The other pillow

My friends and family know I don’t date – in fact it has become something of a joke because it has been so long.  There are two recent experiences that have brought this reality and its complexities into a sharp focus over the past couple months.  The first was a humorous observation that I was fortunate enough to be able to share with the young woman who tutors my children.  The second was a visit with a dear, old friend who made time while I traveled through his community.

                The first happened on a typical Wednesday evening – about as busy, boring, and ordinary as it gets.  I had been running all day with my usual Mommy- soon to be-PhD stuff; working on internship applications, dissertation, seeing clients, running a parenting group, and finally stopping at the grocery store on the way home.  After the scramble of unloading the car, passing out “hello” hugs, listening to the day’s escapades, and putting away groceries I headed to my room to hang up my jacket so I could start making dinner.  As I walked into my room I happened to glance at my bed, and burst out laughing.  I mean full bodied, tears in my eyes, lose my breath kind of laughing.  Katherine walked around the corner to see what the great joke was – so I pointed to my bed “No wonder I don’t date: if it ever gets serious I have no where to put him!” 

                It was true, and was clearly illustrated in that one image.  My laptop sits on the other pillow; texts on child psychopathology and treatment, statistics, mixed methods research, and attachment were stacked neatly below that; then journal articles on trauma and related topics; followed by a small set of sewing projects I want to finish (in all my spare time); and finally a couple CDs, my journal, and the kids school pictures I still needed to mail to folks.  The image was incongruous, a neatly made bed that I only have to fold the covers back a little to crawl into, with a line of work down the other side where a partner would be in another life.  The space in my life is occupied both literally and figuratively; that ordinary Wednesday evening provided a much needed laugh as well as a visual dose of the reality of the choices I have made. 

                I won’t lie, this reality has a bittersweet quality.  I have never dated much, in fact I have only had 2 partnered relationships in the past 20 years, and briefly dated a couple guys in the years between.  One thing I have been told, and do believe, is that I am not an easy woman to be in a relationship with.  I am goal oriented, driven, intelligent, and assertive.  While women may find these qualities attractive in a man, in my experience men rarely find these qualities attractive in a woman.  The contrast is perhaps too sharp alongside my nurturing, gentle, homey, flirty side (that fits the feminine image beautifully, though).  The men who have been interested in me historically are drawn to the feminine aspects of me, but I am a package deal.  If I cannot be my driven, ambitious, successful, silly, sappy, hippie-esque self with a partner I would just as soon be single.  I have amazing and rich friendships, so I am not lonely for company.  If all I missed was sex I would simply turn to the single woman’s most trusted small appliance, the B.O.B.  I can honestly admit to myself that I miss the close companionship of a full relationship, though. 

                I may not have admitted that as readily in the absence of my second experience.  While I was traveling to interview for internships I was able to spend some time visiting a dear friend who I hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years.  There were a few moments that reminded me somewhat of a date.  He was charming, thoughtful, attentive, and kind – essentially the good friend he has always been.  I think the contrast to my current life, as well as my past relationships, was a bit disorienting.  So I had a lovely evening and had to admit to myself that perhaps I should re-evaluate my single-ness soon.  

                I have been home for several days, and I must admit I am somewhat conflicted by my awareness of the two experiences.  I can honestly say that I have not “tested the waters” for quite a while.  Perhaps it is time to think about it.  Still, I am a middle aged, single mother with 3 kids (and I talk about them a lot), finishing my PhD, moving to an as yet to be determined location in less than 6 months.  I am full of excuses, and most of them are things I choose actively because they matter that much to me.  Ultimately though, I think I am afraid that I would have to make myself less for a partner to want to enter my life and I do not intend to do that ever again.  Perhaps after I defend my dissertation and move I will be more open to dating.  So my laptop is still on the other pillow, but I have cleared some of the other stuff out of the way. Its a good thing I have lots of time!

Snow Day!

     We were gifted with a snow day Thursday.  I mean a real one… we had 14 inches before morning, school was at first delayed and then cancelled, and I couldn’t even drive half a block towards work without getting stuck (4 times I might add).  And 6 hours later, it’s still snowing… Needless to say, I called it good enough, had the receptionist reschedule my clients, and stayed home with the kids. 

     Now this could have been a frustrating experience.  I have a lot to do (clients, dissertation research, projects I am working on, etc) and having a day where I cannot accomplish what needs to be done definitely increases my anxiety level.  But today was different.  The giant, wet snowflakes were clinging to every surface, giving our community an almost whimsical appearance.  This is the winter wonderland my mind conjures when I listen to holiday music, and I am in it today.

     Another beautiful thing about snowy days (at least the reallllly snowy ones) is the way people come together.  When I was warming up the car to go to work, my neighbor was stuck.  So she, two other neighbors, and I were digging.  Then my son came out to lend a hand.  Then another motorist stopped and offered assistance.  She got going, and I went to leave.  My parking is off the back alley, and I got stuck before making it to the road.  Then I got stuck turning onto the road.  A neighbor I had never met came over with her shovel and my kids brought ours from the house.  We dug the car out, I turned onto the road, and got stuck 100 feet away at the stop sign.  And two guys drove up to help, my car got turned around, and stuck again.  We managed to dig a path to the nearest driveway where I could turn around and head for home.  And guess what, I got stuck trying to pull over to the side of the road in front of my house!   The neighbor across the way was trying to leave for work at this time, and she got stuck too, so we all grabbed our shovels and dug her out since we had become so proficient at it! 

     Driving is out of the question and we ran out of milk and bread (oh reality, I love you).   Luckily I have an occasionally adventurous son, and he decided it would be cool to walk a mile to Albertson’s in the snowstorm with his mother to acquire said items.  It is not too often that an autistic adolescent decides to indulge in a bit of an adventure, so this was a rare opportunity.  We got to chat about school and his friends, college aspirations, fears about our upcoming move, and what he plans to do next time he plays his favorite game.  He flitted from topic to topic, just letting himself say what came to mind.  We walked, plodded, stumbled, and laughed.  For the time it took to walk there, shop, and walk back I was listening to and being present with his world, with no distractions or competition for my attention.  

     As my son and I were walking to the store we saw others digging each other out.  We stopped and chatted, learned that a guy in the apartment building down the street is excited to celebrate his dog’s first birthday next month.  We learned that the lady at the corner is a graduate student as well, and is getting ready to start her thesis proposal.  And coming home, I learned that some neighbors complain when Terry or Bob get out their 4 wheelers and plow the parking lane on the street.   So Terry said he does not plow much these days, but he cleared the area in front of my house and in front of Mandy’s.  I cannot make it back to my alley parking space, but she and I both have plenty of room to share.  And now I get to bake a loaf of bread, because I do appreciate Terry and his snow plowing 4 wheeler.   It’s the small things people do that connect them, despite our busy and canalized every day worlds; sometimes it takes a snow day for us to share those every day moments with each other.