September Eleven.

For my generation, time will be measured in two ways.   Before September 11^th,   2001 and after September 11^th   2001.  That day is the dividing line between the innocence of our youth and collective understanding that we were unsafe in the world.  I was 16 years old.  I remember that day like it was yesterday, but don’t we all?  As a country, we suffered the trauma together and each person has their own story to share. 

I won’t spend time to bore you with mine but what I remember most on that day was Mr. Peters, our high school Principal coming onto the loud speakers at the end of the day and gave a speech that I still remember.  As our teenage classmates called for war and retribution and revenge, Mr. Peters sadly told us that those of us in this high school would be the kids who fought that war.   We didn’t understand at the time, but 14 years later, I understand that he knew in a way that we couldn’t understand that we’d be living with the aftermath of the events of that day for many years.  We still are. We always will be.

We watched the news for days. We ate dinner in front of the television.  We talked of nothing else. The skies were silent and if you saw an aircraft, it was military.   It was scary.  It was scary to go to a crowded baseball game. It was scary to go to the airport.  It was scary to see someone who looked different from us.  We were scared. 

And mad as hell.

So we grew strong.  We watched the dust covered first responders of New York City and the families who suffered and the survivors from ground zero.   Many young men and women felt a call to join the military and help make our country strong.  American flags flew as many as they had after VE Day.  We praised NYC and its leaders and its people.   A president promised to track down the man responsible and hold him accountable. The next president was able to do so.

And yet, there is still so much work to be done.  The war did not end with Bin Laden’s death.  The news of that day was welcomed but it didn’t heal the wounds from 10 years earlier. 

We are a country constantly on defense now.  We’ve been fortunate to suffer very few successful attacks although there have been many attempts.   We are prepared and ready to fight.  We are strong.  We are no longer innocent but jaded. Those teenagers have grown up, seen war, and have been hardened.  Our children have only ever lived in a world with their country at war.   I hope my kids never have to grow up collectively in one day, the way we did in September, but I also know that each generation had its day.

And when their day comes, I pray that they make wise decisions.  I hope they turn to God in those hours of fear and hate.  I hope they know that the Sun will rise the same the next day as it had that morning.

The alone-bird.

Mason said this to me this morning while stopped at red light on the way to the babysitters house, "Mom.  You know what’s weird? Maddox is silent when we get to the babysitters.  He’s completely quiet."  

And Maddox fired back "You’re quiet too sometimes!’ and Mason said ‘No I talk to my friends and play with them."

And Maddox looked out the window and I heard him say this, "Do you see the birds on the wire over there?  Do you see the group that talks together. There are three of them. Do you see?" and Mason nodded and Maddox continued "And then there’s that bird that is over by itself on the line.   It is the alone-bird.  It doesn’t want to have to talk with the others."

I just listened and thought about what my way-too-self-aware-7 year old was trying to explain to his twin brother.  Mason is an extrovert.  He goes to camp bravely by himself while Maddox stays at home and worries about him.  He likes sports and mud and being outside with neighborhood kids while Maddox stares at the door with tears in his eyes if I try to make him go play too when he doesn't really want to.  Maddox entertains himself. He hides in his closet and writes on the chalkboard always jumping when I open the door to check on him. 

Maddox is kind and sweet like my older son, but if he’s pushed – he will lose control of himself. I’ve learned in the past few years that you can’t push Maddox.  Mason needs to be pushed but Maddox needs to do things in his own time. 

I’m more like Mason.  The idea of a Saturday spent alone watching television with no human interaction is enough to completely freak me out and send me into a depression.  I need people around or I get very sad. I’ve been like this since I was a kid.  Silence is pretty much a nightmare for people like me.  I fill my time with plans, activities, things to keep me busy.  Before I was parent, it never occurred to me to understand the deep rooted seed of introversion in another person.

 Maddox doesn’t exhibit signs of social anxiety yet.  He will happily go somewhere to play with friends but when he’s done he’s done.  Sometimes that’s playing tag for 15 min outside and calling it a night.  Sometime that’s leaving a birthday party early.  Sometimes that means going up to his room after dinner and not coming out until the next morning.  But he’s not an unhappy kid as long as I give him this space. 

Of course as a mother who has no clue or understanding why a people would want to be left alone, I worry about the future.  Will he suffer from depression?  Will he feel left out?    Frankly, visions of Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold have crossed my mind. 

But no. Not Maddox.  He’s my shyest but also my sweetest child.  He’s the peace maker among the group.  Last weekend on the way to the drive-in lecturing his brothers, "I love you both, but we are the fighty-est brothers in the world!" He always gives up what he loves to his brother if he asks.  I have to take extra care that he doesn’t give too much.  He spends his extra money often times on gifts for others, like the bracelet he bought for me at Disney World and he still asks me every day if I wear it. (Fuchia doesn't go with everything, my dear.)

He didn’t like to cuddle until recently, in the last 2 years and even now, it’s limited.  However, he wants me to come in while he’s sleeping and kiss him on the cheek.  If I forget one night, he tells me in the morning letting me know that I forgot and again the next night before his daily reminder for that kiss.  I try to never let myself forget.

I let him be the alone-bird because that is what he wants even if it’s not anything I can ever understand.  

My Fail Blog.

Ugh. I know I'm failing at the blog task.  I'm trying to write  a book. All good ideas are going in there.  And then rewritten. And then deemed not worthy. And then kicked to the side.  And then I drink and question why in the world I ever decided to write and publish a book. And then my husband reminds me that I should keep writing and fulfill that dream.  And then I start the process all over again.

There are many things I fail at other than blogging:

1. Math.  I am so terrible at Math that I can't help my 5th grader with his homework. I've been told to not even look at it.  I have always been bad at Math.  Since 9th grade, any time a Math test has been laid down in front of me, it has resulted in immediate sweating and nausea and doodles of cats around the edges of the paper.  I don't Math.  And now they are teaching a common core style of Math that I can't really help my first graders either.  It looks like Chinese to me.  CHINESE! If someone tells you to find the double down in the number sentence, you're going to want to punch them in the face, I promise.

2. Organization.  My 3rd grade teacher told me my desk looked like Rumpke and she was right. It still does but I can find anything I need. I enjoy disorganization where I work.  Besides in my home, I am nervous about anything with a pristine, polished look.  It doesn't make a lot of sense because I'm a Capricorn and I allegedly thrive on organization.  I do love office supplies but I don't use them properly.  A lot of my post-its are rolled up and taped so that I can build lincoln log cabins with them when I'm bored.  I save all the other post-its in a drawer. Yes. I have a post-it drawer.  You never know when I might need that phone number of that one client, that one time.  My other drawer is full of mail I don't want to open at work.

3. Keeping my cool.  I could never be a 911 operator. In my head, full of SNL Skits that I'm constantly writing, I have a hilarious one that is based on around this premise. (Don't steal that NBC, I will crush you with a lawsuit.)  When I imagine teaching my children how to drive, it starts with me screaming this sentence, 'THIS IS A GIANT DEATH MACHINE!'  To say the least, I'm not allowed to teach the children Math or how to drive.  This also goes for situations that upset me like bad customer service.  There's actually a Goodwill in my city that I was escorted out by security and told not to return to.  There's actually a few places I'm not allowed to go anymore.  The older I am, the better I do at keeping my cool, but I'm not quite where I want to be yet.

This is just a small number of things.  I'll save the rest for you to wonder about on your own time. Just kidding. Please don't wonder about me on your alone time.  That's creepy...which happens to be another thing I'm no good at: Not being creepy. I was born this way, baby.