Today's Self-Portrait

Thoughts on My Sister's Keeper

I had the distinct privilege of being asked by my daughter to go to a movie with her. I had seen a review of the movie and knew it didn't get a great review. But I did not want to miss this opportunity to spend time with Valerie.

Shortly into the movie, I could tell Val was disgusted with the screen adaptation. Although I had read the book, I did not remember the story in the detail that Valerie did.

I don't usually cry at movies anymore, but this one really got me. Not because of the movie itself, but because the mother of the family put one child ahead of everything else in the world -- her job, her husband and marriage, and her other children. Everything else was secondary to the needs of the one child. What got this mother's heart was that I think I do that same thing to a certain extent with my sweet little Kepler. I know that my other kids have had to forego certain things and time with me and/or Greg because of the needs of Kepler.

He's not sick, of course. But ever since he was born, I know I have put the other kids second to him many, many times. Perhaps that is somewhat natural, to spend more time with a younger, needier child, but I have sensed, with some actual evidence, that my older kids do feel like I put Kepler first too much of the time.

What breaks my heart is that I know all five of them have needs and I love them all so much. And sometimes it is just so hard to figure out how to show them all that I love them.

A broken heart doesn't mean that all is lost. There is probably room for me to change, and room for the kids to change, and room for Greg to change. I mean, I do believe that Kepler is a gift to us. It's just hard to have one child who has such obvious needs that seem greater than the needs of another. And yet, to that other child, I'm sure it's a mystery why Kepler's needs always take precedence.

I don't have this all tied up with a nice little bow right now. I feel raw and the only "summary" I can come up with is that I am glad that I saw this movie and I want to know how to love my kids, each of them, the way they need to be loved.

Take Me Out of the Ballpark

See this? I spent my ENTIRE day selling people ice cream sundaes in these little hats for a mere $4.75, toppings are free!

So, we had the opportunity to sign up for this "fundraising" deal whereby we work our butts off at the Reds game for a small amount of money which will offset our tuition this year. This was my first time today. I. Am. Exhausted.

First thing this morning, I drove downtown with Valerie and tried to find a free parking place. The place I planned to park was full, so we drove a few blocks further away and parked. I don't know. No one could possibly want to hear all the details. Suffice it to say, it's a buttload of work, and you're standing on concrete all day long, and then? At the end, we got to drive home in rush hour traffic.

I'm pretty sure Greg doesn't think it's worth it for me to spend an entire day for such a small amount of money. I'm pretty sure I'm too tired to make a good decision about it tonight, but I'm pretty sure he's probably right.

All I can say is, I'm tired. I didn't see the game. I just don't know if it's worth it. Sing with me now, Take me out of the ballpark . . . .

Don't Try This at Home

1. I know a three-year-old who loves to shred documents.
2. I know a mother who lets her three-year-old shred documents. This is an attentive, careful mother who never even leaves the shredder plugged in when not using it, let alone on.
3. I know why there is a warning on the machine to keep fingers out of it.

1. I am thankful I have lightning-fast reflexes, so that
2. These little fingers did not get permanently damaged when they went into the shredder today (up to the second knuckle!), just somewhat smooshed.
3. No more shredding for three-year-olds in this house.

Woman Gives Birth to Giant Rodent

but doesn't realize it for 10 1/2 years. When she walks into her daughter's room one night, she discovers it is inhabited by a genuine packrat. The floor is covered; under the bed is filled up; the tabletops are missing; under the top layer on the floor is tiny piece after tiny piece of thread, either from sewing or perhaps to line her nest with.

And money? You'd think there was one of those birds that likes shiny things in this room, because we found coins on, under, in and behind everything in the room. Packy must be saving for a rainy day. Probably to buy more treasures and treasure chests.

Alas, Packy will not be receiving anything for Christmas this year that will need dusting or storing. Nothing that will make little tiny pieces of scrap anything. Nothing that will leave shavings behind, or pieces of glitter, or grains of sand. But, never fear, Packy has many, many projects, toys, games, cds, scrapbooking materials, and enough art supplies to start another Michael's store.

I can't imagine where she gets it.

How it All Wove Together

Via Facebook, I heard about my 30th high school class reunion. I was enthusiastic about helping organize it, but as these things sometimes go, life got in the way of my plans and I moved on to other tasks.

I planned to go to the reunion, although I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic when the time came to make the reservations. I caved in when my sister demanded that I attend as she wanted to make sure she would have someone to talk to. Had I thought about this for even 10 seconds, I would have realized that making small talk with people you haven't seen for 30 years has to be as easy as falling off a log. "What have you been doing for the last 30 years?" should be good for at least a few minutes of chat. So, I could have realized that she would probably be ok even if I weren't there. But, I reacted to her request by signing right up.

I'm probably not the only one in the world who is conscious of weighing more than I did in high school, maybe having an extra chin or two, and although I had intended to work out and get fit (superficial, anyone?), it didn't happen.

A week before the reunion, another opportunity arose that I really wanted to attend, and Greg especially wanted to. But Marcia Brady made an indelible impression on me when she broke her date with nerdy Charley to go out with the BMOC, and suffered for it by getting hit in the nose with a football. "Something suddenly came up" wasn't going to be MY refrain.

But my OTHER sister suggested that there must be room in life for us to change our minds sometimes. And Greg certainly wanted to attend the Reset group dinner rather than the reunion, and who could blame him? In deference to him, because I love him, not because he's my "boss," I chose the Reset group dinner and backed out of the reunion.

So, off my sister went to the class reunion, and off we went to our dinner with friends. We were a bit late because I had attended the service at Crossroads, where "Alli" spoke about authority. It didn't speak to me a whole lot but it was a good message.

I had such great memories of our time with these people for those six weeks, but the dinner was a lot different than the small group experience. At one point, there was a lot of political talk flying across the table and I actually interrupted and changed the subject to one that seemed like we might have more of a chance of talking about ourselves in a deeper way. But, that didn't really happen. The evening was less than satisfying and not nearly as stimulating as I expected it would be.

Driving home, I wondered if I had made a mistake in choosing the dinner over the reunion.

After service on Sunday, we were hanging out in the atrium and all of a sudden I realized that two of my high school classmates were standing near me. They were in town for the reunion, and visiting Crossroads the morning after. We chatted for a minute and it was nice to see them, but I realized that I was quite happy to just catch up for that short time, and the mini-reunion that I had experienced was quite satisfactory.

Funny thing was that I felt like I looked nice, which I don't often feel these days. So, no worries about the weight or chins. I enjoyed seeing my classmates, but was happy with the brief time we had. Realized it had been the right choice to attend the dinner, even though it was less than riveting, because my choice honored Greg, and ultimately worked out much better than it would have if I had planned the outcome.

Look What I Found in the Storage Room

One of my children, who shall remain nameless, wrote this list when she was age 7. She prepared this list the night before we were to attend a concert at the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. This list is a perfect example of how she has always been an organized person from early on. The rows say the following:


To wear///Black Velvet Dress///White Sparkling Shoes///White Coloerd Tights

To take///A box of tissues if nessisery///"money"///This list///My ticket

DO///Listen to sphmony///say it was the best you ever heard///try to meet 2 players///if do, ask how long they have been playing

DON'T///Complain about sphmony///Say it was too loud///Say the players were teribble///Ignore everybody

Priceless.