Good Family Pictures (Thanks, Dad.)

I was wrong. There IS something worth writing about. Here goes.

I am a lazy person, very lazy. More so than lazy I am selfish and stubborn. Oftentimes I dread doing something, not because it's going to be awful in the least, but because I just don't want to do it. Silly things, like voice rehearsals, class, grocery shopping etc. Stupid things I shouldn't fret about. Nh called me quite a while ago and asked when would be a good time for me to participate in the taking of family pictures with her, dad and the boys. The date, though changed once or twice, ended up being this past Friday. Family pictures were to be taken atop a mountain about 45 minutes away. I must admit, I was not very keen on the idea of driving up a winding road for 45 minutes in the back of my Dad's van to take family pictures for three hours. << This is me being stupid, because I ALWAYS have a good time with my family, I must just forget every time I leave them.

Anyway- to the good part. C is my aunt. C is a brilliant photographer (click the link to check her site). She often photographs the smaller families within my larger family (does that make sense?). Aunt C and Uncle E drove in front of us up the mountain, (Uncle E acts as her assistant, apparently). Upon arriving at the green, tree filled part of the mountain we exited the van, and stood at the side of the road awaiting our direction. To be clear these are the models: Km17(me, duh), Dad, Nh, Wg3, and Dg5. Here we are, semi-matching at the side of a road lined on either side with beautiful trees. C took a couple of pictures of us all holding hands walking down the road (so cute). Uncle E stood further down the road and yelled, "CAR" every time he heard a vehicle coming towards us. What a good guy.

That's not the juicy part, though. You see, none of us are really dressed to "hike". I have on open-backed shoes, Nh has on some dress shoes, and all of the boys are in nice dress shirts. C surveys an area off the side of the road and into the woods, taking us with her. She looks around for a moment, looks at us, and points to 4 trees sitting on the top of a VERY steep hill. "Go up there", she says. ... Uh, say what Aunt C? I don't think she realized the severity of the slope here. It took Dad and Nh about 10 minutes to get the little ones up, slipping down a foot for every two they climbed. I thought I would be a genius and try a different way up- really I just made things exponentially more difficult for myself. With the help of Uncle E, I was safely on top of this wretched cliff/mountain/hill with my family. A few pictures of this scariness (scariness because the flat part [the SAFE part] wasn't too large on top of this cliff/mountain/hill), Uncle E points to a log. This log is very long, and very large. It is lodged in some dirt crossing a ravine. It's a good 20 feet off the ground. "Stand on that" Aunt C says. Crap, what? And again, my family is risking their lives for artsy pictures. Wg3 and Dg5 are frightened. Dad compromises with C and sits the boys on the log- it's too high up to stand, too scary, too dangerous. I somehow sit myself on the log as well (again, taking a long ridiculously difficult route thinking it'd be faster/easier etc.). I sat down next to Wg3 and he requested in a little bit of a panic that I hold his hand. Gladly, I did this. We spent some time up on that log, but in reality spent more time attempting to get on and off of it.

On the way down, we traipsed through a deeply cut ravine that went on forEVER. We were not that far from the road, but all of the little white rocks lining the bottom of this crevasse made it difficult to keep one's balance. Nh and I came through the ravine almost side by side. Both struggling to place our feet strategically on what seemed to be stable rocks, preferably the larger ones. My father, bless his heart, picks up this huge stick. When I say huge I mean LONG. About six inches wide and, hm, I don't know, SEVENTY FEET LONG, and he lifts it up. "I'm moving it out of our way", he says... because the stick ran directly down the middle of our path. We could have easily worked around it- it was doing us no harm, nor was it creating any REAL obstacle. I quickly concluded that Dad just wanted to pick up a big stick (what a boy) because he lifted it up and dropped it vertically back down... exactly where it was before, only further down the path. Interesting, right? Immediately after, Dg5 picks up a large stick and begins to do the same thing. 3 adults, almost at once, tell him to put it down. Uncle E says, "Monkey see, monkey do" and Nh and I laugh in agreement.

I always have a good time with them, and I always enjoy having them around, or rather, them having me around. I think about the four of them every day, and think to myself, "I must change my lazy, stupid, college kid ways, call them up, and hang out."

I will post any pictures I can here... you must see the final product to understand just exactly what we were willing to do for good family pictures.

Realizing it's no longer all about me.

I'm moving out in fourteen days. Moving into my own apartment with a girl I've only met once. I'm excited. I'm very excited. I thought that at this point in my life my mom and several other family members would be up in arms about me moving out, sharing my nerves and excitement. This is not so, or not so the way I imagined. They're letting me go. I am being let go. The extreme attention I have required throughout my youth is also going away. I will be in my own apartment, paying attention to my own self, and just like every other grown up in the world, I will see my family once or twice a week (maybe more at first). Scary. Scary may not be the right word. Daunting. Daunting is the word I'm searching for. Let me give you an example:

Finding Nemo. Nemo is flushed down the toilet at one point in the movie (sorry for those of you who haven't seen it... but jeez.. if you really haven't seen it... I suggest you get with the times) Nemo slips and slides down the sewer and lands in a part of the ocean that has never been explored by him. This is how I feel. Don't over analyze it or it could become a very disgusting analogy. All I'm saying is, it's no longer all about me... I am being let out of the nest to fend for myself... and this is what I wanted.


Right?

Family

Being with my family is awkward and uncomfortable. I completely despise being in large groups of family members, it makes me nervous, and sick. Even worse are all the snide comments made to me from one family member about another. I hate that a lot of us pretend to like the others. It feels fake. Everyone complains behind everyone else's back. Except for the select few- the good ones. The loud, outspoken, real family people. The people that the family really centers around. The ones that make plans and coordinate things, steady and dependable.

Typically I'm OK with one or two family members at a time. I'm good with my aunts and uncles when we're separate from the rest of the clan. My cousins kinda make up for it. I think cousins are God's gift. I adore all of my cousins. They're like siblings, only not as consistently annoying.

I hope that one day I won't feel like this anymore. I hate, hate, hate it. It's awkward. I hate awkward. I love my family, it's just hard to relate. On both sides- my mom and my dads. I feel fake, like we're all being fake. Maybe it's my age =\.

Momma Bear

I harbor a lot of resentment towards my mother. This resentment was made very apparent to me tonight.

I'm at work when my mom calls and says she is going to the ER. My mom has been to the ER 4 times in the past year. I don't ask her what's wrong. She tells me I need to come home and watch my brothers while my grandfather takes her to the ER. Aj and Cj can't stay home alone, at 10 and 12, even though I was staying home alone at 6 and babysitting at 7. Because I am living with my grandparents I am completely irked at the fact that I'll be spending the night at home to watch the boys. Selfish, I know. I closed work an hour late and didn't get home until 1120. I sped all the way home, frustrated. There have been many times in my life when I felt like I had to take care of my mother, many more times when I felt as though she was not competent enough to take care of herself, let alone her three children, myself included. I learned quickly to take care of myself. I remember, vividly, my stepfather teaching me to vacuum at 6 years old, then reprimanding me for doing it incorrectly. I was given the Stair Stepper exercising tool so that I could reach the washer and dryer at 7, and from then on I washed, folded, and put away the family's laundry a lot. I began watching my little brother at 7, he was 2. From that moment on I babysat my life away. Another memory set in stone is my weekend nights in Jr. High. My mom would come down the stairs, dressed to go out, and tell me she needed me to watch the boys, her and my stepfather would be home around 2. They paid me, I never, well rarely, argued- but as they walked out the door I felt a tinge of something, something not nice, something sad, something that wished I could go spend the night at a friends house instead of watch my brothers. My mom made working out her priority for a year or two when I was about 11. She would leave at noon and come home at 7. I made dinner for the boys. I hated that. But I felt like if I didn't, it wouldn't get done. I felt like if I didn't take care of the kids, my mom wouldn't know how to. She couldn't do that and take care of herself at the same time, and I knew that all too well. The last thing I needed was for my mom to be in hysterics with herself. I was the glue, that kept her barely hanging on in her loveless marriage, and inside her completely unhappy self. I made it easier for her to get up and go away from everything, without a worry or a care about the children she had at home. She never realized that. I did a lot for her, as cocky as it sounds, and I won't forget it.

Really, I understand that people have grown up worse than I have. I have a wonderful family, and am blessed with many things, but despite this I continue to harbor resentment towards my mother for, what I believe, was taking my childhood from me. Placing far too much responsibility on me, and ignoring my pleas for her to stop. Ignoring the letters I wrote, and heart to hearts I tried to have. On several occasions I sat up in my bed and tried and tried to work up the courage to tell her how I felt. I wanted her to spend time with me. I wanted her to take care of me. I remember complaining that she never baked with me, and everyone else's mother baked with them. A menial task that meant the world to me at 8. A menial task she couldn't muster up the strength to perform. I wanted her to mother me. And I tried to get that to happen, lord knows I tried. But I guess some things are just never meant to be. It just wasn't meant to be that way. I think it affected me negatively in the light of relationships. I need attention, and I need a lot of it. I am so afraid of being ignored, left alone for too long. I think this might be part of the reason why.

All of these feelings surfaced when I realized how irritated I was, as opposed to concerned, that she was on her way to the ER. You know how once you start thinking about something it explodes and you realize how many fragments and facets it actually contained? I suppose you could say that's what happened here.

Celebrity

I am the resident celebrity today at Dad's house. The boys don't see me often and so my guess is that they're excited I'm here. Dad says "Everyone holds hands in the parking lot" and the boys say in tandem "I want to hold Katie's hand!!" We get ready to sit down in our booth and the coveted seat is the one right next to me, so both boys claim it. William pulls at my arm all through dinner, "Katie, Katie, Katie...." my name is the only thing I can discern from his babbling. I nod my head and respond with "Oh really?" He shakes his head and says, "yup". These boys are adorable, and I am truly blessed to be their big sister.

reluctantly, honestly

I hate feelings.

More importantly,I hate discussing my feelings.

Today mom, JA [mom's fiance], CJ, AJ and I sat down to discuss our feelings about the move. Awkward.

I don't talk about my feelings. I feel them. If I'm a real emotional bind I call RJ and she fixes me. I don't want to sit here and tell my mom that I feel as though she's abandoning me a bit. I don't want to sit here and tell everyone how bitter I am that I was moved six times between 2nd and 8th grade. Now is not the time for that. I hope the time for that never comes. No matter how much you "communicate" things never change. People just feel guilty, and hurt. Nothing changes. So I'd rather keep my feelings to myself, thanks.
I've always really liked my dad's approach to "feelings". Dad asks me if I'd like to spend some time with him. Out at dinner, mini-golfing, whatever. We go to talk over things and maybe we'll mention it briefly over food, but mostly we just spend time together and laugh. To me, this is much more healing than "discussing" the problem. Sometimes people just need to be reminded that they have someone there for them. Someone to take them out when they're sad. Dad does a good job at that.

I'm walking around in a sea of boxes. Depressed and distraught. Wishing, hoping, praying that this will all be over soon.

Tock

At the YMCA kids carnival yesterday I heard my littlest brother Wg2 laugh. I couldn't help but notice the hint of baby giggle left in his tiny voice. A reminder that though he's growing up, he's still our little Wg2. I could listen to his laugh all day every day and never tire of it.

I've been sad lately. I sit and think about how I wish things had been different, and I've got to catch myself and realize that no amount of wishing could change the facts: I don't know anyone from Kindergarten, I haven't lived in the same house my entire life, I didn't grow up with my dad...etc. etc. These are the things I wish had been different, mostly.

It's a weird thing when you realize that time is not refundable, relivable, returnable, redoable. Once it passes, it's gone forever. But how is it that you live your life every day carrying out the "to-do" list that is necessary to keep above water and still make time for the moments you wish to have more of? ...To hear the laughter of very happy children, to have more talks with your parents, to see how precious family can be.

Today CC and I watched Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion. All we could talk about afterwards was what our ten year reunion will be like. I have a sneaking suspicion that those ten years will fly by. I'm not sure if I know where I want to be ten years from now. I suppose I should probably figure that out.

I've been writing this post for two days now, trying to think of a title. After accepting the "one word, one syllable" title challenge I'm finding this to be exactly that: a challenge.