Happy Thanksgiving

I understand that somewhere in the world, people are gathering with their families and eating turkey and getting ready to go shopping for great deals, at stores which don't pay 54% import tax on everything on their shelves.  I am not really missing the Thanksgiving-ness, probably because I never picked apples and got out my sweaters and watched the mums come out and trimmed back the roses; in my heart it's still gotta be about August 23rd or so.  I haven't had the energy to try and prepare a fake thanksgiving kind of thing, but we let the kids take the day off school, which we are spending at the swimming pool at the Speke Resort.  Once we finally got out the door.

The days keep passing on by.  Tomorrow is our rescheduled court date, so it's good that is getting closer.  The next day Mark leaves, which I am not glad is getting closer.  I wanted somewhere to enjoy his trip more.  How do you enjoy being with a person?  How do you treasure every moment with someone?

We form different relationships with different people, and maybe with some long-distance friends we have a long-distance pattern, or we have something special we always do together, or we know how to sit down and have heart-to-heart chats at every opportunity.  But that's not the relationship I have with my own husband.  Maybe it was ten years ago, when our relationship was fresh and exciting.

Now we're good at being silent together.  We're good at seeing what needs doing and setting ourselves to doing what we each do best.  We're good at sitting down to dinner, and I get things from the kitchen and he keeps the kids engaged.  We're good at talking over the things that come to our mind or bother us during the day or that we are thinking about, when it comes to our minds.  We're good at working on our separate projects, and tossing out a comment now and then, or sharing an irony we notice.  We're good at splitting bedtime up.  We're good at sleeping with our backs together, like a solid support through the darkest night.

But I guess we're not good at "making the most" of a few days' time together.  Which right now is weighing on my heart, but I also feel resentful, like we SHOULDN"T have to be good at it.  We're not meant to spend a few special days together, we have a relationship that's built to go the distance.  I couldn't spend my whole life with someone if we sat down to serious talks every moment, but I can spend my whole life with someone who is good at being silent with me.  I feel like a six-day trip with my husband is like asking a Volvo to run with the Miatas.

(And the car metaphor is in his honor, since I would never even think of car brands if he weren't around!  And I'm going to have to ask him which brand to use, actually.)

But.... I will be thankful on this Thanksgiving.  I am so thankful that we can celebrate this day as a family of five, although it would be a little easier to feel that thanks all the way down to my toes if we had a little more paperwork that meant the girls were safe in our family forever.

We spent the whole afternoon at the pool, and I love watching my children play.  They express the essence of their personalities in those moments.  Hibiscus, who has been on constant overdrive since the move and all the other disruptions, calmed down into the focus of playing and moving in the water.  By the end of the day her wild energy had been burned down to the point where she was sitting with me and her sweetness and loving heart and desire to listen and connect were right there on the surface, instead of buried under these layers of chaos that are so difficult on parents -- and everyone else, including herself.

I got the girls showered, and as we waited in the golden afternoon light, Buttercup calm in the wrap, Hibiscus sitting next to me on a pool chair: she wanted to watch some "beautiful birds," and made up a conversation for the ring-necked doves in a funny little dove-voice.  They were sisters in her mind, which I thought was an image of a central relationship in her mind (if one were bigger, it would be mama and baby, obviously!).  She was leaning on me, and then when I got out the brush she wanted to do my hair, and she waited for me to take the barrettes out and then gently and lovingly brushed my hair.  When we were ready to go, her eyes were quickly on our faces, figuring out what we wanted so she could be the best helper.  She chose to carry a heavy bag, and only released it when she realized she couldn't carry it and hold both parents' hands, which was even more important to her little heart.  Her desire to please and connect and be praised and love-love-loved is so strong and powerful, and sometimes my heart breaks for her, because her usual behavior is constantly cutting off that connection she craves so deeply.  And not only craves, but she is gifted at creating that connection -- when she isn't busy cutting it apart again.

I look forward to the next phase in our relationship, when we're not just in this constantly chaotic "what is a family, am I going to be here in the morning, how to not hit" phase.  When we can search deeper into her own self, and find the "off" button for some of her chaos.  Or Mark pointed out, we don't even need to turn it all the way off; if she could move from, say, eleven down to seven, we could all live with it.  Noise and enthusiasm make for happy kids even if the parents are a little tired; children who smash their heads into things, and as they crash their way through life whenever they careen off another body they think that person is trying to purposefully hurt them, are not happy themselves and their parents are not able to be happy with them.

Meanwhile, tonight we dared eat dinner at the resort to celebrate Thanksgiving, on the veranda overlooking a little decorative lake  We had Indian food, not turkey.  There was significant difficulty with the "stay in your seat and don't fall in the pond" rule; it was like solving a puzzle to keep all the food and drinks where the children couldn't spill them (one inch of water at a time!); and both girls started crying hysterically when the party next door set off fireworks.  As Mark pointed out, it would have been a lot more relaxing with drinks (more than an inch deep!) in our hands and significantly fewer children!  But I think it makes a statement about our family that we're taking our kids to a fancy restaurant at all:  We are saying that we think our children are beautiful and they're worth it.  We are saying that we're willing to teach them what they need to know to be successful in society.  We are saying that it's a special day and our time is most special when it's all together.

And Mark and I are saying that we're up for an adventure.  Which is something we are good at doing together!