Ramble Ramble

Over the years, I’ve moved a decent amount. Not just within a city (though I’ve done that too), but big giant moves that have taken me hundreds or thousands of miles away from family and friends. I’m proud of every single one of those moves I’ve done as an adult, since they’ve given me exposure to new cultures and ideas and thoughts. Those moves have really shaped who I am, my ideas on people and religion and politics and a whole lot of other things, and I wouldn’t change those experiences for the world.

But, of course, there is a downside to all those moves–the being away from family and friends. See, I’m not a really outgoing person in real life. In fact, I would go so far as to label myself shy (with strangers)…maybe introverted is a better term. Anyway, because of this, I don’t make friends very easily. I’ve never been one who has loads of friends wherever I go, or someone who can talk to anyone in the room (that’s my husband, the social butterfly). So I often find myself surrounded by lots of acquaintances, but few friends. And as I’ve moved around the country, it’s become even more pronounced when I do leave my friends behind.

When I got married, there was no bachelorette party for me. My bridesmaids were scattered across the globe (California, Texas, and Scotland), with a lot of my close friends & cousins back in Arizona, Texas or Oklahoma. Me being in New York made the logistics of a bachelorette party pretty much impossible. It was no big deal, but definitely one of those occasions where my geography paired with my lack of friend making came into play.

I’m finding the same thing with this pregnancy. My mom is in Texas, so she hasn’t been able to be as involved in this pregnancy as either of us would have liked. I call her a lot, and we’ve found this online video service that helps, but it kind of sucks not having her close by for all this. Sometimes a grown woman still needs her mom, you know? Particularly when she’s about to have her first baby.

The ladies here at my work threw me a small baby shower yesterday, which was super sweet. As we were sitting there chatting, one of the ladies asked, “So how many other showers are you having?” And I said, “Oh, this is the only one.” She clearly didn’t believe me. But when your family and friends are spread out across at least 7 states  and you don’t have a lot of female friends locally (we hang with more guys than girls out here), that becomes the reality. Like the bachelorette thing, it’s not a big deal–a shower isn’t a requirement for having a kid–but it does remind me how far away everyone is. I often wonder how different this pregnancy process would have been, or how I would have felt about it, had I had that circle of females around me that I grew up with, or those friends around me that I’ve since moved away from.

It also makes me sad when I think that, unlike me, my kid is going to grow up without a million family members around. I grew up with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents a pretty constant thing in my life. I remember lots of weekends staying with aunts & uncles, or weeks at my grandmothers, or hanging after school with cousins. I remember cutting one cousin’s hair when she was maybe 6 (oh did I get in trouble for that one), or running away “from home” with another cousin (we got in a lot of trouble for that one too), or playing out in the desert with yet another cousin. I always knew I could go to my aunts and uncles for help–they were practically second (and third, and fourth) sets of parents because they were such a part of my life. My kid won’t have those family relationships the same way because we’re so far away from everyone. There’s something a little heartbreaking about that. (Plus, no family around means no free babysitting, boo! LOL).

This post turned very down, which wasn’t really my intention. This isn’t a poor me thing–like I said, I treasure the moves I’ve made, and to be honest, I love love love where we live, and I wouldn’t do any of it differently if given the chance. But the reality of it is that every choice in life has consequences both positive and negative. And one negative consequence of all the positive moves we’ve made is the distance between me and all these people from my life.

You know what’s hard about getting older?

Watching your family get older. It’s fucking heartbreaking. And it about did me in over the holidays.

I’ve mentioned on here that my mom is awesome. That my mom and I have an amazing relationship (that we know we’re lucky to have and have cultivated over the years). What I may not have mentioned is that my mom likes to think she’s superwoman, who can (and does) take care of everyone and everything–my whole life she’s been a whirling dervish, with more energy, stamina and spunk than me or my friends combined. Not yet in her mid-50’s, she’s still young at heart.

So I was shocked when I saw her at Christmas. My vibrant, vivacious, energetic mother…wasn’t. Due to some pretty severe back problems, she was in pain. She had mobility problems. She moved like someone well into their 70’s or 80’s some days. It was like her body had aged 20 years in the 6 months since I had seen her last and it was a sucker punch to the gut to watch. Don’t get me wrong–her wit, and humor, and personality were all still there (ARE all still there). But it was like she was trapped in some other person’s body.

The hardest part, though, was how quickly it brought to mind thoughts I’m not too keen on having. Thoughts like, I live 1300 miles away, what if something happens to her? Or like, if she gets hurt, I won’t be here to help. Or like, what if by the time we get around to having kids, she can’t even pick up her grandbaby? Or like, please, God, not my mom, it’s not fair! Or like every horrible, morbid, painful thought you could have about a parent/friend that you love, cherish, and can’t imagine the world without?

I’ve always said, in large part because of living around my mom, that age is a state of mind. That you’re only as old as you act. Unfortunately, this holiday, I had to face the reality that that’s not true. The real truth is that age is one ugly fucking bitch who wants nothing more than to drag you kicking and screaming away from youth and vitality. And that, even worse, she usually wins.

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I want to thank everyone who commented on my post yesterday about writer’s block–it was really great to read everyone’s thoughts and responses. This is one of the many things that has been clogging up my brain, making it impossible to think about much else. I didn’t originally want to write about it because I didn’t want to upset my mom (should she ever read my blog) by talking about her health in a public forum. But I think she would understand that this is really about my fears and my pain at watching her and not about exposing her health issues. At least I hope she understands! And honestly, there are a lot of us out there dealing with watching our parents get older, so I don’t feel alone in sharing this.

Well, yesterday’s post was depressing–sorry bout that–so we’ll move on to holiday cheer. Or at least, normal holiday angst.

I’m talking about the gift giving issue.

Anna over at abdpbt has a great post about trying to make the holidays cheaper and easier. God do I wish I could pull that one off. Every time we’ve suggested to family that we take a chill pill this year, we either get met with silence, or folks agree and then go ahead and spend ridonkulous amounts of money anyway.

Here’s the problem in my family:

5 parents/step-parents (yes it is an odd number, there were multiple divorces).
2 in-laws
3 grandparents
2 sisters
1 husband

And a partridge in a pear tree. Ok, maybe not, but sometimes it feels like it. This doesn’t leave room for aunts/uncles/cousins/friends/coworkers most years, and particularly this one.

Of course the biggest problem isn’t the size of this group, it’s the…how can I put this?…complete cluelessness about what some of these folks would like. Some are easy peasy: the hubs is the easiest person to shop for, like, ever and there are a few on the list that give me lists (bless you folks!). But there are a few on the list that I haven’t seen in over two years, and who I talk to maybe every six months–what the hell do I get those people? I don’t know what they like or don’t like. I don’t know what their current hobbies are. I don’t know what things might ruffle their feathers (and I will say, this cuts both ways–I’ve gotten some crazy gifts from those same folks). And with some? I’m not allowed to even ask the question. Instead it has to be hinted around and dug out like I’m on some super spy mission and can’t say certain trigger words, including “what would you like for Christmas?” and “what things are you really into right now?”.

I get a lot of angst around gift giving time.  So you add the stress of oh crap what do I get them, to the quantity of gifts needed, plus oh let’s not forget the need to mail EVERYTHING so shopping must be done early enough that I don’t spend a fortune on shipping, and sprinkle in some by the way the economy is crap and we’re broke and what do you get? Ginger curled in a ball rocking back and forth repeating “It’s only a gift!” over and over.

Yeah, stressful.

Look, I love Christmas. I play Santa on Christmas morning, and have always loved watching people open my gifts to them, that anticipation of “will they love it as much as I hope?”. There’s nothing like seeing someone who is surprised and in love with something you got them, big or small. I adore gift giving–but only when it means something. Not when it’s this obligation, just a name to be checked off a list. That’s where it loses its luster.

Does anyone else have problems like these? They seem to happen a lot with divorced families, but surely I’m not alone in this stress. How do you deal with the gift-giving conundrum?

Ok, I know this is a complete and total long shot, given that there are like, 6 people who read my blog, but just in case. Plus, it makes me feel somewhat useful from so far away.

My mom lives outside of San Antonio, and on Sunday one of her dogs disappeared. They don’t quite know what happened…Josie isn’t prone to leaving her people. She likes to be right underfoot.

The best they can figure is that someone nearby was shooting a shotgun off (for whatever reason), she got spooked, and never quite calmed down.

One minute she was underfoot, and the next…she wasn’t. They’ve searched all along the roads, in every ditch nearby. Called every vet in a 60 mile radius, and every animal shelter from San Antonio and up to Austin. Because of Hurricane Ike, though, most of the shelters are completely overwhelmed with animals and can’t (understandably) just look for one little dog. We’re hoping against hope that she’s there, waiting (im)patiently for my mom to show up and take her home to get her hair did and a fancy new neckerchief to make her feel better.

Anyway, like I said, I know it’s the longest of long shots, but if anyone has seen this sweet little girl on Highway 281 outside San Antonio (or in the vicinity), please let me know.

Josie wants to go home.