Emotional Eating

In my twenties, I spent more time at my grandparents' house than your average, single globe-trotter. Their home in Arizona was one of the few places I could go for respite. I'd float around with my grandma at the pool, go golfing with my grandpa, and 'visit'. I'd come with a belly full of cookies ready to throw myself back into my uncertain world of trying to find a career and a life partner.

Important side note: This blog wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for my grandparents. My grandpa was one of the few people who encouraged my writing. As my adoring blog readers know, the writing itself isn't my forte. Voice is strong - yes. Photos are on point - thanks Paul! But punctuation, etc - I mean can you even use a '-' like that? 

Back to the point, my grandpa once made a comment about how one day "I might be writing about my life." I don't remember the context but it was a vote a confidence because writing has never been something at which I was naturally gifted. (See, I didn't end that sentence with a preposition. But was it wordy? yes.) 

I started the blog as a single person, took a long break once coupled, and didn't start again until covid. My grandma was locked down, like most grandparents, so I fired back up the blog in an attempt to entertain her. I started posting every week or so. After I had 3-4 posts, I'd print them off, maybe add some kid art, and send them to her in the mail. 

Now my grandma is in her last days. My dad just showed her the last little Biggs' masterpieces I sent. In my current 'happy chaos', I won't be able to make it to say goodbye while she is still alive or likely even attend any kind of memorial. So I'm coping in a way she would approve - baking cookies.

I'm using "her" recipe. Which is to say, one day while visiting Arizona I asked her for her recipe. She told me to go into the kitchen and grab the chocolate chips. Yup, she used the recipe right on the back of the yellow package all those years. Toll House Original 

My kitchen helper was happy to do a run to the grocery store across the street for butter:

It never gets old living in a place where you can give your illiterate seven-year old 20 bucks and ask him to come back with butter and some tea. Hugo: "I can't reach the tea. I'll just ask someone to get me a package with the tree logo that says 'black'."

Once he got home, he got totally distracted taking apart our broken vacuum cleaner. 

But he'd done his part.

Crosby was happy to take over once some other "power tools" were involved:

I made a triple batch with the intention of using cookies as my 'ticket' in the door to see a new baby brother born to Carmen's bestie. Also, we currently have no heating in our building - again - so running the oven helps. My neighbor Val came over to bring homemade brown sugar and help me mix the dough after I sent her this picture to show my awesome spacial reasoning skills.

Triple batch was still a good life choice even if the mixing was a challenge.

This is the point in the post where I should put a photo of happy kids with chocolate all over their faces. But this post, just like grieving, is incomplete. I'll leave you with one of my favorite photos of my Grandma giving me the "something borrowed" on the happiest day of my life.

I love you Grandma. I'll miss you.

Book Report: Everybody Fights

There is so much fighting at Casa Biggs. It's mostly between the kids and me with Robin playing the roll as International Peace Observer. 

The littles are going to be crushed when she leaves in a couple weeks.

The good news is that all three little Biggs have no problem expressing their emotions or communicating their wants. The bad news - well, it is a lot for my only-child peacemaker husband. I'm exasperated, "why can't you get in the fight?" and he's more, "how do we live in peace?". The truth is, contrary to the title of this book, not everybody fights. 

Some, ahem enneagram nines, just avoid conflicts all together. But, fighting is my love language. (half joking) As an enneagram eight, if you aren't challenging me - it doesn't really seem like you're in the game. And so, I read this book in an effort to glean some skills for how to get Paul to fight with me in a way that might be more palatable for him.

The book emphasizes some of the classic relationship conflict advice. Wait for everyone to cool down after the fight to discuss.  Practice active listening - "this is what I heard you say...". Don't tell anyone to "calm down" - instead kindly acknowledge that "this is hard". There are also more gems disclosed during entertaining audiobook banter. These are the top three take-aways that I'd like to employ with my sparring partners:

1. Treat your partner as you would an (American) stranger. 

In Berlin people just give each other questioning stairs. But in the US you make eye contact, greet the person, and maybe even exchange a compliment. I'm often so distracted that I don't do this properly with my people. Also, I've decided after another morning of bleary-eyed stare downs with Berlin strangers, I'm just going to start greeting people on the street. 

"Good day fellow Berliner! Yes, my child is asleep in my bike on-top of a bunch of ballon animals."

2. Tell me more - the new magic words

I get frustrated with Paul that he doesn't tell me what he wants. One of the traits of the enneagram nine is they are generally fine with anything. Don't bother asking where they want to go to dinner. As an eight, I should be happy about getting my way. But I'm mostly just confused - how do you really not know what you want? Nevertheless, when Paul does tell me something he wants, I am too quick to shoot it down. Mostly it's because the idea often adds more work for me. However, if I really want to understand what he wants then I need to ask him to "tell me more".  

3. Make your 'thank yous' more specific

Many days - as Paul as heading out the door - I say, "Thanks for making the monies." But the book recommends mentioning the specific sacrifice the person made and the benefit to you. So I will add, "I appreciate that you work hard so I can stay home blogging and napping off my oncoming cold." Speaking of which, I need to get on today's second goal. Carmen can't have all the fun.