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I AM an Oxymoron

One of my favorite ever moments from high school was sitting in Mr. Pardee's Chem class with... Jen? Was it you Jen? Weren't you in honors everything so it couldn't have been you in there with me?

Anyway, Mr. Pardee was one of my three or four most memorable teachers ever. He was funny for one thing. He would routinely go off on tangents every so often that would take the entire class period on purpose for another. I just tried to give examples of what those tangents would be and both of them couldn't be explained with any sort of justice. It was just awesome to be in his class. He would also routinely break into giggles. One of those occurred when he was doing some sort of experiment using rocks and light and described one of the rocks as blackish/whitish. Jen, I swear it was you, I can so hear you laughing not quite out loud saying isn't that an oxymoron? And he laughed so hard in the same manner.

Anyway, I am an oxymoron. I OFTEN feel that way and often feel misunderstood because of it. As in, YES labor hurt like a you know what and I didn't enjoy the pain at all, not even a little. But that doesn't mean that having the babies, and yes including labor, wasn't the most awesome adventure, the coolest challenge, most proud experiences of my life. And YES I can be crazy totally proud that I "pushed" a total, a combined TOTAL of 6 times amidst all my labors for a combined time of probably under five minutes? Does that mean I judge or look down on anyone who pushed for days (JenG you're Superwoman) - NOOOOOOO. But IIII can be proud of my own crazy body can't I? Even if its just genes? It was MY race to run and I'm not comparing with everyone else's race run on a totally different course and terrain.

So, yes I can see why people can think they know one thing about me only to have me tell the story completely different on a different day. Does this make me duplicitous? NOOO, actually it doesn't. A high school friend of mine had this vision of authenticity that the best sort of person was someone who's loved ones would gather at their funeral and everyone would have had the same experience as to who she was. Even then I blanched at that. I'm so different based on who I'm with. I always have been. Am I lying and faking and being inauthentic? No. Different people bring out different things in me. Different people need different things from me. Different situations make me feel different ways. I'm flexible - in every way as it turns out.

So I'm confident. And I'm not. I'm social. And I'm not. I enjoy my cave dwelling. And I enjoy nature. I hate bugs. And I still hate bugs. BUT I find them cool if they aren't going to get near me. I'm not adventurous at all. And yet, if I'm not being pushed, I'll do a lot of what you think I wouldn't.

What I am almost always, is prepared to fight someone pushing me. Which is pretty fascinating considering I don't think I was pushed much as a child. My mom tried VERY hard to push only in the most important areas, not smush me (as in my personality) into the ground. My dad, well hey - he believes VERY strongly in his kids being exactly who they want to be. So apparently what that all did for me was make me pretty possessive of who I am. Strong and proud and a bit suspicious of all you out there poking at me. ;)

At the same time? I'm waiting for the people that love me the very most to be willing to push me - just a bit. When I'm looking over the edge of somewhere I don't want to go. I want the people that love me most to trust me the most to know that actually I do very much want to be able to go *there* (wherever there is) and all I need is a little shove. What does that shove look like? Well, it's not sarcasm (unless it's really good sarcasm). It's not belittling. It's not guilt. It's not doubtful. It's not weak. It's casual, but insistent - they're not even looking at me, but staring off at something else - "Go ahead - you'll do great" and then shove. It's something to do with faith and trust in me. Not me in them. A stranger is much more likely to successfully convince me to do something I don't want to do than a friend. Because the stranger isn't giving me attitude about how I *should* do it but I probably can't because I am crippled in some way.

We used to have family friends who lived in the Pasadena area. We were visiting as a family during a huge rain storm all those years ago. I was still elementary aged and by FAR the youngest of the group. Everyone decided we'd all take a run in the rain. Everyone else had someone their size or near to borrow clothes from I think. Maybe the rest of my family will remember why I was the only one in a bathing suit. A borrowed teenager's bathing suit. Maybe I had had a tizzy about getting my clothes wet - I don't know. But I remember them trying to coax me into doing it and ALL I wanted to do was jump off the stairs and join them, and for the life of me I couldn't.

I was choked with insecurity or SOMETHING. And my mom had to push me. It wasn't the sort I described because hey - I'm sure I just LOOKED like I was having a snit. But inside I remember knowing I was coming off the exact opposite of how I felt and I just couldn't figure out how to express it! In fact, I think I can even now trace it to a very specific misunderstanding. I think I was looking for some sort of reassurance about the bathing suit - and whatever someone said - it wasn't the key I was looking for. I just kept waiting for someone to say what I wanted them to say. I finally did go with them, and it was a lot of fun. But I'll always remember how I had gotten myself in this huge predicament completely "innocently" because I'm sure that happens to kids all the time.

(There is such ATTITUDE in the way they can say something and half the time they don't MEAN to be horribly rude... and they do have to be taught obviously how to express themselves politely, but I hope the times that happens to Abby on a big scale are SLIGHTLY diminished because I remember and maybe I can save her from herself now and again.)

Anyway, I was thinking of all this because of the photography season coming up - but I suppose I'll save that for the next time I blog... which might be next year...

What Finn Doesn't Want me to Say

He's a cupcake, I don't know what to say. A tough, boyish cupcake, it's true - he's interested in cars and how they go - he's interested in exploration and doing ANYthing that Jack is doing. He is uninterested in toys that aren't loud or don't have wheels He walks around - already a veteran walker at 11 months old, with this total confidence - when he looks at you it's with this expression, "I know, I'm the frosting on the cake, you love me, here, I love you too." Then he either runs over to cuddle or makes a quarter turn to follow some path invisible to me.

Don't worry Finn - cupcake doesn't mean you are a pushover. Jack pushes you down casually two times or more a day and you sort of shrug, get back up and plow back in - you might totally adore your big brother but intimidated by him, you are NOT.

He wanders more than either of my other two. As my mom clarifies, he's totally fine to wander off from his caretaker, but he is really offended if his caretaker tries to wander off without him. It's pretty funny - once he's assured that you're sat somewhere and not trying to go anywhere THEN he'll go off searching all the other rooms of the house. He'll check in now and then, looking at you as he passes the hall, give you that "I know, I know, I'm just a blessing to your world."

This extends to being absolutely shocked that someone might say "no" to him, in fact, he thinks you're probably joking. Gives you a sweet tolerant smile and continues about his business. IF in fact you decide to insist that you are actually in charge, Finn gives you a look of frustrated indignation - furrowed brow and all.