Choose...

To some, a choice is simply putting two options side by side and then, deciding which one is "best."  That seems relatively simple, but, as my 6 year old often schools me in life's BIG lessons, he tells me, "I just can't decide Mom.  It's hard."  Acute wisdom in a 52 pound body... It is hard, even when the action is simplistic: two options, three, four - Which path to take?  Which road?  Robert Frost put it so eloquently years ago, "Two roads diverged in a wood..." and although his poem touches on our decisions in life and how they affect us, what made me think of this topic was the idea of having to make a choice that you may not want to make, maybe, in some cases, not having a choice at all.

I forfeited my guaranteed entry to run the New York marathon this year; the deadline was midnight last night to pay the entry fee once more to run the race that was cancelled last November.  And, as much as I wanted to and I still do, I am unable to take on the challenge this year.  I did not want to admit that and a year ago, I wouldn't have.  But, this past month, I realized that I was going to have to make a choice between events to do and races to run.  It was an extremely difficult choice this time around particularly because my sister is going back to run NY as her first marathon and Cyndi is going back to run for Coach Scott and all of those who are able to return are going back to help celebrate one of the greatest cities on the planet.  I knew all this, I've known it and, I still had to bow out.  Fortunately, I know that somewhere this weekend, there will be someone shouting and happy that he or she gets to go, in my place and I hope for that person that it is every bit as meaningful as my experience was. 

My youngest brother and I are not speaking.  He asked me to stay out of his business and as much as I have wanted to talk to him, especially on my birthday, I have not.  My brother is an alcoholic, a binge drinker who has struggled with addiction in some form or another for most of his adult life.  Sadly, maybe because he has a good heart, it is difficult for our family to watch him struggle, especially when he refuses to acknowledge that what he does hurts other people.  As much as I think he knows that I want him to be well, I also think that he needs someone to blame because it is often too much to take on that kind of accountability when the bottles are just down the street at the liquor store.  I almost called him today, just to see how he is because I miss him.  He is friend as much as he is my brother and I love him very much.  I had to make a choice to not hold it against him but I also had to choose to not call him or speak to him until he is ready, if he ever is ready. 

Choosing often implies sacrifice, even if in the most minuscule way.  You choose to act a certain way, to say something, to do something, to be something and regret appears when the choice is not well thought out, not always, but often.  Choose a college, choose a spouse, choose a job, choose a family - whether or not to have one, choose a church, choose a president... it never ends, and with each choice comes the knowledge, that knowledge that there was always another way to go.  Should have and could have become staples in the vocabulary of decision making or decision "not" making.

I gave up my class at Santa Monica College 9 weeks into a 17 week semester.  I chose to jeopardize my future at an institution that gave me a chance and then turned that chance into an opportunity and I did it with the knowledge that in all likelihood, I would not be invited back.  I understood what I was doing and what it might mean and while I felt that it was the best choice for me and I stand by that, I also feel a deep sense of disappointment in myself for not finishing what I started and for taking an opportunity and turning my back on it.  I have to live with that.

I read a lot.  Lately, I've been reading research articles on the brain and pieces of non-fiction that have to do with historical events and biographical subjects.  While I read, I am ever aware that what I am reading is a direct reflection of what is going on in my life at the time.  Sometimes I go through periods of fantasy and science fiction, other times it is romance and historical fiction and often, the material is work related.  Right now my reading choices reflect my need for truth.  I want to know "things" that are happening in the world, in my body, in societies that I can only imagine.  While technology offers me instant access to all subjects worldly, reading allows me to absorb the material at my leisure; it does not inundate me with information, rather it enables me to tread as broadly or as deeply as I choose.  I make the choice to read every day and, there are days when I would rather go straight to sleep, or watch television or hang out with the kids, but I know that the years of choosing to crack open that book or to scan an article will continue to enrich my life in a way that choosing something else won't, well, maybe except spending time with my kids...

I have lately been on Jake like flies on shit, about his grades, about his future and about his choices.  While I tell him that it is his life and I respect his opinions as a human being, which I do, I also expect him to acknowledge that the choices that he is making now, as a teenager will either afford him more choices as a young adult or they will limit his choices as a graduating 18 year old.  As his mother, I want him to have those choices.  It is his life and when he turns 18, I will no longer have the kind of hold on him that I do now, but, strangely, I think that the kind of relationship that has developed between us allows for a negotiation process that I never had with my parents.  Maybe it is generational or maybe it depends on the family, but I am enjoying the moments of "deliberation" because I can see that it makes Jake feel like he is being heard, and he is, when I give him the chance to explain his side of it.  I also think that a lesson self-taught is one that is more ingrained than one that is mother-taught, but don't quote me.  My son, who I absolutely adore, is going to be faced with some life-changing decisions in the next few years.  Having sex, choosing a college, using alcohol or drugs, getting a job, spending money, letting go of and/or making friends, playing soccer - all of these "issues" and more will be in the forefront of the process of his growth as an adolescent and as an adult.  The thing is; I choose to trust my son.  I tell him this often and I tell him that I will trust him until he gives me a reason not to, but even if that trust is broken, I will be here for him and I will always defend his choices because he is my son.  While that may be faulty circular reasoning, I know that it comes from a place of absolute love.  I hope that he is learning to choose based on solid reasoning and that in the challenging moments of his life, he will make solid decisions.  Scratch that, I don't hope he will, I know he will.

I look around at my "teacher" friends, who, like me, now have all of their kids in school and they have held on to their tenure and to their jobs.  Early on, when Jake was 2 1/2 and Nick was born, I resigned my teaching position at a school that I loved, from a job that I loved, with colleagues who I loved in order to stay home with my boys.  I have not, for one day, regretted that choice.  Even now, teaching part time and not being able to step right back into a full time job, I don't regret that choice, I mean, how could I?  But there are moments when I think about what keeping that job would mean for my family now; the financial stability that would provide for them and I would be lying if I didn't say that every once in a while I wish that I could have done both.  I mean, my friends, the aforementioned ones, they did it; they are doing it.  I think early on I knew what it might mean, but I also know myself and I cannot give myself wholly to one thing without sacrificing something else.  Many people can juggle many things and do a wonderful job at all of them. Unfortunately, I can only do that in my mind.  And so I chose...

I am training now for my first "tri" activity, a 1/2 ironman that I will do in October of this year.  I woke up on Tuesday morning of this week and I chose.  I didn't want to; I wanted to sleep.  But, I dragged myself out of bed and I got in the car, drove to the pool and I chose to swim.  Last April, our T2 Ragnar team finished the race from Anaheim to Coronado.  I thought, at that time, having gotten into probably the best shape that I'd been in for quite some time, that it was the continuation of a lifelong commitment to training.  I had been feeling so great and running the strongest that I had in a long time.  I promised myself that when I got home, I would continue with that training.  I didn't and I allowed myself to sink back into that place of self indulgence and excuses.  I knew I was doing it; I chose it.  On some level, I didn't want to work that hard anymore, I just wanted to coast, like I did when my metabolism was at its kick-ass most efficient, but I soon learned that wasn't going to happen and a month turned into six turned into a year and 25 pounds later, I am starting over.  I look at myself in the mirror and while I don't feel as good as I did a year ago, I still like what I see.  I put my body through literal hell and it still works with me and not against me.  It wakes me up and pulls me through the pool and it lets me run alongside Ty at the park, it lets me dance with Nick in the kitchen and it allows me to train for events that I never imagined at 44 I would be able to do.  So now, I choose to give back to my body by eating better, by training harder and by being kinder to myself than ever before.  And when October comes, I will run into the water with a smile on my face knowing that I am saving lives and that I have reinvented mine once again.

I am fairly convinced that I could do another job, have another career, make more money doing something other than teaching, but I choose to continue to teach.  Every term, there are a couple of student who verbally thank me, or hug me, or write me a note that tells me that what I've said or done has made them a better reader, a better thinker or a better writer.  And while I don't anticipate these outpourings nor do I wait for them, I am always moved by them.  When I was young, I don't remember exactly how old, but when I was maybe an adolescent, I felt like I was supposed to do something meaningful with my life.  Maybe everybody feels like that, that's why we say it's a "calling," but that's not exactly what I mean here.  I felt like my life had specific purpose and because I am a God fearing person, I felt that I had some innate ability to do something special.  I didn't know what that was and maybe I still don't, but I feel as though God gave me a gift with people, a sensitivity to their needs and a desire to help them.  I feel such a strong need to give.  And while I will probably never have the money to do the kind of giving that I would like to, I realized that by choosing to use what skills and talents I have, that even an average kid from Torrance can make a real contribution to the global and even the local efforts of organizations that are changing the way that people live.  You don't have to have money or endless resources, you just have to make a choice to do what you can in whatever capacity that is.  I mean, I have a group of friends who constantly support my fundraising efforts because, financially, they can.  I have other friends who offer to train me, for free, who offer to get up with me in the morning, at the crack of dawn and I have yet others who support me emotionally by giving me a cyber pat on the back or a hug when they see more or by shooting me a message that often brings me to tears.  I choose to give because I know, deep in my heart, that I am supposed to and I am trying to pass that message along to my children.  I know I will succeed.

Lastly, well, my brain is shutting down now, so lastly for here, I choose to share these thoughts with you, not for your approval nor for your judgment, but, for your consideration.  If you are a part of my life, it's because I chose you and I want you to know that was a choice that I will always defend.  Don't worry about choosing wisely my friends, just make a choice and stand behind it...

The chaos factor...

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, or the car you cut me off in, or the phone that you used to hang up on me with or the random, pointless comment that you just made which incited a rage fueled diatribe against ALL social media... including "blogging" and the seemingly endless emails that are building with no end in sight.  How in the hell can I have just deleted 96 emails yesterday only to find 342 in my inbox today?  How can people have the nerve to send me questions regarding "updates" and "friend requests" and "you didn't comment on that thing I sent you" in an email?????? If you are referring to a facebook post, then I will get to it if and when I want to get to it.  AND, if I chose not to comment on it, maybe I just smiled at the sweet photo or the funny comment and kept scrolling.  My love for you is not dependant upon whether or not I answer your damn email.  Keep it up and I will just keep adding your inane questions and droll remarks to the SPAM folder...

I am tired today and I have PMS and I am in the midst of a crisis; there is no cat food or chocolate in the house and I am already in my pajamas.  The cat is meowing outside the bedroom door and my hormones are screaming for Haagen Daaz peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and my children are in the hallway (visualize this) kicking a large plastic ball at each other... as hard as they possibly can.  The ball just ricocheted off of Ty's head, hit the light and just landed next to my foot.  Nick is laughing and doing some kind of dance that makes it look like he is trying not to shit his pants and Ty has recovered the ball only to turn, kick it and this time, it bounced off the cat's head.  Well, he's off and running so I guess I don't have to worry about the cat food for a few minutes.  I just reached down to adjust the blanket and I noticed that there is a bottle of white-out on my bedcover, open and spilling out all over the brown material...  Now Jake is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, blatantly pissed off because he DVR'd the Kings game and it isn't working, oh, wait, it's working now, he's suddenly happy again.  I feel like I am shooting my own reality show, only with words and with no camera.  Wait, Nick just told Ty to eat a shit sandwich and Ty is doubled over laughing.  "Go to bed Ty"  Tim's voice is mellow but serious as he tries to find the right spot to start the Kings game as Ty chants, "I'm not going to bed... ever!"  Okay, Tim gave up; they went in the other room to watch the game while Ty continues to roll around on the floor, the ball long forgotten.

The thing about this house is that there is never a predictable moment.  Even when I shout, "Let's go" as in, we need to get out of the fucking house, right this fucking minute, something always happens.  I can't find my keys, Ty only has one shoe on, Jake needs lunch money, Nick left his P.E. clothes somewhere but nobody knows where, someone forgot to feed the dog, the water is still running in the bathroom, somebody poked somebody, looked at somebody funny, laughed at the wrong time... it is never the same, never predictable and seemingly unstable.  Wait, Ty just came in, stuck out his tongue and said, "My tongue is red" and I said "Oh, what from?"  and he said, "It's not from popsicles or candy" and I said, "It's not?" and he said, "No, it's from Nick's shirt" and I chuckled "Nick's shirt?" and Ty laughed, cackling, climbing up on the bed with me just now, "Yeah, I just licked Nick's shirt."  I didn't even bat an eye, "Ok, come on, get a book and come up under the covers." "Ok Mom.  But paper sucks"  and then he walked out, hitting every single blind covering the sliding glass door on his way out."  There he goes.  I'm counting the peaceful seconds until he returns.

Much has been happening in the Hawley household this past week.  It has been an eclectic mix:  a Confirmation, a car accident, allergies, 2 complete meltdowns (mom only), loss of income, illness, car trouble, family issues, baseball, students, dog issues and a friendship renewed.  I finally am beginning to understand that innate delicacy with which Erma Bombeck and Chris Erskine describe familial moments so well.  It is like second nature, like watching a film of events as they are happening but as a part of the whole.  Like today, when I was driving Nick and Ty to the doctor and this mother fucker cut me off and I mean CUT ME OFF, with no warning, no blinker, nothing, just swerved right into my lane.  Now this kind of thing annoys me but when the kids are in the car, it sets my teeth on edge to the point where I must do something about it.  This makes no sense as I push my foot down hard on the gas pedal and gun it, catching up to the Dodge whatever make it is, pulling up alongside to see that it's a kid, not much older than my Jake and he's bouncing his head to whatever music he's listening to  and when he looks over and sees me, he nods as if to say "What's up?"  I have to pause for a second, trying to reach back to that place of being 16 or 17 and to not giving a shit to what was happening on the road around me, not caring about cutting someone off so long as I didn't hit anyone or anything, I tried really hard to reach back to that moment when driving was still "fun" and not an obligation... and while I didn't quite get there, I did understand, for just a second, right when the light turned green and Ty shouted "GREEN" and the kid sped off, that my life really is no longer what it once was.  I'm not the Homecoming Queen anymore, or Rich and Steve's "big" sister, I'm not the little naive waitress or the inexperienced first year teacher, I'm not the new mom or the incompetent pretending to know what the hell she's doing.  I've changed.  Maybe I didn't want to acknowledge that because although I love change and change implies growth, it also means that the things that I once loved about myself or maybe that I used to define myself are no longer as important as they used to be, at least to me.  And maybe that shouldn't bother me as much as it does, well, it does.  I mean, I like who I am, who I've become but I really liked who I was, when there wasn't has much "hard" worry about the important things.  I always had money and a car, I had fun things to do and to look forward to, my friends were around constantly and we didn't have to plan to be together.  I do wish, that on some simple level, that I could have some of that wistfulness back.  I do not want to go back nor do I want to be the ages that my kids are at, I mean it when I say that.  I got to do it once and that was enough; I enjoyed my turn, but I miss the looking forward without the knowledge of what is already going to happen.  I never used to ask myself what will happen if?  I usually just jumped or, I worried about jumping so much that the desire to do it just went away altogether, out of fear or a beating to death of the idea.  I guess I just miss the "newness" of things and I suppose that is why I am very aware of the chaos that makes up my family and that envelops our home like a fog.  I like it, I crave it and, honestly, it makes me feel young, whole, complete.

I am defined by these moments of chaos and anger, of uncertainty and mischief, of pain and hardship, of love... Ty just asked me if  I would make him a breakfast burrito, read him a Disney story and play Skylanders with him before school tomorrow.  I didn't even hesitate "Sure I will honey" I said simply, already dreading the day when he won't be here to ask anymore.  What else is there to say?  My life has not belonged to me in a very long time and I wouldn't have it any other way...