Last night was rough, I had the displeasure of visiting the I-mergency room. No, I am not misspelling “emergency”, my phone was malfunctioning and I had to go to the Apple store which I am renaming the I-mergency room (a friend helped me come up with that, to give credit where it’s due). There are few places that I dread more than going to the IR/Apple store as it’s usually a total beatdown. After more than an hour of sitting in the Apple store I realized that it bears striking similarities to the county hospital ER.

I would have loved to have scheduled an appointment before I arrived at the IR but due to the sick phone I was unable to do so. Sure, I could have used my laptop but it too is in need of a visit to the IR so I took my chances and raced to the mall at 8 PM which was risky since they close at 9 PM. I was directed to the “triage” station which is the gatekeeper who assesses the nature of one’s i-mergency. I felt a tad lucky that I got the last appointment of the night and would only be forced to wait with the other “patients” for a little under an hour. Everyone there believes he or she has the most dire I-mergency and I could see everyone looking kind of lost as they were holding mostly useless devices. I would have preferred to wander around the mall while I awaited my turn but as my phone was not working I would have no way of being contacted by the IR when they were ready for me so I was forced to get comfortable there, or as comfortable as one can get on a ball shaped thing at the kids’ table while perusing news stories that I had to pretend to be interested to read.

Alas, my “genius” came to diagnose my poor sick phone and I looked at him much like I would look at a doctor and braced for the prognosis: life or death? Surgery or full replacement? At the moment that I was preparing for my phone’s fate I realized I would give or do whatever was needed to be restored to my former phone-wielding self, I just hoped it would not be too painful (to my wallet). My diagnosis was surgery-the screen seemed to have detached slightly in a fall, causing the sensory feature to not work which is why I could not text, answer emails or make calls, or worse: I could not play Words With Friends or check TMZ!

The genius/surgeon took my phone to the back which calls to mind the Wizard of Oz-who is back there fixing my phone? The back is this magical, mysterious restricted area where the sorcery really happens. My genius told me it would normally take about an hour to get a new screen on my phone but that they are rushing it and should have it done in 20-30 minutes. How do they cut the time in half? Is there a special spell the wizard performs when the witching hour of 9 o’clock looms? I did my best to appear most grateful for the expedited repair and tried to continue entertaining myself in the sterile and now mostly empty IR/store. I walked around the accessories area and thought of how cute my phone would look in a new case and convinced myself that I would do better to keep it safe and take better care of it so we could avoid returning to this place. I looked at the interesting headphones and earphones and was almost even convinced to buy something just because I had been surrounded by these products for such a great expanse of time but then I thought of my loyal devotion to Amazon and how much less expensive just about anything in Apple’s store would be on Amazon and I snapped back to reality.

Reality was indeed right in front of me as I overheard two geniuses talking (it was down to just me and all the geniuses, the other patients had been released) about each of their mom’s age. First genius said his mom is 41 and the second genius said his mom is 39…holy cow! These could have been my kids! I was entrusting my precious lifeline to mere children! This must be how elderly people feel when their young surgeons come in to operate on them! Let’s face it, though, young people are exactly who we should entrust to be up on the latest technology. Next thing I knew I was being presented with my old phone which was working just like new. All I had to do was hand over my credit card for $109 to pay for the new screen, whew! I was so thankful that I happily thrusted my card at my genius and ran off to my car to check my emails, texts and play my turn at Words With Friends, of course.

When I got home and replayed the images for my husband of my experience in the I-mergency room, he suggested we get I-bama Care to cover the costs…this could be next! A friend who is an actual operating room nurse has gone to the orthopedist to relieve the pain from tennis elbow (minus the fact that she doesn’t play tennis) but she realized that the pain happens most often when she is scrolling on her phone-perhaps she needs to ditch the orthopedist and schedule an appointment with a genius?

The Real D

I began having existential thoughts as early as 5 or 6 years old. I remember the first thought of existentialism I ever had  happened when I was at a Chinese restaurant on a road trip when I was a kid-I wondered if I was part of someone’s dream or if my life was actually happening at all? And if my life was happening, what was the point? It was a deep thought for someone as young as I was and I can honestly say that I have as few answers today at 40 years old as I did back then.

Recently I have spent time thinking about my reluctance to be more embracing of religion and religious-based programs (in spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact that my children attend a religious-based day school) and I have discovered that my definition of “religion” equates to rules, rites and restrictions which makes me want to rebel, resist and run. I consider myself a critical thinker, as in I overthink things, which often leads me to being critical (of myself and others) and I have decided to try to add more positivity into my life by acknowledging meaning along the way. The reason I have connected religion with thoughts of meaning is that it seems many people I know find meaning within religion while I have been less inclined to feel that way.

People often throw around the word “purpose”, as in their life’s purpose which is not something I think I can pinpoint what exactly mine is yet (if ever) but I am actively taking note on a daily basis what meaning I find from others and the meaning that I hope to be adding to others. I looked up the word “meaning” to make sure that I was correctly identifying my thoughts and while there are multiple ways to look at the word, both noun and adjective, I decided that that is exactly what I am seeking and hopefully creating-significance.

When I think about what my life signifies, it’s a grand sum of parts: my husband, the family we have created, the family from which we came, our friends, our various communities, as well as the experiences I have had. Each component of my life has brought meaning, a mixed bag of good, bad and ugly, but all the same it makes me who I am. In adding more positivity to my life I have spent more time identifying what actions or inactions and people help me feel good and significant. Isn’t that one of the key points of a life well-lived? In a world where negativity is thrust upon us in a million subtle and not so subtle ways, shouldn’t it be our mission to love this moment in time? There’s so much talk about parents wanting to build memories with their kids or for relationships to be strong and meaningful but those are the words-what are the actions to complete the tasks?

I find that my kids enjoy a random 20 minute round of horsing around in the living room with me (we compete for who has the best splits, dance to lots of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry, do push ups and other stuff to help me pretend I am not a middle aged housewife) more than just about anything else that happens around our house. My friends and I meet regularly to sit around on a random Thursday evening, even though it would be so much easier to stay home and watch Netflix in PJ’s because those moments bring us meaning and strengthen our bond. Conversely, my husband and I put the kids to bed and watch Netflix in our PJ’s and share a binge of TV shows which has meaning and strengthens our bond. I’m not looking for life-altering meaning-I am looking for what makes me want to get out of bed today and do it all again.

I have yet to determine the philosophical answer to the question of what it all means but I am doing my best to live a life of significance-perhaps not to but a handful of people in the world but that’s okay. This world is full of people trying and dying to be famous for anything and nothing; I don’t need to be important to people I don’t know but I want to be imperative to those I do know and love. For those who find what they are seeking through religion, I respect that. I hope others respect my non-religious practice of looking for my own meaning. Now I am off to go make today a meaningful day.

The Real D

As I have previously confessed, I am an avid Amazon shopper and I rely heavily upon the customer reviews when I make a purchase which prompted me to think that there should be a site for reviewing friends. Before I invest myself into a full-blown friendship with someone, I would appreciate an idea of who I am opening myself up to potentially. If I don’t want to buy a product that only gets 2 stars, why would I have 2 star (or worse) friends?

Reviews of others would also equate to reviews of me too. I would be forced to face certain criticism. Yes, it could be extremely hurtful to see negative reviews of myself and I would probably feel like I need to add a note like they do on Trip Advisor to clarify or defend the negative reviewer’s criticism but couldn’t it also be helpful? Sure, lots of reviews stem from the disgruntled people of the world who wish nothing more than to smear someone or something in the most public forum possible so that would be taken into consideration, and conversely, some people like spouses or parents would give overly positive reviews which would need to be considered also.

Here are some criteria that could be used to create a rating scale: trustworthiness (would you tell this person deep, personal information?), fun factor (do you go places/do things together and enjoy them?), low maintenance (who wants a high maintenance friend?), kind (they CANNOT talk down to the waitstaff at the restaurant!) and generous spirit (this person can compliment others, is happy for others’ good fortune and is NOT jealous). Each of those criteria allows you to give a score and then the site can average the total score for the person. By breaking out each category, potential new friends can see my areas of strength as well as my shortcomings and have a baseline to know what to expect from me.

Credibility of the reviewer is a key factor to any review. Here is a tricky aspect of my plan-how would I know whether to believe a reviewer’s analysis? Maybe this is where Facebook could help out: the current system on FB shows mutual friends; on my proposed program the reviewers’ reviews and mine could be compared and we could be linked by how similar our averages are for the same people. Maybe instead of FB suggesting new friends as it currently does, it could be more like Amazon’s suggestions based on what I have previously liked? “If you gave Jane Doe a 4 star review and Jack Smith a 1 star, you will probably be great friends with Sara Black” would be the basic logic for future friend suggestions.

I obviously mean this in good humor, though for all I know there may already be such a site or application already in use that makes friendship reviews a reality (or maybe I should reach out to Google or FB and make millions!). If you’ve lived long enough to make friends you’ve likely lived long enough to have lost friends along the way. In the microcosm we all find ourselves in, sometimes a little extra guidance could go a long way to helping us look within ourselves and be better friends. After all, as much as no one wants to have a low rated friend, shouldn’t we all strive to be high rated friends?

The Real D

I mentioned in my last post that there was a second part to my story of being happy with the two children I was originally blessed with when I found out that I was pregnant with child number three. Here is my tale and I believe there are many who understand the various stages I’ve been through on the journey.

Like many others, I made it my mission not to have children when I was a young adult. I felt strongly that college and a career were important to becoming the person I wanted to be (yeah, look at me now) and I did not want a baby to de-rail my plans. Birth control was high on my priority list and I took the Pill for about a decade.

By the time I was 25 I met the guy who would become my husband 2 years later and continued taking the Pill. My husband and I anticipated that we would enjoy married life for a few years then follow the yellow brick road to adding children to our mix. Nearly everyone we surrounded ourselves with were on similar plans and soon enough we transitioned from bridal showers and weddings to baby showers and non-stop discussions of all things baby.

I will spare the details of all the steps in between but it seemed my body was not committed to the same family planning that my husband and I were committed to which ultimately led us to the path of infertility treatments. I am always fairly open about what I went through because it’s a rather lonely, embarrassing and costly experience-I wish I had known more people to help me through the process back then but it seemed that everyone I knew was turning up pregnant, the old fashioned way, every time I blinked. The idea of being pregnant became my holy grail. I looked at pregnant women and was actually jealous of them, I felt like a reject and I was trying my best to be happy for all my other friends who kept multiplying while I could not.

I was fortunate enough to get pregnant on my first round of in vitro and that both embryos implanted successfully took and there I was, pregnant at last! I had an easy pregnancy, no morning sickness, an uncomplicated C-section, no post partum depression and a healthy pair of boy and girl twins-life was good! Hectic but good. I felt that I was rewarded for my long wait and it was all I could do to keep to the strict schedule of getting two infants on a reasonable eating and sleeping schedule but I did it. Birth control did not seem like something I needed to bother with, given the effort it took to get pregnant. Yes, I know, stupid me.

So imagine my surprise when I found out that I was pregnant, three and a half years after I had the twins. To say that I was devastated does not fully cover my reaction. Apparently it really does happen as the textbooks say. I could not imagine starting over with a newborn. I was fulfilled in my life with the family of 4 that we were, we built a home based on two kids, my man-to-man coverage would be compromised, diapers, bottles, more diapers, so much to do over, I had endless anxieties of the ways in which I was not prepared to take on another person. I did not sleep for 6 weeks after I learned that I was preggers because my head was swimming with these and many other thoughts. It was hard to believe that I could have felt so unprepared for a baby, as if I was actually 16 years old instead of 35 (which is “Advanced Maternal Age” in this country!).

The day I embraced the idea of a third child was the day I gave birth, as soon as I laid eyes on my beautiful, precious daughter. We called her the game changer for a long time, and she truly was, mostly in the best way possible (mostly…there are days I want to review the return policy). In a community where so many families have 3 kids we don’t seem so different but in my own mind three kids is a ton of them. As an only child myself, 3 children and the noise they produce is a lot.

Over the past four-plus years since I went through this, I’ve had several people come to me when they’ve found themselves in the same boat-how is it that the thing we wanted most in this world not many years beforehand suddenly seems like the worst practical joke ever? For those who believe in God, is this God’s attempt at a sense of humor? I know I’m lucky to live in a country where I had a choice about whether to keep my baby, I’m lucky that we are financially stable enough to have kept our baby and I’m lucky to have a strong nuclear family for support but it did not feel like anything that resembled luck at the moment I heard that I was pregnant.

I have told the people who have confided in me about their own surprise pregnancies that I can talk them into or out of whatever decision they want to make and with zero judgment either way. I chose what I chose to do because it made sense for me and for our family but everyone deserves to do what is best for her own circumstances and she shouldn’t have to answer to anyone for it. Bringing life into this world is a responsibility like no other and it shouldn’t be a decision made hastily. When I delivered my surprise third child I had my tubes tied to avert future surprises, by the way.

I am mostly out of the stage of attending baby showers and have moved on to attending divorce parties, remarriages and bar mitzvahs but I am now removed enough from the baby stage that I can look at someone’s baby and think the baby is cute-this is progress! By the time I am a grandmother (and please let that be in at least 20 or so years) I will likely even crave being around babies. There’s an expression that we make plans and God laughs-well, hope I made his day.

The Real D

I’m not quite sure when the pendulum swung but the current trend in my corner of the world is to have large families. No longer is it optimal to have a boy and a girl, no, it seems like children are today’s status symbols. I’ve likened the number of children a family has to their GPA. Here’s how the system seems to work (this is strictly my observation, no science or credentials provided):

One child = 1.0, as in not quite making enough effort. One kid is like barely showing up for class. Now the one child scenario is an interesting one to me because I am an only child and have always found that judgment is placed upon both the parents and the child for not having more kids/siblings. It is assumed by the general public that only children are spoiled, unsharing, self-centered beings who rely upon the world to entertain them. As for the parents, people are left to wonder why they didn’t have more kids? Was it because one kid is so portable and easy, like carrying a little miniature dog around in a purse? Or was the first one so awful that there is no way these parents can handle yet another child? Oh! Maybe the couple had fertility issues so poor them, one is all they get. It is rarely considered that, perhaps, one child is all that a family needs or wants to have.

Two children = 2.0, this family is average and has met expectations but just barely. Two kids are manageable and not overwhelming but makes for a small family. I’ve even noticed that when some parents of 2 kids are asked how many children they have they qualify the response by saying “only two” or “just the two”. Parents of two kids have been reduced to apologizing for underperforming in the population category. Parents of two children of the same sex have the added factor of those who like to encourage them to go for a third child for a shot at getting a child of the opposite sex. It’s as if having same sex children is on par with getting short-changed on the child-rearing experience at the amusement park that is parenting.

Three children = 3.0, a family that is achieving something above average. It doesn’t matter what the combination is of boys and girls because three kids is significant. I’d like to point out that I have three kids but was perfectly content with the two I started with-a boy and girl set of twins was PLENTY for me! (There will be a follow up to this sentiment in a different post, stay tuned) To the general public 3 kids is a full and complete family. There’s an oldest, middle and baby so that a full psychological analysis can be given to your kids before they even grow into a particular personality. I hear people talk about having a third child “in case anything happens to one of the other two”, like buying a 13th plate of your dinnerware in case one breaks.

Four children = 4.0, now this is an achievement! This is a family that has given the rest of us a model of success. I should clarify that people who have four kids do not necessarily believe anything better about themselves (in fact, some I know try to hide or lock themselves in the bathroom to get a break from the chaos) but the perception is that parents who can manage 4 kids are clearly running a big operation with mad skills. Having four kids gets parents an auto excuse for anything and everything. No clean clothes? Well, hard to get through laundry for 6 people! Late? It’s hard to get 4 kids dressed and out of the house. Can’t make it to an event at the last minute? With four kids, it happens, we understand. We are in awe of those with 4 kids, as in, “She works, she bakes, AND she has 4 KIDS!”, as if any skill is exceptional beyond birthing 4 children.

Anything beyond four kids is considered to belong to people who are either crazy, religious or keeping up with the Pitt-Jolie or Duggar families.

I mean this all somewhat tongue-in-cheek but there actually has been a social shift that equates how many children one has to his/her worth. I have a handful of friends who chose never to have children and it perplexes the general public. The expectation upon married people (and women beyond a certain age) to populate in order to prosper is burdensome. My personal belief is have as many kids as you do or do not want (or can afford!)-if you don’t want any, please DON’T have any! My friends who have consciously chosen not to have kids have heard just about every rude question and comment under the sun, as if a logical reason must be given to validate such a choice.

Here’s how I see it: I adore my children, I am doing my best to raise good people who will one day be adults, and I try to give each of them as much of myself as I can without shorting them or myself. Life with 3 kids can be stressful, loud and overwhelming, not to mention outrageously expensive but it’s the path I’ve chosen so I will try to keep my complaints to a minimum. It’s easy to pass judgment on those with “too many” or “too few” kids; giving birth is not the true mark of achievement but what I do to raise my children is what will identify my success (or not). For my friends who don’t have kids, it’s jealousy that spurs people’s judgment-can you come take mine for a few days so I can enjoy some peace and quiet for a bit?

The Real D