Roots

Holy cow! I almost forgot to post today. I had an early work meeting that happened during the time I usually write, and I’ve been running like crazy ever since squeezing in work, shuffling kids around, and cleaning before I go pick up my sister from the airport tonight.

She’s joining us and some (but not all) of my large family at a reunion for my mother’s family. Mom’s descendants equal more than all the other families (and she has 5 siblings) combined. Actually, only three of my five living sisters and one of my five brothers will be there, so a total of five of my mom’s kids will make it this year. She’ll have ten grandkids and one great grandkid at this event.

We’ve always lived on an island when it comes to family. While I have numerous siblings (10 still living which you know if you did the math above) none of them live in the same state as us. My dad died when my son was three and the kids never knew their paternal grandpa. Paternal grandma lives in Texas and they rarely see her. I have little relationship with her or any of my hubby’s family. They’re just not a tight knit clan. I didn’t even meet his two brothers until my oldest was 9 and they’re all on the other side of the country. It’s awkward for me with them and I know that’s lame excuse, so I’ll not even defend myself.

My kids have never had that grandma that lives nearby and spoils them. My mom is one of my heroes. In our house, we don’t say, “what would Jesus do?” but rather, “what would Grandma Jo do?” She has infinite patience, treats everyone with kindness, and at 76 years old, still moves through life with the awe and wonder of a small child. I couldn’t be more grateful for her influence in my life (though she was much more intense and controlling when I was a kid) and on my children’s world, but she’s just not there much. In fact, she’s made it a conscious choice that I think comes naturally for her to never interfere with (or even advise on) her own children’s parenting.

She’s always lived in a neighboring state (first Oregon until she retired just a few months ago, and now Utah) and she has 25 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. Lots of benefits to this large family, and my mom does a pretty impressive job of making sure all those kids feel her love, but it’s definitely on me to ensure they get it with enough frequency, and consistency has always been one of my biggest challenges.  I remember thinking how important it was for my kids to feel connected to their roots so several years ago I asked my mom if we could have a phone call each Sunday so she could tell them stories of their recent ancestors. Never took hold.

Now my mom goes where she’s most needed. Back and forth between an Oregon nursing home where my brother’s MS is ravaging his nervous system at an alarming rate and my baby sister’s home in Utah where my BIL, father to the four small children in that house, is fighting a valiant battle with cancer.

All this foundation about family to explain that culture in our home has turned into a tricky thing. My oldest child is intense and prickly. At 15, she epitomizes the moody teen, and while I do what I can to minimize adversity, I’m always amazed at the frequency with which it arises. I used to let her opt out of family gatherings and make other arrangements, but lately, the disconnect from her roots has become painfully obvious.

Mind you, I knew the importance of and made many attempts over the years to create a strong family culture, but my efforts rarely took hold. We have some special traditions (mostly around holidays) but there’s always been resistance to family activities—particularly by the girl, and with me being the only one (at least it seems to me) who really is invested in creating culture, it’s easy to let things go. Then suddenly they’re teens and I’m like, “shit! I meant to do it differently!”

So she’s coming to the reunion. All four family members are coming to the reunion. Hubby suggested we sneak away from the really small town where this annual reunion is always held and where we’ll spend the weekend to go get lunch in nearby Sun Valley, but I shook my head, “no way! This is family time, period.”  

I usually try to send my son to this small town a few days early (he’s actually always eager to go to this reunion—my [not so] little, family-oriented boy) when I can pull it off because he can free range the whole time he’s there, and I do definitely believe our kids need as much of that as we can give them. Didn’t work out this year, and he’ll be traveling with us to get there but while the rest of us will be in a motel, he’ll be hangin’ with his 2nd cousin twice-removed (?).

Essentially he’s been invited to stay at an AirBnB (that was my grandparents house before they both passed the year he was born) with my cousin’s family who has a boy his age with whom my youngest has a tight relationship. Last year my son, 11 at the time, was the only representative from the Justis League at the reunion thanks to a renewed relationship between this particular cousin and his wife (who happened to be one of my best friends in middle school.) We’ve even had the pleasure of visiting them in San Diego a few times over the last 3ish years.

Having clear boundaries and allowing my kids as much autonomy as I’d like sometimes conflict. I am not always sure how to navigate and I often think myself into paralysis, but I have come to the conclusion that it’s crucially important to know where you come from and be connected to your kin. Did I just say “kin”? Oh boy. I feel like this whole post reads in the Idahoan small town dialect I grew up with. Guess I’m gettin’ ready!