Failing to Reach the Next Cairn

 Today a good friend suggested I am spoiling my kids by buying them little things in preparation for each hour of our drive to and from Pennsylvania to visit my dad (who just had surgery for bladder cancer). She clarified that she knew how much I wanted to give them, just that it is hard to top oneself next time. A neighbor shared the work she was doing to help another neighbor who is moving (it is really thoughtful!), while I sat and ate my lunch, not lifting a finger. Yesterday, my husband asked if I could have dinner ready earlier on days when I agreed to host a writers workshop events (which makes good sense). Just prior to that I read three stories in preparation for the workshop and of course they were better then anything I feel capable of (I know we will hear from these folks in a public way soon).

Each exchange seems to be like a cairn piling in my gut, reaching upwards towards my throat. I want to justify my own inadequacy with some excuse, but I am so tired of seeing myself as a failure. I feel like I am a life-size laminated paper doll [like Flat Stanley], that is on display, but has no flesh. I think I could change this if. . . 

- I had thick skin and a good mantra. 

- I could genuinely say something like, "I am so glad for you and what you do." 

- I had a blanket comeback for myself like, "I'm just an organic personality" or "I am feeling a bit chaotic today, so I hope you can excuse me."

I could become one of those spewers of my accomplishments or just cut people off (myself mainly) regarding my buying toys with, "I am trying to recreate a memorable experience I had as a child" or "The toys every hour are for me and I am counting on my kids being strong enough to not assume that I will top this next time," or that there will even be a next time. The alternative is I could take them back and we could just drive 8 hours on Friday and back 8 on Tuesday.

The reason for a toy an hour (mind you, they are all a dollar or two) is because when I was sixteen, I was in an initiation where we were tasked with keeping a fire burning all night and each hour we got to open a package. They were plastic animals, anchovy pizza, and random things like that, but it was a marking of time and I loved being in that adventure. So here are presents for our own family adventure, which will be made up of a lot of driving. Presents will probably breed discontent, wanting more and a sense of letdown later as I don't plan to top it next time, but I will attempt to engage now and hope that I have grace for the mistakes I make.