Day-before-yesterday's Weird Observation

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[this is good]

I make it a point to bring The Boy to see his former Infant teachers at least once a week. In another year or two, he would forget them without this reminder, but I share a personal friendship with these women who cared for my little boy as one of their own.

Between my mother's and father's sides, I have 24 cousins. Twenty four! More than half of them live in the Philippines, so I rarely - if ever - get to see them. The others live in California, clear across the country. My own sister lives in New York, while I live in Florida. We're hardly a family in close proximity.

When my parents moved to the United States from the Philippines 36 years ago, they left behind their families and the close kinship. My sister was no longer surrounded by, as you aptly stated it, people who had known her quirks since birth. Save one of my father's brothers, they had no nearby extended family. And so they created an extended family for us kids. Ultimately, it was four families with a total of seven girls and one boy. To this day, we consider each other family. When one of the fathers died in 2006, everyone immediately banded together to support each other. And it happened again earlier this year when I lost my mother.

My husband's family is in Kentucky, hardly a short drive down the road. But we've created an extended family for our son, too. The women have all shared in helping me with The Boy (though, yes, it's still largely a solo effort), and they're all too familiar with his eccentricities.

We can have that close community feeling, but we just have to work at it. Unfortunately, not many people are willing to make that effort.

And, yes - I agree that it's very strange to suddenly oust someone out of your life when they've been your caregiver (for all intents and purposes) for the past nine months. Personally, I think she'd enjoy a visit from your boy.

Of course, she'd probably like that advance notice of your pending arrival, too...

[this is good]

Just 50 years ago it was common practice to stop by and visit friends unannounced. It was just expected. I think it would be nice if society was still like that.

On a personal note, I may be freaked out by unexpected guests because my house is often a pigsty if I'm not expecting anyone ;)

Actually, this is better than good. This is great.

Now you're talkin'.

Frankly? I blame TV in general, and the Huxtables in particular. Sure, Roseanne tried to put a stop to America latching onto this ideal of uninterrupted, presentable, drop-in worthy perfection, but it backfired. We were screwed because Roseanne was four years too late. We were screwed on September 20, 1984.

The whole "can't stop by unannounced" thing is one more thing holding me back from canvassing neighborhoods for the current election. Heck [you know that when I write "heck" I've edited "H-E- double hockey sticks," right?], I can't even make a phone call without scheduling an appointment for the call via email first [just ask your cousin]. I mean, KIDS might be screaming in the background if I call at the wrong time, and we just can't HAVE THAT!

It's all so ridiculous, Carole.

We ought to gather every garage door opener from every attached garage in every suburban neighborhood, and recycle every one of their parts, and then make garage door openers illegal. They prevent neighbors from accidentally having to say "hello" to each other. And caller ID is even worse.

Nursing homes and senior communities should be obliterated from the planet, so that grandmothers and great grandmothers (and their male counterparts, of course) can share their love and their wisdom and their breadth of experience with the younger generations, as well as serve as a much needed and loving buffer between parent and child, while receiving the care and respect they've earned through their sacrifices.

We are mixed up.

Our priorities have run amok.


Also, I'd just like to say, that day your kin came to my house? I was ready for your cousin. She's in my inner circle and could come by unannounced anytime, but if I know she's coming, I do swab out the toilets and wipe the toothpaste off the mirrors (at least I think I do). Point is, I was not expecting company, but it was raining. The pavilion was occupied. People were hungry. I'm sure there was dog hair on my baseboards and there were probably cobwebs on my dining room light fixture and I know your mom was a little concerned about your brother's dog being supervised. It all worked out. Your people were gracious.

We're far too hung up on our baseboards, I think; not concerned enough with communion.

We should be trend setters
.

I double-dare you to knock on Teacher's door.

The worst thing that could happen? She'll feel a little awkward that she's in the middle of laundry and reorganizing her kitchen cupboards between loads, and then you'll get to say, "Oh, no, we weren't looking to be invited in. We were just in the neighborhood and thought you might like to join us for a walk. Eldest Son misses you so."

The best thing that could happen? I can't wait to read about it :-)

You know, it IS crazy. I mean it. We have lived in this neighborhood for 5 years, going on. FIVE. Precious Princess was a babe in arms when we moved in, and looky! Now she's gonna be on the kindergarten bus.

Coincidentally, that's the same number of neighbors whose names I know -- 5 -- in a subdivision of 50+ households.

Couple weeks ago I saw a guy working on his lawn. Saw his little son playing on the driveway. Said, "Hi there! How old is your little guy? Because he looks about the same age as my daughter, and if so, then they'll be on the kindergarten bus together this fall!"

Wanna know what he said? Among other things (establishing that, yes, his son will be going to KG this fall, etc.) he said, "Welcome!" Like I must have just moved in, to explain the fact that we didn't already know this about each other. I didn't tell him we've lived here for 5 stinkin' years!

Yeah. The automatic garage door opener. Definitely a biggie. And air conditioning. Everybody hides indoors in their hermetically sealed little bubbles. Yeah, and, as convenient as it is, the rise of the backyard playpark. We don't all have to go down to the park on the corner to play, we can play in our own little backyard bubbles.

I confess to having all three of these things myself, and making regular use of them. And also have been reluctant to invite random neighbors into my house because, well, as you all know, I'm a slob. Baseboards? Baseboards? I haven't seen baseboards since I moved in. I suppose I must HAVE baseboards... somewhere...

I have certain "inner circle" friends who I know are "safe" to have over in my natural slovenly state. (God, how pathetic is that???) But invite neighbors into the pit, as the first step in establishing friendship with them? Um, well, must confess my heart has quailed at that notion. Thinking, well, they would judge me as being unworthy of friend-hood, if they knew my secret slob-hood. So, since I lack the aptitude and energy to change my slovenly state, therefore 5 years have gone by without my getting to know my neighbors' names. (And how pathetic is THAT???) We all just smile and wave as we walk past each other through the neighborhood. Nodding acquaintances.

But might it be true that we're all secret slobs, to some degree? (Granted, I'm probably worse than most, but...) In which case, is all we have to fear here, fear itself?

I've been thinking about throwing a neighborhood ice cream social this summer. With name tags.

Maybe Eldest Son's Teacher would come, too.

:-)

I love the neighborhood ice cream social thing. I would totally do it.

My husband, on the other hand, would probably freak out.

You've just inspired me to attend the next HOA meeting, or at least the next HOA gathering. After all, I pay my dues the same as everyone else and I ought to get to know people. (In fact, I think one of the couples from my childbirth class lives in my neighborhood - how insane is it that I've never even stopped to ask?!?!?)

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Carole

About Me

Carole
United States
Full-time mom with a master's degree

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