Tag Archives: tulsa

How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to (mostly) Love Oklahoma: A Tulsa Memoir Part 5

As noted, I tend to get going on a topic and then trail off (I never did wrap up my commentary on the Feminine Mystique; I never did follow through with all the Big Ideas I had for “This is Not a Lifestyle Blog” – but this is a blog, and there’s time!). Before it gets too far from my memory, I wanted to wrap up my series about growing up in the conservative south and my recent trip back “home.” (Read the rest here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.)

When I last wrote, I’d been pretty thoroughly alienated from mainstream culture in Tulsa by a series of extremely negative interactions with conservative Christianity. Between that and poky grass, I was pretty much planning to get out of this place as quickly as humanly possibly. I began to elevate and romanticize the Midwest as the ideal and preferable alternative to the south. By age 15, I was using road atlases to plot an escape route and writing romance stories set on farms.

So what changed? Continue reading

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My Trip To Tulsa, By the Numbers

1168 — miles driven.

8 — days of travel.

170 — dollars spent on gas.

-1 — fantastic landmarks on the way out of Iowa. So long, Terrible’s sign.

4 — number of parks we visited in Tulsa, including Hunter Park and the fabulous La Fortune Park.

3 — Poopy pull-ups at rest areas (100% occurring within minutes of having been changed into a fresh one.

78 — average high temp during our stay in Tulsa, dramatically below the usual average and completely beguiling.

2 — total number of pictures in which I appear.

45 — seconds it took for Robin to pee in the wildflowers on the side of the highway. Girl can hold her Juicy Juice.

288 — approximate ounces of coffee consumed.

100 — percentage of grandparents with strange new dietary preferences and requirements.

3 — Awesome go-cart rides with Uncle D., our hero.

8 — meals the girls ate that were organized around pasta salad, because it’s their new fave and the ingredients are easy to come by.

2 — dead mice greeting us at the doorstep upon our return.

10,000 — number of MN readers we hit while I was on the road. Thanks!

0 — what we had in the cupboard for dinner when we got home.

PB on white bread (??), popsicles. Not shown: pizza. Nutrition ftw!

I have more to say and more to share but this mama is spent.

Report from the road: How much does where you live matter when it comes to who you are?

I’m posting this from a library in south Tulsa, where my youngest is screaming and kicking because this library doesn’t have a slide! The nerve! I wrote this post a few nights ago. I have very spotty internet access, so I’m sorry I haven’t been updating at my usual breakneck pace.

May 11th

Interwebz!! I’ve missed you so much!

I’m writing this in my in-law’s living room in East Tulsa. It’s dark: my in-laws have left to go to a dance at the American Legion; the girls are finally asleep after an evening playdate with high school friends and their kids; and for the first time in days, I’m alone. The TV is playing something called Sonic Tap 814: Modern Country. I believe I just heard a song called “Redneck Yacht Club.” I could turn it off, but it’s fitting.

Its only day 3 of our epic trip and so far it’s been really lovely. The girls are great little travelers and have settled into our gypsy life with relative ease. Nothing feels very far away in Tulsa, so we’ve been all over creation, zipping from point A to point B so fast, and with so much to look at! We’re used to long and winding country highways with cows and fields: here, there’s something on every corner and in between. Today, while driving out of midtown on 41st Street, Robin said, “Mom, I love this neighborhood. It is just so beautiful.” We were surrounded by muffler places, shops and restaurants. They’re even sleeping well: snoring all night and not waking once.

I’m not sleeping well. For whatever reason, I can’t settle into deep sleep (blame the beds? blame the snoring?). It reminds me of my Dad complaining about travel and how hard it was for him to sleep in a new place. As a kid I was like WHATEVERZ OLD DUDE but now I get it, and I do think it’s an age thing. I’m slipping into the middle age zone and my body isn’t that spry young thing. I recently started having chronic knee pain, of all things. It’s related to poor posture, even less cool: if only it’d been a rugby injury or something else kickass. I’ve been calling it “blogger’s knee” because I’ve been writing while standing up at the kitchen counter, locking my knees while I type. Apparently, this is anathema to crucial support muscles in my inner leg, because now I’m all creaky and groany and stiff.

I’m not the only one showing signs – small signs – of age. My gorgeous sister has several gray hairs (she’s not even 30! wtf!) and our parents – mine, hers, and Brian’s – are getting older, too. Not old old, but older. Like, arsenal of supplements and vitamins older. Like, multiple prescription medications to manage blood pressure and arthritis older. Investing in a longterm care plan older. Seems like my friends and acquaintances are also hitting new life stages: folks who’ve stayed close to home are ready for change, and all of us who left home are feeling the urge for the familiar. Seems like things are shifting all over the place, rearranging lives on invisible tectonic plates: jobs, marriages, divorces, babies, whatever.

I keep driving in Tulsa asking myself, “How’s it feeling? What would it be like to be here every day? What would it be like to live here? What about there? How about here? Where am I, anyway?” And the answer is…? OK? It feels fine. It feels like it always did: meh, but not awful, and ecstatically lovely in certain spots. The weather is beguiling: rather than blazing hot, it’s been cool and rainy, just like Iowa. I think it’s project what it would feel like on a daily basis: one moment, I’m thinking Holy shit, I love how everything is ten minutes away, it’s so convenient! The next minute, I’m thinking, How many fucking strip malls can one town sustain?? The whole landscape is characterized by retail:  no wonder living in south Tulsa felt like hell, it’s almost a parody of suburban life and parts are downright ugly.

I could go through all the calculus of the factors of which neighborhoods feel right versus which ones cost right or school right. There’s a ton of mental math happening, and it’s all in organized pro/con lists that run through my mind non-stop, especially when I’m trying to fall asleep while my girls are snoring. What I can picture for sure is: hanging out with my sister all the time. Checking out all the parks, going to Driller’s games, going to the fair. Having a house without a freaky portal-to-hell basement drain that occasionally belches human waste. Fretting constantly over the girls’ fair skin, new allergies, and freedom to play outside, unsupervised and safe. Feeling like a super minority in terms of both politics and religion, no matter how cool our neighborhood might be.

The big question I keep asking myself is: why. Why does it matter where you live? Does it matter? I know great people from shitty places and shitty people from Portland. It all seems like a crapshoot, but the stakes feel incredibly high to me. As I shuttle the kids from East Tulsa to midtown to Broken Arrow and back again, and interact with my in-laws and parents, I realize these questions point largely to issues of identity. What kind of people will my kids be if they are raised in a place like Tulsa? Or in a small farm town in Iowa? What if we make choices similar to (or totally different from) our parents: will we end up just like them, with the same tastes, politics, or regrets? How did our parents manage to raise intelligent and open-minded kids when they possess these characteristics only debatably? If we pick the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood with the perfect school, and raise our kids perfectly, could they still turn out to be assholes? Could choosing a place to live make or break how good and cool they can be – how good and cool we can be? What if they end up unrecognizable? What if we do?

Meghan Daum writes about a concept she calls “domestic integrity:” the idea that the place you live in somehow matches the person you feel like you are inside. I am in search of domestic integrity, but I confess I worry about who I might discover I really am as we make these decisions. These are burning questions in my mind, because I desperately want to have a great decade. My twenties were somewhat squandered on the futile pursuit of a PhD. My thirties have so much potential. I want to lead an interesting life, and I want to raise ethical, thoughtful, open-minded, interesting, cool people, too. Where can that happen best? Are those two things mutually exclusive? Or what?

An art project called “Domestic Integrity Fields”

With those deep thoughts, I’m taking myself and my blogger’s knee to the other guest bedroom for some R&R. With any luck, the girls will stay settled without me in their bed, and I can get a solid chunk of rest. Cross your fingers for this old lady.

Youth Group: A Tulsa Memoir Part 4

This is part 4 of my series about growing up in Oklahoma. Read parts 1, 2, and 3. I’ll actually be visiting the old homestead next week to see my HS BFF before she moves to Texas and hang with my AWESOME SISTER, so the timing is good. I’m kind of knee-deep in portfolio grading, so hang tight for more non-memoir, normal, regular stuff to resume when FINALS WEEK IS OVERRRR.

It wasn’t just the crazy weather and freakish, Martian landscape that weirded me out about my new home. It was also church.

As a kid, no one talked to me about religion before. I mean, not even my parents openly articulated our belief system to me: I intuited, through the skills of reading and intense listening, that we were Catholic (off and on), believed in (a?) God, and therefore in Heaven. For a brief period, when we lived in South Bend, we attended church services regularly, and I even became familiar with a few hymns. But, in a very Midwestern way, religion wasn’t openly discussed or acknowledged. We absorbed it by osmosis and it was made somehow clear that religion was something you worked out through practice and a lot of sideways glancing, mumbling, and copying the people in the pew in front of you. Church was really more of something you “did,” not a group of people you knew, or a “belief.”

When we moved there, at age 11, I was a bit startled that it was a general getting-to-know-you kind of thing in Tulsa. “Where do you go to church?” or, even more strange to my ears, “Do you have a church home?” This was often the second or third question asked of me when I met someone new. Because I was completely naïve about religion in general, and about conservative, Protestant branches of Christianity in specific, I had no idea that telling people I was Catholic was akin to saying I was a Satanist. I immediately marked myself as someone in need of saving. Early in seventh grade, several of the nicest people in the world invited me to a Christian Student Bible Meeting Fellowship Fun Group, and I accepted. I mean, I was desperate for friends and I was a bit of a goody-goody. Christian kids were probably nice, right? Continue reading

Life on the Slab: A Tulsa Memoir Part 3

This is part 3 of my series about growing up in Oklahoma, my love affair with the midwest, and other stuff. Read part 1 here and part 2 here. BTW, Jen and I are both in the throes of finals over the next week or two, so bear with us if updates aren’t as frequent!

I spent my entire life in Oklahoma defining myself as a not-Oklahoman. I knew my stay there was temporary, but I wasn’t sure how long my sentence would last. Five years? Ten? As we drove south through Illinois and then across the vast girth of Missouri to get to Tulsa for the first time, I wondered about this new place. I thought Oklahoma would be flat, dusty, and full of horses. I imagined that everyone wore cowboy hats, and tumbleweeds would bounce down my street.

But, the Tulsa I lived in looked more like this: Continue reading

Field of Dreams: A Tulsa (and Iowa) Memoir Part 2

This is part 2 of a series of posts about moving around as a kid and spending a lot of time living in Oklahoma. Check out part 1 here.

Of my immediate family, only my sister still lives in Oklahoma: my parents finally made their escape just two years after I moved away, and now live in Kansas City. Whenever I think about how much I love living in Iowa, I recall a passage from the novel Shoeless Joe by WP Kinsella. Shoeless Joe inspired the film Field of Dreams, and was written by a grad student at the University of Iowa, where I’ve been teaching and attending for eight years.

“It was near noon on a gentle Sunday when I walked out to that garden. The soil was soft and my shoes disappeared as I plodded until I was near the center. There I knelt, the soil cool on my knees. I looked up at the low gray sky; the rain had stopped and the only sound was the surrounding trees dripping fragrantly. Suddenly I plunged my hands wrist-deep in the snuffy-black earth. The air was pure. All around me the clean smell of earth and water. Keeping my hands buried I stirred the earth with my fingers and I knew I loved Iowa as much as a man could love a piece of earth.”

I bought Shoeless Joe in early 1994: I know this because the dated sticker from the used bookstore is still on the cover, a 1982, pre-Field of Dreams mass-market paperback edition. I bought it because I’d loved the movie and considered myself a Midwestern ex-pat. I wanted to connect to the place I considered my true home and my ultimate destiny. I was fourteen years old and I’d been living in Tulsa for two years. I read that passage and thought, I want to go to there.

I’d moved all over the Midwest as a young child – hopping from Missouri to Illinois and then Indiana. We moved for my father’s work in the soft drink industry (yes, we really called it that in our house). Crush, R.C. Cola, A&W: the complicated gerrymandering of your regional territories forced us in and out of quite a few states before Dad left the world of soda altogether. Certainly, there are cultural, geographical, and meteorological differences among Kansas City, Peoria, and South Bend, but they all share a soft topography and a genial, white Midwestern mildness that made them feel more similar than different. They (we?) are friendly by default, but not excessively warm; and because we (they?) abhor conflict, no one will inquire about your religion, politics, or those funny plants you’re cultivating in the backyard, as long as you return the favor.

Don’t get me wrong: Midwesterners are as opinionated, judgmental, and full of shit as anyone else in America, but this was the stew I’d grown up in and I was too young to have that kind of meta-awareness. I was a Cubs fan; I knew what snow smelled like; my houses had basements; and we drove through miles of cornfield ribbons to get to Grandma’s house. I love the look and feel of old Midwestern homes: the pastel interior paints, peeling linoleum kitchen floors; arched doorways, white clapboard siding, creaking stairs with plastic tread protectors. The powdery smell of old bathrooms; the rotten stink of well water; hooked rugs. When we bought our house in rural Iowa last year, we bought exactly the kind of home I always fantasized about: a 1937 cape cod with light, wood floors, gauzy curtains, and a telephone cubby.

Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.

My Mom’s family is Irish Catholic. She has nine brothers and sisters and they were raised in a town near Chicago. Grown up, they scattered across the Midwest, concentrated in central and western Illinois, the suburbs of Chicago, and Wisconsin. A few of the sisters – my Mom included – left the Midwest altogether. There’s just something about this family: full of charisma, music, great hair, and extreme volume, every holiday with them was an event of a lifetime. As a child, I felt like a bit of an ugly duckling, wondering how my brainy brownness fit in with these fair-haired wild wondrous people. I sat in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the noise of forty people trying to talk over one another, and was all ears. I used to write and rewrite the list of names, anniversaries, and birthdates of everyone in the family: Linda Jo, Kathleen Ann, December 1, May 10, etc etc.

  • Fact: their last name is a synonym for “angelic.”
  • Fact: as in a sitcom, each member of the family is fabulously attractive and talented.
  • Fact: this family has been known to spontaneously burst into song and dance.

After four years in Missouri (from about age 4 until 8), we spent three years living closer to family (in Peoria and then South Bend IN), and I finally got to see my many cousins more than once a year. We went to christenings, 4th of July parties, random weekend visits, and every major holiday. I couldn’t get enough of being in the mix, eavesdropping on my aunt’s conversations, wondering at my cousins, who were a thousand times more cool and plugged in to culture than I was (they introduced me to NKOTB and the entire concept of “making out”). After we moved to Tulsa when I was 12, our attendance of family gatherings dropped to once a year, maybe twice. Tulsa is in the middle of the country but it’s so much further south: it really feels a million miles from everywhere.

I felt cut off from the universe: missing Thanksgiving felt like missing the party of the year. If I wasn’t there, I was going to be forgotten, and somehow being in this family felt like my one chance at being cool. And being in that family meant being in the Midwest. Thus as a pre-teen, my whole sense of personal possibility was set in a cornfield.

(More to come…)

Jen and Lauren Chat: Sisterhood is Powerful

Jen and I chatted this week about sisterhood, family, and babies. Conclusion: sisters are awesome. So is Eight is Enough.

Lauren:  Let me know when you are ready to chat!

Jen:  I am ready!

How many sisters do you have?

Lauren:  I have one younger sister.

How about you?

Jen:  I’m the 4th of 5 kids; I have an older sister and a younger sister. I also have two sisters-in-law (2 older brothers).

Lauren:  So you are both a little sister AND a big sister.

Jen:  Yes.

But my family is a little odd in that we are two separate generations: my parents had 3 kids close together, waited 9 years, then had 2 more.

Lauren:  So you and your young sis are the two littles?

Also, sidebar: what were your parents thinking??

(I say that in admiration and awe.)

Jen:  Yes: we are “the little kids” or “the girls”.

Do you have any other siblings? Or is just the two of you?

Lauren:  It’s just us two: we are 2 years apart.

My Mom came from a huge family and wasn’t interested in having more than two, nor was my Dad!

Jen:  My mom is the oldest of 5; my dad is the youngest of 3. (He has 2 older sisters.)

Lauren:  So did you feel it incumbent upon you to have more than 2 kids?

Jen:  I always wanted a big family. In fact, when I was pregnant with Margeaux I secretly hoped she would be twins, because I sort of knew I wouldn’t have another but actually wanted more than 3.

Lauren:  I adored my Mom’s huge family and fantasized about having eight kids.

Then I scaled it back to 4.

But I am probably done with my two girls.

Jen:  As I kid I wanted 12, like Cheaper By the Dozen.

Lauren:  YES

Or Yours, Mine and Ours

Or Eight is Enough

All movies/shows I obsessed over as a kid.

Eight is enough to fill our lives with loooove!

I think I really wanted to BE in a big family, not necessarily give birth twelve times or parent/pay for that many kids.

Jen:  Yes. I definitely had no idea what it would be like to birth/parent multiple children.

Though I imagine it will be substantially easier when they are older and not so needy.

Lauren:  Yes, I look forward to that as well.

I loved the idea of all those different personalities, all the hubbub at holidays.

Jen:  And for me, having a lot of siblings has been awesome because I have been closer to different sibs at different points in my life.

Lauren:  My sister married a man who has TWELVE siblings!

Jen:  When Tyler wanted to stop at 2, I worried about the pressure on them to be EVERYTHING to each other.

I still kind of fantasize about having 12.

Lauren:  I also really cherish my close relationship with my sister and parents, and I don’t know if that’d have happened if we had five other sibs.

I have half-joked with my sister that she is my true soulmate/long distance relationship, because I feel destined to get back to a life where we live close to each other.

Jen:  My sibs and I all live within an hour of each other; my sisters are both within 15 minutes.

We share clothes and take care of each others kids and pets.

Lauren:  That’s so awesome.

I’m deeply, deeply, deeply envious of that.

Jen:  When I lived in Iowa, we trained for a 25k road race together one year and then I came back to GR to run with them. It was awesome.

Lauren:  My Mom is close to her many sisters in that way.

Several of them live in IL/WI and they collaborate to care for my aging grandma.

Jen:  My mom and her siblings are taking care of my grandpa, who has Alzheimers.

Lauren:  Here’s the thing:

My sister is definitely my best friend.

I assume that Robin and Holly will be best friends for life: I basically teach them that.

But when you add more sisters to the mix, does it work out that way? Or does it change the rel?

I know some people who hate their sisters, or have gone through phases where they hate their sisters.

So how does this work?

Jen:  My sisters and I have gone through phases where we are very close and phases where we just didn’t have as much in common. But I definitely feel like my siblings are people I can COUNT ON.

They painted my house. They watch my kids. They have given me furniture. We celebrate holidays and birthdays together.

I know that if I need something, they will be there for me.

Lauren:  Exactly.

My sister is the first person I call for practically everything.

With the exception of three-ish years around junior high, we have always been super close and one another’s biggest fans. I named my firstborn after her.

Lauren's Sister/BFF

Jen:  Sometimes Dorothy gets mad and says she doesn’t love Lucy. I just keep telling them, “You might not like her right now. But you will always be sisters.”

Lauren:  There is TOTALLY an ethics of sisterhood in our household.

Sisters are tops. Sisters are number one. We treat our sisters the very very best.

Jen:  Right. Because even though they don’t get it now, I think that establishing that early on matters.

Lauren:  When I was pregnant with my second (we did not find out the gender), we both hoped and hoped and hoped it would be a girl, because I really wanted Robin to experience having a great sister. When Holly was born we were OVERJOYED.

Robin meets her sister for the first time.

Jen:  The other day, Dorothy said, “I am not going to come to your house to visit!” Meaning, when they grow up. And Lucy totally didn’t get the threat and said “We live in the same house.” But I thought it was interesting (and hilarious) that D understands the significance of that as a threat.

Lauren:  Lucy’s like “We will always live together.”

Jen:  I didn’t know the sex of any of mine, but we definitely hoped Margeaux would be a girl.

Dorothy and Lucy Meet Margeaux

Lauren:  As kids, we had family friends with three sisters and they fought terribly.

I mean, they treated each other horribly. But now, as adults, they are all super close and take care of each other’s kids, etc.

So is it in the genes?

Jen:  D and Lucy fight sometimes. It’s intense. And it will be interesting to see what happens when Margeaux grows up enough to really be in the mix.

Lauren:  My little sister (her name is Christine, and she’s 29 so I guess she isn’t really little) is insanely beautiful, smart, and talented.

So most of my anger towards her was motivated by jealousy.

She also has this amazing social life and always has, and I wished intensely to be more like her.

Gratuitous Image of Lauren's Sister

Jen:  I have friends who are brothers who are close in age but grew up in different states because of divorce/custody issues. They are really, really close friends, and they have a ton in common. But they have said that they think they are so close as adults because they didn’t grow up competing with each other.

Which would have been the case, if they had grown up in the same household.

Lauren:  Interesting.

It seems like there’s no way of predicting how things will turn out, but siblings trend towards (at least in our tiny and totally unscientific sample) awesome relationships.

I remember that Chris and I had this intense argument in high school that ended up with us both sobbing in the bathroom

Complimenting each other “You’re so amazing, I wish I was like you!”

“No! You’re amazing! I want to be like youuu!”

Jen:  HA!

Lauren:  I think that was our last major conflict, other than the time I adopted a cat without asking her if it was okay (we were living together at the time).

Jen:  My little sister and I worked together for a while in an after school program. Super fun.

Lauren:  We lived together for 2 years in college

And if it hadn’t been for evil grad school, we probably would live next door to each other or something.

I still fantasize about moving close to her. If only she didn’t live in stinky old Tulsa!

Jen:  Do you guys have any family in Iowa?

Lauren:  No.

We have family in IL and WI — my Mom’s sisters live in that area. But the closest people are still 2.5 hrs away.

Jen:  Does your sister have kids?

Lauren:  No — they are planning to get pregnant very soon.

That’s killing me, I want to help her out so bad.

Not with getting pregnant

With having a newborn.

Jen:  My sister had a baby on Monday.

And my girls are really close with their cousins. I think it would be so difficult to not have those connections.

Lauren:  I spent most of my childhood growing up far away from my cousins/aunts/grandparents.

I yearned to be closer to family in the midwest.

Jen:  I took the girls up to the hospital yesterday and Dorothy sang to the baby and told her about dolphins.

Lauren:  That’s really sweet.

Jen:  It was so amazing. I feel really lucky that they are growing up so close to my brothers’ and sisters’ kids.

Lauren:  They are lucky. You are lucky!

I wish I had that feeling of geographical and… heart… centerdness.

If only all the people who really matter in my life also lived in the same place, and that place did not suck.

Jen:  I knew, even when I was actively working on the phd, that I wasn’t interested in going on the academic job market because I wanted to come back to GR. And that was totally devalued by faculty. But seeing Dorothy singing to Paige? I feel like I got it right.

Not that there aren’t other ways to be right. But for me? This was right.

Lauren:  Because my family lived in a state where none of us felt quite at home

There was a lot of desire to “get out” of Oklahoma

Grad school was that ticket I had been seeking since I moved there in 7th grade.

My parents even moved away, two years later (they live in Kansas City, which is right between Tulsa and Iowa!).

I always thought that the kind of place you grew up was really important, because I’d lived in a place that felt so strange.

But, now I think I may have got it all wrong, because I miss my family like a pain, and raising kids without that support is more difficult than I ever could have imagined.

Jen:  Maybe your sister could move to Iowa?

Lauren:  We actually tried that…

It just didn’t take! She has a really amazing group of friends that have been close since jr. high.

She had a serious boyfriend who she ended up marrying… and he works for the Air Force base in Tulsa…

And his enormous family is all in that area….

So she’s pretty much there for life.

Jen:  So what’s holding you in Iowa?

Jobs, house, a million things, probably.

Lauren:  For the time being, yes —

Brian’s very decent pay at a not-so-great job, and our house.

But yeah — I don’t think I anticipated as a kid the amount of PULL my relationship with my sister would have on my adult life.

I think it was after HS when we were apart that we realized how much we like being around each other, so when we lived together in college it was like roomie heaven!

Jen:  Right. I would never have imagined that my adult life would be so deeply intertwined with my family.

Lauren:  She taped American Idol for me and we even shared a car for awhile without fighting.

Jen:  I put a picture of Lance Armstrong in my sister’s locker at work. We sent in an audition tape to The Amazing Race. I am trying to convince Tyler to move into my older sister’s neighborhood.

I eat dinner with parents or siblings (mine or Tyler’s) at least once a week.

Lauren:  My sister is the only other person in my life who I just never get sick of.

I don’t get tired of talking to her, hanging with her, etc.

(Other than my husband, is what I mean.)

Jen:  So, did our parents do something that made us connect with our sibs this way? Or would it have happened regardless?

Lauren:  I don’t remember my parents placing a particular emphasis on the bonds of siblings.

They were close to their sibs but we didn’t live near my aunts/uncles so I never had that modeled for me.

Jobs took us away from family pretty early on in my life, so it was all phone calls.

Jen:  My parents have always been very insistent on everybody showing up for one another: if there was a birthday or a graduation or some event, you were required to BE THERE. And if you were living out of state, you called. It was expected.

Maybe after a while, all that mandatory attendance tipped over into us actually knowing each other and valuing that?

Lauren:  I think that explicit messages about the importance of family make a lot of sense.

Otherwise, how would we have anyone on our side when we do stupid shit or make a big mistake?

You know? When we get depressed and alienate all our friends and smell bad, who is going to dig us out of that?

I really want my kids to understand that we value family in a way that goes beyond mere liking.

(’cause otherwise we’d have some real problems with members of our extended families!)

Jen:  Right.

And I think as we grow up and change and our identities shift, our friends and peers are often around only for a small piece of who we are. But our families are there for the long haul. They see ALL of us.

Lauren:  Yes

Exactly. Through thick/thin, with a full appreciation of all our complexities.

Which is probably why those relationships are so satisfying as adults. I don’t have any adult friends (other than Brian!) with that depth of connection.

Jen:  Right. And I value my relationships with my sisters-in-law too, even though they don’t have the same amount of history, they are there for the not-so-pretty parts of family life.

Lauren:  Totally.

Plus, I appreciate that my brother-in-law appreciates how fantastic my sister is.

Any mega-fan of her is a friend of mine.

Jen:  Right on

Lauren:  That was basically my wedding toast for them.

Funny stories, then stories about how brilliant my sister is, then complimenting my BIL for having such good taste.

Jen:  In my sister’s wedding toast I talked about how we all listened to my now brother in law’s voice mail at work and evaluated whether or not she should call him back.

Lauren:  Haha

Awesome!

My sister was the first person I called when I decided to quit grad school.

She was the first person who knew I was pregnant (I was visiting, out of town, and Brian wasn’t there).

Jen:  And actually, they met because a childhood friend of my older sister’s ran into my mom at the grocery store, heard from my mom that my little sister was single, and then fixed her up with a guy from work (now my brother in law).

I gave birth to Lucy 2 days after their wedding.

Lauren:  Aw!

Jen:  I was the most pregnant bridesmaid ever.

Lauren:  I was pregnant at my sister’s wedding, too.

I found out right after the engagement, so she had me pick a dress first and then the rest of them matched up to me.

Jen:  So: sisters (and brothers, based on my experience) are awesome, and if our girls don’t grow up to love each other intensely, we will have failed as parents?

Lauren:  Pretty much

I mean, I would be devastated if that happened.

But, it seems like that is unlikely!

Jen:  Agreed.

Lauren:  I do expect some bumps along the way

Namely, puberty

But otherwise, I think R&H will be BFF most of the time.

Jen:  I think it’s okay if it’s a bumpy road. And I’m even okay with them not being BFF. I just want them to grow up knowing that no matter what else is fucked up in their world, they have sisters they can rely on.

Sisters 4 Life

Lauren:  Definitely.

And, I would like to be able to model that for them in person

Rather than just tell them stories about it

Jen:  So in conclusion: you and your sister need to live in the city, and I need to go see my new niece again because this conversation is really making me want to be with my sister and her tiny new baby right now.\

the same city.

You and your sister.

What happened to my typing skills?

Lauren:  Yes, I might move back to Oklahoma to be with her, and that is REALLY saying something!

Enjoy your niece. I’m totally jealous!

There are babies everywhere and spring is a notoriously pregnancy inducing time for me.

Jen:  YOU SHOULD TOTALLY HAVE ANOTHER BABY.

and with that unsolicited possibly terrible advice, I have to go teach my class.

Lauren:  If I didn’t get sick for 5 months straight, and then have kids who didn’t sleep?

I totally would.

Jen: I should go teach my class.

Lauren: OK! Great chat. TTYL!

Jen: TTYL!

What about you? What is your rel with your sister or siblings? What does family mean to you? How did your relationship to your brothers and sisters shape your idea of what kind of family you’d like to have?