18
Sep 09
Sunny-Side Up
I love cooking and eating. I’m no slouch in the kitchen. I’ve had several restaurant jobs that I enjoyed. My experience in professional kitchens would indicate that at least I know the technical aspects of cooking.
When I was a kid, if someone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn’t have a clue. When I was older, I started to like the sound of having my own restaurant, but more than that, I wanted to be a wife and mom.
I spent a lot of years apologizing for not choosing an impressive profession. I went to college and graduated with a degree. Still, when I looked deep inside, it always felt like my calling was in making a fine home, being a loving wife, and being the best mom I could.
Cooking is an essential part of making a fine home. To this day, we eat (some of us enjoy) a home-cooked meal every night. Gathering around the dinner table is the glue that will keep us together when Will and Jenny become teenagers and discover how stupid I am, and how much they hate my guts.
I was not Martha Stewart when it came to meals. I was more of a Rachel Ray. I quickly learned that when you have a picky husband, and even pickier kids, there’s no point in killing yourself to make a seven-course meal. My goal was to put something yummy on the table, that was healthy, and satisfied the tastes of each of us. Scaling Mt. Everest would be easier, but I enjoyed the challenge. Continue reading →
16
Sep 09
Be The Change
I have nagged. I have whined. I have cajoled. I have pleaded.
I have waited for change to come.
How long must I wait? At what point do I look in the mirror and decide that I don’t like what I see anymore?
I don’t like nagging, whining, pleading and waiting. How many times have I heard that I can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change? It seems pretty obvious that the personality type that is least likely to change would be the narcissistic personality. Why even consider changing something that is already perfect?
I waited for things to change. Continue reading →
15
Sep 09
Being A Grown-Up
All grown-ups were once children. (But few of them remember it.)
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
15
Sep 09
Happy Birthday To Me
Yesterday was Will’s birthday. There’s nothing quite like someone else having a birthday to bring out the best in a narcissist. That sounds contrary to what would be expected, but narcissists are usually kind of moody and mopey on their own birthdays. They’re probably disappointed that they weren’t treated as grandly as expected. Maybe the red carpet wasn’t rolled out for them. Or the cake wasn’t quite perfect. But at someone else’s birthday, they have the opportunity to grandstand, and annex the limelight that should be shined on the birthday person.
Mark selected which gifts would be opened, and at what time in the process they would be opened. He wanted Will to open the gifts from him at certain moments. Apparently he was hoping that the gift opening would end in a fabulous crescendo, with the most fantastic gift coming from himself. The funniest part is that Mark is such a lousy gift giver. He’s always selecting things that he needs, or thinks someone else ought to need. How about that nice set of wrenches. “Gee, Dad, these wrenches might be a little nicer than the set you got me last Christmas. You can never have too many wrenches, or ski socks, or long underwear, or mittens.” Each time Will opened a gift that his dad had presented, Mark would look around the room to take in the admiring glances he was expecting.
Then, the minute the gifts had been opened, he whisked Will away to install the new components for his bike. Then he could direct the attention of the other partyers to himself, again. By taking Will outside to attach the new gadgets to Will’s bike, Mark was making sure that all the attention would not be on Will, but would stay on himself. Will kept asking to go back in the house to look at his other gifts, but Mark insisted that he stay outside to help him, and admire the special gifts that his dad had gotten him.
After Mark left, I asked Will if he’d had a good birthday. He explained that he wished he’d been able to hang with Jenny and myself more, but that his dad insisted that he stay outside. “Mom, how come even my birthday has to be all about dad?”
13
Sep 09
Clean Windows
Better keep yourself clean and bright. You are the window through which you must see the world.
George Bernard Shaw
13
Sep 09
You Can See ‘Em Comin’ From A Mile Away
I met a narcissist this weekend. I’ve been single, now, for three years. My family and friends keep asking me when I’m going to ‘get back out there’. I have to admit that I haven’t trusted my judgment. I’m an accommodator, by nature. What’s going to prevent me from getting back into another relationship with a narcissist? I’ve done my homework, but I’m still leery of repeating history. Up at my parents’ cabin, we’re all having fun playing cards with another friend. The kitchen door opens, and voila, there he is in all his glory. He was so self-assured that he didn’t even feel that it was necessary to knock first. He’s a long time friend of a family member. I’d only met him one other time, a long time ago.
He provided me with a whole bunch of clues, that in my old, uninitiated days, I would have totally ignored. He was impeccably dressed and coiffed for a guy who was by himself, out in the woods, on a weekend night. He’s going through a bitter divorce, and his ex is literally walking away from the gorgeous house, almost all the furnishings and the family cabin. (She’s desperate to leave.) He is completely clueless as to why she “just snapped.” He still loves her, and can’t see that he’s done anything wrong. He talked candidly, almost embarrassingly, about the details of their separation with a group of people that barely know him. Every one of his sentences was prefaced with, “I did …,” I am …,” I felt …,” “I have …,” and “I am going to …” He referenced his religion several times. (Typically, narcissists are very religious.) When someone attempted to get a word into the conversation, his response had nothing to do with what that person said. He had the stage, and didn’t plan on relinquishing that stage until he was done. He didn’t once take a breath or pause during his monologue to ask how anyone else had been or what anyone had been up to. He was handsome, charming, and completely thrilled with delighting us with his presence.
While he was going on about his life, a friend was standing behind him, facing me, motioning and pointing at the narcissist. Her eyebrows were raised, and she had a look on her face that clearly said, “Hubba Hubba.” I deliberately looked back at her and politely, but firmly shook my head, with a look that must have said, “NO WAY! NOT EVER!” Clearly, the friend was sucked in by his charm. I was almost repulsed by his presence. His behavior was all too familiar. When he left, the friend was stunned that I wouldn’t want to scoop him up and take him home. Been there.
By the next morning, I still hadn’t expressed any of my judgments about the previous night’s visitor. I didn’t allude to the fact that dating him would be history repeating itself. Mostly, I didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the family member that had known this fella for so long. I didn’t even bring up the subject. As we were standing at the wood stove cooking breakfast, my mom says, “So ….. another narcissist, huh?” I have to say that when she said that, I was able to erase all doubts about my ability to avoid another relationship with a narcissist. We have been through enough, and learned enough, by now, that we can see ’em comin’.
11
Sep 09
Grace
Grace isn’t a little prayer you chant before receiving a meal.
It’s a way to live. – Jacqueline Winspear
It’s a way to live. – Jacqueline Winspear
10
Sep 09
The Super Star
It was Jenny’s turn to be the Super Star of the week in first grade. That is a really big deal for a first grader. Her teacher set up a little revolving shrine for the Super Stars. The shrine would include some of the students’ favorite things, pictures, buddies, artwork, and notes from home. It gives the classmates a little glimpse into the home life of each kid, why they like certain things, and what their families looked like.
Jenny eagerly awaited her turn. She had already lined out the favorites that she wanted to bring to class. The teacher asked that she also include a couple photos of her family. Mark doesn’t get to the classroom often. He always said that anything to do with the kids and school was my job. I thought it was the right thing to do by letting Mark know that he may want to send a photo of himself to class with Jenny. We managed to get all the goodies to the teacher the week before Jenny would be the Super Star.
Jenny’s week arrived, and after the first day, she came home with some interesting stories about her dad. All her classmates wanted to meet him and see him in person. Jenny said he was the most popular dad in her class. I couldn’t imagine what could elicit such a reaction.
On the last day of Jenny’s week as Super Star, I found out why her father had become so popular. I picked Jenny up, prepared to bring home the items from her shrine. There, in the center of the display, was a 5×7 glossy photograph of bare-chested, grinning Mark, standing waist-deep in a raging river, wrestling a big fish.
What first grader wouldn’t be enthralled with a guy like that? Continue reading →
09
Sep 09
Survival Through Humor
I had a minor meltdown this morning. I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the ceiling fan, and cried. We had been scurrying to get ready for school and work – the usual weekday morning mayhem. There wasn’t anything unusual about this morning. You never know when you’ve approached the end of your rope. At least I never know. I was brushing my teeth and the bathroom sink wouldn’t drain, and I lost it.
It’s not a big deal, I’ve fixed the drain before. Some days I just cannot handle one more thing.
This was not the plan. I was supposed to be happily married, raising two beautiful kids. I didn’t sign up to be both mom and dad.
Most days I wouldn’t trade this new life for anything. Most days I can take it all in stride. But, some days I am tired and feel like I can’t handle one more chore or one more demand. As difficult as it can be, it is worlds away from my old life.
Now when I flop on the bed at the end of the day, my exhaustion comes from attempting to cross things off of my list. When I decide to be done for the day, I don’t have someone expecting more from me. The hamster in the spinning wheel is pretty content when she’s in control of her own wheel. How happy is that hamster when someone else is doing the spinning? Continue reading →
05
Sep 09
Moving On
I just got back from our local citizens’ swap center – the place where you take the things nobody wants or will take – the things too good for the dump. I left two car seats. That’s particularly weird because my kids are now 11 and 7. I’m still trying to figure out why I kept the car seats for so long.
I live in a tiny house. My kids are regularly annoyed by my desire to weed out and pitch the stuff that we don’t love. There’s only so much room and I’m a firm believer that stuff doesn’t just clutter your house, it clutters your mind. We have a fine habit of periodically going through our stuff, deciding what we love, and then finding new homes for the stuff we can live without.
I have kept certain precious baby things – toys, and clothing items that are irresistible. I’m not a complete pragmatist. I do have my mushy spots about my kids. I can still remember how they smelled after they woke from a nap. I can still feel their warmth from carrying them everywhere in the Snuggli. I’ve kept the Snuggli, too.
But why have I kept the car seats?
I have one of those add-on rear-view mirrors that I can point in the direction of the back seat. I can monitor the touch fights, the hair pulling, and the eye-rolling. Mostly, I love looking in that mirror to see those sweet sleeping faces with the long lashes and the tiny noses. In all actuality, what I usually see in that little mirror is two cute kids picking their noses. Continue reading →
04
Sep 09
An Unstructured Life
I want to inhabit my life like a porch – unstructured, without ambition or anxiety.
Rebecca Wells
