Subject: Like Seriously

Yesterday, I woke up early to work on a looming (is there every any other kind?) deadline. Of course, it is on morning like this that you can almost guarantee that Jessie will not wake up and just go about her usual routine. No, it is on mornings like this (after a Monday morning where she slept in TWO HOURS past her alarm and missed work at the Foodbank) that she will choose to challenge every little bit of routine that we might demand of her.

We collectively devised a very simple routine with just a few simple rules (like the Rule of One, and we know how well that is working) that she has agreed to follow. We review why we have this list: to help her become more independent, but mostly so we DON’T FIGHT about what she is supposed to do. So, on this morning, of course, because I have a deadline, because I gave her 2.5 hours of my billable time yesterday to drive her to a performance to celebrate International Day of Persons with Disabilities, because, just because, she slept in and why follow a routine anyways? Yes, on this morning, she decides to push every button and limit. From deciding to go straight on to the computer (no breakfast, no getting dressed) . . .

what she was working on on her computer ... and I know this because she LEFT HER COMPUTER ON  when she went off to rehearsal

. . .  to yelling at me because it is almost time to leave and she is missing her bus pass and her wallet and . . . (but she always throws in a few responsible accomplishments into the mix, like brushing and “waterpik”ing her teeth, putting in a load of laundry and responding to e-mails).

This absolute panicked fear of mine that work and words will not have space to bloom (or even just meet deadlines) appears to be a common advent theme amongst some of my favorite bloggers (when I get a chance to read them). See Addie and her missing babysitter, or Amy Julia's ordinary hard stuff.

At any rate, its all good when I can email my love at work. Somehow the venting lets me move on to the next page, both literally and figuratively.

Thankful Tuesday: A Daughter Like Jessie

This is Tuesday, so I am joining in the Thankful Tuesday party over at Micha Boyett’s blog, Mama: Monk. 

While I kept a list this week of things I was thankful for, it got recycled with the grocery and house to do lists as I was trying to clean the piles of papers vying with the contents of the kitchen cupboards (don’t ask) for space on the dining room table. So last night, as I put aside the editing I was working on and asked Jessie what I should be thankful for, she said “Your friends!” And when I told her, yes, for sure, but I was also trying to keep the focus on these transition years and it would take a full-length book to thank my friends, she said, “You can be thankful that you have a daughter like me!”

And I am! Because even in this mess of growing up, in this mess of driving, problem solving, present buying, sex educating (her me), and money managing, Jessie reminds me that it is all about people. About friends, and lovers, and husbands, and mothers, and spirit cousins who gather in darkened candle-lit rooms to be still and quiet together for half an hour every week. It’s about connectors, and fitness instructors, and old neighbours with new dogs, and strangers who use the “r” word and are then corrected and accept the correction with suitable contrition. It’s about church friends who invite Jessie to sit for a while, and church friends who invite her to work for a while, and church friends who offer to teach cooking and sewing and public speaking when I have lost all patience for any of that.

It’s about mama friends who hug her and love her when I am almost at the end of my patient and thoughtful loving and am running on gut and instinct. It’s about long-time from forever friends who bicycle in sub-zero weather wrapped in layers of wool and Polish-knit sweaters to teach my daughter to sing and want to come back for more. It’s about husbands who vacate basement offices to let mothers work in peace and quiet and without incessant Say-Yes-to-the-Dress whining and drama in the background.

And finally, at the end of a long day, it’s about Jessie who lets me sit beside her as she nestles into her bed, and read her the daily gospel and reflection from my favorite gifted Advent book (God With Us, if you are wondering). And then remembering/telling the beginning of the Godly Play Advent story . . . Advent is the time when we are all (and this is where Jessie gifts me with a long graceful arc of her hand, sweeping, pointing to an imaginary spot in the distance), all on our way to . . .  Bethlehem, we singsong together.

Peace on your journey.         

The Rule of One Revisted

Yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent, and I managed to talk Jessie into coming to church with me to celebrate the verb to HOPE. I love this season of waiting, and was grateful for Busted Halo’s first day of Advent practice—taking a breath any time you find yourself having to wait. A hopeful practice, a being-present practice, and definitely a practice needed by mothers trying to get daughters to church on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night of partying.

After church, Jessie darted ahead of me into Fraser Hall, first to the table of snacks and treats. We are, of course, focused on mastering the Rule of One this season. And there are many opportunities to practice it, along with waiting and hope. Which seem to be what I need to focus on, in support of the Rule of One that is.   

As I approached the table, Jessie’s furtive smile (ah, braces, there is no hiding consumed matter with braces) showed me that she had already partaken of at least one treat, not counting the chocolate brownie and slice of lemon cake she was holding, one in each hand. I gave her the mother-evil-eye (you are out of line, but I won’t yell because we are in public) and she turned away from me, quickly walking to the edge of the room to smile sweetly (mouth full) at her former brownie leader sitting in a chair by the window.

When I finally got her out of the hall and in to the car, we discussed (a polite description of our conversation, which involved a lot of heavy breathing on my part, and which I am not sure is exactly what Busted Halo meant by taking a breath, but sometimes you only have variations to offer), again, the Rule of One.

But Mom! said Jessie. I used the Rule of One. I remembered ‘take one,’ so I took one. . . . And then I took more.

Needless to say, we will continue to work on the Rule of One. At least during this season, there are many chances to practice.

And we had 2 chances to practice the Rule of One, first at our church, then at another church's Advent supper last night with the Harts. This is Jessie and Minda, mom of the Hart family. Minda encourages eating lots of delicious food. Jessie is sticking with her through this season. So am I.