I gave the kids their nicknames long ago and while I’ve always enjoyed their names, you never know if it’s something they enjoy nearly so much. George has a thousand variations on his nickname and even his gym teacher at school has picked up on it and refers to him as “Jorge” – our little Mexican George.

Birdy came home with an order form to select her choice of shirt or sweatshirt for being a member of Student Council (go Birdy!) After looking at all the choices, and making her selection, my sister informed her that she had the option to put her name on the back. Birdy seemed pleased with this idea. My sister reminded her that she could put anything, really, her first name, her last name…

…to which her daughter exclaimed, “I WANT BIRDY!!!”

I guess it’s safe to say she likes the nickname, huh?

My dad and second mom have been graciously providing room and board for my brother for the past year while he gets his feet back on the ground. While it hasn’t been an easy situation, we try to keep the humor alive to keep the frustrations at bay.

This past weekend, George was telling my sister that he was never going to get married. My sister asked him who was going to cook for him and do his laundry and clean his house as it certainly wouldn’t be George himself and he wasn’t allowed to live with her forever. He calmly replied that he intended to live with his sister, Birdy when he was older. Within earshot of this proclamation, Birdy shouted her unwavering response of “No you are not!” from the other room. My sister looked at George and said, “I guess that option is out. Now do you think you’ll get married?”

George said no, he had another idea. He would go live with his Uncle G when he got older.

Again, Birdy’s voice from the other room, without missing a beat replied, “I’ll let Papa know to expect two of you then!”

I’m pretty sure that one has been enough for Papa, but at least it was worth a chuckle.

It has arrived at my sister’s house as well as my own it would seem.

My sister needed to do some shopping, an outing Birdy is usually very fond of and excited about, but at the mention of the word “Kohl’s” Birdy began to express her displeasure at the idea through her mastery of the teenage attitude.

When my sister had had enough of the moping and grumping about the house she inquired, “What happened to the nice Birdy that we had earlier this morning?”

The response?

“The nice Birdy is at the mall at Limited Too. If you want her, you’ll have to go to the mall and get her.”

Priceless. Glad it’s not just at my house.

I was teasing Flash tonight about a girl on his bus. She drives him crazy, which I’ve taken as a sign that they like each other. Flash gave me the low down on who this girl is currently dating. It’s a new boy about every week and Flash has joked that she’s going to run out of 7th grade boys here soon.

I asked if any of the guys in his group of friends is dating anyone. He said no. He went on to explain that his friend D thinks girls are gross. J has had a girlfriend but doesn’t currently. Flash described himself in the same situation as his friend, N, “we’re just, you know, us.”

I asked about R. Does he have a girlfriend?

“No, I can’t imagine any girl wanting to settle down with R, Mom.”

Settling down? In the 7th grade? If dating means you like each other but act like you hate each other what must “settling down” mean?! (And do I even want to know?)

On my kitchen table sits:

2 old laptops with their hard drives now destroyed, ready to be donated to school

1 huge box of Bionicles ready for George

1 bag containing 2 shirts that need to be returned

2 boxes, one big, one medium, full of Star Wars vehicles, creatures, comics and the like, off to younger boys who will love them like Flash has

1 dead plant ready for the graveyard

1 overflowing bag of cans and bottles to be returned for deposit money

1 box of old bills that need to be burned

Flash’s phone vibrated tonight during youth group. He thought it was just a text message until it kept vibrating. He realized it was a phone call. When he looked at his phone he saw the call was from his best friend in Pennsylvania. He answered the call and said, “Hey, W, I can’t talk now, I’m at church.”

Before he could suggest he call him back later, W said, “Can you play chess?” (which they do online from time to time, although Flash hasn’t had internet access in about a month.)

“Um, W, I’m at church.”

“I know, but did you get your computer back? Can you play chess?”

“Yes, W, I got my computer back, but I’m AT CHURCH right now.”

“Don’t you have messenger on your phone, Flash? We can play chess on messenger!”

“W, I AM AT CHURCH.”

“Yeah, but you have messenger, right?”

“W, I have a very limited version of messenger on my phone, yes, but I’m CURRENTLY AT CHURCH. Can I call you later?”

“I guess.”

I didn’t think it was possible to be more of a techno nerd than Flash, but he apparently has friends that are even techno-geekier than he is!

(When he did return the call to W, they had an endless debate about how W used to be able to recite pi to the whatever decimal place and how W couldn’t remember it any longer and I started reciting pi about five places and Flash was yelling at W that I could do a better job at pi than W could and how that was just the END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT.)

Sigh.

This had better get him some serious scholarships because I don’t think it’s going to help him get a wife.

Flash thought it was hysterical.
Mom only thought it was funny because nothing got broken.

But it sure drove the dog nuts.

(Can you see George in the picture? He’s even laughing!)

Flash’s best friend was being tortured, being drug, being forced, going to a chess tournament on Saturday morning. Flash’s best friend can easily think of a hundred other things he’d rather do on a Saturday morning other than get up for a chess tournament, but his mom was making him go. In a moment of compromise, she suggested that he ask Flash to go with him.

A month ago, Flash, knowing his dad is a “keeper of all things”, asked him to send him a USB cable for his new printer. This weekend, a box arrived in the mail. It was big, and heavy. Flash dropped it on the couch and tore into it, eager to see what all his dad had sent.

A couple of goodies from Happy Meals or the cereal box.

And a scrub shirt.

I’m wondering what he will get when he calls and asks for a replacement ink cartridge. I think I’m a little frightened to know.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to relationships lately. As I creep up on the anniversary date that officially makes me divorced long than I was married, I am giving a lot of thought to the relationships I’ve had in my life.

I never thought I’d be single. Obviously not when I said my vows, but even when I got divorced, I believed within the next five years I would meet someone and get remarried. But here it is, eight years later and I’m still single.

There could be any number of reasons for that, and I don’t mean to imply for a second that I don’t love the life I have. I do, I really do. But I’ve begun to really seek God’s answers on the topic. Should I look for a new relationship? Is that God’s plan for my life? Does He have another intention for my future?

If I think about the idea of a relationship, I begin to wonder how it is that having dated at least a few men with some seriousness since my divorce, I have yet to have dated anyone that I thought was marriage material for me.

I put my analytical mind to it the last couple of weeks and I’ve realized something of interest.

None of the men that I have ever dated have been anything like my father.

Now, I know, it’s perhaps just a cliche that daughters will look for a mate that has qualities like her dad. But I have a great dad. And I do, as I have now come to realize it, want a mate that is much like my father.

He’s responsible, respectable. He is grounded in faith with deep-rooted morals. He understands his role as a provider, a leader of the household, the source of strength for his family. He’s dependable. He’s mature in all things. He handles his finances, his career, his projects, his home, his relationships with a well-thought out plan.

Things weren’t always easy, I don’t mean to imply that. But in the face of difficult challenges, my dad was strong. He thinks things through carefully. He chooses his words deliberately. You would never call my father ‘rash’.

But none of the men that I have dated (nor the one that I married) are anything like this. When I realized this a bit ago, I was struck for the moment with such intensity of thought that I stood in the parking lot for a moment while the thought rolled over me.

Why would this be?

I’ll save you the long version of it. It took me several days to really get a handle on why I think it has happened this way. I think, originally, I did think my ex-husband was all that my dad ever was. I did. With some differences, of course, but I did think there was more in common between the two than there were differences. But they are nothing at all alike. In every way I might list, they are two very good men, but two very different men.

But since my divorce, I have clearly not attracted the sort of man that I really do think is a good match for me. It’s not that I think the sort of man my father is would necessarily please any wife. I’m sure there are some out there who want something different. But not me. The qualities I would list for a great mate, would be qualities you might use to describe Dad.

So back to the why.

I have come to realize I don’t present myself the way I truly am.

That sounds bad, perhaps. I don’t mean it that way. What I mean is, I’m quite emotional. I’m moody, tempermental. I’m more impulsive and spontaneous than I am responsible and well thought out. I’m responsible, yes, and I have a good work ethic, sure, but I tend to think about things with my heart far more than my head. I would give away more than I could afford to spend to charity for example if I wasn’t careful.

But for the past 8 years or more, I’ve been a single mom. I became a working parent. I have had to pay all the bills, take care of the household, make parenting decisions alone. I have had to be responsible. I have to keep my finances in line. I have to think about my son’s future, his college, his braces. I have to think about my career and give it thought and purpose. I can’t just travel on a whim, or spend money as I would like to. And certainly just being in my late 30’s means I need to be a bit more responsible than I might have been 10 years ago.

And I don’t begrudge that part of my life at all.

But it changes how I come off to people. I come off as someone who is a planner, when in fact, I absolutely love last minute plans and get-aways. I used to love deciding at the last minute to go home for the weekend in college just to see my mom. Or driving 10 hours to Michigan without telling my sister I was coming. I would probably never have a retirement fund, a college fund and a savings account if I were not a parent. And I would never choose to be the one to pay the bills and balance the checkbook and deal with anything financial if I didn’t have to. I would get Chinese take-out more often, I’d be the last one to bed, and I would probably beg to buy new couches even if we couldn’t pay cash if I weren’t so stuck on being responsible. And I’d probably have two more dogs, another cat and a rabbit even if I had to beg and cry crocodile tears to get my way.

I have dated a handful of men in the past eight years. And they have all been financially a mess. They have all been remarkably immature. Some hadn’t been out of mom’s reach far enough for long enough. They were bachelors for the most part, with no one else to think of. They were spontaneous. They were only concerned about the here and now. They came into the relationship loving the fact that I was the responsible, grounded one. I was the one who would say, no, let’s stay in and make pizza so we can save some money. They seemed to adore the fact that I made them more responsible just by being with me. They were freed up to be the carefree one, knowing I had their back on all things responsible. They liked that I seemed to have all my stuff together, and a good head on my shoulders and my ducks in a row. Which is all good, and yet….

…it’s not who I really am. And I get into these relationships and then I wonder how it is that I’m dating this man who aggrevates me so much. How could I have gotten involved with someone who can’t keep money in his account? How could I even consider anything serious with this person who thinks they might just go to Miami for spring break, although they don’t know any details and it’s two weeks away? How can I plan for a future with someone who spends more money on his hobby than I did for my mortgage payment? Can I really be in love with someone who changes his mind on who he is going to vote for for President as he’s walking in to the polling place? Can I ever envision myself with a man who steals decor off the wall of a restaurant because I admired it once?

How could I BE THE MOST RESPONSIBLE ONE IN THIS RELATIONSHIP?!?!

It’s crazy if you know me.

Really.

(My dad and sister are nodding their heads right now.)

I want someone like my dad. Because it allows me to be the emotional one. It balances out my impulsiveness. It frees me up to be the good cop parent for a change. It’s not that I want to throw all caution to the wind and just let someone else run my retirement fund or plan all our vacations a year in advance, but if I can partner my life up with someone, then I want a blend that allows me to relax and be myself and allows their strengths to be appreciated and enjoyed. We can’t both be footloose and fancy free. But I’m getting rather tired of carrying the burden of being responsible alone.

Now, I just have to figure out how to meet a responsible, mature, dependable, moral man who isn’t a complete bore. Dad? Could you give lessons?