Tell Me Why

“A year, ten years from now, I’ll remember this;
not why, only that we were

here like this together.”

Adrienne Rich

I love being a mom. It was something I always hoped for, and something I truly enjoy. It is, however, something for which I was not fully prepared. Despite the countless hours of child development classes, babysitting seven younger siblings, and reading Parenting Magazine I still had many questions.

Even now, fifteen years later, I find that one question continues to resonate within my brain – Why?

Why did you tell our church clergy that “Mommy has a boyfriend named Jack”? Why did you fill the living room with water? Why did you stick a rock in your ear? Why did you eat the dog’s thyroid medication? And, why did you pluck ALL your eyebrows?

Nature vs. Nurture Revisited

“Our birth is
but a sleep
and a forgetting:
The Soul that
rises with us,
our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere
its setting,
And cometh
from afar.”

William Wordsworth

Scientists have long debated whether it is nurture or nature that makes us who we are. Do we come to this earth as a clean slate to be shaped into the person we are by our environment? Or are there parts of us that have always been and cannot be changed no matter what we face?

Lately, at the Rancho we have had this very conversation. Our concerns stem from an incident with Child Number Four (the Kindergartner).

The other day he sat eating a plate of nachos with chili con carne when he enthusiastically exclaimed, "Dad, this is delicious! These PEANUTS are fabulous!"

Mr. V had to stop and process this for a moment and then asked, "What did you say?"

"I said," responded Number Four, "These PEANUTS are actually fabulous!"

When Mr. V came to me I could see the deep concern on his face. "Dear," he said, "I have failed as a father."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He replied, "I have failed to properly teach my son how to be a Mexican. He doesn't know the difference between PEANUTS and BEANS!"

Small Town

“The nice part about living in a small town

is that when you don't know what

you're doing, someone else does.”Unknown

I grew up in the city. It was nothing in comparison to the millions of Mexico City, but it was a city. It was a place where we knew only some of our neighbors, locked the doors each time we left the house, and relied on public transportation to get anywhere my mom wouldn’t drive us.

The day Mr. V announced that he had been offered his first teaching job in Warden, Washington was the day my dreams of urban bliss wistfully floated away into the ozone above. As you can imagine, I did not come willingly to the Basin.

I will never forget my introduction to rural life. Early one morning Mr. V informed me that we would be “changing water”. As a newlywed I still believed in my spouse’s perfection, so I willingly followed.

Time Revisited

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow,

and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace

from day to day."William Shakespeare

The older I get, the more I realize how fleeting life is. When I was younger it seemed that time couldn't move fast enough. I was always in a hurry "to get there" -- to grow up, to finish school, to get married, to buy that first house... Now, I find that time moves so quickly that I cannot seem to hold on to any one moment, like sand sifting through my fingers. I have often told myself, "I must remember this moment," only to find that the moment becomes buried and lost in time.

Not long ago I changed my last diaper. You would think that after fifteen years and more than 27,375 diapers (and yes, I actually did the math), this would be a momentous occasion. In truth it was quite the opposite -- rather anti-climatic and a little bit sad. Within that instant I suddenly realized that there were moments that would never come again. Call me sentimental, but the realization that no more diapers meant no more babies touched something deep within me.

Early Morning Run

“It is not the mountain we conquer
but ourselves.”
Sir Edmund Hillary

Some months ago Mr. V excitedly announced that he had registered us to run a race. “It will be fun!” he said. “We will run every morning and …”

Upon hearing the words “run” and “morning” in the same sentence I started to feel faint and began to teeter on the brink of hyperventilation. You see, I have never considered myself a runner.

My mind immediately took me back to Dixon Jr. High and Miss Roland’s gym class. It is one of those moments forever engraved upon the walls of my mind. I can remember every detail -- the feel of my blue polyester gym shorts; the boy staring at me because he wanted to “be more than friends”; and the sweet sounds of the Doobie Brothers’ What A Fool Believes playing somewhere in the background. It was the day of the mile run and I knew for certain I would surely die before ever reaching the end. And so, I hid behind the big pine tree and watched the other kids run, joining them on the very last lap. I am convinced that Miss Roland’s mind must have been elsewhere that day as she didn’t even notice, and happily called out, “Seven minutes and three seconds!” as I crossed the finish line. That day I joined the prestigious ranks of Presidential Physical Fitness Award hopefuls.

Confessions Of A Perfectionist

Lately, I have had a hard time sitting down to write. Part of it has to do with summer and the laziness of this time of year, and part has to do with writing for a deadline. And so, since I have not posted for quite some time, and have been using old posts for my column, I decided I needed new material. Despite my most creative efforts, nothing came to mind. I do have a few projects in the works, but true to the spirit of this post I decided against perfection. For now I'm giving you my revision -- the one for this week's column. I promise to soon get back into the routine, but not until after a few more dips in the pool.

"Homes are for free expression,
not for good impression."

Helen North from the movie Yours, Mine and Ours (2005).

I have come to realize (OK, so I realized this a LONG time ago) that I am a perfectionist. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that as a young bride I prided myself in the fact that my house was immaculate to the point that even the patterns from the vacuum cleaner lined up perfectly in the carpet.

Oh, how things have changed over the years! It might have something to do with giving birth to five kids, Mr. V's pasture full of farm animals, or the lack of sleep. Somehow, along the way I realized that perfection is just plain HARD WORK! And so, I now view life a bit differently.