Conversation Over a Sink

Conversation Over a Sink

My Pen Mates,

This plays out with many variations, but is one of those household scenes when the heads of the household (typically the husband and wife), at the end of the day, preparing to go to bed, will have a disjointed conversation in the washroom as part of the evening ablutions. In the midst of washing, wiping, drying, hair and tooth brushing, and changing into jammies, a discussion ensues that's usually paid little attention to but is a precious bookend to close the day. A sample exchange:

"Is she still coughing?"
'No but I'll give her Sambucol later_ can you ask your son to bring it up?__ and the dispenser too!'
"Did he ask you about the party he's invited to this weekend?"
'But he just went to one. No, not too much partying; did you tell him?'
"Yeah"

'Where's the toothpaste cap! I don't know how everyone finds it difficult to simply put it back on_ it doesn't take two seconds!'
"She was so cute earlier; I caught her looking at herself in the mirror and she turned to me and asked if I thought she was chubby"
'Careful how you answer, you don't want her to be so self-conscious this young.'
"Did your son tell you that the dog peed on the carpet? I put powder on it, remind him to vacuum once it's dry"
'Again?'
"Hmnpth"

"They liked the invitation, thanks for helping me with that."
'Who was at the meeting?'
"Mary, Nannete, Carol, I left early."
'So did you get all the details for the content?'
"I'll email them."

'Did you return the tuxedo?'
"Yeah. You know that thing about the laptop in class? I don't like that; if the reason they have them is to take notes, yet they can record the lectures with it, then they don't really have to pay that much attention while in class. They can even pretend to be taking notes while doing something else."
'What's up with that? Instead of interacting in class, they'll end up saying: - it's okay, I'll listen to it later at home -, and they'll use that as an excuse not to do anything once they get home. I don't get the thought process behind that. Besides, they're overexposed to gadgets as it is; they should learn the old school way....'
"I'm glad they don't do it in our school."
'Watch, there'll be parents complaining about their kids turning into computer addicts.'

"Gosh, there's a hill of clothes that needs to be folded in the middle of the floor!" 'Delegate.....'

'I saw the young one with the silver necklace. She wore it to school today; did you give it to her?'
"It's fancy jewelry, but I'll take it back after she grows tired of it. Can you print me something before I leave for work tomorrow?"
'How's John?'
"He's back to work; I guess he's better."
'I don't think so, but that's good for him to work while he can.'
"I'm sure he'll only get bored at home...."

"Did you like the chicken? I put a lot of mushroom."
'That was good! I like the way you do that better than your Mom's; I don't get that slimy taste in the chicken.'
"I just wash it with salt."
'You cook better than your Mom now. Can we have spaghetti tomorrow?'
"Get some garlic bread."
'Can you call to remind me?'

"Did you talk to Leslie?"
'I already have it deposited, I'll tell you the amount tomorrow; or you can check on line.'
"I don't have the password, that's okay."

'Did she practice her new piece?'
"I told her earlier; I'll remind her right now."
'Stay in the room so she gets used to being watched. She'll pay closer attention to the piece too.'
"You fold the clothes then."

"Did you like the blouse I wore today? I got it for nine bucks!"
'The green one? You look good in bright colors.'

'Tell the kids to take their fluoride tablets.'
"Come on, let's watch the Olympics!"
'Be sure to remind me tomorrow to get garlic bread.'
...........

Mon

16802

16802

My Pen Mates,

Add all the the digits to a single number and the answer is 8. It's a lucky number for Grace and I, having been married 16 years (double 8's) on 08/08/08. They say the universe can only be explained through numbers, and the Creator Himself placed everything in the heavens and on the Earth using exact, measured, and pre-determined rules which our feeble minds can only interpret through mathematical principles.


That we need to count everything like times and currencies and population and rpm's and flow rates and frequencies and calories, etc. has become the essential component of modern existence, that it can be surmised that all of history is predicated about accumulation and accounting of what's accumulated. Think about that for a moment, and look at the big picture of wars and empires, of climate change and migration, of market shifts and chromosomal DNA's, down to the last purchase you made of a sack of rice which will last your family "x" number of days. We are all on an endless quest of accounting for something wherever we are; why, even the Good Book says that on the last day, you will have to meet your Creator and account for your deeds.....

To all people my age, 16802 is the number of days you would have been alive if you lived to be 46 years old. Today is my wife's birthday. After going to church, my son (who's on Winter break) and I drove her to work (yes, she's working on her birthday) then dropped by to see my mother-in-law for a quick breakfast. Funny how these days are made memorable by mundane events. In fact, the mere fact of knowing the number of times the earth has rotated on its axis in relation to how long one has lived seem trivial, because what's important is what one does as the world turns. But perspective requires such reference. If one's life is a ride on this earth and God provided the one way ticket for the ride, I think it's fair to note the moments of sunshine and rain, and of rainbows and shadows. While the beginnings and the ends are important, everything in between fills those margins and ultimately, the question truly has to be "did you enjoy your ride?" Numbers will tend to de-romanticize the experience, but as a point of reference, wouldn't it be nice to know that on day sixteen thousand eight hundred and two, you are loved beyond measure and the world is a better place for having you? Perhaps you being on the ride is what makes the next day something to live for - for a lot of people around you...... Happy birthday wife.

Mon

The Quandaries of Parenthood, Year 15

The Quandaries of Parenthood, Year 15

My Pen Mates,

I became a father January 31, 1995; I was 30 years old. It was the proudest I remember myself being, holding a living being from the moment light first shone on it; screaming out its first breath as if shouting to the world "I'll give back tenfold whatever I take in!".

Many times during the first fifteen years, it seems that my son has really set out to do just that. He's become his own person not because of my influence but inspite of it; and somehow I am just coming to terms with that. Within each father is, I believe, a longing to fill a mold of his imaginings. Whether that's formed by dreams unreached, goals never accomplished, or hopes unrealized, there is an image of what's "best" for a child. This is true of me, although I cannot speak for the rest of fatherdom.

But gone are the days when my child clung to every word I said, watched and mimicked every move I made, and looked to me for answers to matters that perplexed him in his ever expanding horizon. It's not because I've ran out of answers, just that he has learned to define the type of questions he's seeking answers to. I still have confidence in what I know as an adult, still sure that there are still multiple wells he can draw waters of wisdom from if he so chooses; but at fifteen, I have to restrain myself from imposing my will and wisdom. Children grow at different rates, but at this age I think they require that their parents grow with them. Rather than being observed, monitored and guided, they claim an entitlement to be listened to, be active participants in determining a path, and be unrestrained when reflecting upon choices and directions. They mostly want to be left alone but don't have the skill to say it with tack.

I have not been very good at this stage so far. While striving to hitch my wagon to this growth spurt, I mostly alternate between my old role as dictator-supreme-commander, and content spectator of a puppet show of my own creation. Hard as I try to assure myself that his formative years were sufficiently complex to allow him to forge to the new stage with intelligence and confidence, I express my anxieties by questioning his abilities. This often takes the form of dissecting his motivation and inducing him to apply himself more. Every raising-a-teen book I've read talked of this matter of teenage focus (or lack of it), and the general impression that these beings lack drive at this point of their development. Of course this annoys me or I wouldn't be reading self-help books on teens to begin with! But I'm becoming convinced that deep inside, it is my inability to evolve as a parent (old dogs, new tricks) that's eating at me. I subjected my parents to the same angst (or so they say), and though I'll claim sophistication and not label this as payback, I think it is time to face the facts.

His empty stares are actually moments of cranial realignment; his loss of hearing is because of self-absorption; his messiness has to do with priority setting; his forgetfulness is due to hyper-accelerated neural network functions; his ticks and mannerisms are outlets for excess energy; his food consumption and sleep excess creates the growth spurt and surplus energy; his rebelliousness is his identity separation mechanism; his open defiance is to test the limits of his newly discovered identity; and the hygiene, well that's just gross.

All of this I have to play catch up with given my diminished status from being a demi-God! And all before I even get to the "Girl Chapter"of the story!! So I get upset. I get annoyed. And I'm quite sure in his eyes I become unreasonable and outright intolerable. He won't reason with me because he's dealing with his confusing issues, and he can't be convincing because he's still uncertain about his personal convictions. While he's struggling with the chemical changes of this period, his reasoning is more self-centered and not well expressed. His authority figures just need to keep still and exist solely to bounce thoughts and ideas by, not to make life more difficult with a "meeting of the minds". He doesn't think I know all this because I often sound irrational in his teenage mind. But you know what? I often am irrational and it's because I'm trying to make sense of the dance that he and I have to perform. I stay sane using this perspective.

Mon