Picking Sides

In the inevitable "us" versus "them" of family life, it never occurred to me that the "us" would one day be construed as me and my kids versus the "them" of the Mr. and his kids.  I suppose I naively assumed "us" = the parents, "them" =  the kids. Silly me.

I understand that as parents we are naturally protective and defensive of our offspring; I've had years to get used to my boys' quirks and know their inner workings like my own (sometimes better). Same goes for the Mr. -- he knows his kids and loves them for exactly who they are.

What's painful and surprising, though, is a recent episode where one of my kids and one of his were in conflict. Mine was annoyed by his and wanted me to engineer a quick fix. I spoke to the Mr., who rightly noted that my son tends to be a control freak and that no fix was needed. Fighters, take your corners.

There we were, us vs. them. I cannot tell you how sad it made me.

We are inching back toward being a team, but knowing that we've picked sides once before, I worry that it will happen again.

Until next time, let's choose happy.

Damn the torpedoes!

From my cozy home office, I can see into my front and back yards (still dirt due to renovations but that should be changing with the arrival of spring!). Above me, no sound. Below me, my stepson, yelling at a screen and playing "Call of Duty."

I don't play video games, although the boys in my home certainly do. There are dozens of them - games, not boys. No one, however, is addicted to gaming like my 15-year-old stepson. He rants, he screams, he swears. Most of the time I let him be, astounded at the energy he has for the games but for little else in his world. Occasionally, I'll ask him to tone it down. Sometimes it sounds like real violence is occurring down there. Every now and then he'll proudly tell me about some great kill he made with some kind of gun in some kind of maneuver. I totally do not get it.

The one bright spot: whereas he used to play right through dinner, he now will come up to the kitchen, without much delay, when I call him to dinner. Baby steps, right?

Working working at choosing happy. Because there are moments when it all feels worthwhile.

A comedy of errors

So we have this painter, Igor, who the Mr. thinks is great. I believe that Igor grew up under the Communist system and feels that whether he works or not, he still gets paid for showing up and standing around. Igor makes me crazy. He gets to the house at 9:30 or 10, walks around for a while, leaves, comes back and paints or primes and leaves at about 3. Very little gets done.

Today, brilliant Igor decided to stain the door to the powder room. He removed the door handle to do so. My autistic stepson, David, who will happily carry on a phone conversation no matter where he is and what he's doing, wandered into the powder room and shut the door.

It's unclear how long David was stuck in there. The Mr. heard him banging on the door after coming home from a business dinner. David wasn't upset; he was still on the phone. Picture this: David on the phone, the Mr. -- who is normally great with tools, fumbling with a screwdriver to undo the door (a few cocktails at dinner, dear?) and the other boys crowded around the door laughing. Yours truly finally got the door open.

At long last, a moment of levity, making it infinitely easier to choose happy.

Home again, home again, jiggety jog

Hello friends, back from the first vacation with three of my kids, the Mr. and my 15-year-old stepson. I'd love to report that it all went swimmingly. That we soaked up the Mexican sun, played and laughed endlessly and generally spent 7 wonderful days enjoying each other's company.

That's what I'd love to report. The reality was sadly much different. It was one of the most difficult trips I've ever taken. Too much togetherness, perhaps. It felt as though a magnifying glass was held up to each of us and what we saw wasn't pretty. Frustrating behavior (two of the four boys), impatience (me), indecision (the Mr.).  Not to mention that the Mr. and I were each getting over wicked sinus/ear infections that not even liberal doses of tequila could conquer.

Two days home and it feels like we're still rebounding from the tension -- the adults more so than the kids. Somethings need to change, and that feels kind of scary. I'm not sure how that's going to look or what that conversation is going to sound like. But something very clearly needs to change or I worry about our ability to successfully, happily and lovingly move forward.

Working hard to choose happy.