Sometimes I worry about all of these failings.
And then sometimes, thankfully, I realize that I have many strengths, too.
In December we had a kitchen fire caused by some over-zealous Hanukkah celebrations. (Over-zealous Judaism is apparently my response to living in a predominately (and sometimes aggressively) Christian place.) Anyway - some things in the kitchen caught fire while we were eating dinner in the other room. I jumped into action, putting out the fire, saving what could be saved, and airing out the smoke. Sam opened up all of the doors on the first floor which resulted in Mae cat wandering into the front yard. Nora had no idea what was going on.
I am proud of my actions in that moment. I am slightly suspect of Sam's. (He later quipped that the next time there was a crises to lock him in the bathroom until it was over!)
This situation brought something in to high relief for me - something that may have been apparent to other people for some time - but it only recently dawned on me. I'm the person you want around in a crises. But the part of me that allows me to be so helpful in moments of extreme distress make it a little hard for me to function during the mundane, every day rhythms of my life.
This is why I always have talk radio on. This is why I'm blogging right now while Nora is eating breakfast. This is why I'm always on Facebook. And before you blame technology, this is also why in middle and high school in Mrs. Grime's math class (the only teacher who ever "caught" me) and Mrs. Malter's science class, I always had two notebooks open on my desk: one to take notes and one to write stories, at the same time. It's possibly why I'm simultaneous working full-time, finishing a grad degree, writing a novel, raising a toddler, growing an infant in my belly and trying to be a good wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, etc.
I require a lot of stimulation. And when I don't get it, I sort of shut down. Anyone who has waited tables probably understands this. There are shifts when the restaurant is mostly empty, but somehow you're off your game. And there are other shifts when the place is packed, but you're knocking it out of the park and even having fun. This is my life. Every. Single. Day.
There are probably people reading this who have no idea what I'm going on about.
When Sam and I first started dating he was in his senior year of college at the University of Chicago. I was living it up in Brooklyn. Most nights I could be found surrounded by friends in a both in a smoky bar (yes, you could still smoke in bars in NY back then) called O'Connors on 5th Avenue. According to Yelp! it's still there, listed under "dive bars." Back then it had a bartender named Spike and they sold Slim Jims (the "food," not the tool to break into cars) at the bar. Drunk, I would stumble away from my friends, and into a phone booth (no kidding) and use a calling card (for real) to call Sam in Chicago.
Photos Borrowed From NYmag"We're at O'Connor's!" I would announce. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting," Sam would reply.
"Like, meditating?" I would ask.
"No, I'm just sitting," he would say.
"Like, in a chair? In a dark room?" I would ask.
"Yes," he would say.
I'm sure we were thinking the exact same thing about the other person at this moment: "What the hell is wrong with him/her?"
In this way, Sam and I are cut from two completely different kinds of cloth. He has grown to understand me, and he believes what I say about the buzzing in my head, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't truly grasp what it means to be me. In the same way I respect his needs, but cannot imagine experiencing them.
Sam requires quiet time. He requires time alone with nothing to do. While I've come around to appreciating alone time (being a parent will do that to you!), the idea of "nothing to do" is not, nor has it ever been, appealing to me.
While I'm coming to understand this personality trait, this need for stimulation, this 'calm in a crises, but crises in a calm,' is responsible for how I behave, I'm also realizing that it comes with a cost. That just because it's how "I am," doesn't mean it's how I "should be." And I thank my family for showing this to me.
This is why this post is a Valentine to them.
It is because of Sam and Nora that I am starting to appreciate quiet moments. I am beginning to realize that there's no need to rush to get Nora to go to bed because putting Nora to bed, if I allow myself to enjoy it (to NOT think about what I'm NOT getting done; to not be frustrated that it's not a more efficient process) is the main event. It is all I need to be fulfilled. And as I'm lying next to her, singing a song my dad sung to me, rubbing her back and kissing her head, as I'm helping her turn off the buzzing in her head (because I know her head buzzes, too), I can help turn off the buzzing in mine.
And I'm enjoying the louder moments to - learning to be present in them as well. Recently I've been taking great pleasure in listening to Nora laugh uproariously while Sam chases her around the house and tickles her. I'm actually stopping what I'm doing (blogging, facebooking, mindlessly surfing the internet) and enjoying the two of them and the fun they are having. I don't always stop and appreciate it, but I am doing it more and more.
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I'd also like to take this day and this forum (because ultimately, we are very practical and not very romantic people) to thank Sam for being an amazing partner in this life which continues to feel like a sprint and a marathon at the same time.
It is no secret that in the beginning we had a rocky relationship at times (see above - the "drunk phone calls" section). That we survived time and space and multiple states, time zones, countries and continents is somewhat amazing when you think about it. Back then, though I was madly in love with him, I had some concerns about what kind of long-term partner Sam would be -- or I should have, had I been paying attention. Likewise, I'm sure he regularly (and rightfully) questioned my sanity.
[One would think I could put a photo of us as youngsters here, but no electronic record exists of this time ... that's how long ago it was!]
We were together when we were fairly young and we weren't always the best at compromise or wise decision making. Even as recently as Nora's first few months on earth brought fears and concerns of unbalanced division of labor and of me pulling the lion's share of the child rearing: but these fears very quickly proved to be unfounded. Everyday I am amazed by what Sam brings to this relationship, to this family and to Nora. I was telling a male colleague who has a child the same age as Nora about what Sam does on a daily basis (gets Nora to the nanny in the morning, makes her lunch, cooks dinner and does the dishes, to name a few of his standard chores) and he asked me, politely, to never speak to his wife about any of this.
The fact is, whenever I thank Sam for what he does, he shrugs it off as if what he does is just what any husband should do. I am both grateful he feels this way and proud that we have done the work necessary to craft a relationship of equality and one (mostly) free of gendered stereotypes.
I hope Nora knows this is our valentine to her. I hope "Wallace" will know the same thing.
