Most senior classes have superlatives--as in "most likely to succeed" and the like. I am very proud to say that I am BFF's with the 1996 class of Stauntan, VA's high school's "Most popular" girl. My graduating class, consisting of 50 people or so, was too cool for superlatives. We did, however, do crystal ball predictions based on people's personalities. In a very tongue-in-cheek prediction, the 1996 GDS Prowler (and yes, I was on the yearbook staff, thank you very much) predicted that I would become a mime. I suppose this would be a joke on how I never shut up. It can better be explained that on Grandparents Day in Kindergarten I walked up to a group of grandparents, threw my arms to the wind and said, "My name is Elizabeth Johnson. Shy--I'm not!" (This scene is only trumped by my first grade Thanksgiving Pageant as most embarrassing elementary school memory. Everyone went to the front of the room, in front of parents and giant video cameras to say what they were thankful for. Most kids said things like, "my family," "my Mom," "sunshine". When Mrs. Watkins asked me what I was most thankful for, I stepped forward, put my hands on my hips and said, "I'm thankful for Chris Stanley.")
So it has always been a joy of mine to say exactly what I'm thinking. Particularly when it shocks people, even better when it gets a laugh. Most assuredly, I was thankful for Chris Stanley. Easily the cutest boy in my class, and he was my boyfriend in kindergarten which amounted to us holding hands in the bus on the way to the Greensboro Historical Museum and him kissing me on the cheek one day behind the slide.
This non-filtering usually serves me well. I'll say what everyone else is thinking, we'll all laugh, and then we can get down to the business of being authentic with one another because I've already told you that horrifying story about Chris Stanley. Or conversation will get tense, or sad, or just a little too real, so I'll bust out a "That's what she said!" and all is well. As my dear friend Dolly puts it, in this way, I'm sooo dependable.
But sometimes it does not serve me well. When you put out a "that's what she said!" you are looking for a laugh. Not silence and the sudden realization that you've just made an inappropriate comment about a basketball with your son's speech therapy teacher. (Not that that has happened or anything....) It was with this knowledge that I entered into our second adoption interview.
I did okay. More than okay I think. We were candid. I only teared up when talking about how much I love this child we're waiting for and his or her birth mother already so much. And I never cut Sloan off. That is the difficult thing about the conjoint interview. I'm a quick thinker. Sloan prefers to sit with a question for awhile. So our case worker would ask a question and I'd have to force myself to pause, looking at Sloan, bouncing my feet up and down as I was willing him to hurry up and say something. But he did talk. He's in sales and quite frankly, my dear husband has been known to make ME look quiet.
Our favorite question was when she asked about our marriage. Specifically when she asked what we thought were our marriage's strengths and weaknesses. I looked at Sloan. Sloan said, "Ugh, I hate this question." Our case worker laughed. We talked about how our strengths and weaknesses were different sides of the same coin--neither Sloan nor I am afraid on conflict and we both have pretty sarcastic senses of humor. There is much freedom in knowing you can be wrong and you can say whatever you want and you will still be loved. Conversely, I've been known to say some pretty dumb things. Hurtful things. Because, shy--I'm not! And Sloan has been known to crack an unwelcome joke or two in the midst of a heated discussion. And so we spoke of how we wanted to get better at conflict. Specifically, to communicate better. This proves difficult as half of the time I am wanting Sloan to be a mind reader. (Because it doesn't count if I say I want him to help me clean the kitchen. I want him to want to help me clean the kitchen. Cue video clip from the movie The Break Up.)
It was at this point we got our case worker laughing so hard she started crying because we spoke about that stupid "Speaker-Listener" technique the pastor who married us tried to teach us in our pre-marital counseling. I also spent a good deal of time with the technique in seminary classes. You know the technique where you listen to your spouse for understanding and say back to them things like, "What I hear you saying is this....."
Sloan and I have found that listening to the other person in an argument interferes with coming up with really good zingers to prove our points and manipulate the situation to get our own way. And when I've tried using it, it has been met with a "Don't you throw that speaker-listener crap at me. You know darn well what I just said..." I think it was that confession that really got the case worker laughing.
Oh well. We were just trying to keep it real.
Sloan has his personal interview on Friday. Mine is next Tuesday and then we have our home visit Thursday morning. Hopefully those interviews won't last twice as long as our case worker estimated. (Did I mention I never shut up? Shy--I'm not!)
No comments:
Post a Comment