Scramble off the pedestal

"You better scramble down off that pedestal as fast as you can, before you fall off it!" -Roger C.

How many possible ways can I make it all about me?

In my ongoing endeavor to inform people of my own humanness, I assume most of them have me up on a pedestal (like the rest of the world I've created for myself). I've already mentioned the Facebook friend who recently expressed confidence in my "cleanliness is next to godliness" approach in the Nursery. I chatted with her today and discovered why she ever mentioned it to me in the first place.

I wrongly assumed she wrongly assumed I was a clean freak. But no! Her sister also volunteers in the Nursery and had told her how much I like to clean things. So, the fact is, EABC Nursery law requires all toys that may have touched a child's mouth to be sanitized at the end of the church service. I enforce the law. I may be a little bossy in my approach.

"Oh yeah, that Michelle makes sure we clean every single moveable object in the place before we're dismissed from our duty!" becomes "I assume since you are working today, the children will get their hands cleaned before snack!" which becomes "Why do other, less-experienced mothers worry about cleanliness so much, because I certainly do not! Look at me, I'm just plain old me! I let my kids eat dirt for breakfast! Don't think so highly of me! I'm just an experienced mother of five, and if there's one thing I've learned in all my years of successful, though happenstance parenting, it's what doesn't kill them can only make them stronger!"

This may be a good time to share with you the dream I had where I am participating in a musical production, and at the crucial point, lights dim the stage as the spotlight shines bright on just me, and I raise my hands triumphantly and sing (yes, there's a tune) out loud, "it's all about me.. ME! It's all about ME!" Again with the dream interpretation... seems pretty obvious, don't you think?

The point? I know there have been some mothers along the way who have been fairly impressed with my "skills" as a mom. It has become my goal in recent years to let them know I make so many mistakes and struggle in so many ways, that I just have to laugh out loud. In the process, however, I have come to assume everyone is thoroughly impressed with me at all times. I'm not waiting to discover who's got me on a pedestal, I'm just climbing right up there to save everyone the trouble of that rather weighty lift. And from up high, I dare to preach down about how I don't deserve to be there, and how I'll be right down if everyone could please just step aside. Ironic.

And humbling, too. So a big shout out to my heretofore unnamed Facebook friend who wishes to remain anonymous (I think I'll just call you... Anne?... Annie?... Hannah?... Mrs. C.?... still working on that pseudonym). Thank you for pointing out how low to the ground this pedestal actually is.

Patient? Responsible? Me?!

As a mother of five healthy, active, social children, I often hear the question, "how do you DO it, Michelle!?" I assume they are mostly impressed with the fact that all five children still have all their limbs. But really, that's not much of an accomplishment, even with the least bit of neglect on my part. Almost anyone can raise children with all extremities intact.

I believe the general impression people have of me is that I'm an abnormally patient mother. Oh? I say looks can be deceiving, and here is a sad, but true illustration of how people may just see what they want to see. And who am I to correct them!?

As so many of my stories begin, I was pregnant when... I was traveling with my four children along Route 20 through Central New York. We had spent several days visiting our Cazenovia friends, and were headed to the suburbs of Albany to visit the Levasalmi family before heading back home to Maine. I had heaped bins and bags in the front seat for easy access to snacks, diapers, books, movies, and various other tranquilizers. We had been on the road for well over an hour, and the kids were in no mood for restraint.

I do not have pleasant memories of the ride thus far. Simply put, I was in a foul mood myself... a real force to be reckoned with. I had pulled over at one point, and released a stream of unpleasantries in the direction of the back seats, forcefully explaining why children should just sit quietly and get along while mothers drove stupid minivans down the highway ("stupid" is a swearword in our home... they knew I was really mad when I let that one fly!). I pulled back into traffic (it's a rural highway... there may have been three other cars around), ignoring the stifled giggles and dramatic eye-rolling behind me.

In no time at all, I passed a state trooper traveling north as I sped south. I briefly debated the option of pulling onto a side road and covering the van with branches, in a Hazzard County style evasion technique. Quick math told me I'd lose valuable time (I hoped to get to Albany before lunch), so I kept up the harried pace. You've already guessed he tracked me down and pulled me over.

"You have to admit 72 in a 55 is pretty fast. I'm going to have to ticket you."

The insurance card in my visor was not current. I couldn't get to my vehicle registration - it was stuck in the glove compartment, which was blocked by the bins, remember? No matter, he could look that up. I pulled out my old New York license - expired. Inspection - 28ish days overdue (did he really care? that's a MAINE inspection, for crying out loud). He took what pitiful proof I provided back to his cruiser... I spent the time lecturing the children on proper criminal etiquette.

The officer was shaking his head when he returned to my window. "This New York license?... suspended for an unpaid speeding ticket from four years ago. That means your right to drive in this state has been revoked." Unbelievable. Including speeding, there were five infractions total... three misdemeanors, and two felonies. "By law, I'm supposed to cuff you and take you downtown for just one felony charge."

"But," he added, as he leaned into the van and looked back at all the kids (no doubt wondering how he'd legally get the kids all downtown, too), "you seem like a responsible person... so I'm just going to give you three tickets." Then he warned me to continue driving (at the speed limit) until I got out of the state, and to update my insurance card and take care of the expired registration, the overdue inspection, the suspended license and the unpaid speeding tickets. I smiled and nodded.

The Levasalmis and I had a good chuckle over the story at breakfast the next morning.

Responsible? I admit the children were all properly seated and buckled (for once!), but don't ever confuse fertility with responsibility, sir! Patient? I'm probably just ignoring them half the time! Never confuse lazy neglect for patience, folks.

What if you are wrong?

Emily's Wedding Planning Begins

I wanted to share the ongoing story of my friend Emily, who babysits my kids. Here is a copy of the letter I sent to a seemingly random ecuadorian woman who married a US citizen in Ecuador. We found Wendy by Googling "Ecuador Wedding", or something like that. I sent out an initial, "here's what we're looking for" note, she wrote back asking for details. I add my next letter in its entirety ( slightly edited to fit the format of your attention span), mostly to document yet another chapter of my life:

OK, here is the story of my good friend, Emily and her Ecuadorian wedding....

Emily was born and raised in the small, rural town of Mechanic Falls, Maine (US). I met her when she was 2 years old... her mother was/is good friends with Scott's mother. I was nearly in college at the time, and I only saw her when Scott and I would visit his mother's church. After graduation, I married Scott, and we moved out of state for several years... nine moves in six years of marriage, and we moved back home. By now, Emily was in college herself, but stayed at home during the summer months. We hired her as a babysitter for our children.

Meanwhile, Emily had been taking extensive Spanish classes, and was studying to work with underprivileged children, both locally as well as on missions trips to Ecuador. I know she has travelled to Quito with our church, but most recently she is helping start a foundation for orphans in Guayaquil (sp?). She has graduated college and is in the midst of forming a non-profit group which will provide financial aid for food, clothing and most important, education for these kids. She has fallen in love with the kids, with her mission, with Ecuador... and now, with Alex!

As I understand, Alex is a singer/worship leader in Guayaquil. When Emily is home in Maine, they keep in touch via the internet, and have spent over a year getting to know each other. On her most recent 6-week visit to Ecuador, they became engaged, and want the wedding to be in Ecuador... the ultimate plan finds them living in Guayaquil, assisting with running the foundation.

The other day, Emily and I spent hours on the internet, trying to find out about local Ecuadorian wedding customs or traditions... any hints on getting married in Ecuador (with the added complication of the gringa planning from so far away!).

The only tradition Emily thinks she knows involves the maid of honor wearing red. She wants the wedding to be fun (though there will most likely be no alcohol, and perhaps little dancing, as it is an evangelical Christian event), he wants it to be romantic. There will be both locals and non-spanish speaking US citizens attending. The couple has little money (which I understand is a relative term, considering the difference between here and there) to spend on the wedding itself. Emily says flowers are very easy to get, as well as very cheap to buy... she wants lots of flowers. She wants photos done at the park of Malecon, though the church she works with is in a "bad" section of Guayaquil, about half an hour away... she is flexible on where the ceremony will take place, she doesn't know where else to look right now.

Really, she's been engaged for less than a month, and is so overwhelmed with the idea itself... now she's trying to plan for a wedding in October, in another country. We have searched for photos, suggestions, customs, ideas online, but nothing very helpful comes up (she doesn't want to hire someone in the "destination wedding" business). I am so excited by your prompt reply and willingness to assist... if, in my excitement I get too annoying to you, please let me know. =} She's like a little sister to me, and I just want to help her make her wedding dreams a memorable experience for her.

As you can imagine, Emily is taller than Alex... I think she's about 5'7", and he may be 5'2". I add that fact, just because it's one detail I know. Otherwise, I really don't know much about much. Please let me know what else I can provide that would help you to help us.

Wendy's next response was amazing. She was married in the same city where Emily plans to marry. She has contact names, numbers and emails for people and places all over Guayaquil that will prove extremely helpful for Emily. She sent back a few initial ideas and suggestions, and encouraged us to send questions as they arise. She also was very encouraging to Emily in her mission with the street kids. It's very cool how this is all working out.

Last night I had a dream that all the snow had melted. It was kind of strange, because I couldn't remember it melting... it was just here one day, and gone the next. Because I'm interested in dream interpretation, you might think I've analyzed this one to pieces. But actually, I'm pretty sure it just means that Spring is coming (a no-brainer, really) (even you could have guessed that... and you probably haven't read nearly as many Dream Interpretation books as I have!).

So, be of good cheer! Spring *is* coming... and soon you'll be swatting black flies and mosquitoes, wishing it was Winter.

This morning Sophie and I were discussing our cat, Bombo... the one we had to put down a year ago because he was getting sickly and old. She was really asking about Max (the dog) and his future, and where do the animals go when they die? I told her I think they go to their own "animal heaven", which satisfied her curiosity.

In the end, she concluded that when Max goes, "he's going to be dead for the rest of his life". Ah, out of the mouths of babes!

I guess because I have so many kids, people think I should write a book. I've often wondered what it is about me and my life that intrigues these people (or at least prompts them to make such ghastly statements). I've tried to pay attention, looking for any differences that may set me apart. Here's what I've come up with so far... I have more kids than most people, strangers think my kids are well-behaved, and people see what they want to see.

Since I am not adequately motivated to start that book just yet, let me use this forum to clear up at least two misconceptions about me. While there's no denying I've survived more pregnancies than most people I know, and I regularly threaten my kids to behave when they are in public with me (or else!), let me assure you it's not all rainbows and sunshine.

I know one at least on Facebook friend is concerned about her own imperfections because she's looked at all my Facebook photo albums. Michelle's kids are always smiling and getting along! To that I reply with a simple but forceful, "HA!" Do you think I want to post the ugly stuff? Do you know how many rolls of film it takes to get one decent photo for Christmas cards each year!?! (Answer: on average, I'd say four to five rolls of 36 exposure, expensive professional film.) For future reference, I plan on posting several less-than-beccoming photos of the little miscreants. It won't hurt my feelings at all if you see a few of my flaws (read that: misbehaving children).

In another recent story involving yet another Facebook friend (mere coincidence, I am sure) found me working the front desk at our church nursery. She leaned in, confidentially, and said, "I assume since you are working today, the children will wash their hands before snack." I almost laughed out loud, but tried hard to maintain my composure. Do you mean to imply that I keep track of washing my own children's hands and that I consciously avoid germ contamination? Again with the "HA!" As my father before me has stated time and again, "what doesn't kill them makes them stronger." I know it sounds a little harsh, but aren't they all going to get sick at some point anyway?

I have told you before, I do love my children. And I don't like to see them sick or hurt (or misbehaving in public). But if it will help another mother to know the struggles I face, I will do my best to encourage you any way I can. I am not a germaphobe... I think dirt is a kid's best friend, really. The next socially-acceptable time for a person to get covered with mud is in adulthood when they go for a spa treatment - and if they have kids in their adult years, we all know the chances of that ever happening! So, get 'em grubby, Mom! Let 'em live! It keeps kids busy for hours. I remember as a kid, sitting (playing for hours) in mud puddles, having mud fights, swimming in questionable ponds... I survived! I'm happy! I have good memories! Also, it's free.

So now you know two, dark, ugly truths about me... my kids don't always behave (but the pictures sure make it seem like they do) (which is another way of telling you what a talented photographer I am!), and I let them get dirty and sick (which is another way of saying I tend toward laziness and neglect). Seriously, I spend a lot of my time wondering where I failed in the upbringing and training of these people - they are embarrassingly naughty at times, and they fight like it's their purpose in life. They refuse to clean their rooms (more on that later), they whine whenever I ask them to do a chore, they wear the same underwear for days on end, and they've been known to lie to my face.

It's not all discouraging news, really. But just so you know, this is a hard job, and I apologize for making it look easy. I plan on revealing more dirty secrets in future posts, so keep visiting. Before long, you'll see me in a whole new light... and you, too may laugh at the thought of me writing a book!

Who is Jesus to you?

Check out the Two Fools link on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdxSq_h243E&feature=channel_page It will give you a small idea of how we celebrate my father's birthday every year. He and his buddy, AJ have a landing strip in East Sumner, on my Uncle Stuart's property (the family farm). This thing grows every year.

I'm thinking it's about time to get a real, quality video camera up there to start archiving this stuff a little better. It's such a fun day, but because he's busy visiting and doing traffic control, Dad doesn't get to really see all the stuff that goes on. He only knows it was a nice day because that's what he's heard from so many who attended.

It's usually the weekend closest to October 16, FYI. There's lots of food and many, many airplanes to watch fly in and out and around. Consider this your invitation. If I hear back from you, I will give you directions. =)

Now we move on to Patricia Katherine Bourget, called Kate or Katey.

It's funny how two children raised so closely together can be so different. This is not to say Lilly and Kate are night and day, but it's amazing how Kate has managed to carve out her own niche so clearly and so well.

No one in this family is so attached to family and tradition as is my little Kateybug. She loves having things just so, and thrives when all goes according to plan. She strives to be helpful and cheerful, and aims to please. She is quiet, usually, and ever-observing the big picture. She soaks things in, and remembers many small details... so like her mother that way. And actually, she reminds me more of myself than any of my children. She has sudden mood swings, but overall remains calm and controlled whenever possible.

She has a great sense of humor which often surprises me for someone the tender age of ten. She is wise beyond her years, which adds depth to her humor. She gets jokes that fly past some adults in her acquaintance. She tells jokes those same adults miss completely. She appreciates nuance and subtlety.

Katey is a dedicated scholar, athlete and musician. She works hard to excel in all areas. She pushes herself to exceed the standard, and often gets frustrated when she can't reach the limits she's set for herself. She is precise in following directions, and as such is the most talented musician in the household.

Her looks are almost exotic - the camera loves her almost as much as she loves the camera. She would love to model. She enjoys performing in every sense of the word. She's a natural-born actress, with a particular eye for drama. I love watching her performances, and will not be surprised if she pursues performing arts in college and beyond.

She appreciates a good, honest talk, and is fun to take on dates, or trips, or just anywhere. She is my best assistant photographer, in fact, and my photography improves when she works with me. She has a calming effect on me when I work, and acts as a great distraction and instructor for my younger clients.

More than anyone in my life, Kate inspires me to be a better person. I am well aware she watches me wherever I go, whatever I say or do, whenever she is able. She has a keen eye for honesty, perferring the truth to sugar-coating or deceipt. I have enjoyed watching her grow, and am very interested in the paths she will choose for her future.

Let's begin a little documentary on my children, so when they are grown they will see that I really was paying attention, after all. And they will know it wasn't my only intent in life to make them miserable... I also intend to reveal and embarrass them, sharing the wonderful details of our life together as they learn and grow (OK, we're all learning and growing).

I'll start in the beginning. My firstborn, of course, is Lilly, nee Lillian Abbott Bourget. Now 12, she is in the second half of her eighth grade year at Oxford Middle School. My original pride and joy, she continually raises the bar unattainably high for all her younger siblings. She excels at nearly everything she attempts, including (but not limited to) academics, sports, and musical endeavors. She is a natural... her one downfall is when something doesn't come easy to her, she becomes easily frustrated and chooses defeat over struggle.

As you can see (and as mentioned in an earlier blog), she really is quite a beauty. In these early stages of pubescence, she is tall and curvy... attributes I can neither take credit for, nor personally claim. I am awed by who she is, and often overwhelmed just to behold her. I feel so blessed to know her, moreso to say she is mine, and admit I have had a hand in her upbringing.

Of course I love her... she's my firstborn offspring. But on top of all this, I honestly LIKE her. She's fun to be around... bright, witty, appreciative of humor, respectful, and generally easy to get along with. She is open and honest, and willing to admit when she is wrong. She gives me hope for the future of this poor world.

Certainly there are times she acts her age. I am often surprised, but mostly I accept the discrepency. She deserves to let her hair down, and I can't expect more of someone who is so much already.

I was sitting in a chair the other day, with Sophie standing next to me. Out of the blue she looks up at me and says, "s'cuse me"... followed shortly by her explanation, "I tooted". She gave a little blushy laugh, then went on to add, "it's hard when you're close to someone. Because you don't know if you're saying 'get out of the way' or 'I tooted'".

I just thought that was funny, and wanted to remember it.

God uses trials in my life to cultivate in me a posture of dependence.

My children and I have decided to follow a Catholic tradition by observing Lent this year. Briefly, I will say I have given up eating out (which, sadly, is actually quite a sacrifice for me), Lilly has given up using the computer for entertainment purposes, Kate has given up whining, grumping, fighting and saying 'no', Sam has given up french fries, Sophie has given up spasketti from Ari's, and I think Molly has given up fish sandwiches from McDonald's.

You may notice a theme centered around my habit of frequent eating out. And yes, we consider MickeyD's eating out. It's been nearly a week, and I am proud to report I have not eaten out yet, and even the kids who haven't officially given it up (read that: Lilly and Kate), politely decline the opportunity to buy a snack or meal while out and about. I have extended my intent to include purchasing prepared meals, so I've been making lunch everyday for the kids, too. This morning, Sophie and I have a doctor's appointment, and I will be packing a lunch for that.

If you are the type to take your lunch with you to work everyday, or cook supper every night, you may think this is no big whoop. Suffice to say my kids think I have lost my mind. And I guess that's what Lent is all about after all... learning to live without something you really thought you needed in the first place.

You know I love my children. Until I had children, I didn't realize I had such a capacity for love. I mean, I've always loved kids, but my own children..! Oh, the amazing, profound intensity of it!

This love feels so blinding that sometimes I have to stop and ask myself if these little people might be the proverbial "face only a mother could love." Because, you know, people everywhere tell me how beautiful my children are. (I can tell you this without shame, because I know their looks really have nothing to do with me, in the sense that other than donating several genes, I didn't have anything to do with the way they look. Their looks are definitely out of my control.) Of course, I'm the mother, so I believe they are the most beautiful of God's creations. But I wonder if people give compliments just to be polite, or if, in general, people think babies and kids are cute so they make those sorts of comments.

Mind you, I'm not fishing for compliments, here. This is just something that pops into my head from time to time, particularly when I'm in line at Wal-Mart and observe one stranger compliment another stranger's average-looking baby. (I never said I was nice all the time!) I stand there and think, 'hm, if she thinks that kid is cute, which it obviously isn't, then why is she saying that?!' Which leads me to wonder if this same lady in line would have the same compliments for my kids, which leads me to think maybe my own kids are just average kids, after all.

Which part of me really hopes is true, because I don't need all kinds of headaches and worries when it comes time for dating! Although, in my experience, plain, average, and ugly people do end up on dates. I consider myself to be fairly average in the looks department, and I even ended up married! Which says a lot for personality, I guess.

So in the end, I'm hoping to influence in some positive way, my children's behavior, attitude, personality... let's just call it social skills. And, not to brag (OK, to brag a little bit), I do get a lot of compliments from strangers on my children's manners. I teach them to have actual conversation with adults, I demonstrate and practice phone skills with them, we go over table manners regularly and consistently. We go beyond the 'please' and 'thank you', to shaking hands properly, making eye contact, answering adults' questions, and even something as simple as smiling.

Recently, yet another mother asked if she could send her child to my house to learn some manners. The kids and I are currently planning an official "Bourget Bootcamp" website. They have lots of ideas for video instruction (some of which may get me hauled off by the Department for Child Welfare) and are eager to demonstrate for other children and parents how we go about the teaching/learning process here at Chez Bourget. I think they want other kids to know it's possible to be mature and still be a kid (although maybe they're just eager to have me hauled off).

At any rate, I do love my kids, inside and out. And honestly, I know they are some good lookin' people.