To Know or Not

My son called the other day and informed me that I will have a granddaughter come November. Aside from being honored by the call, I found the conversation exciting and odd. The excitement erupted from reflecting back on my two daughters during their preschool days and the great times we had, with the expectation that I get to do it again with the next generation. The oddness was due largely to knowing my granddaughter’s gender in advance of her being born.

I never thought of myself as being old fashioned, especially since retro is in. But, there’s something about not knowing until the moment, which stops us from putting too many presumptions in place before we meet the new princess. I suppose there are still many things to learn like whether she will be pretty in pink, or wear a baseball cap like every other tomboy.

There will also be new rules, as her parents try to figure out how to raise her better than we parents raised them. Some things won’t change, as I’ll probably pass my figurative shotgun onto my son once she turns 12, so he can hold off the boys for a few more years.

One rule that some couples request is neutrally colored outfits instead of the typical blue and pink. However, putting a boy in a neutral yellow is not kosher in my book. Nor is putting a little girl in blue, as too often the parents will have to listen to strangers make comments about their little boy. Or, watch the stranger awkwardly try to say something palatable when they can’t figure out the gender living in the green jumpsuit.

It’s so much easier for distant relatives and strangers to see the child in clothing that communicates gender. Besides, aren’t babies too young for the debate surrounding theoretical signifiers of sex deconstruction associated with consumerism? Well, maybe not, but certainly it’s beyond their initial vocabulary.

I found that knowing gender this far in advance moved up certain conversations, like my sister and I talking about how we both knew it was going to be a girl. After all, my gut did reveal the gender of all three of my kids without the use of an ultrasound. And no, I’m not suggesting we pitch technology and return to the days of finding water with witching sticks.

Having a granddaughter in the making is a great honor and very intriguing. I can’t wait to sit on those little chairs sipping afternoon tea from a plastic cup, while eating rubber crumpets. Or, joking around, while we lay on the floor building skyscrapers with her Lego pieces, as she develops her hand eye coordination and architectural artistry.

Then come all the thoughts of her potential career, motherhood, and hobbies. Will she be able to sing or play an instrument? How will she do in school or… Do you see what I mean? Some of these thoughts never happened this early before the day of ultrasounds.

The one thing that makes me chuckle is that I no longer have to think of her as a baby, but now a baby girl. We’ve moved out of the “it” stage and into the “she or her” stage. And, once she’s born and the parents finally give up her name, we can call her by her personal name that will reflect many aspects of who she will become.

Let’s just hope they don’t call her Solar Powers, Super Powers, or Vera Powers (A past relative’s name). More importantly, let’s hope the new parents yell the name out the back door several times to see how it comes across, as many names have failed that test over the years. And, since this is the day of the Internet, it might be prudent to purchase her domain name in advance so she has lots of options ahead of her. Who would have thought?

Over all, I’m good with knowing it’s a girl before she’s born. In fact, the sooner she has a name, the sooner I can start a college fund to help her parents pay her future tuition of $76,406 per year at a private university like her parents attended. Based on many universities shifting to five-year programs it totals $382,030. Maybe I’ll ask my distant relatives to start funds to help as well.

Copyright © 2011 By CJ Powers
Photo © reflektastudios – Fotolia.com

We Need to Talk

There are four words that most men dread – “We need to talk.” These words strike at the very core fabric of a man. They are words that might alter his destiny or at a minimum, stop his immediate plans regardless of how important. They are words that hit his gut with the most uncomfortable feeling of failure.

The negative response that men experience when they hear those four words is significant enough to change his approach to the one speaking, or even drive him to avoid them. Unfortunately, that visceral response is not healthy for the relationship. Then again, neither are the four words.

It doesn’t matter if the one sharing those words is a boss or a spouse, in either case the knee jerk reaction will not be conducive for bettering or furthering the relationship. So, why do people use those words?

I’ve noticed that the vast majority of the time when a person speaks out, “We need to talk,” they are doing so after pondering an unresolved issue for an extended period of time. They were either stewing on the situation or building up the courage to face their partner about their role in the issue at hand.

This drummed up energy used in expressing the issue, does nothing more than undermine the person they desire help or change from. In other words, it’s like cutting down the person before asking them for a favor. But, how else can a person share the same sentiment without kicking the other person in the gut?

Rarely do we desire to purposely hurt the person that we need to talk to about an important issue. What we actually want to do is share our hurt feelings about the situation, which should kick off the conversation with us saying, “I need you to understand how I feel.”

This variation is critically important, as it takes the focus off of the one who disrupted our harmony and places it on the one who is hurting. This shift would make the core of the conversation about a hurt person, not a bad person. And, if the conversation is about a hurt person, it would be reasonable to expect some level of empathy from a caring partner or friend. However, if the conversation is about a bad person, expecting any level of empathy would be foolish.

By taking responsibility for how we communicate, we can understand why we are heard or not heard. When we know a person is not listening to us, instead of writing them off, we can try to find out how we communicated the very thing that pushed them away like the words, “We need to talk.”

Some say that phrase is made up of just words and it’s the person’s unhealthy background that causes their internal nightmare. As a result, some would suggest that they shouldn’t have to change their approach. To a degree, that’s true. However, consider the fact that you may have turned the person off from hearing your heart. Is that what you want? That is not to say that some just won’t listen no matter what you do, but managing our word choice will increase the odds that he or she will hear us.

Please keep in mind that society changes the connotation of words over time like the word gay, which once meant a lively mood. Frankly, I’ve found it easier to speak the common vernacular than it is to wait for a person to learn how to get past the emotionally charged words in order to listen to me.

It’s your choice. Do you want to be heard and understood today or in a dozen years?

In working with hurting people over the past seven years, I can tell you that their goal is not to take down the one who angered them, but to be understood. I’ve noticed that when one person shares their hurt feelings, the other many times steps up to change their behavior so it never happens again. I’ve also noticed that when a person tells another what is wrong with them, they become defensive and seldom change.

If we share our feelings, it’s up to the other person to be an adult and change their behavior to protect us, although some won’t. However, if we cut them down or put them in their place, their visceral response is likely to be defensive, which I’ve never seen lead to change.

We have the choice. We can either drop the nasty four words from our vocabulary, share our feelings openly, and watch changed behaviors develop, or, we can use emotionally charged words to get that terrible built up feeling off our chest and watch our partner defend themselves – Locking into their negative behavior more permanently.

I’m looking for a relationship where I can share my honest and open feelings without rejection or emotional attacks. And, I’ve learned it starts with my approach and the avoidance of the words, “We need to talk.”

Copyright © 2011 By CJ Powers
Photo © Eric Simard – Fotolia.com

A Sanctuary of Memories

The large oak tree swayed as a gentle breeze trickled through its branches, revealing a bird’s nest. Poking its little head out for the first time was a baby robin stretching its beak for food. His belly was grumbling and he instinctively knew his mother was seconds away.

“Having a sense that good things come from mothers is what everyone longs for,” thought Joey as he stepped back from the orphanage window. He had watched the robin wait patiently for her little ones to hatch and then took off to capture their first meal. He longed for that same patience, but found that the older he got, the fewer and farther between were his visits with potential parents.

“Why did adopting parents always gravitate toward the quiet and cute little girls?” Joey asked himself. He knew his cynicism was on the rise and something needed to be done before his meeting with the first couple he had seen in three months. Oh, he could put on a show if need be, but surging through his 12 year old frame was a passion for being authentic.

Joey was desperate for a home, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to live a life of lies or pretense. Nor did his questioning spirit want to get in line with the sugary sweetness that most desired. He was growing into manhood and desired to live like the man he wanted to be. After all, the teen years for Joey were all about practicing for manhood.

Joey walked back over to the window and watched the mother bird feed her young. He realized that the little bird was well taken care of and had a place to stay – A sanctuary of sorts. Joey gently bit his bottom lip and acknowledged his thankfulness for the orphanage. He laughed at the thought that one day he too would fly the coop.

Future career ideas and hobbies flowed through Joey’s mind. Within minutes he was filled with joy and looking forward to what might be ahead. An early knock on the door snapped Joey out of his dream. It was time to meet another prospective family.

The living area was appropriately appointed for a room used to acquire donations from all who entered. It was a simple room with little to offer except for an over stuffed chair that men typically plopped into and a Victorian coach for the women or children paying a visit. The orphanage director sat in an upright chair moved into place from the dinning room.

Ms. Claire Wilson, the director for the past 17 years, shared her rehearsed welcome with the Snyders. Two small girls sat quietly with their hands folded nicely on their laps, as if their behavior might determine how long they stayed in the facility. Mr. Snyder was running his hand across the well-worn leather upholstery and Mrs. Snyder was paying devote attention to every word.

“And, that is why I feel Joey would be a good fit for your family,” concluded Claire.

“Oh, yes, I can certainly see that,” remarked Mrs. Snyder.

“What about chores?” insisted Mr. Snyder.

“In what way do you ask, sir?” questioned Claire.

“I don’t want some agency taking our boy away because of some labor law,” barked Mr. Snyder. “Everyone in the family pitches in to make ends meet and see to the needs of the house with vacuuming, taking out the trash and other domestic duties.”

“There is nothing wrong with you requiring Joey to help out around the house and no one will come after you for breaking child labor laws,” affirmed Claire.

All eyes turned toward Joey as he entered the room. He looked cute as he carefully stepped toward Mrs. Snyder like a shy little boy. He stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t play that game, especially since it wasn’t his style. He only wanted a family that would love him for who he was, not based on their fantasy developed from too much TV.

“I’m a ruff and tumble kind of guy,” announced Joey in a bold voice. “I have manners, but I’m not a little girl and won’t sit still.”

The two little girls looked up at Joey with a smile on their face. Mr. Snyder raised an eyebrow and looked Joey in the eyes.

“I’m 12 and don’t need a babysitter or anyone treating me like a child,” clarified Joey. “I will one day be an engineer and I only want parents who can help me fulfill my dream, while allowing me to love them with all of my heart.”

“Well,” gasped Mrs. Snyder. “He certainly knows what he wants in life.”

Claire shot Joey a look.

Joey recognized the signal for him to settle down. He knew that the director was tired of his rambunctious attitude around the orphanage. He also knew that he’d receive another whooping if he blew it again, although she wouldn’t care if he messed up after arriving at his new home.

Taking a deep breath, Joey set forth to apologize. “I’m sorry for…”

“Non-sense my boy,” Mr. Snyder interrupted. “He’ll do fine, not like the wimp we visited last week.”

Joey’s eyes lit up. Did he hear it right? Was Mr. Snyder interested in him, not a cutie who was sure to capture the heart of a mom?

Twenty years later…

“Mr. Snyder,” called out the new restaurant owner. “Your dad’s retirement party is up and running.”

The engineer turned to the owner, stepping away from the sign: “Snyder and Son Architecture and Engineering.”

“It’s Joey, please call me Joey.”

“You can finish taking down the sign tomorrow,” said the owner. “Our grand opening isn’t until next weekend.”

The owner patted Joey on the back, as they headed inside.

Hours into the party, people chatted around every table, while a jazz band filled the air with joyful sounds. Off to the side stood Joey, peering out the big picture window over looking the bird sanctuary. Mr. Snyder came along side of him.

“Son, my greatest dream came true in watching you achieve your dreams. I hope this project helped you feel fulfilled.”

“I’m standing in about the same place I did the day you and mom came to adopt me,” reminisced Joey. “There was a little bird up on that branch…”

A robin flew into view and landed on the branch Joey was pointing at. Little baby birds lifted their beaks out of a nest, as the mother bird fed them a worm.

“Another generation of blessings,” smiled Joey.

“I’m proud of you son. Only your vision would have seen the old orphanage converted into a supper club, not to mention cutting a deal with the forest preserve to turn the back acreage into a protected sanctuary for birds.”

“This place was my sanctuary for a time, but I’m so happy you decided to love me,” Joey spoke in a soft voice.

“Son, you were easy to love, especially as we shared the same passion for the family business,” encouraged Mr. Snyder. “So son, what will you call this place?”

“A sanctuary of memories,” Joey mused.

Copyright © 2011 By CJ Powers
Photo © mtruchon – Fotolia.com