Category: family (Page 4 of 8)

The empty motherhood feedback form

In my working world I was that girl who demanded the feedback on how to do my job better. I would celebrate my victories but even more, I wanted to learn what it took to take my work to the next level.  I would spend probably more than appropriate time at my colleagues’ desks asking them questions, recalling situations or having them talk me off the ledge. Daily I would do this. At lunch time, we could converse in the cafe or after the kabillion meetings and group calls we were required to attend. I had instant messaging windows open constantly for chatter about this, that or the other. While worked “independently without much direction” I did so in a “team environment.”

Image via CC by Steven Depolo.

Image via CC by Steven Depolo.

SAHMs often have a team – it’s typically a spouse, and all prayers to the heavens for those who fly solo – but the feedback isn’t immediate. I might text an unlucky friend about the day’s woes or even a few highlights, but the lack of sharing physical space changes things. Presence matters. I don’t want to have to schedule a coffee date 3 Tuesdays from now to rant about the crayon on my wall – I want to march 20 feet away and find willing ears and resume my day with weight lifted, feeling validated.

The desolate loneliness of staying home with children isn’t only about missing adult interaction but also the lack of timely and appropriate feedback  on our work. For instance, I once spent the first quarter of nap time in a loud discussion with the 5-year-old about how mommy’s job isn’t just to give him what he wants, but to help everyone get what they need – in this instance, rest. I was shouted at, name called and eye rolled. The feedback was neither helpful nor thoughtful.

When I think about the ways my kids do offer feedback, I live in extremes. I hear “I love you” no less than 63 times a day. Within the same breath, they might scream at me that “I’m being mean” when I ask them to put shoes on as the mercury dips below 60. Often, I go completely ignored. Repeatedly.

For a person whose love language is primarily words of affirmation, these conditions make it especially tough terrain.

Of course, I do have people tell me “you’re doing a good job” but I sometimes resist, and not out of false humility. They see me at my best, with an audience. What about when I loose my shit before breakfast, ranting like a lunatic because of the 400th apple core left on the coffee table? My boss wouldn’t stand for my behavior. Where are the voices in my life with that reminder?

Right now my life’s work is raising these little humans. I’ve invested my working hours and energy into this gig and I want to give it all I’ve got – as much for my own sake as the children’s. What I want to know is not if I should be doing more crafts (because I won’t) or if I yell too much (because I do): I need the side-by-side learning offered in most work environments. I need co-workers who dealt with similar clients who were never satisfied. I need a meeting where someone brings donuts because she knows we’re working hard but still have miles to go.

Guest Post: Jug Traditions

I asked cousin Tim to reflect on our family’s recent excitement in winning the Little Brown Jug because I wasn’t there. (Yes, this is the same Tim that had the Camero). Horses have been a part of our family traditions for years and Tim’s dad has played a central role in that.


The third Thursday of September has always been a special day for me:  that’s the day every year that The Little Brown Jug is raced at the Delaware County Fair. This year was even more special as I was going to watch dad’s horse race in the Jug. It is more than just my dad’s horse as three of my uncles also own a portion of the horse, as well as a few other groups of people.

But to me, I was going to see dad’s horse. As I often say, “Dad has had horses longer than he’s had me,” and I’m 43. Charlie has been at it a while. At various points in my life, I would tag along for the ride, but I never got bitten by the bug quite like dad. Mom claims I learned to read and count from a race program (probably true) and I’ve been to at least 20 county fairs in Ohio.

I attended my first Jug in the late summer of 1990 and watched Beach Towel win it. The following year was Precious Bunny and the greatest start I’ve ever seen in the Jug. In 1993, Life Sign was parked every step of the mile and still won the Jug, one of the greatest Jug races ever. Just typing those memories gives me chills even now. The Jug has been a big part of my life to this point.

Now we fast forward to Thursday, September 18th, 2014 and the 69th edition of the Little Brown Jug: my 25th straight Little Brown Jug, and my father’s 50th. Like so many Jug days in the past, the crisp late summer morning without a cloud in the sky started by us lugging a cooler of beer to our chairs on the backstretch. We got situated, chairs claimed, shook hands, gave hugs, then collectively headed to the Buckeye Valley Athletic Boosters barn for breakfast. We return from breakfast and the chairs are filled with more recognizable faces, all smiling, and all looking forward to a lot of fun that day. So far, this story can be any of the 25 mornings I’ve spent at the Delaware County Fair.

Wendy and I take our annual visit to the Jug barn to go see all the world class, million dollar horses, and suddenly this year is different than all the others. Judy is standing next to one of the horses’ stalls. That’s new. The horse is Limelight Beach, one we’ve spent the better part of two years watching all over the eastern part of the country. It starts to sink in, we’ve got a horse racing in this thing.

The races finally get underway, the first heats of the Jug aren’t up until the 17th and 18th races of the day. That’s a long wait for the Wingfield Brothers of Kenton, Ohio. I’ve seen dad before a lot of big races, but not so much of Tom and Bob, so that was kind of fun. Dad, he just shuts down. The more nervous he gets, the less he talks, the less he wants to get up, the less he wants to even be at the races, I think. Bob paced a lot. Not really pacing back and forth, but he couldn’t sit still, he was all over the place. Basically the exact opposite of dad. Tom…didn’t seem any different. Not one bit. He was every-day Uncle Tom. Seeing the contrast in the three of them was almost as entertaining as the first 16 horse races.

Somewhere around the 10th race, Limelight comes out for his warm up. We all take notice, I snap a few pictures of him, and we begin to soak it in. Dad gets quieter, Bob walks somewhere, Tom opens another beer. The rest of the family…well, we’re a noisy people, so we made noise. And we all opened another beer.

Finally, the first division of the Jug is up. I watched, but I honestly can’t recall what all happened during the race. I know the favorite was on top at the head of the stretch and made a pretty bad break. That allowed the second favorite to cruise in for the win. One of the favorites to win the Jug was out of the final.

Suddenly the nerves really kicked in: it’s time for the 15th race. Limelight Beach has the 2nd post position, but the pre-race favorite, McWicked, was inside of him. Prior to the race starting, the choices seemed to be leave hard at the start and make McWicked beat you later, or follow McWicked out of the gate, sit in the pocket, and wait for space to open up to beat him. Limelight didn’t get much choice in the matter, McWicked got out of the gate pretty well and Limelight had to settle into 2nd on the rail. There are much worse places to be than 2nd on the rail in the Little Brown Jug.

An interesting note: the Brothers discussed those race options with the trainer, Ron Burke, as “a way to get into the second heat.” Ron answered with, “I’m not here to just get to the second heat, I want to win this thing.”

Limelight sat second on the rail for well over three-quarters of a mile. As they went into the final turn, McWicked started to push the pace a little. Limelight was still buried on the rail but there’s a little daylight starting to open between the 3rd and 4th place horses, so driver Yannick Gingras angles Limelight through that little space and suddenly we’re at the top of the stretch, 3 wide, with a lot of pace.

Watching races on the backstretch at Delaware is a little different. For one, you’re a quarter mile of race track away from the finish line. Secondly, the horses disappear behind the tote board for a couple seconds and you can’t see them as they race down the stretch.

So from the backstretch we see Limelight get to open track, we see him starting to reel in the two horses in front of him, we’re yelling for him, he’s flying and… tote board.

Gone. No more horses. The race is still happening, Roger Huston is still yelling horse names, people are still cheering, but WHAT THE F*** IS GOING ON??!?!

They emerged from behind the tote board and Limelight has put his nose in front and is pacing right past McWicked and Somewhere In LA. Oh my God, we just won a division of the Little Brown Jug.

Pandemonium. One second I’m looking at Adam just yelling, the next we’re all running down the backstretch to get across the track to the winner’s circle. The winner’s circle of the Little Brown Jug. An elimination heat of the Jug, but it’s the Jug!

Leaving the winner’s circle I was walking near dad when he tracked down Ron Burke. Ron was looking for his first Jug win, too. He told dad, “Yannick thinks we have the best horse in the race. If we draw the rail he’s going to send him down the road.” Send him down the road is race horse lingo for go to the front and don’t look back.

Limelight Beach drew the rail.

We had two races to get nervous about the second heat. If we win the second heat, we’re Jug champions. If Let’s Drink On It wins the second heat, he’s Jug champion. If anybody else wins the second heat, we’ve got to do this all over again one more time in a race off of the three heat winners.

Before we know it, it’s time for the 18th race. Like a few hundred times before, I heard Roger Huston call out, “The gate swings into the stretch, and heeeeeeeere they come!”

The starting gate led the horses down the stretch, its arms swung closed, and Limelight was on top by 2 lengths before they got to the first turn. He was the only horse of the 8 to leave, and got to the quarter pole with no real challenge. From there, for all intents an purposes, the race was over. Limelight got his way the rest of the mile and kept his only real challenger locked in on the rail behind him, then paced off in the stretch to win the Jug.

As a horse race fan, the final of the Jug this year was pretty boring. Nobody left, nobody moved on the leader until the half, and with Limelight getting his way the whole mile you weren’t going to beat him in the stretch. His elimination race was much more exciting as a race.

As the son of a Wingfield Brother, the final was one of the greatest races I’ve ever seen. After years of watching horse races, it was finally our horse that dominated the field and won a no-doubter. I don’t know if I walked, ran, or floated to the winner’s circle this time.

Michele asked me to write this, and I’m glad she did. She asked for my perspective, and what it meant to me to see our horse win the Jug. I’m thrilled for my dad and my uncles – watching this horse the last two years has provided those three with a lot of time together – and to culminate in winning the Jug is just amazing for them.

For me, the Jug is a big deal. It’s the biggest harness race of the year, every year. I used to schedule a week off around the races in Delaware, but in recent years it’s been only Jug Day for me. The Jug is contested on a half mile, county fair track in some little midwestern Ohio town. It is as small-town and grass-roots as you can get. I watched my first Jug with a lot of my family, but most memorably my dad and my grandpa Bill. Grandpa was at the very first Jug in 1946, dad saw his first one in 1964, in 1990 I joined them, and in the next few years I hope my sons join me.

Roger Huston interviewed my dad in the winner’s circle and asked him why he and his brothers stuck with Limelight Beach when the other owners sold out a few months ago. Dad’s answer? “We stayed for this race right here.”

Wheels

When my cousin Tim enjoyed his own roaring 20s, living the DINK* life, he bought a brand new black Camaro. A sensible purchase? Probably not. But at what other time, other than late into retirement, can one enjoy such treats? Somehow Tim knew to grasp onto the momentary lack of full responsibility.

The Camaro. That is not Tim in the background with the surfboard, no matter what he might say. Photo courtesy CC - Wikipedia

The Camaro. That is not Tim in the background with the surfboard, no matter what he might say. Photo courtesy CC – Wikipedia

My 16-year-old self took full advantage of his situation. He made the drive home one Saturday in May to drop off the newly washed and waxed set of wheels. He parked in the barn and showed me how to work the 6-disc changer (which resided in the trunk. Hellloooo again, 1990s!) which I later forgot and listened to Collective Soul on repeat. Then he gave me the mandatory and expected Lecture. The car goes fast, he told me. Be careful. Then he said something unexpected: At the end of the day, it’s just a hunk of metal.

You are more important than a car.

Of course, this goes without saying within the context of being careful and avoiding accidents. Yet hidden underneath, and now that I’m a tad older and wiser myself, I see the beauty in wanting good things for the people we care about.

I can’t imagine the trust he put into my 16-year-old self, let alone my 17-year-old date, whom he never met. His actions told me that believed in the goodness of people and the worthiness of his little cousin, enough to hand over the keys.

This weekend a friend found herself in unfortunate circumstances without a car. We were laying low so we drove JJ’s vehicle down so she could get to an engagement. Even when you fully trust someone, in the back of your mind you always do the “what would happen if” dance, and we were no different. Yet like my cousin, I believed a person to be more valuable. His words echoed in my ears: At the end of the day, it’s just a hunk of metal.

I’m not sure I would’ve had the guts to follow through had the same trust been placed in me. It would be easy to come up with a reason why we couldn’t extend the offer. Family or not, I want to live like I believe that people are always most important. But it’s hard to live your values.

One of the only things that speaks louder than fear is love, and I was fortunate to be loved with a set of keys early in life, which made it possible for me to love in the same way.

 

*Dual Income, No Kids

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