Ever notice how much time people spend analyzing babies? ~ Oh, he looks just like his Daddy! ~ Aw, she has your thinning hair. ~ He's built just like great-great-granddaddy's side of the family. It's like playing with those build-a-creature books. Remember those? The head of an aligator, torso of a hippo, legs of an emu. You could be the next Andy Warhol, or the next Dr. Moreau. Either way, it's fun.
But what about temperament? Y'all ever parse that one out? Zorak and I do. And not just to blame each other for the more interesting qualities that emerge in the children, either. We're both honest enough to willingly chuckle and say, "Oh, yeah, sorry 'bout that." But it's not really something we give much thought to until it's staring us in the face (or mortifying us in public).
Zorak's gone right now, and I miss him, but the day-to-day is not as challenging as one might think. For when one of us is away, the other one is free to get it done (or blow it off) according to his (or her...) own natural bent. It's not ideal. I'd much rather spend the next eight decades compromising, and for the most part, we do it so well that I forget about some of the differences until he's gone.
So tonight, after an early supper, a quick house tidy, a short movie and/or story, the lights went out with all the children kissed, snuggled, and tucked in, at 8:32. (My i-d-e-a-l evening, lemme tell ya!) I've had time to think back on the kids, who made me laugh a lot today. They are funny, witty, quirky. They could make the Pope think dark thoughts, and they could make Scrooge feel warm and fuzzy and generous. All in one fell swoop.
I can see myself in them, and I can see Zorak in them. Uncle Creighton, Aunt Sally, Granny, some cousin I vaguely remember meeting when I was 12. It all comes together to make distinct, unique, amazing people.
And then, because I had WAY more time on my hands than I normally do, I started wondering about my parents. How did this happen? How did I happen? What will pass through to the kids, and what will get filtered out by more dominant genes?
My mother was a pack rat with the kind of kitchen table that you were welcome to sit at, but there was no guarantee you could set your coffee cup there. Same thing with the counter tops, the washing machine, dressers, shelves. Oh, the woman loved her horizontal surfaces and paper goods. She wrote beautiful letters. Every morning began with a cup of coffee and a letter. She loved to laugh, even at herself. She loved to cook, and by extension to feed people. She didn't have to know who you were, just show up around meal time. Or earlier. Or later. If you left her place hungry, it wasn't going to be her fault.
My father, from what I've heard, was a strict disciplinarian with a firm belief in order, self-discipline, punctuality, (Yeah, I know. If it weren't for the whole genetic combination feature, I would have inquired about the personality of the milk man, just out of curiosity), fortitude and self-reliance. He valued integrity above sentiment, loyalty above whimsy, and honesty above all else. He wasn't so hot with keeping in touch. He was fiercely devoted and doting, but also set the bar pretty high for those around him, as well as for himself.
But what do you get when you cross those two? You get a person who disdains clutter of any form, has no emotional attachments to things that require dusting, yet harbors an utterly irrational fondness for stationery products. Paper, pens, envelopes. And stranger still, can't seem to put a stamp on something and part with it to save my soul.
You get a control freak who wants things done "Just So", yet wings it, herself, every time. There is no recipe I cannot alter, no process I cannot botch, no system I cannot over-analyze. But if I'm going to make it up, then I'm going to make it up "my way".
You get a scheduling list-maker who was late to her own wedding. (HOW does that happen?)
You get someone who is totally, utterly, completely loyal and devoted, who loves wholeheartedly. But more directly, you get someone who gets that to put up with me can be a challenge that deserves rewarding. And then some, I'm sure. My parents seemed so normal. I guess you just never know what you'll get.
So while it's nice to have things all Spartany and done once in a while, I much prefer the compromise. I hope the kids got a good lot of Zorak to carry them through. A little quiet humor to counteract the hypertension, a little easygoing sway to balance out the rigid spontaneity (in itself, an enigma), a touch of gentleness to overlook the control issues.
The double dose of fortitude, loyalty, love, and integrity won't hurt. But when it comes to organization, punctuality, or attention to detail, well, they'd best hope they marry into those qualities. 'Cuz they just didn't get those genes from us.
Kiss those babies!~Dy
Smidge took that picture. The SmidgeCam has come a long way in three years. I love digital cameras - the kids can take pictures til their eyes bleed, and we don't have to pay to develop the nostril shots. But we can enjoy the gems that come with progress, and with seeing the world through their perspectives.
Just as Smidge had his pear tree, John had his apple tree. He picked the first apple of the season (not counting the ones we picked and cut open to see if they were ripe yet...)
And we began collecting apples. (And a stray pear.) Man, that tree will be a lot easier to harvest from when we're done pruning it properly! (We have to move slowly so the tree doesn't succumb to Fire Blight while we restore it.) However, the metal bucket is about half-full now with fresh apples, and they will become, hopefully, (magically...) apple pie filling this weekend!
