Landing

Morning two in the Urban Homestead. Somewhere along the course of my prolific journaling, before the addition of wives, I decided it was counter-productive to journal about my young adult children. I *felt* like my daily review of their yaddahs was holding all of us in a sort of stasis which was keeping all of us in an unhealthy holding pattern. It was time for all of us to build lives outside the parent/child dynamics. Now that they are middle-aged, I feel downright gossipy when I journal about them and/or their life partners. Still, their continued dependency impacts my life and heart mightily. Is it time to seek the balance between respecting their right to independance and their ? ? ? lack of desire for independance? ? ? Sure wish I had a name for ^it^. The fact that ^it^ seems to be a dominant pattern for the entire generation leads me to where I most often believe I am witnessing a cultural shift back to the intergenerational family models, but. . . What the fuck does ^that^ look like? For now, ^it^ doesn't seem to have much intergenerational dialogue going. The shouting and accusing doesnae fit my personal definition of dialogue. Aging parents continue writing blank checks to middle-aged dependants who still address them in tones of adolescant rebellion. 50 is the new 20?

Morning one was turbo charged with isolated insomniac energy which triggered my flight reflexes to near hysterical levels. Ah-h-h-h. . . Please give me good words for ^it^. . . The most comfortable words I have for ^it^ are, "The Mommy-do Pie." My strictly personal Mommy-do Pie consists of 5 grown-ups who are clueless and/or careless of what the other slices of the Mommy-do Pie are up to. Rugged individualism on high! If the parental units of my GK's had their way, the GK's would be the 6th and 7th slices via the Gammy Day Care Plan. Please don't do that to my Grand Party. Children know the difference between going to a party and being dumped. They cannae speak the diffs, but they sure can act it out. For now, I am confining the Mommy-do Pie analogy to Hubs, sons and wives. I am at the center of the Mommy-do pie, having each quasi conversation 5 times in 5 different dialects with wordy retributions for comparing slices. True enough that each slice of the metaphorical pie is unique, but. . . Do I really have to pretend I haven't had this conversation before? Do I really have to pretend that a demand is different from a must have? Do I really have to fine tune my reactions to 5 different sets of grown-up expectations? Is it really possible for me to know what is expected of a Non-Toxic Mom at the end of the 5th conversation?

Before dawn of the first morning, I had 3 independant insomniac conversations going with 3 of the 4 adult children. Through the mysteries of coupledom, the conversation with YS felt like a conversation with the mother of my GK's as well, but leaving that door closed, per mother's request, and focusing on the parent who speaks to me directly, it was *only* 3 conversations. Per the same mysteries of coupledom, I was pretty sure my own husband was also having a sleepless night behind his own closed door. My own business-as-usual would have been to flee to the great outdoors and work the garden beds and/or guitchi by the brights of the urban night. Instead, I barged quietly through Hubby's door to test my wife-sense that he wasnae sleeping any better than the rest of us and discuss the yaddahs to the morning's turbo charged blahs. This very scenario had been on the list of places we discussed the need for new dance steps. Of course we ricocheted into the usual tit-for-tat. I count it as progress that we didnae escalate all the way to angry tones and were soon discussing the coming day in non-combative tones over breakfast out. He had taken the day off work, so we even had all day to discuss ^it^.

A parental ploy within the Gammy Day Care Plan is where the parental units show up unannounced on the assumption that Gammy is always available and rely on my reluctance to discuss grown-up affairs in front of children. I end up revising my entire day in order to avoid disappointing childish hopes. The parental units will be back when they get around to caring again. Indicators were on high that that very plan was in motion. Gammy's back. Of course she's available. Instantly. Gammy's magic is always instant. We've never witnessed preparation, so ^it^ doesn't exist. There's an app for that.

GS was clinging to his father in fear of abandonment when YS showed up as expected. To our relief, mother wasnae waiting in the car for the quick get-away. Not even Gampy was able to get GS to de-cling so Daddy and I could discuss the grown-up subtleties. Little by little, Gampy lured GS far enough away that YS and I could hold our conversation private while GS was able to keep an eye on Daddy's presence. The visit ended on a good note, but. . . Sorting. . .