Our trip to Portland this last weekend proved a nice episode. I took my daughter, my car, and my bike. The idyllic roadtrip feeling did not last because my bike was a bit wobbly on the car and I ditched it at our favorite li'l hippie bakery for Ralph to pick up. Despite this sense of fail the rest of the trip went well. We arrived at perfect weather, I didn't overdo it on the activities list, I made it to a dear friend's bachelor party (or actually, I made it to one part of three of said celebrations), and most fun, I saw loads of my brother and sister and we walked most everywhere.

I felt oddly disconnected from my daughter most of the weekend. This was because I spent a lot of time with my siblings who are grownups, and I tend to wish to relate to them in grownup fashion. In fact when I'm around grownups I'm sometimes not "present" for my children which means I start to miss them. Many other adults are amazing with my kids and very sweet, but the only real grownups who don't pull me off my kid-compass are Ralph and, to a slightly lesser extent, my mother, both of whom somehow integrate with me and the kids, and that's a good thing, and I appreciate it (best sentence ever for far too many commas).

I missed Nels and Ralph so much. Coming home to them was the most calming feeling.

Labels: birlo, jules, pdx, roadtrip, Sophie

I had a difficult time this last weekend. And what I want most when I'm having a difficult time is company. Not necessarily to talk about my troubles, not to do my dishes nor sponsor me in a spa trip or even drink with or have a shopping spree. Simply someone to talk with, recreate with, cook with or for (I love cooking for people), go out to talk over a coffee, and relax. Time is something my FOO gives very sparingly, with vague limits suddenly and mysteriously imposed, with reneging of original plans and a culture of denial that original plans even existed. I am probably the only of the four of us who is generous with their time in an open and honest way and a clear communication of boundaries. I also note that when someone is having a hard time, I love to help them. I appreciate all the times I've been directly asked because it's hard for me to know sometimes when someone wants my help or to know how to give it.

There's a fifth member of my genesis family - my half-sister Jules, who was raised for the most part by her father. I wasn't thinking about company or family this weekend when I emailed her and told her I was having a hard time. However her immediate response was to literally drop everything, rent a car, drive from Portland and take me to dinner (all with very grateful and slightly overwhelmed thanks). It was at first hard for me to accept her offer because - I don't know. Some part of me didn't want to admit I wanted that time. Part of me suspects that some people make these amazing offers and don't mean them (this is actually rare I think). But mostly it's just that growing up and now my family didn't work that way. They don't seem to need help, expect it, or offer it. One result is I have trouble knowing for myself when I need help and what kind to ask for. I also feel sad asking for help and very sad being rejected. I am working to be different than the way I was raised.

The closer I got to expecting Jules the more excited I got. I began to realize I was going to have a night off from the family. I was going to have all the time to talk and listen that I could want in a visit. We were going to enjoy food or maybe rent a movie or go to a movie or stay up half the night. It was going to be open-ended. She wasn't going to tell me she was staying until such-and-such a time then suddenly leave early (classic FOO behavior). She was going to tell me she was leaving Tuesday afternoon and that would be when she left. She was going to believe me and support me when I told her my troubles (not "hint" at how I should or could do things better or differently). A part of me even distantly surmised she was being so generous with her time because I myself had made the same priorities about twelve years ago as her relationship with her husband was faltering (they later divorced). I was a young college student who knew nothing about marriage and I don't know how much help my advice or presence could have been. But I remember riding the bus as often as I could to hang out with her and do whatever she (or we) wanted to do. I remember spending so much time listening to her and caring very much about her and Mark. I realized I have this incredible gift in her and a few of my friends; true, adult friendship that is give and take. It would have been easy in some ways to say "No, but thanks." I'm glad I didn't.

Jules got here at 6 PM and as soon as my daughter's swim class was over I found her and we went out. I hadn't dined in the restaurant we ended up choosing in a long time - over a decade. We also immediately met and began chatting to two men on the Tour de Fat. I ate every single bit of my dinner and had a bloody mary. I started feeling much better. Ralph took the kids to my parents' where they had a slumber party / video game night in the upstairs guest room. Jules and I stayed up until 4 AM just talking. I ate too much candy (I literally had a candy hangover the next day) but my sleep was deep and only cut short by the morning responsibilities of my own children.

One problem with taking half a day off: you want more! And I intend to get it. Everyone should try for it, if they can.

Labels: FOO, gratitude, jules

Saturday we biked everywhere. It was great. To my parents'; back home, out to the Y for swimming; to Casa Mia (after an hour and a half of swimming in the pool, Nels ended up ala "Sleepy Nacho" at the table); then back home again. It was fun. At one point Ralph, happily exercising serpentine-like motions on the bike trailer, flipped it over. Yes, the trailer with my children in it. I was listening to my iPod (Steve Earle) and luckily did not hear it go over, but I saw it go over. At which point I pulled to the side of the road, calmly removed my earbuds, and screamed,"Jesus Fucking Christ!" at Ralph. A group of guys out in their yard working on their 4x4's averted their eyes as we picked.

The kids were completely unhurt, unrattled and barely registered anything had happened. Ralph solemnly apologized, kneeling down to them (as I calmed myself) and the kids were like, "whatever, nothing happened." That bike trailer rocks, by the way, and it turns out when you use safety equipment properly it really makes a difference. I shudder to think of them unstrapped.

Speaking of profanity, my sister visited for three days and nights. My children love her; Nels especially desires nothing more than for her to constantly watch his every move, many of them no less impressive than shoving a whole banana into his mouth or splashing in the pool. "Root at me, Aunt Juliet!" Anyway, she ended up buying me a shirt I've found completely hilarious since my all-time favorite blogger did a little satirical commentary on it over a year ago.

Labels: bike, jules, Nels, Ralph, random potty-mouth

I've been wanting to visit my sister for a couple months now. So instead of coming home on Sunday with my family, I did just that instead. My father attempted to spoil my plan by refusing the necessary use of one of his vehicles (or sort of refusing - offering a mean-spirited grunt, is more like it), so I merely bought train fare, provided Ralph with a scant dozen list of friends to babysit Nels, packed a bag for Sophie and I, and asked my parents for a ride to the train station (which they kindly acquiesced to).

Amtrak is heading downhill from what I can tell. Shortly after I boarded there was a ticket kaffuffle, the train was late (and didn't make up time; it never seems to try), and the two men in seats next to ours managed to drink a heck of a lot of beer purchased in quick succession in the "bistro" car. Both men were enamored of my daughter; the younger of the two showed Sophie pictures of his two-month old daughter and plied her with offers of food and finally, a "lucky rabbit foot" (which will be disappearing sometime in the next few days). An early instance of what I suspect will be many, many times my beautiful daughter will attract the attention and unsolicited gifts of older, slightly creepy, men. However these two did not cross any line of decency or courtesy, and my daughter held very impressive conversation with them. Our experience was just part of being a girl, I guess.

Sophie likes the city. Right after disembarking from the train and meeting up with Jules, she took us to a funky restaurant downtown that specializes in unusual Cajun-esque cuisine, communal tables with nice linens, loud rock and roll (Beastie Boys and Bon Jovi featured during our meal), awful, and I mean awful waiter jackets, and giant tinfoil sculptures for the wrapped leftover (Sophie got a "boxing bunny" made by a ten-year veteran server). We made it to bed about midnight, and Sophie slept the sleep of the dead beside me.

The next day after a cozy sleep in my sister's apartment (my singleton friends and family's studio and one-bedrooms fill me with such envy!) Juliet made us a lovely pancake breakfast. My daughter ate pancakes and cereal, milk and then, after a rather short neighborhood walk, stated: "I'm hungry". Back to the apartment for fruit, cheese, and crackers. Then a scant hour later: Mexican food at an authentic, tasty, inexpensive restaurant.

In the afternoon the three of us met up with friend Reece and boyfriend Tristan at a slightly less exotic location in NW Portland. It was good to see Reece again; he is no longer the skinny, gawky boy who flapped alongside me as Uncle Growley (??) to my Wicked Witch of the West in our freshman high school production of Wizard of Oz (gee, and he ended up going fag. Who knew?) but rather a somber, beefy, bearded hunky man. Sophie behaved well as we discussed jobs (both boys have interesting ones, at least to my occupation-starved mind), children, Beyonce, housebuying, and Portland diversity. We say goodbye and head to a trendy market for dinner groceries (I'm cooking) before heading to her apartment for some downtime.

Buy, buy, buy - the city. I am being judicious - only buying things I already wanted to purchase before I visited (OK, and honestly, the list of my "wants" isn't that long!). I don't know how I'd navigate if I lived in the city; but indeed the choices might make my life easier. It is certainly wonderful to have a Portland veteran as my guide; I have only to say, "I'm looking for Aveda," before she happily takes me there.

Sophie watches a nature show on VHS; my laundry tumbles in the basement downstairs in the complex. Time to get dinner started and refresh ourselves for more city life.

Labels: food, girl life, jules, party animal, Sophie