiness and marriage. I read an article the other day about divorce and how people were no more happy after ending a marriage then before (unless the 'big A's' were present) because it isn't a marriage that makes one happy or not happy, but a sense of inner happiness that extends out to your daily life.
There are also studies that suggest we are born with a certain level of satisfaction in life and that some of us have to work harder then others to be happy.
Ron & I have been struggling with the daily grind and both of us have been testier than usual. I find that I am trying hard 'not to be angry' in my daily interchanges with him and the kids, and I believe (in watching his facial expressions and first responses) that he is doing the same. My statements to him about us being 'less angry' led him to comment that anger was a symptom of our not being happy, not a cause.
Thought provoking statement: Instead of trying not to be angry we should work harder at being happy.
I created a list of things that make me happy. I have a feeling if I execute on more of these things (and encourage Ron to execute on his own list) I will be 'less angry'.
Running makes me happy. Especially on the treadmill with music on.
Driving with the top down on a convertible by myself with Santana cranking makes me happy. I sing at the top of my lungs, which doesn't make anyone else happy, but is why I like to do this alone.
Eating with chopsticks makes me happy. I don't know why, but it does.
Watching a family member accomplish something makes me happy. Robbie being in a play, Ron doing a speech at a fraternity event, Hannah singing in Japanese...anything that puts them in the spotlight for positive reasons. I like running the side lines cheering my team on.
Gossiping with friends about inconsequential things makes me smile. Not work, just stuff that doesn't matter.
Accomplishing a goal. This one is huge for me. I have a huge bent towards execution, versus just planning. Ron likes to plan things but doesn't have to execute them. It took me a long time to understand that just because he wants to do something doesn't mean he has to. If I get an idea, I have to execute it because I love to finish something I start.
Being by the water makes me very happy. It can be the Healy, our cottage lake, the ocean, Lake Tahoe from a ski lift or a fire pit on the beach. Looking out on water helps me gain perspective. I genuinely believe you can't be angry by the water.
Change makes me happy. I mean life changes, not nickels, dimes and quarters.
Roses make me happy.
Fire pits, fire places, and candles that are burning make me happy.
Bathes make me happy.
New places, new people and new ideas make me happy.
The list could go on and on.
If I could check off a third of these items I am positive I would be 'less angry'.
What makes you happy?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I don't know HOW to read!
I bit off my nose to spite my face yesterday.
As the rain fell hard yesterday morning, I decided foolishly to avoid the messy southern california highways and work from home. This meant a crowded house that included Ron, who always works from home, and Hannah, who took full advantage that I had to work from home.
WebEx number 1. Hannah comes down in her snow white dress, tripping over my power cord to bat her eyelashes and torture Boodah.
WebEx number 2. Hannah strips naked and jumps from the couch in her playroom onto a pile of pillows strategically placed inches from the corner of her little table.
WebEx number 3. Hannah 'dresses herself' in white tights and a tank top and runs in circles around the kitchen table chasing the dog.
WebEx number 4. Hannah is upstairs 'napping' in our bedroom (Thump Thump Thump).
Gave up...dragged Hannah with me to the Dollar Store, Costco and the Party Supply store to get her birthday party items (All stuffed animals that have on switches are turned on at the party supply store at one time and we leave to the glare of the owner and the disjointed singing of a bear, a penguin, a fish, a puppy and a dancing santa claus).
After dinner, sitting down for the first time, Hannah wants me to read a book (I start reading) and she starts talking...
Finally, tired, worn out and ready to zone with my own book I tell Hannah, 'go get a book and you can read it next to me'.
With a huge sigh of exasperation Hannah throws her hands up in the air and says...
"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO READ"
As the rain fell hard yesterday morning, I decided foolishly to avoid the messy southern california highways and work from home. This meant a crowded house that included Ron, who always works from home, and Hannah, who took full advantage that I had to work from home.
WebEx number 1. Hannah comes down in her snow white dress, tripping over my power cord to bat her eyelashes and torture Boodah.
WebEx number 2. Hannah strips naked and jumps from the couch in her playroom onto a pile of pillows strategically placed inches from the corner of her little table.
WebEx number 3. Hannah 'dresses herself' in white tights and a tank top and runs in circles around the kitchen table chasing the dog.
WebEx number 4. Hannah is upstairs 'napping' in our bedroom (Thump Thump Thump).
Gave up...dragged Hannah with me to the Dollar Store, Costco and the Party Supply store to get her birthday party items (All stuffed animals that have on switches are turned on at the party supply store at one time and we leave to the glare of the owner and the disjointed singing of a bear, a penguin, a fish, a puppy and a dancing santa claus).
After dinner, sitting down for the first time, Hannah wants me to read a book (I start reading) and she starts talking...
Finally, tired, worn out and ready to zone with my own book I tell Hannah, 'go get a book and you can read it next to me'.
With a huge sigh of exasperation Hannah throws her hands up in the air and says...
"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO READ"
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Changing it up
I read an article today on routines and why routines are good for parents, children and families.
Apparently routines are how families organize themselves to get things done, spend time together and have fun. Routines also help children understand what is important to a family.
Ron and I had a disagreement last night. It was triggered by a routine. Since about the time Hannah was six months old, we have been going to Taco Tuesday at a specific restaurant near our home. Ron loves this. He looks forward to this night and barring something VERY important, he wouldn't miss it for the world. His reasons are: It is one night a week I don't have to cook, it is cheap, it is easy, it is consistent, they know me there and know what I want and Hannah is used to it and behaves accordingly. Believe it or not, I competely understand his reason and understand his underlying need for routine. He moors himself to the structure in his life and seeks an unchaotic existence. He had enough chaos in his young life to last a life time and has sought routine and structure ever since. From his fraternity, to his home in Toronto (4 guys and a 'family dinner') home becomes a predictable (and safe) haven from the rest of the world.
My difficulty is reconciling his need for stability with my systemic wanderlust. Because my roots are so deep and my foundation so solid from childhood, I don't have the compelling need to recreate a stable and routine sitation. Instead I seek challenge, and change and a spontaneous existence.
My challenge is figuring out how to provide a stable and routine environment for Ron while still 'changing it up' enough to meet my need for change.
Apparently routines are how families organize themselves to get things done, spend time together and have fun. Routines also help children understand what is important to a family.
Ron and I had a disagreement last night. It was triggered by a routine. Since about the time Hannah was six months old, we have been going to Taco Tuesday at a specific restaurant near our home. Ron loves this. He looks forward to this night and barring something VERY important, he wouldn't miss it for the world. His reasons are: It is one night a week I don't have to cook, it is cheap, it is easy, it is consistent, they know me there and know what I want and Hannah is used to it and behaves accordingly. Believe it or not, I competely understand his reason and understand his underlying need for routine. He moors himself to the structure in his life and seeks an unchaotic existence. He had enough chaos in his young life to last a life time and has sought routine and structure ever since. From his fraternity, to his home in Toronto (4 guys and a 'family dinner') home becomes a predictable (and safe) haven from the rest of the world.
My difficulty is reconciling his need for stability with my systemic wanderlust. Because my roots are so deep and my foundation so solid from childhood, I don't have the compelling need to recreate a stable and routine sitation. Instead I seek challenge, and change and a spontaneous existence.
My challenge is figuring out how to provide a stable and routine environment for Ron while still 'changing it up' enough to meet my need for change.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Fear of Failure
Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon
We all have that friend. The one who challenges us to expand beyond our personal boundries and accept, if not overcome of fear of failure. For Ron, this is Thomas.
Thomas stories have reached legendary proportions. There is the time he removed a fish bone stuck in his throat with scissors. The eco-challenge he participated in because it 'sounded fun', and the fashion show prior to his travel to Greece (hint, the only thing modeled was a speedo!) Robbie's favorite story of Thomas is the lighting of a sparkler at both ends and then using it to light an entire pile of fireworks on fire.
No story really gives a full picture of Thomas, the man. Handsome in a completely approachable, unselfconcious way, Thomas not only breaks hearts but has his broken as well. Earnest, caring and pan-like in his childlike enjoyment of the world around him, he is at times misunderstood. His openness, honestly and geniune thoughtfulness could be misconstrued as simple. I believe that Thomas is a deep thinker.
One would have no trouble thinking that Thomas is good at everything he does, that his skills are inate and that he is one of those people who is just born with extraordinary talents. That is probably not(although I have no evidence of this) the case. What Thomas is good at is not allowing fear to keep him from doing anything he wants to do. To me, this is courageous and I envy him his ability to carpe diem. This is a man who has lived in Singapore, traveled south east Asia, Europe and Latin America and currently leads arctic tours through his company Arctic Kingdom http://www.arctickingdom.com/. He is also the man who's patience and directness with Robbie in the years he has know him have been an example to Ron and I. His affection and devil may care attitude with Hannah has made 'Uncle Thomas' a contender for her hand in marriage (although Ron may have something to say about this with this.)
Everyone needs a 'Thomas' in their lives.
We all have that friend. The one who challenges us to expand beyond our personal boundries and accept, if not overcome of fear of failure. For Ron, this is Thomas.
Thomas stories have reached legendary proportions. There is the time he removed a fish bone stuck in his throat with scissors. The eco-challenge he participated in because it 'sounded fun', and the fashion show prior to his travel to Greece (hint, the only thing modeled was a speedo!) Robbie's favorite story of Thomas is the lighting of a sparkler at both ends and then using it to light an entire pile of fireworks on fire.
No story really gives a full picture of Thomas, the man. Handsome in a completely approachable, unselfconcious way, Thomas not only breaks hearts but has his broken as well. Earnest, caring and pan-like in his childlike enjoyment of the world around him, he is at times misunderstood. His openness, honestly and geniune thoughtfulness could be misconstrued as simple. I believe that Thomas is a deep thinker.
One would have no trouble thinking that Thomas is good at everything he does, that his skills are inate and that he is one of those people who is just born with extraordinary talents. That is probably not(although I have no evidence of this) the case. What Thomas is good at is not allowing fear to keep him from doing anything he wants to do. To me, this is courageous and I envy him his ability to carpe diem. This is a man who has lived in Singapore, traveled south east Asia, Europe and Latin America and currently leads arctic tours through his company Arctic Kingdom http://www.arctickingdom.com/. He is also the man who's patience and directness with Robbie in the years he has know him have been an example to Ron and I. His affection and devil may care attitude with Hannah has made 'Uncle Thomas' a contender for her hand in marriage (although Ron may have something to say about this with this.)
Everyone needs a 'Thomas' in their lives.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Compromise
In arguments, compromise is a concept of finding agreement through communication, through a mutual acceptance of terms—often involving variations from an original goal or desire.
In marriage, compromise is necessary. That being said, compromise its self is not enough. There are times (more often than I would like to admit) when it creates a lose/lose situation and neither party is happy. Ron and I discussed Steven Covey's theory of win/win (you win, then I win, then you win) and I am starting to believe that that is really the nature of compromise.
Ron came from a very different background than I did. He knew what is was like to want. His behavior patterns in some ways remind me of people who grew up in the Great Depression. There is the inate mentality to 'horde'. He does a funny imitation of his Nana, a Dutch woman who lived on tulip bulbs during World War II to survive (and apparently says Ya, Ya neva know when the next war vill hit, and you vill have to eat tulips). It reminds me that he has a lot of these characteristics ingrained in his psyche. He jokes about stocking up for nuclear winter, but our garage (and closets, pantry, attic) are no laughing matter.
I came from a family that was 'comfortable'. We never wanted and while we may not have the excessive lifestyle of today's children, there was never a time in my young life that I heard 'we can't afford it'. It took 26 years before my father got a 5th chair for our dining table (a piece of art furniture, one of a kind that is lasting a lifetime). In my family there is no compromise on quality. If you can't get exactly what you want...you wait.
Ron and I struggle with this. We struggle a lot. Christmas is bringing this out in both of us. I have my back up as the 1 million and 1st Christmas CD arrives in my home and the most recent schlock Christmas movie comes home from WalMart. He struggles with my dirty looks as he speaks about LCD lights and the wreath on his car. I want an elegant Architectural Digest home for the holidays (and to solve world hunger, create peace on earth etc.). He wants A LOT. Doesn't really care if it is elegant or not...just A LOT. Our compromise is a promise of 'in a year and a half when we move to Canada' we will compromise.
I think we are both missing the point. I am just not sure how for us to actually agree to agree. How do two people with up brings so different as to have diametrically opposite point of views meet in the middle? I think we don't.
In marriage, compromise is necessary. That being said, compromise its self is not enough. There are times (more often than I would like to admit) when it creates a lose/lose situation and neither party is happy. Ron and I discussed Steven Covey's theory of win/win (you win, then I win, then you win) and I am starting to believe that that is really the nature of compromise.
Ron came from a very different background than I did. He knew what is was like to want. His behavior patterns in some ways remind me of people who grew up in the Great Depression. There is the inate mentality to 'horde'. He does a funny imitation of his Nana, a Dutch woman who lived on tulip bulbs during World War II to survive (and apparently says Ya, Ya neva know when the next war vill hit, and you vill have to eat tulips). It reminds me that he has a lot of these characteristics ingrained in his psyche. He jokes about stocking up for nuclear winter, but our garage (and closets, pantry, attic) are no laughing matter.
I came from a family that was 'comfortable'. We never wanted and while we may not have the excessive lifestyle of today's children, there was never a time in my young life that I heard 'we can't afford it'. It took 26 years before my father got a 5th chair for our dining table (a piece of art furniture, one of a kind that is lasting a lifetime). In my family there is no compromise on quality. If you can't get exactly what you want...you wait.
Ron and I struggle with this. We struggle a lot. Christmas is bringing this out in both of us. I have my back up as the 1 million and 1st Christmas CD arrives in my home and the most recent schlock Christmas movie comes home from WalMart. He struggles with my dirty looks as he speaks about LCD lights and the wreath on his car. I want an elegant Architectural Digest home for the holidays (and to solve world hunger, create peace on earth etc.). He wants A LOT. Doesn't really care if it is elegant or not...just A LOT. Our compromise is a promise of 'in a year and a half when we move to Canada' we will compromise.
I think we are both missing the point. I am just not sure how for us to actually agree to agree. How do two people with up brings so different as to have diametrically opposite point of views meet in the middle? I think we don't.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Friday
Hannah came into the bedroom this morning with her tartan satin dress, black velvet shrug and snow boots on. She was ready for school. We sang again on the way to school. Arriving at work I realized that the my daughter the preschooler has nothing on my colleagues when it comes being childish. It makes me think of the playground law. We all grew up in a world of cliques and groups, being either in or out. My colleague was hurt by an exclusion from a dinner and it made me think of my daughter, and the hurts of childhood and exclusion.
Apparently some things never change.
Apparently some things never change.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Frosty the Snowman
Hannah and I listened to Christmas music on the way to Anneliese this morning. She was singing Rudolph with her high, clear voice and I was warbling my way through 'Walking in a Winter Wonderland'. Christmas season in Southern California seems strange and anti climactic. While the lights come up and the tree lots proliferate, the weather doesn't cooperate with classic Christmas expections. The years past, when travels to Canada or Tahoe gave the layer of white to the Christmas season helped. Putting up lights in shorts and flip flops seems counter intuitive, but is common and on the very warm days of December, necessary.
Feathery snow, icicles and the idea of ice skating, hot cocoa--a real White Christmas.
I can't wait!
Feathery snow, icicles and the idea of ice skating, hot cocoa--a real White Christmas.
I can't wait!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
The Holiday Season
December is upon us.
Ron is at his happiest in December. He historically wallows a bit in a funk in November, counting the days until he is allowed to start playing his gigs and gigs of Christmas music nonstop. Christmas is his favorite time of year.
My first Hutzul Family Christmas was before we were officially an item. At the beginning of our long distance courtship I took a trip up to Canada from a tradeshow in New York City. He assured me that he always brings someone to the family Christmas and no one would think anything of a stranger from California. After the 'pep talk' from his Dad about how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, the reassuring 'you are WAY better than the girl last year, you should have seen how much hairspray she used' from his young brother, and the very insistent inclusion in the 'family' photo, I realized maybe he was downplaying the significance of my attendance.
Started as Christmas at Nana and Grandpa's, this family gathering has grown over the years to the almost mythic proportions it has become (and by mythic, I mean the piles of food on the table and piles of people in Uncle Wayne's basement.) There are many stories of years past, like the year the grandchildren created the video for the family (along with tear jerking music), the many visits from the Christmas Penguin (Uncle Glen I believe) and the year Ron gave a bag of limes (which turned out to be a bucket of Corona's) in the Xmas Gift Exchange.
Did I mention the food? A groaning table piled high with the Canadian, Ukraniane, Russian and Italian foods of the contributors. Petichke, Perougie, Cabbage Rolls, and Kielbasa are standard Christmas fare at the Hutzul family Christmas. So are the bright orange Cheetos that Uncle Wayne has for the kids. Butter Tarts, French Silk pie, and Date Squares...
There is something so warm, so basic and so incredibly comforting about a family tradition at the holidays.
Ron is at his happiest in December. He historically wallows a bit in a funk in November, counting the days until he is allowed to start playing his gigs and gigs of Christmas music nonstop. Christmas is his favorite time of year.
My first Hutzul Family Christmas was before we were officially an item. At the beginning of our long distance courtship I took a trip up to Canada from a tradeshow in New York City. He assured me that he always brings someone to the family Christmas and no one would think anything of a stranger from California. After the 'pep talk' from his Dad about how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, the reassuring 'you are WAY better than the girl last year, you should have seen how much hairspray she used' from his young brother, and the very insistent inclusion in the 'family' photo, I realized maybe he was downplaying the significance of my attendance.
Started as Christmas at Nana and Grandpa's, this family gathering has grown over the years to the almost mythic proportions it has become (and by mythic, I mean the piles of food on the table and piles of people in Uncle Wayne's basement.) There are many stories of years past, like the year the grandchildren created the video for the family (along with tear jerking music), the many visits from the Christmas Penguin (Uncle Glen I believe) and the year Ron gave a bag of limes (which turned out to be a bucket of Corona's) in the Xmas Gift Exchange.
Did I mention the food? A groaning table piled high with the Canadian, Ukraniane, Russian and Italian foods of the contributors. Petichke, Perougie, Cabbage Rolls, and Kielbasa are standard Christmas fare at the Hutzul family Christmas. So are the bright orange Cheetos that Uncle Wayne has for the kids. Butter Tarts, French Silk pie, and Date Squares...
There is something so warm, so basic and so incredibly comforting about a family tradition at the holidays.
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Weekend Away
We are back. Family is fun, isn't it? We are sitting in the 'den' of my childhood in Berkeley California after a 'weekend' away in Lake Tahoe. The 'rents 'stood in' with Robbie and Hannah. It is amazing how much my children are in my mind when I am not with them. Robbie took his first flight by himself. Dropped off at the airport with a pre-printed boarding pass and no luggage, the call from the Starbucks and the triumphant call when he landed...it broke the seal on personal travel. He will be doing it on a regular basis pretty soon as he travels to tour the colleges and universities of his choice. Hannah, well, she had a great time. She was proclaimed by her 'Papa' the resident "Queen of Berkeley". She had the parchment to prove it. Her smile on our return was radiant.
Something about being in Berkeley makes me feel like a child again.
Something about being in Berkeley makes me feel like a child again.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I am Canada
Yesterday at Hannah's school a number of parents came in and talked about the countries they came from and shared with the preschoolers their flags and culture. Hannah attends a unique kind of school (especially for Orange County) that focuses on children and teachers from international climes. From aged 2-3 Hannah received instruction from German, Japanese and Hispanic teachers, then 'graduated' to Japanese, Austrian and ASL (American Sign Language). Currently she is with a German teacher but is given direct exposure to the other teachers so that she doesn't loose the Japanese et al. that she has already absorbed. Everywhere else but America we would look at this multicultural opportunity as a necessity for our child's development and 'think global' mentality. Here, we look at it as a luxury. To some, it is considered 'crunchy' 'liberal' and out of the main stream.
But I digress.
Hannah, seeing the Canadian flag loudly exclaimed "I am Canada" "My Daddy is also Canada".
The teacher (Ms. Uris, an Austrian national) explained to Hannah, that she was not Canada, but 'Canadian'.
I am an American, but my husband (Hannah's daddy) is Canadian, and I have thought long and hard about what makes us Americans so darn different from our neighbors up north (they would say that they are actually, neighbours...but again, I digress.)
Canadians, in my experience, seem to be so much happier...so much funnier, and so much less focused on the 'political' aspects of life. Even their politicians are less political. Canadians are great story tellers, but in a way so different than the typical Amercian. That 'Big Fish' mentality doesn't seem to exist. Instead, there is humor in the daily grind, the trip to the donut shop, the history of curling, the battle over a beloved hockey anthem and the widow who owns it. Steve Martin, George Carlin...they could have been Canadian. It is so down to earth, so self deprecating, and so hilariously funny to those of us living our lives one day at a time.
Canadian men seem to have nothing to prove and have little or no rancor towards their fellow man. The guy at the Jiffy Lube will spend an extra hour telling you about his dear old Gran...the waiter at your favorite pub will set up a seat and talk about his struggle to find the perfect apartment. The bagger at the grocery store, well, he has a cottage right by yours, and HEY, you might actually be related!!
Get a group of American guys together and the measuring stick comes out. Get a group of Canadian men together and they work hard to see who can make the other guy shoot beer from his nose (all in good fun).
Ron struggled with American insincerity when he first arrived. The typical HR response of 'we love you, will call you' always got his heart racing and his expectations up. The inevitable false friendly was foreign to him.
I can't wait to stop looking over my shoulder.
But I digress.
Hannah, seeing the Canadian flag loudly exclaimed "I am Canada" "My Daddy is also Canada".
The teacher (Ms. Uris, an Austrian national) explained to Hannah, that she was not Canada, but 'Canadian'.
I am an American, but my husband (Hannah's daddy) is Canadian, and I have thought long and hard about what makes us Americans so darn different from our neighbors up north (they would say that they are actually, neighbours...but again, I digress.)
Canadians, in my experience, seem to be so much happier...so much funnier, and so much less focused on the 'political' aspects of life. Even their politicians are less political. Canadians are great story tellers, but in a way so different than the typical Amercian. That 'Big Fish' mentality doesn't seem to exist. Instead, there is humor in the daily grind, the trip to the donut shop, the history of curling, the battle over a beloved hockey anthem and the widow who owns it. Steve Martin, George Carlin...they could have been Canadian. It is so down to earth, so self deprecating, and so hilariously funny to those of us living our lives one day at a time.
Canadian men seem to have nothing to prove and have little or no rancor towards their fellow man. The guy at the Jiffy Lube will spend an extra hour telling you about his dear old Gran...the waiter at your favorite pub will set up a seat and talk about his struggle to find the perfect apartment. The bagger at the grocery store, well, he has a cottage right by yours, and HEY, you might actually be related!!
Get a group of American guys together and the measuring stick comes out. Get a group of Canadian men together and they work hard to see who can make the other guy shoot beer from his nose (all in good fun).
Ron struggled with American insincerity when he first arrived. The typical HR response of 'we love you, will call you' always got his heart racing and his expectations up. The inevitable false friendly was foreign to him.
I can't wait to stop looking over my shoulder.
Divorce?
I have been doing a lot of thinking about Divorce. The dictionary definition states that divorce means: disassociate, part, cease or break association with. This is contrary to my experience with divorce pretty much across the board. Divorce, when there are children involved is anything but a disassociation. It is a wrenching, Solomon-like process where the hurt and anger in the adults involved spills over like acid to the child or children in the middle.
Robbie went through parental divorce. If divorces could be 'pretty', mine and Scott's was as pretty and packaged as we could make it. There were no sordid battles, arguments over money or Robbie. We agreed to agree and fairly shared our son's precious time. We, even today, are flexible and open and co-parent, presenting Robbie with a united front, but...for Robbie, this is still hard. Very hard. Since the age of three he has had two homes, two rooms, two different sets of parents. He has to choose when and where to spend his holidays and who to spend them with and where his favorite flip flops are currently residing. He also has to reconcile the fact that Dad has a full minivan of little one's and Mom has added new sister and embrace both families as his own.
Ron has said that the hardest part of growing up was figuring out where to belong. He has a sister who shares the same parents and shares his difficulties. Robbie is the only child of Scott and I. Myongoing goal is to make sure that Robbie feels he fits in. That our family is his family and that he is a key member is always at the forefront of my mind. This is more challenging then one would think. He is with us half the time, misses half the events and only shares half the holidays. In a year and a half, he goes to college and we start a brand new life (as does he). Will he seek a separate community of 'family' like Ron did or will he always feel that our family is where his home is, no matter where we reside.
I hope so.
Robbie went through parental divorce. If divorces could be 'pretty', mine and Scott's was as pretty and packaged as we could make it. There were no sordid battles, arguments over money or Robbie. We agreed to agree and fairly shared our son's precious time. We, even today, are flexible and open and co-parent, presenting Robbie with a united front, but...for Robbie, this is still hard. Very hard. Since the age of three he has had two homes, two rooms, two different sets of parents. He has to choose when and where to spend his holidays and who to spend them with and where his favorite flip flops are currently residing. He also has to reconcile the fact that Dad has a full minivan of little one's and Mom has added new sister and embrace both families as his own.
Ron has said that the hardest part of growing up was figuring out where to belong. He has a sister who shares the same parents and shares his difficulties. Robbie is the only child of Scott and I. Myongoing goal is to make sure that Robbie feels he fits in. That our family is his family and that he is a key member is always at the forefront of my mind. This is more challenging then one would think. He is with us half the time, misses half the events and only shares half the holidays. In a year and a half, he goes to college and we start a brand new life (as does he). Will he seek a separate community of 'family' like Ron did or will he always feel that our family is where his home is, no matter where we reside.
I hope so.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Waterloo
Billy called last night. He is Ron's youngest brother. Billy has, it seems, followed in Ron's footsteps. Laurier University, Pikes, academically exceptional, hard working, hard drinking--and popular with the 'ladies'. He has strived for 'up and out' since an early age. With a 14 year age difference, and the physical overlap of only 4 years of life in their father's home, it is hard to believe that Ron was the only driving force of influence in Billy's life. Ron Senior, their father, held his boys (and daughter) to a high (almost lofty) standard. My image of Ron Senior is that of a Willy Lomanesque character. A thoughtful man, bright and inquisitive, who, with the right influences and a stronger sense of self esteem would have had a larger positive impact on his world. He was the quintessential salesman--the definition of someone doing deals over the 'three martini' lunch. The wheeler and dealer with the little black book, the endless supply of dreams and schemes and when, after a lifetime of excess, he passed on at 54, he nevertheless, left a legacy. Some of it was good...some not so good.
This made me think about the argument of nature versus nurture and the Hutzul's in general.
The Hutzul family (Ron and Billy's father's family) are a clannish group. Looking at the pictures prolifically posted on Ancestry.com by Uncle Glen--the family historian, and hearing the many stories, the Hutzul/Novokowsky (I may have spelled that wrong) family are of exceptionally hardy farm stock (with a priest and a nun among their ranks--an insurance policy to heaven?)
Ron's great grandfather on the Hutzul side was a immigrant to Canada from the Ukraine. The Hutzul's (or Hutzel's) were a tribe of mountain people in the Carpathian mountains. They had Hutzul horses and Hutzul dances and Hutzul tales, and even had a nation of Hutzuls until the governments surrounding them figured it out and put the kibosh on their pretensions of autonomy.
The center of Ron's extended family was Nana (a Novokosky). She passed away when Ron was 13 and a year before Billy was born, yet she seems to be the guiding force for the younger generation of Hutzuls. 3 out of 5 granddaughters have the middle name Marie (as does Hannah, a great granddaughter) and the family speaks reverently of this short, comforting, 4 foot 10 woman who managed to raise 5 boys and a girl on her husbands limited income. We have the 'legendary' wooden spoon. Her equalizer, from what I understand. Blind in her later years, she seems to have indelibly marked the family with her wisdom, optimism and fierce family loyalty. All that are Hutzul have and spread these values.
So if you think in terms of 'nature' or the genetic predisposition towards certain attributes, are Billy and Ron the products of nature? Independent, competitive, fiercely loyal and always striving.
I think so.
This made me think about the argument of nature versus nurture and the Hutzul's in general.
The Hutzul family (Ron and Billy's father's family) are a clannish group. Looking at the pictures prolifically posted on Ancestry.com by Uncle Glen--the family historian, and hearing the many stories, the Hutzul/Novokowsky (I may have spelled that wrong) family are of exceptionally hardy farm stock (with a priest and a nun among their ranks--an insurance policy to heaven?)
Ron's great grandfather on the Hutzul side was a immigrant to Canada from the Ukraine. The Hutzul's (or Hutzel's) were a tribe of mountain people in the Carpathian mountains. They had Hutzul horses and Hutzul dances and Hutzul tales, and even had a nation of Hutzuls until the governments surrounding them figured it out and put the kibosh on their pretensions of autonomy.
The center of Ron's extended family was Nana (a Novokosky). She passed away when Ron was 13 and a year before Billy was born, yet she seems to be the guiding force for the younger generation of Hutzuls. 3 out of 5 granddaughters have the middle name Marie (as does Hannah, a great granddaughter) and the family speaks reverently of this short, comforting, 4 foot 10 woman who managed to raise 5 boys and a girl on her husbands limited income. We have the 'legendary' wooden spoon. Her equalizer, from what I understand. Blind in her later years, she seems to have indelibly marked the family with her wisdom, optimism and fierce family loyalty. All that are Hutzul have and spread these values.
So if you think in terms of 'nature' or the genetic predisposition towards certain attributes, are Billy and Ron the products of nature? Independent, competitive, fiercely loyal and always striving.
I think so.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Heading out of the driveway
Blogging about myself doesn't make sense to me. Who am I to say anything to anyone about anything? I am a mom of two, the former wife of two, the current wife of one, and a serial career thrill seeker. Daughter, Mother, Sister, Aunt and in law (and with some of my husbands family, out law) Nuff said...
What then, do I want to blog about?
My larger than life husband, my artistic brilliant son, and my effervescent daughter. My flexible moorings.
Ron currently has blond hair (and by blond I mean bleached) and is revelling in the multiple cases of mistaken identity. You see, he bleached his hair for Halloween (in a fit of 'Vampire' sympathy) but his true purpose was to 'channel' the look and personality of a certain Food Network pseudo celebrity. Is there a reason Ron can pull of the orange clogs, the overalls, the ball caps turned backwards and the bright red sweatshirts? I think it is because while very handsome, he has physical characteristics that leans towards caricature. A cartoonist recently did a quick drawing and the resemblance was uncanny. When heads turn and he becomes the center of attention, he grins (widely I might add) with a certainty that this is no less than what he deserves from his adoring public.
What a sharp contrast to Robbie who at 6 foot 3 is unsure of what being in the public eye and under scrutiny means to him. As he heads toward those heady years of early adulthood, he fluctuates in his resolve to be the master of his own destiny. He loves drama (the person behind a character) and reads avidly (to escape?). The multiple sets of young twins on his fathers side keep him from too much attention and in our home, he struggles to find a balance in our relationship--transitioning from his life 'before Ron' to the life we all share. That he is scary smart makes him more thoughtful, but no less unsure of who he should be.
Hannah--Are all little girls princesses? Do all princesses understand the sophisticated concept of 'intolerance'? Do all adults? The mercurial shifts from 3 year old to 30 year old are keeping me on my toes. When it comes to Hannah, I am out of my league (she is better with makeup and lipstick then I am) and I am constantly looking at her pretty little face to see if I had a hand in her at all. How do we keep this sense of self esteem going? What happens when the world does not continue to reinforce the 'cuteness' and she needs to go deeper than the skin to be the beauty that she is?
Thanksgiving is coming. Do people think about the name of this holiday? Thanks and Giving.
Thank you.
What then, do I want to blog about?
My larger than life husband, my artistic brilliant son, and my effervescent daughter. My flexible moorings.
Ron currently has blond hair (and by blond I mean bleached) and is revelling in the multiple cases of mistaken identity. You see, he bleached his hair for Halloween (in a fit of 'Vampire' sympathy) but his true purpose was to 'channel' the look and personality of a certain Food Network pseudo celebrity. Is there a reason Ron can pull of the orange clogs, the overalls, the ball caps turned backwards and the bright red sweatshirts? I think it is because while very handsome, he has physical characteristics that leans towards caricature. A cartoonist recently did a quick drawing and the resemblance was uncanny. When heads turn and he becomes the center of attention, he grins (widely I might add) with a certainty that this is no less than what he deserves from his adoring public.
What a sharp contrast to Robbie who at 6 foot 3 is unsure of what being in the public eye and under scrutiny means to him. As he heads toward those heady years of early adulthood, he fluctuates in his resolve to be the master of his own destiny. He loves drama (the person behind a character) and reads avidly (to escape?). The multiple sets of young twins on his fathers side keep him from too much attention and in our home, he struggles to find a balance in our relationship--transitioning from his life 'before Ron' to the life we all share. That he is scary smart makes him more thoughtful, but no less unsure of who he should be.
Hannah--Are all little girls princesses? Do all princesses understand the sophisticated concept of 'intolerance'? Do all adults? The mercurial shifts from 3 year old to 30 year old are keeping me on my toes. When it comes to Hannah, I am out of my league (she is better with makeup and lipstick then I am) and I am constantly looking at her pretty little face to see if I had a hand in her at all. How do we keep this sense of self esteem going? What happens when the world does not continue to reinforce the 'cuteness' and she needs to go deeper than the skin to be the beauty that she is?
Thanksgiving is coming. Do people think about the name of this holiday? Thanks and Giving.
Thank you.
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