When I was in college, I had a friend who apologized constantly. It was the first time I became aware of the mostly female habit of apologizing unnecessarily. In my friend’s case, it came to seem as if she were apologizing just for taking up space.
My self esteem wavered at that time, but I saw value in myself. Enough to recognize what I didn’t want: to be in a place where I was apologizing for existing. I determined not to let that happen.
I’d like to say I never apologized for anything that wasn’t my fault again after I made that decision, but my inner self has always taken the marathon route when it comes to personal growth. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
I have been especially guilty of it with the Chaplain. The Chaplain isn’t someone who wants or needs me to be sorry all the time. And we’re at the point now where I’ll catch myself starting to apologize and then I’ll stop myself aloud.
I have made big strides with how often I do it when I’m out in the public sphere.
But I also do it with my kids.
When we get peppers from our farm share, we get piles and piles of them, sweet, hot, and in between. Since we have little ones, I don’t make food too spicy, and so in the past, the hot peppers were either drying on the windowsill (and still not getting used) or going bad in the crisper drawer.
None of recipes I found were quite what I was looking for, so I combined a few different ideas and came up with this.
I was so excited about the first load of laundry in this story, I hung it on the line. And then took a picture.
I’ve been working nights for more than ten years. During that time, we’ve added 6 kids to our family, for a total of seven. Laundry started out being primarily my responsibility, with unloading folded baskets of laundry delegated to whichever kids were capable of delivering piles where they needed to go without unfolding everything again.
As our family grew, I taught my big kids how to do their own laundry. That starts at age seven. That leaves me responsible for laundry for my husband, the four Littles, myself, and whatever family laundry is generated, including bedding and towels. It ends up being a minimum of two loads a day on most days.
On weekends that I worked, I understood that whatever shape I left our laundry room in when I left for work, it would be the same or worse when I came back to it later that weekend after sleeping off my shift. That was ok for a long time.
This July 4th felt a little icky.
I’ve been thinking about it, trying to nail it down. I know it began with the Election Season last fall and the toxic atmosphere online that caused me to take a step back from the news and finally be ready to quit Facebook.
My big kids are out of town staying with their aunt, and I have been home alone with the Littles. Granted, I was only alone with them for one day, Tuesday, since Monday was a travel day. Today, the Chaplain had off for the holiday and was here to help me out.
But Tuesday was the day I needed to recover from that traveling over the weekend and using a TON of social and emotional capital that I didn’t really have to spend. By the last day of the trip, I was feeling full of the meaning that comes from spending time with people with whom you have shared memories and a certain understanding.
I was also completely exhausted and had lost my voice.
And once we were home, my First Day Back was home alone with the Littles.
Above, one of the photos from our Immigration Interview Photo Album.
When the Chaplain and I got married, we’d known each other for about 60 days. He had lived in the U.S. for a number of years as a college student. Since he was supposed to be leaving for seminary to become a Catholic priest at the end of the summer we met, he was here on a student visa.
When he dropped out of that program to marry me, he lost his status as a student. When we were deciding whether or not to get married, we knew if we didn’t get married, he’d have to go back to Tobago. And he already had bought the ticket to go back home.
My wise Grandma reflected when she heard that we were eloping that she had always said you should know someone through every season before tying the knot. She figured since it’s always summer in Tobago (with temperatures in the mid 80’s year-round, a rainy season and a dry season, I think in this case North-easterners can afford to generalize a little) and we met in the summertime, that we had covered our bases. I have always been grateful for her gracious perspective.
I remember watching Green Card, the 1990 rom com, with my family around that time with my new husband, and it was heh heh funny, not haha funny.
