Expert Situation Diffusement

Most, if not all, of you know that of my three children Adam had been my greatest challenge. Always agile minded to my stumbling ineptitude even when he was very small. (Of course, considering the direction this brilliant young man is headed, I'd like to think that it was two like minds clashing).

No matter what the occasion, Adam would take an opportunity to position himself on the side in opposition to mine. I'm reminded of when Adam was 7 years old, I asked him and his brother to clean off the dinner table. Adam suggested I get off my lazy butt and do it myself. This was said in such an engaging way that I found it hard to punish him, but not to worry, I overcame my weakness and smacked him good. As it was, I think I helped clean off the table in the end.

One Friday evening, probaby 2 years after Rob and I divorced, I had taken Adam and Meg out to dinner during Lent. Always in search of a good steak, I reminded Adam that he was not allowed to eat meat on the Fridays during the season. Disappointed that he wouldn't be able to order what he wanted, Adam decided to lay vent to his spleen, attacking me, the church, Pope John Paul II, Father Swain, the priesthood, the XFiles, my commute to work, small town life, the price of celery, small baby ducks and puppies. The conversation disintegrated.

There have only been two people in my life that have been able to press my buttons to great success - one would be Rob (while were dating and married anyway) and the other Adam. This day, Adam expertly pressed every button I had, fashioned a few out of scallops located at the buffet, pressed those and sat back to reap the pleasure of my sputtering pathetic retorts.

Worked up into a frothy bubbling stew, I stared the little smirking b*stard down. In my ire, it hadn't occurred to me that he just wanted to p*ss me off because he couldn't order a steak. "Well? You think you know so much? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO THAT MISTER?"

Warmth and affection were alight in Adam's eyes. I had apparently missed this in my fury. In his finest Scottish accent Adam quoted Mel Gibson in Braveheart saying; "I love you. Always have."

I was immediately reduced to slop.

Dad

Every Sunday after milking, my Dad would buy 7 or 8 Sunday papers (the Utica Observer Dispatch) and deliver them to family members on the hill where we lived. It was his chance to get out, see his brothers, nieces and nephews, and spend a few happy hours gossiping (or playing basketball with Uncle Bob's boys - but that is another post). Sunday was always a day to relax - as it should be.

Dad would always take us kids with him. There eventually were seven of us. One didn't need car seats in those days, and besides, he could charm his way out of a DWI if he had to. Not that he did, but it was a different time. Dad was highly regarded in the community and well loved by everyone. Anyway, part of the fun for us kids on these Sunday jaunts would be singing songs. We'd sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer or Jingle Bells, but I think our favorite was "Teddy Bear Picnic". We'd start off softly, "Watch me catch them unawares..." spying on the teddy bears, then the crescendo would gather as we sang about the fun the teddy bears were having; "They never have an-neee CARES!"
Then as the teddy bears had to go home to bed "because they're tired little te...deee....beeeearrrrs" we'd whisper again. If we weren't singing, he was telling us about Goldilocks and the three bears. Every. Single. Week. The patience of the man was almost endless.

No matter how tired he was after working 18 hours running the farm, at night, if we asked him to read to us, he would. I remember one book in particular - it was a "3D" or hologram version of Cinderella. That, or he'd again tell us the Three Bears story. That was a favorite - we delighted in Dad's attempts to imitate the archetypical family ensemble, from Papa Bear to baby bear. Mama bear always made us howl.

Point is (besides this ridiculous glimpse of my childhood) is to never underestimate the impact you will have on the lives of your children. The smallest act of love and being there will stay with them long after you have passed on and they are raising their own children.

The "Other" Forms of Attachment, or "I Once was Lost..."

You will believe, I hope, that in addition to obsession, I can and do experience other forms of attachment.

You know puppy love – where in the beginning, you are SO SURE this is the one for you? Where you want to just take pleasure in it’s company and you can’t wait until you see it again? I’m in that stage with the show “Heroes” right now. It’s new, it’s shiny, and it has captivated me. Still walking the line though – if the little mercury balls don’t start glopping together, Timothy Kring? We’re going to break up. Just so you know.

Then, sometimes, puppy love leads to sincere affection – after you have passed the chemical stage and have settled into a comfortable, “let’s not go out tonight” place. You realize that it’s just nice to have the other around. It still makes you laugh; it still makes you go “Ahh”. That’s where I am with “The Office”. What a great show - it’s just such fun to watch! From the bootlicking sycophant Dwight to the hand-sanitizer-licking boozy Meredith.

Galloping past the obsessive (coughcough) Yoko phase of love and not quite reaching the bitter dregs of divorce attorney/marriage annulment animus (Season 8 & 9 of the Xfiles, as much as we liked Robert Patrick), we reach the apathetic juncture. You know what I’m talking about. Couldn’t care less? You have your standing date night but you just can’t muster the enthusiasm you used to? You just can't be bothered to shave?

That’s where I am with “Lost”. Oh how I loved the show at first; it had everything from hot hot Sawyer, to hot hot Sayid. It had mystery, pathos, sex appeal, and puzzles. Terry Quinn could act the crap out of anything and make you cry. I had read every spoiler out there and studied the glowing wall map! I knew what would happen in each episode in advance – and it drove my family wild. Someone is going to die tonight? Do you know who it is?? Omygosh, look! There’s Sayid in the tv while Kate is in saying good bye to her biological dad after she just blew up her drunken creepy stepdad! How cool! The soccer team has Hurley’s numbers on their shirts! Did you SEE THAT? Hey! Mr. Friendly looks just like the Gorton’s fisherman! WALT! WALT! WHERE’S MY BOY??!! I GOTTA SAVE MY BOY!

Then someone decided it would be a great idea to have a “mini” hiatus – No new shows from October to February. But February? No Repeats! Straight Shows Until The Season Finale!

Big mistake. Huge.

It left me for four months! It left me during the coldest and busiest time of the year, when I needed it most. You can imagine what happened; I mean, *sigh. My eye wandered and I strayed, OK? Held within the warm clasp of something new; maybe a little foreign and fascinating, the rest of the world now seems gray and uninviting.

It's coming back on February 7th from being away and I’m not sure what to do. Out of a sense of loyalty I’ve been trying to get that old spark back; reading spoilers, anticipating the date. The thing is I. Just. Don't. Care. Eh. I’m still willing to give the relationship a chance. I might be lured back. I might. Counseling is just too much effort. I don’t know. But right now, I don’t think its going to work out.

And believe me, it’s not him, it’s me.

Sorry? I need to get a date? Why yes. Yes I do.