Introverts and Extroverts

I feel the need to elaborate on a few incidences from last weekend. This is a chronic struggle in our household. Maybe it is in yours too.

You see, about 18 years ago I, an extrovert, married an introvert. But he is not just introverted. He is also non-verbal (this is not an official diagnosis). I honestly think that he has a quota of how many words he should have to say each day. When we were first married, it was 20. 20 Words! 18 years later, I think it is maybe 50. This is not a lot to work with but I make do. As an extrovert and an over-communicator, myself, I make up for this by talking for both of us. Sometimes I do this in our 2-way communication conversations too. Yes, he appreciates this.

So last weekend, as I have previously blogged about, we experienced one of those couples communication issues. As I mentioned, I said some things that I was not proud of. Let me explain. We were traveling home from the hike that we had gone on. The GPS said that we would arrive at the church at 4pm, which is exactly when I needed to meet others there to set up. I had told my husband that we had to go right to the church and that he could not go home to "change his shoes" (which we both knew was a lie because you wouldn't go home and only change your shoes if you could get away with ditching your 15 pounds of extra snow clothes. I knew that this is what he would do and that we would be late opening up the church for the helpers.)

So on the way home, the GPS adjusts and we are going to get to the church at 3:55 and I realize that we are going a different way home then normal and that we might be able to swing by our house first.

Let me see if I can explain. We live between 2 freeway exits (but they are different freeways). We usually come home on the 70, which means we drive by the church first. This is why I said, "We have to go to the church first." But if you are coming in on the 270 then our house is on the way to the church and you might be able to swing home and, I don't know, change your shoes, and get to the church on time.

So as we are approaching our exit on the 270, I say, "Hey, this is Broad St,  you are getting off, right?" He kind of ignores me.
I sit up more. "Why don't you get off here? Then we can run home first."

As we are passing the exit, he irritatedly says, "You said we have to go to the church first."

This is when I Lost. My. Mind.

"What in the...why wouldn't you get off there? We could have stopped at home first and you could have "changed your shoes"? We could have grabbed the decorations... we would have driven right by our house on the way to the church (my face is getting red, I feel this great amount of frustration rushing forth). It was the perfect compromise! WHY DIDN'T YOU GET OFF THERE?"

Again, he coolly says, "You said we had to go to the church first."

Me: What is the matter with you? I didn't know we were going to pass that exit first. We never come this way. (This part is at a very elevated volume, which isn't very normal for me, and my kids are cowering in the back as one of my eyeballs is about to bulge out of my head in frustration.) Why didn't you say, 'Hey, Christina, why don't we get off here and hit the house first?'

Him: I thought you knew where we were.

Me: Would it kill you to give me information that I might (or might not) have already known? (My emotions are elevating at a rapid pace...) YOU HAVE MADE ME INTO THIS EVIL DICTATOR! WE COULD HAVE COMPROMISED IF YOU HAD JUST TOLD ME...

Nothing. He he says nothing and I am contemplating banging my head against the dash.

We ended up dropping him off at the church to start setting up tables and I still had to run home to get the decorations...and his shoes. We needed a time-out anyway.

So then later that night, he slices his finger and we have to go to the ER. We don't live in a place where kids should be at the ER with you, especially at that time of night, but it is only a mile away and my neighbor was watching out for them. So while I was quickly getting ready to go to the ER, he had the kids get to bed.

At the ER I said, "The kids are good, right? They will call us if they need something, right?

Him: I had them go to bed.

The next morning, the kids say, "Where were you? We came downstairs and couldn't find you."

I turn to the husband and say, "Didn't you tell them that we were going to the ER?"

Him: I told them to go to bed.

I look at the ground contemplating a response here because I am in a better frame of mind than yesterday. I think, "Man, when my sister and I were little and my parents weren't home for a long time, we called the police." Yep, that is what we did. I still remember both looks (surprise and then "you girls are dead meat!" - those 2 looks) on my mom's face when she came home and Officer Bill was standing in our doorway taking notes on his notepad.

Thank goodness that our kids aren't as smart as my sister and me.
So I let this one go but I think the husband knew that I may have a point about communicating. (Not that he would tell me that, but I think I saw something flicker in his eyes.)

After 18 years, I have learned to live with this drought in communication and I have found clever ways to make him talk or to get the "full" story. We make it work and we love each other, although he might spend his nights plotting how to kill me. I can't be sure.

Maybe you have the same problem in your house?

Bed time story

I can't sleep as I think about this crazy weekend we have just had. Maybe it will put me to sleep to write about it. Maybe you will fall asleep reading it.

It started Friday. I went in to substitute as a 3rd wheel teacher (the teacher who walks around and helps the real teachers). This is an easy job. Sometimes you get to pull kids into your little office and really teach them instead of babysitting the big group of 25 students. However, when I got to the school they explained that both real teachers must have decided to go clubbing because they needed a sub for both teachers on this team. One teacher had scheduled a sub but the sub called in sick. This should have been a red flag to me but I said, "Sure, I'll sub for the sub."

This was all fine until the afternoon when the kids had me figured out. I am a pretty relaxed sub. If you are at least doing your work (which mostly consisted of playing math games on their devices - yes, that was the actual assignment) then I am not going to hassle you... that is, until I start getting reports from other kids that you weren't doing what you were supposed to. Usually I will do something about it after 2 witnesses have come forward so by the time 4 kids came to tell me that a group of 5 kids weren't doing what they were supposed to, I was pretty sure it is time to intervene. I decided to reign it all in and have all the kids go back to their desks to continue playing math games but one kid is not having it. He starts arguing with me and spouting off his disdain because I am a terrible teacher...etc. I feel myself getting frustrated and I asked him if he would like to go talk to the principal about it. The kid agrees. I said, "Deal" and he left the class.

Now all the kids want to know what just went down because kids don't usually get sent to the principal anymore. My own child asked later, "why didn't you just give him a "step" (which is the normal punishment)? And I am still trying to figure out the answer to that.

It almost felt like in the heat of the moment when you tell your kid to go see their dad for a punishment. As a mother, and having no formal education as an educator, I feel really terrible about how this all played out. I am considering writing a note to the kid because I feel like I should have handled that better.

So I am still stewing over this as we run a bunch of errands after work and I am preparing for a ward (church) party that I am in charge of on the following night. It is getting later and we decide to take the kids home while we run to Walmart to pick up a treadmill that we had ordered.

Did you know that Walmart pick-up closes at 8pm? Well it does. Don't go there and try to finagle anything with the manager to pick up your order because he Does. Not. Care.

On our way home, my daughter calls to say that they let the neighbor in because she was locked out of her house. (My kids are dumb. No matter how many times we tell them not to even go near the door when we leave them for 30 minutes, one of them can't help but peek at the door and then fall over into the hallway so that the doorbell-ringer can see them.)

We are pulling in the driveway and see the locked-out neighbor's husband in shorts and flip flops on the sidewalk. We asked if he is locked out. He seems confused and we tell him to just come inside our house. (These neighbors are refugees so we assumed that the confusion was a translation issue.)

I walked inside our house to find our neighbor with red eyes huddled in our living room with her 2 year old son... and right behind me is her husband, whom she is not happy to see. We aren't sure what is going on but we tell him to sit down, and he casually does. We try to make small talk and end up having this awkward conversation where be basically confesses to having been drinking. He explained that things had gotten heated and his wife and son ran out and were trying to hide from him. They all stayed for an hour until another one of their family members came home so that they wouldn't be alone together.

Oh. Em. Gee. I don't even know what to say and I am not sure if I should approach her to see if she needs help. She lives with her husband's family while her family is stuck in her native country.

Saturday we went snow hiking. It was beautiful and just cool and we got to go with friends who we met when we lived in California. It was really awesome - except for the part where we had our kids with us, who just complained, said their boots didn't fit, their gloves were cold, they were hungry, when will this be over?... etc. Except for that part.

We got a late start and a later finish and so we were not going to have enough time to set up, decorate, and shower before this ward party that I was in charge of. I am not proud of this but there were words said on that car ride home that I am not proud of (mostly because he wanted to go home and change his clothes but the timing would not allow for that.)

Miraculously and with the help of a few people we had enough time to set up and run home to shower. Party went great. Someone told us that they would take care of the clean up and we were exhausted so we went home...but not before Jeremy says, "Can we please go get the treadmill?"

We are halfway there before my son looks out the window and exclaims in a near panic, "Where are we? We were just at the church! I thought we were going home!"

We are just taking the long way kiddo.

We get the treadmill home from a Walmart that you really should be packing in, if you know what I mean. We were taking our lives in our hands going there 2 nights in a row.

We get the thing upstairs. Jeremy starts unpacking it and I get in my P'J's. The next thing I know Jeremy is staring at me with a bloody finger saying, "Are you going to take me or am I going to have to drive there myself?"

And we spent the rest of the night together watching Talladega Nights in the emergency room waiting for them to stitch him up.

I hope that you and I can now sleep after all this, although I am still wondering if I should write that kid a note. Thoughts?

When substitute teaching, keep an ace in your pocket

I really like middle schoolers. I don't know why. I think it is because I already know that they are liars so we are on an even playing field. Middle schoolers still like school for the most part and they are far enough from being adults that they don't quite feel like they are on the same level as an adult. Compare that to kindergarten. I feel like kindergarteners are too young to lie but they aren't. They are opportunists just like every other kid. I want to trust those innocent little faces but I can't. The meanest teachers are the ones with the most obedient classes and I hate being mean. Kinder is a losing situation for me.

Anyway, I got to sub at the Middle School nearby. I didn't realize this at first but when any student sees that there is a substitute, they immediately do something against the rules. If you are a friendly -looking substitute, then they won't make this rule breaking malicious. If you are not so friendly-looking then you will have to leave notes for the teacher like the one I read that stated, "I will never substitute for your class again. I am crying as I write this..."

So the first thing I was asked in this class was, "Are you going to leave after 10 minutes like the last sub?"
Me: Um, I wasn't planning on it.

I then knew that I needed to up my game.

It was in this middle school that I had a class of kids who were supposed to have a textbook open and be making some notes for a test. Easy assignment. I don't even care if they talk to their friends as they do this as long as they have the book out and are half-looking at it. However, I came across a group in the corner who was being a little rambunctious so I casually sauntered in their direction to see what was up. There was a kid who was obviously copying off another kid's paper.

Me: What are you doing?
Little liar: Oh, it's fine. My friend George* doesn't care.
Me: Hmmm...well I care. Why don't you get out a book and take your own notes?
Persistent Little liar: No really, it's fine. My friend doesn't mind.

Now up to this point I didn't want to have to do this but I was a little irritated that this kid wouldn't even try and that George didn't just take his paper back and keep working. So I had to pull out the big guns...

Me: Well, unfortunately, I know George's mom and I don't think she would like what is going on here.

The entire class stops to listen to this. Mouths drop and George turns bright red because up until this point neither one of us had acknowledged this fact. I felt that I needed to add a little more fire to the persistent little liar's flame so I lowered my voice so that only the corner group could hear and I said, "And I know where he lives. So why don't you give him that paper back and get out a book?"

George wanted to die. I am certain. I felt kind of bad for him. He took his paper back and pretended like this did not just happen.

The kids in the class didn't know whether to laugh at him or at me so after the shock wore off, they all went back to work. The persistent little liar never did end up taking his own notes but he didn't ask for anyone else's either.

And that is why I pray every morning before I go substitute (sometimes twice before Middle School or High School) because everyone needs a random ace in their pocket.

I blame the Fingerlings

Advance warning: This blog may contain inappropriate material for young children in regards to a guy who lives in the North Pole. Please protect little eyes so that I don't ruin their lives too. And I don't want to hear from people who think they are too saintly to celebrate Santa so that they don't have to break their kids' hearts. Every parent has to break their kids hearts at some point. I just choose to do it twice - 1. Santa Clause and 2. "the talk" about where babies come from and how much their body is going to change. No one gets out of the second one.

Every year there is some ridiculous toy that comes out that no one can seem to find, has no purpose, and everyone wants. Last year it was the Hatchimals. This year it was the Fingerlings. My mother was able to find said Fingerlings - which are bizarre toys that attach to your fingers and make weird noises. They aren't small either and can actually cause your finger to capsize because of their heaviness.
Anyway, my kids got these from "Santa" this year. They thought they were cute at first but now that we are home neither child wants to claim them because of their dumbness (however, I keep finding them in my living room after I put them away. Maybe they really can walk?).

So I am putting the kids to bed and pick up this unicorn for the finger and I tell Kaitlynn, who is 11, that Grandma looked really hard to get this toy but if you don't want it then just tell me (so that I can black market sell it like all the other crazy moms).

So K thinks for a moment and says, "But Santa brought us these."

Me: Long pause and eyes narrow because I see that I have caught myself in a trap. I evaluate all my options and say, "I know. Grandma looked everywhere and couldn't find them but Santa was able to."

K: "My friends say that Santa isn't real."

Me: Oh really? What do you think about that?

K: I don't know. I think he is real. Is he real?

Me: Now this kid is 11. She has recently started becoming a woman, if you know what I mean, and I'm thinking "I guess tonight is the night". So I go sit on her bed and ask, "Do you really want to know?"

K: Yes!

Me: "Well..." and then I say something about how Santa is a magical thing for Christmas and as long as we give presents to others then we get to be Santa's helpers - but then Christmas is really about Christ and that He is the gift to us, etc. Basically all kinds of things to soften the blow. But as I am saying this unprepared speech, alligator tears are flowing down and she is so upset with me. She demands that I should have lied to her for longer.

K: "Why would you tell me? Is Rosie (the elf on the shelf-which is another ridiculous pain that parents have to deal with every single night) real? What? Oh my gosh I loved her. How could you?" etc.

This goes on for an hour, and I can see more things unravelling in her mind about the other traditions we have. I tried to bear my testimony that Christmas is really about Jesus - which we have emphasized for years - and that He really is a special gift but this did not console her. At one point Jeremy naively walks in and I tell him to sit down and close the door - like a black widow providing a trap to her unassuming victim. He asks why K is crying and I let her explain that I am a terrible person. That I told her the truth and she wished I had lied. At one point even declaring, "Grandma would have lied about it!" He tries to explain how great her Christmases were because of the "magic" and that we can still continue the tradition and that she can even help make Cody's Christmases magical still. He even explained that he was the youngest of 8 kids and that he never even had the chance to believe in Santa and that he has never even gotten a single gift from Santa!

This kid did not care. Her life is ruined, according to her. We should have lied for longer and I am pretty sure that tomorrow the first thing that Cody will hear is that Santa isn't real. To counter this, Jeremy went to warn Cody that if Kaitlynn tries to tell him anything tomorrow, it is a lie. Which is just terrible too.

I'm not even sure what to do now. I thought she was old enough - she could put clues together, etc. and was asking questions and I have felt that when my kids ask about things I will tell them the truth. But here we are. I seem to have stolen away a child's innocence and magical world. I also cleaned her room today, which she said that I "ruined". So now she can't even wake up and trip over her clothes and toys when she goes to get a tissue to wipe her disappointed eyes.

This may be part of the "joys" of parenting but I still blame the Fingerlings.