Crystals are Like Ice Cubes

My daughter coined the phrase that I used as the title to today's posting. I greatly appreciate the imagination and logic of my children, because it brightens my days and reassures me that it is possible to find truth and direction when faced with questions and unknowns. She was learning about crystals the other day.  She made the connection to ice cubes after I answered her question about what crystals look like.  It is wonderful to watch her and my other children learn.

I have been thinking of crystals recently, too, in the context of Superman of course!  His parents packed some crystals with him when they kissed him goodbye.  They are remnants of his heritage, ghosts of his family (his loved ones, his teachers) and tools for learning.  They represent solidity, clarity, beauty and wealth.  Their existence, however, alone did not mean that Superman could download automatically all they contained.  He needed to take the time to handle them, and listen and learn.

I have been fortunate to have what I might identify as a similar assortment of crystal-like tools.  I can look at remnants of my past and learn from them.  I can listen to people who have known me for my lifetime (or any small part of it) and engage in enlightened - or otherwise useful - conversation.  When I find myself in a place where the learning and listening can commence, I am usually calm, and I usually feel cared for.  And I can place them into two categories: Community and Coping skills. 

Coincidentally (or not?) this month marks the one-year anniversary of the time when my world (as I had known it in the context of my marraige) utterly fell apart.  I have consistentally referred to it as The-Worst-Month-of-My-Life.  I was alone, overwhelmed, sick, broke, used and abused. There had been plenty of shake-ups leading up to it and I had endured most of them in isolation.

My community is valuable to me.  It is always somewhat in flux as it is normal for relationships to be newly established and grow - maybe flourish - or wilt a little, wash away or be intentially uprooted.  My friends, relatives, coworkers and groups whom I am associated with stengthen my ability to cope with the ups and downs I inevitably encounter on a day to day basis. 

Even Superman had to cope.  Even he had to retreat and take counsel with Jer-el's voice and image. Even when he wanted to lead a normal life and throw off his cape after dropping his glasses (see Superman II) he could only let go for a brief moment before realizing that he was, in fact, made to be Superman - it was a calling he did not deny.

Superman's Kryptonian heritage may have given him an advantage over other creatures on the planet - particularly other beings who may have wanted or needed to perform to his same effects - but it was learned with conscious reflection, with careful consideration, and also with a touch of grief at the loss of a world he would never know.  His crystals in his icy refuge provided him a platform to stand on, for learning and growing into, and retaining his role.

My ascendance through an unequally-yolked marriage enabled me to more easily become a SuperMom.  My crystals, like icecubes, are an enigma; liquid and solid at the same time, bittersweet.

Hope Springs Eternal

I had a pattern of hope and disappointment in my marriage.  When I was first (finally) ready to let go and say goodbye, my husband wasn't entirely decided that he wanted to do the same.  He is gifted in building bridges of strong emotional ties with some people.  I believe in my case that bridge was built and subsequently well travelled, until he looked over the edge, got an inkling of the thrill that existed beyond its structure, and bungy-jumped to his heart's content over the edge until my heart broke.

What is most important, is that my heartbreak did not kill me.  A friend told me, "Jenny, as long as you don't lay down and die it is going to be OK."  I like to tell people that the end of my marriage "was a hard corner to turn, but the worst is over."  In fact, the pain and insanity I temporarily experienced as my world changed, turned out to be the price of an invaluable solution to the problem my marriage had become.

My marriage, like a bridge across Lake Washington, was exacting a toll.  Except unlike a bridge (more like a block of cement) it was weighing me down.  In the framework of what I presumed would be an equal partnership, I was taking on responsibilities - in a show of support and commitment - that were never and could never and can never be mine.

I am content that the marriage has been left to stand as a historical artifact.  I have not tried to burn the bridge, but rather, to safely exit and walk on.  My husband and I exited in polar opposite fashions.  I've never bungy-jumped but can imagine the adrenaline (as well as the critical reliance on the anchor!).  While he had "fun", I had an experience that is fairly well-depicted in the photograph posted here; I spent a number of hours physically restricted from the freedoms and pleasures this world has to offer.  I realized then that there was a lot more to my life, and to the simplest opportunities that life may present.  I was able to redirect my focus to saving those, and I looked past  the marriage, the bridge, I had been so invested in.

Posting Preview: My Planet, My Portal, My Parents

The trigger to starting this blog was simply the idea (and its necessary manifestation in my life) of Supermom.  

Throughout this past week I have been having fun with the Superman/Supermom analogy!  Using the 1978 film "Superman: The Movie" as a platform I will be posting some ideas about my marriage (like Krypton), its implosion (it collapsed but not before Jer-el took responsibility of sentencing the three villains), my transition into this life of single motherhood (how did Superman survive his lonely growth from an infant to a wiley, smiley four year old?) and more.  

I've been able to gather that there is good drama in my breakup story.  And I'm excited to use a classic story and character to help guide my readers' understanding of my truth.  However, like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings (and REAL life), there are a lot of deeper things going on within our much-advanced-since-1978 television screens.  

So, stay tuned... (yes - pun intended!)

A Smile

My infant greeted me with a glowing smile when I picked him up from daycare today.  Those smiles take my breath away and are a reward beyond measure for whatever effort I extend to get through the days.

"All those things I can do. All those powers. And I couldn't even save him."

Monday morning and up by 4:30; hand-washed a half dozen pots and pans, packed lunches and moved a couple loads of laundry through various transition points.  Escorted my four young children, with kindness and patience, to the car and delivered the baby to his daycare by my self-imposed deadline.  Took the other three to the YMCA and cruised to the Park-n-ride with plenty of time to catch my bus.  And then commenced my reunion with the ever-reliable unreliability of King County Metro.  As I walked into the office, I fought off a raging bitterness that was ushering in faster than I could hustle in my black leather boots.  Being late to work isn't a matter of life or death, after all.  9:02 am showed on my desk phone and as I hit "Clock-in" I saw the last digit blur and become a 3.

This morning I finally understood exactly why Superman was furious when confronted with Lois's suffocation death in the first Superman film.   He was three minutes too late.  He had managed to hold continents together with his sheer strength, saved and smiled at a bus full of school kids on the swinging Golden Gate, and caught the foolish photographer who fallen off the damned dam.  But time moved too surely and wouldn't wait to sync with his imprint of action, heroism and self-promoting PR niceties.  The dirt piled up in Lois's car like sand in an hourglass - an analogy that obviously didn't impress me as much as the drama of her death until now.  And soon after Superman was confronted with the simple equation and conclusion, Lois's dirty and breathless body, he exploded.

I kind of wanted to yell like that as I hurried past the quiet introverts I work next to, although I admit it seems overly dramatic to compare my Monday morning tardiness to a Superhero's disappointment at not being able to save the life of his major crush.  I vented to a coworker 10 minutes later in the kitchen  and got over it.  Funny thing is, after this morning when I consciously recall Superman's yell in that scene from the movie (I watched it with my kids a few months ago), I feel like I am inciting a soul serenade.

There is in fact, a great depth of drama to my mornings (and evenings), and I don't feel like I'm in a position to minimize the importance of performing well at the job.  Kind of like a crush, I welcome it!

Sundays: Break or Breaking-Point Day?

On a typical Sunday I wake up feeling achy and tired.  The immediate choices before me include getting myself and the four kids ready and out the door for Church which starts at 9am or tackling the overwhelming and endless endeavor of tidying our apartment.  I am also inevitably aware that I need to prepare for another week ahead: work, daycare and other obligations concerning nannies, doctor appointments, school activities and other projects such as my Parenting Plan which I'm in the middle of drafting.

Usually I try to stay under the covers as long as possible, not because I believe it will help the aches and tiredness go away, but out of paralysis caused by fear.  But I get over it.  I employ the classic Nike motto "Just Do It" which I adopted as my new mantra in February of this year.

In February, a week or two after returning to work following maternity leave, my boss gave me that clear directive, "Just Do It."  At my job, the workload is high and the pace is smoking.  I have the skill set necessary for the job, otherwise, it wouldn't be mine.  It's a challenging position but it's working well for me and my family.

I am happy to leave the matter of childcare to the childcare professionals.  I was home with my children for 6 weeks after my baby was born and I concluded that we all will benefit from the routine and structure which work and daycare will provide.  My daughter is enrolled in before and after school care program at the YMCA and I've hired a Nanny to take care of her between noon and 3pm through the end of the school year (since no programs - or they are extremely rare and hard to find - exist to fill the gap between AM kindergarten release time and the standard school release time).  My two older boys attend preschool at the YMCA and I've just started my baby at a new home daycare.  What does all this cost?  The last time I looked it took 41% of my income; my budget is very out-of-balance, but that doesn't mean I don't want it (the budget AND the childcare).

I recently moved my computer to the little bar that stands between the nook of a kitchen and the living room in my apartment.  It keeps the keyboard out of reach of my toddler and allows me to multitask (at times) between taking care of my kids and doing work (or now, blogging).

Today, we didn't go to church and I've tidied just a little.  The laundry, dishes, Parenting Plan, work-to-do-for-my-job remotely from home, and packing the bags and lunches for daycare still await.  If you see my previous post, I have also managed to complete one tickle-fest and it's only 10 minutes after noon!

Discovering new capabilities day by day

This morning I learned I was capable of nursing the baby while tickling my toddler, and satisfying both!  It reminded me of a rodeo, but I sustained the activity for several minutes instead of mere seconds.  I laid the baby down and soon the tickling recommenced with my two big kids joining in the fun.  Soon all three were vying for a turn to be lifted into the air and tossed on the bed!  Aside from getting up to lay the baby out of harm's way, I did all of this while laying in the bed.