Cookie Cutter Parenting

 When I first started out as a mother, my journals bear out my worries, that having a second or a third, would lead to not paying attention to the individual needs of these new people, that numbers would preclude treating each child's interests and taste and talents and gifts as unique. 

Now, that I have ten children, four dietary menus, six different musical instruments being played or not,an artist, a teacher, a government major, a bio major and track star, a K-pop loving archiologist major and a budding singer, editorial cartoonist, and we won't even start on the discussion of clothing, I think this early fear of mine can safely be laid to rest forever.   Really.  

I mean, I'm not a tiger mom and I'm not an assembly line parent, but I have to wonder, to those tiger moms out there, and those capable of having all their children embrace similar clothing styles, astetics, dietary preferences and haircuts...how did you do it?  Mass hypnosis?  Biofeedback?  Drugs in the dinner plate?  Absent draconian threats of Wandavision type becoming unglued, I can't get them to move as a collective voting block to agree upon dinner...not even pizza, because two don't eat pizza and they like three different places from which to get said pie.   

Even something as simple as milk...I've got oat milk, almond milk, whole and skim...and one who doesn't like any.   

Ice cream...chocolate, mint chocolate chip, only ice cream sandwiches, cashew icecream, mochi (apple pie only), and ben and jerry's cherry garcia, and the rest will eat any of them...that last flavor of B&J is for me though, as a coping mechanism for what I endure when fixing dinner.   (But I'm easy, I'll eat just about any sweet).    

I'm glad I raised ten individual unique people, but there are moments when I'd like to say, "Hey you...deliberately round peg, get in the square hole now because it's hammer time!   And I'd swing down like nobody's business.   I'd like to not feel like every meal, every holiday, and every event is not merely reminicent of a GRE Analysis question, but the inspiration for a whole slew of new ones.  ETS should have me on payroll.   

Still, there are moments when I see the sublime wonder of having so many different unique personalities under one roof.  Today, the tire blew out on my mini-van.  One made dinner.  One practice yoga with three others. One helped organize cleaning the living room.  Another did pick up of those who needed rides and two did the dishes.  It was a beautiful thing, all these individuals coming together despite their many differences.  

In gratittude, I made cookies and everyone was happy. It was then that it hit me, the joy I'd created with the thank you treat...everyone loved them.  Everyone ate them. They were universal. 

And it occurred to me, the cookies...they were slice and bake.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to IKEA

 So this week, as we continue the theme of everything deciding after a year of only living with us, the machines are all quitting, the furniture followed suit.  Out one bed and a few drawers, we opted to do as the Swedes do...and went to that store known for three things...making Americans follow a maze without having a ride at the end, selling furniture Mjollnir like in temperment, refusing to be assembled by those it deems not worthy, and the unique capacity to make people not presumably under duress, part with money to purchase frozen sweedish meatballs for human consumption.   

We purchased a bed after an hour of walking around, and two desks and yes, even some Sweedish meatballs.  My second oldest started assembly, my desk was easy.  My daughter's bed, not so much.  It seemed we'd neglected to purchase the right slats and the base bar. We also accidentally purchased a full rather than twin...but that, we could deal with so the next day, we drove again to the Ikea (it's an hour there each time).  

Home again, home again, jiggity jig, and we can't open the bar. It's supposed to expand.  We tried WD40, we tried olive oil, and we had three people pulling as hard as they could --with visions of someone being impaled by the process if the damn thing gave.   My son decided to try a hair dryer.  To our surprise, he was able to slide the bar with ease. It did give him bragging rights, especially since everyone else had tried and failed.   I told him to tell his older sister, there was a simpler explanation...we were not worthy.   

The mattress we need arrives tomorrow...and the sheets and comforter that would fit, on Tuesday, so sometime after March 9th, my daughter will have a working bed and maybe, a full night's sleep.   

As for me, four hours of driving and an equal amount of frustration for four adults and satisfaction for one modest but still somehow smug teen and I microwaved the meatballs for dinner, vowing never to darken the doors of the most overrated Sweedish import since the SAAB, Hagar the Horrible and, well I do like ABBA.   

I do however, love my new desk and the breakfast table, having caught wind of the recent wave of revolutions by inanimate objects, feels wobbly.  

Over at Catholic Mom.com today and other things...

1)  I've been writing, and my first piece in a while is at Catholicmom.com and called Go Deeper In.   

2) I'm editing.  Slowly.  Grudgingly.  

3) I'm exercising.  Slowly.  Grudingly.   

4) A brief shout out to all of you who hear when others don't, that someone is hurting more than they wish to admit, thank you.  

This morning, a friend felt devastated that her attempt to help someone who voiced a suicidal thought was treated with contempt.   Yesterday, another person I know dealt with a similar issue.  My response to everyone and anyone who responds when someone cries out thinking no one hears them  is, thank you for listening.  Thank you for stopping from all that is ordinary and distracting and keeps life busy and humming along because someone else hurt and you noticed.  

Thank you because those people are still here because you heard and didn't keep going.  
Thank you because you understood the need to stop, that such things couldn't be ignored or brushed aside.  
Thank you because we all know this has been a horrible year, and yet, you still think of others and recognize, sometimes the hardness of life overwhelms.   It need not, and it might not, if we are willing to listen, and to speak when we hear "the cry of the poor."   The people who did the right thing, are still struggling with what they encountered and what they can't share, so I'm telling them, "Thank you." from the bottom of my heart for everyone who doesn't know they need to say thank you, but who does still have that someone to love today, because of what you did.    

5) The move to Patheos is soon.  

6) If you're in the DC Area, tickets just went on sale for this, very psyched about the fall.    

7) Lastly, I hope your Lent is going well.  Mine has involved a lot of backtracking and uturns and restarts and it's near the end of the second week.  Next week's reflection, what makes a "good Lent?"