I'm not a scrooge, I swear. It's just that I really don't care about a lot of the conventional structures and traditions of a materialistic consumer society. (I type as my gaze drifts to the cheesy wrapping paper strewn across the floor by my child in an effort to view her gifts in the best possible light of the gray morning.) That, and I'm lazy.
Being lazy isn't something that anyone likes to admit, but it's time that I own up. Of the five years I have lived here we had a real tree three of those Christmases. Our first Christmas here, Em's dad was still a bigger part of my life and he was here to haul the tree in, and then when it was all over, haul it back out to the curb when all was said and done. By the time our second Christmas rolled around, he wasn't here as much. So, the tree made it up and decorated about two days before Christmas. When February rolled around it was still set up. So I did what any sleep-deprived, single, impatient, lazy mother would do and moved it out onto the back porch. Where it stayed for another month until my dear friend Miles came to visit. Miles is like a house elf. You leave for work and when you get home the dishes are done, the stains in the carpet are gone, and so is the Christmas tree. As embarassing as still having a Christmas tree in March may have been, you would think I would have learned my lesson, right? Apparently not. The third Christmas, something very similar happened, except instead of Miles or some other blessed soul coming along to the rescue, I got a warning letter from the landlords saying something to the extent of: "Dear Tenant, while we understand people have busy lives it is utterly ridiculous that your tree is still on your back porch. It's March for cryin out loud, what the hell are you thinking? It's a fire hazard. Get your lazy ass out there and take care of it, chump. But don't put it in the dumpster or we will fine your ass. Happy Spring, and thank you for renting from us." What's a carless Mama to do? (Although I felt much better upon noticing that there were at least four other apartments in the same predicament as me...) I couldn't put it in the dumpster. Correction, I couldn't put it in MY dumpster. So naturally, after a beer or two too many, my friend and I, decked out in black, hauled it to the other apartment complex's dumpster in the middle of the night. I know, I know, how immature but it was fun. And really, how amused would you be to take your garbage out in late March and find a tree there? I would be thrilled. It's like a little reminder of all the holiday joy you shared with your family. Or-if your like me-a nice metaphor for the stress headache you accumulated during the holiday and how you need to let it go, trash it, dump it, just say bye-bye to it.
Last year I thought I was out-smarting my laziness and refusal to dispose of trees and I bought a cheap plastic one instead. First of all, it smelled like plastic, not that awesome pine smell. And it just looked stupid. But I was able to just fold it up and put it in my outdoor storage shed, and did so before the end of January, until the next year. That would be this year.
Now it is at this point I should remind anyone who may be reading that I have the worlds most successful mother when it comes to passing on paranoia and anxiety. My mother is totally convinced that there are mice in the storage units. And she very well could be right. She is also very sure that I will contract the deadly Hanta virus from these supposed creatures that may or may not be there. And she points this out every time the subject of that damn shed comes up. I usually do a pretty good impression of the disgusted teenage daughter with my eye roll and "yeah mom, got it."
This year, Emily and I are sipping hot cocoa, listening to christmas music, and excited to decorate. I pull the tree out of storage, carefully listening for the pitter patter of little rodent feet. I pull the tree inside, set it up and we decorate. Then my mothers paranoid voice pops into my head, yet again, with the anxiety stemming from the possibility of mice in the storage. Because naturally that would mean we are all going to die from the Hanta virus. I look over to the sliding glass door and see little specs on the carpet. Oh dear god, no. Mouse poop. Little turdlets that I can only assume have fallen out of the tree and are now on my carpet, not to mention the little Hanta germies all over my hands and clothes, and Emily. So I, being rational, flip the fuck out, throw the tree on the back porch, make Emily wash her hands, strip her clothes and shower off. I vaccum about five hundred times. Emily finds one more on the carpet, picks it up and says "I found one Momma!" Ack! Noooo! Red alert! Red alert! "Emily, put that down right now and go wash your hands again!" She ignores me and instead starts laughing hysterically at me. I am confused, I can't figure out why. She puts her hand on her hip, screws up her face into her best 17 and smarter than you expression and says "Mom! This is bark dust from the plant you tripped over on the way in with the tree! Gimme a break!"
Oh. Haha. I knew that.
Now, the day after Christmas, I yet again have a tree on my back porch. It's plastic and smells bad and is sitting in the exact spot it landed when I threw it out the door in my hanta-horror. I wonder how long it will be there this year...
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Confessions of a closeted 14 year old girl
So, sharing my child with her other parent is one big learning experience after another. A lesson in patience here, logic and reasoning there, and then there are times when I am just left confused as to why anyone would think certain things he does are a good idea.
Example: Letting a 5 year old watch High School Musical, Hannah Montana, Sonny With a Chance, or Grease.
Now, some of the above, such as Grease, may be a classic that we all remember singing along to growing up, however, the thing to emphasize here is that when I watched Grease, I was old to know what a virgin is, and get that they were saying Sandra D is a nerd for not going "to bed till she's legally wed", and also stable enough in my own opinions to think that was rather callous of them to sing about in public when the poor girl needed a friend. It was funny though, and catchy and overall a good movie. But. Not coming out of my sweet little girls mouth. Have you ever watched the faces of people in the grocery store when they are ogling at the fact your five year old is dancing around singing "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity, Won't go to bed till I'm legally wed, I can't, I'm Sandra Dee, Watch it, hey, I'm Doris Day, I was not brought up that way..." while she swoons over the Robert Pattinson display? It really makes people question your parenting ability at times. Actually, screw other people, it makes me question it too. It is just a little nerve-crawling, teeth-grinding inducingingly creepy to hear out of her mouth.
Let's move on to the Disney pop princesses now shall we? Now, originally, I was tolerant of Hannah Montana. The content was, while being developmentally WAY older than five years old, decent for the most part. The thing I have a problem with is the whole sending messages to my beautiful, unique little girl about how she should look and act to fit in. Because that is just bull shit. (That is also a blog topic for another time. One I do believe I have touched on in the past, here. ) The thing that really annoys me now is that they all are little rock stars in the making. With those crappy, pop, catchy songs that get stuck in my head so damn easily. Most of them most likely didn't write their own songs, probably don't know how to play the bass guitar they are clutching in that music video, and by the way, thanks for teaching a new way to waggle your hips to my tiny little dancer. (I am comforted by the fact that Emily will also croon along with Dean Martin, wail along with the Beatles, and can rock along with Ani DiFranco too)
But I have a confession to make. I secretly enjoy some of it. *gasp*. Not because I think it is GOOD, people, but because it is so easy to dance all sloppy like around my living room to. Emily and I have dance-time when we are too amped up or sad or angry or frustrated, where we turn off the lights and dance. For someone who isn't a dancer or a singer, some of this crap is really easy to move to. In private. NEVER in public. And, while I am being honest and confessing, I, against my will, get sucked into those evil little shows. It dawned on me last night as Emily and I were watching Wizards of Waverly Place (on YouTube, helping people too cheap or totally against paying for cable still get indoctrinated with the media's subtle brainwashing every day!) that I was laughing at the show! Granted, it was only a small chuckle, but it was enough to make it impossible to ignore that I was sucked into these adolescent plot lines and actually did want Sonny and Chad to FINALLY admit they like each other.
I'M DOOMED! There must be help for people like me somewhere, right? I mean, what if I can't shake it? What if I find myself late at night watching entire SEASONS of this crap, by myself? I will buy those teeny bopper magazines with the pictures of the latest, trendiest stars, and cut out pictures of my, I mean EMILY'S, favorite ones. I will purchase all of their cheaply produced albums, put them all on my ipod to bop along to everywhere I go, they will replace the Elliot Smith, the Patsy Cline, and the Weezer. (NOOoooo! Not the Weezer!) Will I end up as one of those Twilight Mom's that stormed the set of the latest greatest teen obsession to the extremity that they had to beef up on security to keep them away? I can see it now. I will just pop into Starbucks after dropping Em off at school for the day to get my non-fat no foam vanilla latte, and then on the sly, while everyone else thinks I am at a meeting, I will creep over to the super secret filming location where I meet up with my other crazed, stuck-in-their-adolesence moms. Together, in our skinny jeans and puffy jackets with fur around the collar, that we 'borrowed' out of our daughter's closets, we will stalk the stars of the show and sip latte's until we absolutely have to peel ourselves away to go pick up our children. But not before changing into our business suits and mussing our hair just enough to look like we have been stuck in a board room reviewing next year's budget. (Numbers always make my eyes glaze over and my brain go numb.) Emily will have no idea until she goes to retrieve that puffy jacket for a night out with her friends and finds the map to the set in the pocket and the magazine cut out of the hunky teenage star that will be half my age (worn at the edges and creased from gazing at it for hours on end, of course).
I can't let this happen to me! I have to get back to my bitter, "pop-culture is lame" self. I mean, I OWN SKINNY JEANS ALREADY! That is just another step closer. I must find some sort of outpatient recovery program that will prescribe hours of listening to the Pixies and Ramones, we will watch avant-garde films like Tank Girl, and sing rebellious, angry girl music around the camp fire. It may cost me the equivalent of four of those low budget bubble gum pop films, but it will be worth it in the end.
I fully intend to do this. Right after Vanessa leaves town. We have plans to see New Moon this weekend...
Don't judge. Or judge, but still LOoooOOOVe me despite my weaknesses.
Example: Letting a 5 year old watch High School Musical, Hannah Montana, Sonny With a Chance, or Grease.
Now, some of the above, such as Grease, may be a classic that we all remember singing along to growing up, however, the thing to emphasize here is that when I watched Grease, I was old to know what a virgin is, and get that they were saying Sandra D is a nerd for not going "to bed till she's legally wed", and also stable enough in my own opinions to think that was rather callous of them to sing about in public when the poor girl needed a friend. It was funny though, and catchy and overall a good movie. But. Not coming out of my sweet little girls mouth. Have you ever watched the faces of people in the grocery store when they are ogling at the fact your five year old is dancing around singing "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity, Won't go to bed till I'm legally wed, I can't, I'm Sandra Dee, Watch it, hey, I'm Doris Day, I was not brought up that way..." while she swoons over the Robert Pattinson display? It really makes people question your parenting ability at times. Actually, screw other people, it makes me question it too. It is just a little nerve-crawling, teeth-grinding inducingingly creepy to hear out of her mouth.
Let's move on to the Disney pop princesses now shall we? Now, originally, I was tolerant of Hannah Montana. The content was, while being developmentally WAY older than five years old, decent for the most part. The thing I have a problem with is the whole sending messages to my beautiful, unique little girl about how she should look and act to fit in. Because that is just bull shit. (That is also a blog topic for another time. One I do believe I have touched on in the past, here. ) The thing that really annoys me now is that they all are little rock stars in the making. With those crappy, pop, catchy songs that get stuck in my head so damn easily. Most of them most likely didn't write their own songs, probably don't know how to play the bass guitar they are clutching in that music video, and by the way, thanks for teaching a new way to waggle your hips to my tiny little dancer. (I am comforted by the fact that Emily will also croon along with Dean Martin, wail along with the Beatles, and can rock along with Ani DiFranco too)
But I have a confession to make. I secretly enjoy some of it. *gasp*. Not because I think it is GOOD, people, but because it is so easy to dance all sloppy like around my living room to. Emily and I have dance-time when we are too amped up or sad or angry or frustrated, where we turn off the lights and dance. For someone who isn't a dancer or a singer, some of this crap is really easy to move to. In private. NEVER in public. And, while I am being honest and confessing, I, against my will, get sucked into those evil little shows. It dawned on me last night as Emily and I were watching Wizards of Waverly Place (on YouTube, helping people too cheap or totally against paying for cable still get indoctrinated with the media's subtle brainwashing every day!) that I was laughing at the show! Granted, it was only a small chuckle, but it was enough to make it impossible to ignore that I was sucked into these adolescent plot lines and actually did want Sonny and Chad to FINALLY admit they like each other.
I'M DOOMED! There must be help for people like me somewhere, right? I mean, what if I can't shake it? What if I find myself late at night watching entire SEASONS of this crap, by myself? I will buy those teeny bopper magazines with the pictures of the latest, trendiest stars, and cut out pictures of my, I mean EMILY'S, favorite ones. I will purchase all of their cheaply produced albums, put them all on my ipod to bop along to everywhere I go, they will replace the Elliot Smith, the Patsy Cline, and the Weezer. (NOOoooo! Not the Weezer!) Will I end up as one of those Twilight Mom's that stormed the set of the latest greatest teen obsession to the extremity that they had to beef up on security to keep them away? I can see it now. I will just pop into Starbucks after dropping Em off at school for the day to get my non-fat no foam vanilla latte, and then on the sly, while everyone else thinks I am at a meeting, I will creep over to the super secret filming location where I meet up with my other crazed, stuck-in-their-adolesence moms. Together, in our skinny jeans and puffy jackets with fur around the collar, that we 'borrowed' out of our daughter's closets, we will stalk the stars of the show and sip latte's until we absolutely have to peel ourselves away to go pick up our children. But not before changing into our business suits and mussing our hair just enough to look like we have been stuck in a board room reviewing next year's budget. (Numbers always make my eyes glaze over and my brain go numb.) Emily will have no idea until she goes to retrieve that puffy jacket for a night out with her friends and finds the map to the set in the pocket and the magazine cut out of the hunky teenage star that will be half my age (worn at the edges and creased from gazing at it for hours on end, of course).
I can't let this happen to me! I have to get back to my bitter, "pop-culture is lame" self. I mean, I OWN SKINNY JEANS ALREADY! That is just another step closer. I must find some sort of outpatient recovery program that will prescribe hours of listening to the Pixies and Ramones, we will watch avant-garde films like Tank Girl, and sing rebellious, angry girl music around the camp fire. It may cost me the equivalent of four of those low budget bubble gum pop films, but it will be worth it in the end.
I fully intend to do this. Right after Vanessa leaves town. We have plans to see New Moon this weekend...
Don't judge. Or judge, but still LOoooOOOVe me despite my weaknesses.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Do I choose door number 1, 2 or 3?
My child is amazing. She astounds me on a daily basis with her wisdom and love for the world. Her innocent optimism infects me in the best kind of way. I want to fold myself around her and protect her from the things in this world that are going to try and teach her otherwise. What parent wants to watch the world take swing after swing at their babies? If I knew it would work without a) making my child hate me and b) turning me into one of those paranoid, overbearing parents that annoy me so much, I would totally try to ward off all the bad things.
This is one thing in my mind that just aboslutely sucks ass about being a parent. It is completely counter-intuitive to NOT protect our little ones, but in some instances where if we do, we are actually doing our children a huge disservice. Yes, that kid in the lunchroom who made fun of her food allergies set off the Mama Bear in me, but if I were to go and tell him what I really think of his attitude I would embarrass my child, she wouldn't have the opportunity to tell this brat to fuck off in her own little polite and diplomatic way she inherited from lord knows who, and I would probably be barred from the premises. Not to mention I would be setting her up, if this became a pattern, to believe that she doesn't have to know how to and feel comfortable sticking up for herself because there will always be someone there looking out for her best interests. Which, in my experience, is a big fat lie. No one looks out for my best interests other than me. And my mom, sometimes, when I let her. (But really, that is HER idea of MY best interest, which most often just frustrates me because, hello! I am not her! And I have a completely different idea of what my best interests are.)
Part of raising a child to be a capable and functioning individual is to help them learn how to deal with REAL life. And unfortunately, REAL life is painful and unfair, and gross sometimes. But something I am realizing more and more all the time is that because I am able to feel the pain, the disproportionate doling out of resources, and am still able to feel nauseated at the grossness, I am able to appreciate the beauty, the joy, the awesomeness. That being said, there are times when I watch Emily process one of those painful lessons about the world and it literally hurts to not sweep her up in my arms and lullaby the pain away, or tell her that things aren't REALLY the way they are. But at the end of the day, that little shit on the playground who bullied all the other kids to get the good toys still serves as a perfect example that some people on this earth really are selfish individuals, not just having a bad day.
I mean really. Let's examine my options here. 1) I could lie to her all her life about how rosy the world is and then she will spread her wings and go out on her own and BAM! the real world blinds her. 2) I could coddle her through it all, solve the problems for her, not let her do anything for herself and have that grown child in her 30's who hates me for never giving her the room to explore on her own but is too scared from absorbing MY fear and issues with the world that she won't want to give life a go her own way, even if I would let her. And then there is 3) where I try to strike a balance between protecting, or softening the blow and allowing her to try things on her own. Which I am told is the healthiest option by that little voice in my head.
Now, option one is kinda cool because it means that I also would get to pretend, for the next ten years or so, that life is coming up ROSES! I could ignore my own little issues and devote myself to making things nothing but happy and perfect for her. The downside being that, oh yeah, perfect doesn't exist, and even if it does somewhere, it's just more work than I think I am cut out for. Plus, I have friends who were raised in a family where this was the chosen route and boy howdy, can we say 'socially naive to the point of pain'? I don't want my daughter to be so naive when she is an adult that everything less than what I told her the world was causes her pain or confusion. Coming to grips with those situations are hard, whether you are a child or an adult. But the difference is, when you are a child, it is something like "Hey, that kid hasn't yet learned to think of others and is in turn, treating me like poo and taking all the good toys/crackers/swings and saying things that feel awful to hear." To which the supportive adults help her voice what sucks about the situation to that kid, and she learns how to stick up for herself. As an adult it is something more like "Hey, that shithead is selfish and the things he says are manipulative and abusive and degrading to me." Now, I don't know about anyone else but if my adult daughter encounters that second situation in life, which I really hope she never does, I want her to be able to fall back on those less painful situations from growing up that taught her to BELIEVE that she deserves better, and that while people can be shitty, it doesn't mean she has to tolerate them. I want her to know how to walk away and expect better, but not be naive in building her life around her.
And I have no doubt in my mind that I am fully capable of providing option number two. I find myself on the brink of it all the time. It's all innocent now, which is why it is so easy to want to do all the work for her. "You can't reach the napkins and don't want to sit up to do so? Oh, let me get one for you!" or "You can't simply muster the energy to put this pile of dirty clothes in the hamper ten feet down the hall? That's ok, I'll just take them on down, I need to do laundry anyhow." The problem with this is that the situation gradually gets less and less innocent or benign. "Your teacher has you sitting next to someone who cheats off your work and your getting in trouble for it? Well, I'll just march in there and tell him what I think about that" (this is fairly innocent and benign, but what is wrong with your child knowing how to speak up a little and say "I didn't LET him copy my paper!") and then before you know it has become "What? You didn't want to pay that bill four months in a row and now you have no heat? Oh, just let me pay for that for you even though I am broke broke broke!" I know this sounds extreme, but I have seen living examples of this, which is maybe why I am a wee bit sensitive about this one. There is nothing more frustrating to someone who has grown up having to work for what they have than to watch a grown adult not even try to make things work, and just expect that someone will be there to bail them out. I have no problem with help from parents when it is needed but this situation is way too extreme. The child can't stand the parents because they are overbearing, they fret about everything, and they make demands on how the child is living like they have a say. Which you know, if mom and dad are paying Juniors rent every month, maybe they kind of do. But Junior EXPECTS it and is so ungrateful and rude about it that it's painful to watch. Not to mention, what happens when mom and dad really can't fork out the money junior needs? Or talk that infuriated boss/friend/co-worker down? Junior has to be able to cope, yo!
Now, I know that I outline options one and two to the extreme. But bear with me. This brings us to option number three. There will always be situations in which it is appropriate to protect your child from something in life. This is the basis for movie ratings, car seats, and pasteurized dairy products on a very practical level. (Although, really, I couldn't see American Beauty because it was rated R, but I could watch Empire Records which was riddled with messages about gambling, drugs, sex and all sorts of subversive rebellious things that could have potentially given me all sorts of ideas...and have you watched Pee Wee Herman as an adult? Talk about adult content. Sheesh. But I digress). And there will also always be times when it is appropriate to do something for your child. I mean, maybe she really CAN'T reach the napkins, do you really want that neon colored cookie frosting all over your house? I didn't think so. And, what happens when your child DOES stick up to that bully and she gets in trouble for it? Because I know that when my daughter was shamed for asking someone to quit making fun of her lunch, I was more than happy to go to bat for her. I don't want anyone to tell her that it isn't ok to stick up for herself.
So here I am, dancing that balance. And hoping with all my might that I am a good enough balancing act to keep my childs therapy bills on the lower end when she has to work through all the trauma I cause. I can hear it now. "And then *sob* she just stood there while I fumbled for words when this kid *sob* said really awful things to me, and *hiccup* she made me tell him what I thought and felt before she would step in and tell him offfffffff! *more sobbing*"
If you need me, I'll be the parent in the back biting my nails while watching my child give that little snot who kicked her a lesson in what's what.
This is one thing in my mind that just aboslutely sucks ass about being a parent. It is completely counter-intuitive to NOT protect our little ones, but in some instances where if we do, we are actually doing our children a huge disservice. Yes, that kid in the lunchroom who made fun of her food allergies set off the Mama Bear in me, but if I were to go and tell him what I really think of his attitude I would embarrass my child, she wouldn't have the opportunity to tell this brat to fuck off in her own little polite and diplomatic way she inherited from lord knows who, and I would probably be barred from the premises. Not to mention I would be setting her up, if this became a pattern, to believe that she doesn't have to know how to and feel comfortable sticking up for herself because there will always be someone there looking out for her best interests. Which, in my experience, is a big fat lie. No one looks out for my best interests other than me. And my mom, sometimes, when I let her. (But really, that is HER idea of MY best interest, which most often just frustrates me because, hello! I am not her! And I have a completely different idea of what my best interests are.)
Part of raising a child to be a capable and functioning individual is to help them learn how to deal with REAL life. And unfortunately, REAL life is painful and unfair, and gross sometimes. But something I am realizing more and more all the time is that because I am able to feel the pain, the disproportionate doling out of resources, and am still able to feel nauseated at the grossness, I am able to appreciate the beauty, the joy, the awesomeness. That being said, there are times when I watch Emily process one of those painful lessons about the world and it literally hurts to not sweep her up in my arms and lullaby the pain away, or tell her that things aren't REALLY the way they are. But at the end of the day, that little shit on the playground who bullied all the other kids to get the good toys still serves as a perfect example that some people on this earth really are selfish individuals, not just having a bad day.
I mean really. Let's examine my options here. 1) I could lie to her all her life about how rosy the world is and then she will spread her wings and go out on her own and BAM! the real world blinds her. 2) I could coddle her through it all, solve the problems for her, not let her do anything for herself and have that grown child in her 30's who hates me for never giving her the room to explore on her own but is too scared from absorbing MY fear and issues with the world that she won't want to give life a go her own way, even if I would let her. And then there is 3) where I try to strike a balance between protecting, or softening the blow and allowing her to try things on her own. Which I am told is the healthiest option by that little voice in my head.
Now, option one is kinda cool because it means that I also would get to pretend, for the next ten years or so, that life is coming up ROSES! I could ignore my own little issues and devote myself to making things nothing but happy and perfect for her. The downside being that, oh yeah, perfect doesn't exist, and even if it does somewhere, it's just more work than I think I am cut out for. Plus, I have friends who were raised in a family where this was the chosen route and boy howdy, can we say 'socially naive to the point of pain'? I don't want my daughter to be so naive when she is an adult that everything less than what I told her the world was causes her pain or confusion. Coming to grips with those situations are hard, whether you are a child or an adult. But the difference is, when you are a child, it is something like "Hey, that kid hasn't yet learned to think of others and is in turn, treating me like poo and taking all the good toys/crackers/swings and saying things that feel awful to hear." To which the supportive adults help her voice what sucks about the situation to that kid, and she learns how to stick up for herself. As an adult it is something more like "Hey, that shithead is selfish and the things he says are manipulative and abusive and degrading to me." Now, I don't know about anyone else but if my adult daughter encounters that second situation in life, which I really hope she never does, I want her to be able to fall back on those less painful situations from growing up that taught her to BELIEVE that she deserves better, and that while people can be shitty, it doesn't mean she has to tolerate them. I want her to know how to walk away and expect better, but not be naive in building her life around her.
And I have no doubt in my mind that I am fully capable of providing option number two. I find myself on the brink of it all the time. It's all innocent now, which is why it is so easy to want to do all the work for her. "You can't reach the napkins and don't want to sit up to do so? Oh, let me get one for you!" or "You can't simply muster the energy to put this pile of dirty clothes in the hamper ten feet down the hall? That's ok, I'll just take them on down, I need to do laundry anyhow." The problem with this is that the situation gradually gets less and less innocent or benign. "Your teacher has you sitting next to someone who cheats off your work and your getting in trouble for it? Well, I'll just march in there and tell him what I think about that" (this is fairly innocent and benign, but what is wrong with your child knowing how to speak up a little and say "I didn't LET him copy my paper!") and then before you know it has become "What? You didn't want to pay that bill four months in a row and now you have no heat? Oh, just let me pay for that for you even though I am broke broke broke!" I know this sounds extreme, but I have seen living examples of this, which is maybe why I am a wee bit sensitive about this one. There is nothing more frustrating to someone who has grown up having to work for what they have than to watch a grown adult not even try to make things work, and just expect that someone will be there to bail them out. I have no problem with help from parents when it is needed but this situation is way too extreme. The child can't stand the parents because they are overbearing, they fret about everything, and they make demands on how the child is living like they have a say. Which you know, if mom and dad are paying Juniors rent every month, maybe they kind of do. But Junior EXPECTS it and is so ungrateful and rude about it that it's painful to watch. Not to mention, what happens when mom and dad really can't fork out the money junior needs? Or talk that infuriated boss/friend/co-worker down? Junior has to be able to cope, yo!
Now, I know that I outline options one and two to the extreme. But bear with me. This brings us to option number three. There will always be situations in which it is appropriate to protect your child from something in life. This is the basis for movie ratings, car seats, and pasteurized dairy products on a very practical level. (Although, really, I couldn't see American Beauty because it was rated R, but I could watch Empire Records which was riddled with messages about gambling, drugs, sex and all sorts of subversive rebellious things that could have potentially given me all sorts of ideas...and have you watched Pee Wee Herman as an adult? Talk about adult content. Sheesh. But I digress). And there will also always be times when it is appropriate to do something for your child. I mean, maybe she really CAN'T reach the napkins, do you really want that neon colored cookie frosting all over your house? I didn't think so. And, what happens when your child DOES stick up to that bully and she gets in trouble for it? Because I know that when my daughter was shamed for asking someone to quit making fun of her lunch, I was more than happy to go to bat for her. I don't want anyone to tell her that it isn't ok to stick up for herself.
So here I am, dancing that balance. And hoping with all my might that I am a good enough balancing act to keep my childs therapy bills on the lower end when she has to work through all the trauma I cause. I can hear it now. "And then *sob* she just stood there while I fumbled for words when this kid *sob* said really awful things to me, and *hiccup* she made me tell him what I thought and felt before she would step in and tell him offfffffff! *more sobbing*"
If you need me, I'll be the parent in the back biting my nails while watching my child give that little snot who kicked her a lesson in what's what.
Monday, December 7, 2009
There are times when you look at your family and think "Oh my god these are the most dysfunctional, rude, embarassing people on the face of the earth. How did I end up related to them?" They fart really loud while conversing about life insurance your late grandmother may have had without blinking an eye. They make off color comments referring to other family members sexual or criminal misadventures in the police station. While sorting out the marbles all the grandkids used to play with, they ask one of the mothers in the room how long it's been since they've held a pair of balls in their hand, in front of their children. They are the kind of family that you may be excommunicated from church if you attended with them, and always the first to drink too much at the reception, or act like they have. They remember any embarassing thing you have ever done and love to tell anyone who will listen, as long as you are standing right there. You think "Who the hell are these people?"
But then there are times when that assinine sense of humor saves your day like a fucking ray of sunshine. Those times when you know it is inappropriate to laugh but if you don't, your just going to crack. Lose it. Fly over the cuckoo's nest. Call it whatever you want, but there are times in everyones life where you laugh because it's all that is left to do. It may be a sign you are absolutely nuts, or that there is just enough sanity left inside of you to keep hanging on a little bit longer. One minute there are tears in your eyes because life without the recently deceased seems unbearable, and there is that family, picking their butts with that face that indicates they are mimicking the lousy service you are receiving in the restaurant, or recounting your parents awful teenage selves in a way that makes Dazed and Confused become icing on the rebllious and experimental coming of age cake, and you are stiffling laughter so hard that it makes your side ache. They are sticking their finger up your nose and you are biting your lip so hard you taste blood so that you don't snort boogers all over their hand. You look at them and think "Oh shit, I love these people. I wish they were here every damn day." A few minutes later they ask you a question and you are throwing salty assinise remarks back at them as your finger heads up their nostril.
And as you wipe the snot off your finger, onto their shirt that stuck after you removed your finger from their hairy nose it dawns on you.
"Oh shit. I am one of them."
But it's ok, because you kind of love them despite and because of their lesser qualities. And hope to god they do the same for you.
But then there are times when that assinine sense of humor saves your day like a fucking ray of sunshine. Those times when you know it is inappropriate to laugh but if you don't, your just going to crack. Lose it. Fly over the cuckoo's nest. Call it whatever you want, but there are times in everyones life where you laugh because it's all that is left to do. It may be a sign you are absolutely nuts, or that there is just enough sanity left inside of you to keep hanging on a little bit longer. One minute there are tears in your eyes because life without the recently deceased seems unbearable, and there is that family, picking their butts with that face that indicates they are mimicking the lousy service you are receiving in the restaurant, or recounting your parents awful teenage selves in a way that makes Dazed and Confused become icing on the rebllious and experimental coming of age cake, and you are stiffling laughter so hard that it makes your side ache. They are sticking their finger up your nose and you are biting your lip so hard you taste blood so that you don't snort boogers all over their hand. You look at them and think "Oh shit, I love these people. I wish they were here every damn day." A few minutes later they ask you a question and you are throwing salty assinise remarks back at them as your finger heads up their nostril.
And as you wipe the snot off your finger, onto their shirt that stuck after you removed your finger from their hairy nose it dawns on you.
"Oh shit. I am one of them."
But it's ok, because you kind of love them despite and because of their lesser qualities. And hope to god they do the same for you.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I always wonder what people will think after I pass away. What will run through their minds when they are looking through my life's paperwork for any future life insurance that I may have, or momentos that they want to take with them? Tonight we went to my grandma's house to find information we need for the death certificate and the funeral. Years of her life shoved into a drawer waiting for someone to pull them back out and dust them off. Pictures from a life she hasn't lived in 15 or more years. Evidence of creativity lost, hidden old habits, and a life filled with love. I opened one drawer full of old sweaters and I could smell her. It smelled like I remember it smelling when I would nuzzle up to her as a small child. She would pull me in close and surround me with comfort. I remember the way she would swish her plastic camping cup with her white russian it in, the way she would laugh under her breathe, and the sound of her voice when she was feigning a comical disapproval. I can feel her hand guiding mine when she was teaching me my letters. I can see the moo-moo's she used to wear, and I can still remember the way she used to savor chocolate when she would eat her hidden M&M stash.
I cannot believe the circumstances of her passing. I am still in shock. But I have to believe that she is happier. The last ten years of her life have not been the way she would have wanted to live. She is free now. She is Grandma Jo again. But I miss her more than one would think possible.
I cannot believe the circumstances of her passing. I am still in shock. But I have to believe that she is happier. The last ten years of her life have not been the way she would have wanted to live. She is free now. She is Grandma Jo again. But I miss her more than one would think possible.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thanksgiving wrapped in small revelations.
I can't really say that I "went home" for Thanksgiving because my dad's house has never really been my home. Especially since he got remarried. But it IS my dad's house, so that is sort of like going home, right?
A lot of people don't know that I have this other part of my family that is really wonderful, like my three sisters, my quirky grandmother, and my colorful array of cousins. The few that do know about my family on my dad's side know a little about the really uncomfortable situations, some of the drama, and a lot of my personal feelings and hesitations about the whole mess. To make it all really short, my step mom and I didn't really hit it off, and I quit staying there when I was about 15. (Quit envisioning screaming matches and one of us storming out though, it was more of a fade into the background as quickly as possible sort of transition.) Since then I have been back to that town on average of every 3 years. I spent a lot of time growing up being angry at my dad for not trying to make things better, and trying to hate or love my step mother. But the older I get, the less I do that. It's really nice. Yes, they have their down falls, but so do I. Oh lord, do I. About a year or so ago, I realized that I have forgiven them. It was such a relief to let it all go. And it completely changes the way I approach time with them now.
It's an odd sort of detached feeling that I was processing for most of the visit. I was a stranger among my own family. We have so successfully alienated each other, whether intentionally or not, that I don't really know them, they don't really know me. It is almost like participating in a foreign exchange homestay, with the added awkwardness and pretenses that come with being among family you don't know, but feel like you really should. I realized that a lot of my assupmptions or experiences with them may not be true anymore and it makes me wonder how they view me and my lifestyle. Honestly, I don't think I care too terribly much because I am at a point where I am happy and don't feel the need to justify much of my life to anyone. (Not that I wouldn't explain if asked in the right context...)
As I observed the little every day rituals they partake in, I realized how incredibly curious it all makes me. I wouldn't say jealous or envious, but curious. What is it like to be a teenage girl in a home where your dad comes to your room to say goodnight every evening, where family game night really happens, where your friends are welcome and frequent guests at the dinner table, and where everyone gathers to say a blessing before dinner? What is it like to come of age in a town where your basketball coach is also the sheriff and a member of your ward in church? A town where you can walk almost anywhere from your house? To grow up in a house with two parents there? I can't even fathom some of these things. I can see ups and downs in all of them, just as I can in the way I was raised, but it amazes me. It's all so....traditional, in a warm, peaceful sort of way. What is it like when there aren't people visiting? Is it still so happy and smooth going? Does it all still make sense or is it more of a burden or mask?
I left knowing these things 1) My dad is such a caring and sentimental person it makes me cry to think about. 2) My sisters are all so beautiful it's heartbreaking and smart that it's intimidating, but all in their own unique way. 3) My step mom works harder than anyone I know. She never stops. 4) The grandmother that never seems to age and always feels familiar has definitely aged, and didn't seem to know me at all. (One sign that things in that small town do change.) 5) I want to be a bigger part of it.
A lot of people don't know that I have this other part of my family that is really wonderful, like my three sisters, my quirky grandmother, and my colorful array of cousins. The few that do know about my family on my dad's side know a little about the really uncomfortable situations, some of the drama, and a lot of my personal feelings and hesitations about the whole mess. To make it all really short, my step mom and I didn't really hit it off, and I quit staying there when I was about 15. (Quit envisioning screaming matches and one of us storming out though, it was more of a fade into the background as quickly as possible sort of transition.) Since then I have been back to that town on average of every 3 years. I spent a lot of time growing up being angry at my dad for not trying to make things better, and trying to hate or love my step mother. But the older I get, the less I do that. It's really nice. Yes, they have their down falls, but so do I. Oh lord, do I. About a year or so ago, I realized that I have forgiven them. It was such a relief to let it all go. And it completely changes the way I approach time with them now.
It's an odd sort of detached feeling that I was processing for most of the visit. I was a stranger among my own family. We have so successfully alienated each other, whether intentionally or not, that I don't really know them, they don't really know me. It is almost like participating in a foreign exchange homestay, with the added awkwardness and pretenses that come with being among family you don't know, but feel like you really should. I realized that a lot of my assupmptions or experiences with them may not be true anymore and it makes me wonder how they view me and my lifestyle. Honestly, I don't think I care too terribly much because I am at a point where I am happy and don't feel the need to justify much of my life to anyone. (Not that I wouldn't explain if asked in the right context...)
As I observed the little every day rituals they partake in, I realized how incredibly curious it all makes me. I wouldn't say jealous or envious, but curious. What is it like to be a teenage girl in a home where your dad comes to your room to say goodnight every evening, where family game night really happens, where your friends are welcome and frequent guests at the dinner table, and where everyone gathers to say a blessing before dinner? What is it like to come of age in a town where your basketball coach is also the sheriff and a member of your ward in church? A town where you can walk almost anywhere from your house? To grow up in a house with two parents there? I can't even fathom some of these things. I can see ups and downs in all of them, just as I can in the way I was raised, but it amazes me. It's all so....traditional, in a warm, peaceful sort of way. What is it like when there aren't people visiting? Is it still so happy and smooth going? Does it all still make sense or is it more of a burden or mask?
I left knowing these things 1) My dad is such a caring and sentimental person it makes me cry to think about. 2) My sisters are all so beautiful it's heartbreaking and smart that it's intimidating, but all in their own unique way. 3) My step mom works harder than anyone I know. She never stops. 4) The grandmother that never seems to age and always feels familiar has definitely aged, and didn't seem to know me at all. (One sign that things in that small town do change.) 5) I want to be a bigger part of it.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
"i've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you, each one a line or two, i'm fine baby, how are you?"
How is it November already? When did this happen? I did not consent! Not that it's too terribly bad, but as the end of the year draws near I recede into my little homebody shell once more and begin to take stock of what's what in my life. This use to also bring on a little depression and frustration that my life wasn't where I wanted it to be or thought it should be, but I find this year that I enjoy providing this opportunity for myself. The self reflection is a chance for me to slow down my life, and intentionally take a moment for me. There is a lot I could say that isn't going the way I want it to in life, but it doesn't matter. I have done what I can and will continue to do so. Beyond that, I haven't let it stress me out more than it should. And damn that feels good. And my house is quiet. It is home again. My mother moved out and sometimes the silence and emptiness shocks me when Emily is away at her dads, but I am also reveling in the physical space I now have. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I was able to put on music and sing to myself in the dark and disturb no one who had to be up in the morning. Ahhhh. It is so divine, the waking up back into my home that I feel like is taking place right now.
This weekend I head to Seattle for the young adult OWL training and to visit boy. I am looking forward to the training. And the boy. But the training is easy to talk about whereas the boy just makes me feel like an idiot when I try to say anything about the situation. Partly because there is intentionally no definition or label, which feels perfect for my life right now but makes it a bitch and half to figure out how to explain. Or process. I am ok with that for right now though. Back to the training. I have been trying to get to an Our Whole Lives training for years now. My church tried to send me to the elementary and high school ones, but it never worked out, so I am really excited to be going to this one. Not only because I think it's a great program, but because it is coming with the bonus of pertaining to my life too.
Emily and I recovered from our bout with swine flu quite nicely. I caught shit in the grocery store for wearing the shirt that I made myself. I think it's rather awesome, some people are more easily offended than me though, and while I feel bad, it makes me want to wear the shirt even more. (It has a winking pig on the front and on the back it says "I survived H1N1 and all I got was this lousy shirt") And while I am sorry that it offends, I really feel like at this point in my life, if I can't laugh at what isn't right and count my blessings for the things that are, I would be sad. And that is just not something I am interested in making time for.
I am going home for thanksgiving. Like, to my fathers. This has enough loaded history to give me material for two or three months worth of NanoWrimo. So I won't get into it here. Suffice to say, I am anxious yet excited and relieved. The older I get the more I accept that there are parts of that town that I love, that I will always love, and that intrinsically a part of who I am. And that I miss it. Yikes.
This weekend I head to Seattle for the young adult OWL training and to visit boy. I am looking forward to the training. And the boy. But the training is easy to talk about whereas the boy just makes me feel like an idiot when I try to say anything about the situation. Partly because there is intentionally no definition or label, which feels perfect for my life right now but makes it a bitch and half to figure out how to explain. Or process. I am ok with that for right now though. Back to the training. I have been trying to get to an Our Whole Lives training for years now. My church tried to send me to the elementary and high school ones, but it never worked out, so I am really excited to be going to this one. Not only because I think it's a great program, but because it is coming with the bonus of pertaining to my life too.
Emily and I recovered from our bout with swine flu quite nicely. I caught shit in the grocery store for wearing the shirt that I made myself. I think it's rather awesome, some people are more easily offended than me though, and while I feel bad, it makes me want to wear the shirt even more. (It has a winking pig on the front and on the back it says "I survived H1N1 and all I got was this lousy shirt") And while I am sorry that it offends, I really feel like at this point in my life, if I can't laugh at what isn't right and count my blessings for the things that are, I would be sad. And that is just not something I am interested in making time for.
I am going home for thanksgiving. Like, to my fathers. This has enough loaded history to give me material for two or three months worth of NanoWrimo. So I won't get into it here. Suffice to say, I am anxious yet excited and relieved. The older I get the more I accept that there are parts of that town that I love, that I will always love, and that intrinsically a part of who I am. And that I miss it. Yikes.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
autumn is something I love
I love autumn. This season is my favorite. It is still warm enough to be at the tail end of a growing season so there is fresh produce. The leaves are turning making the street look like they are lined with fire, you can almost hear the sigh of the earth drinking in the rain we have all been waiting all summer for, and it is warm, but not too warm. Mornings and evenings call for tea or hot chocolate drunk to the sound of rain falling, daytime consists of puddle jumping and exploring the new wet world (when school isn't swallowing our faces whole). Something about the darkness that is growing ever closer brings out the homemaker in me even more so than she is usually present. I begin baking my bread with a renewed vigor, I have elaborate comfort food meal plans (half of which may even make it to my table), and this year, I will add cheesemaking to that winter to-do list.
I have always loved this time of year, but having my daughter with me makes it all the more enjoyable. "Momma, look at the leaves, they are beautiful! I see red, and orange, and green, and purple, and they sound like rain when they all fall like that!" Yesterday we spent the day out at our favorite arboretum where we dutifully monitored the lily pond from frog eggs, to tadpoles, to full blown frogs. While our usual hike was out of the question due to trail restoration, we went for a walk along the river. My kid notices an impressive amount of detail about nature. That the tiny fish that were there in July are gone, the water level has risen, the crickets sound different. It is like rediscovering the world all over again. I love it. Emily's favorite game when we are outside is to play "I Spy". This started out as a time-passer on the bus to and from school, but it has evolved into a game to see who can notice the most unique and minute details about the world around us. The texture of bark or leaves, the scent of pine needles. The proud mom in me bursts when I watch the inventiveness and intelligence she throws into this game, often times stumping me and leading me to discover things that I would have never noticed.
And, on a different note, my mom is moving out in three days.
I have always loved this time of year, but having my daughter with me makes it all the more enjoyable. "Momma, look at the leaves, they are beautiful! I see red, and orange, and green, and purple, and they sound like rain when they all fall like that!" Yesterday we spent the day out at our favorite arboretum where we dutifully monitored the lily pond from frog eggs, to tadpoles, to full blown frogs. While our usual hike was out of the question due to trail restoration, we went for a walk along the river. My kid notices an impressive amount of detail about nature. That the tiny fish that were there in July are gone, the water level has risen, the crickets sound different. It is like rediscovering the world all over again. I love it. Emily's favorite game when we are outside is to play "I Spy". This started out as a time-passer on the bus to and from school, but it has evolved into a game to see who can notice the most unique and minute details about the world around us. The texture of bark or leaves, the scent of pine needles. The proud mom in me bursts when I watch the inventiveness and intelligence she throws into this game, often times stumping me and leading me to discover things that I would have never noticed.
And, on a different note, my mom is moving out in three days.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
the backpacking itch
So. I am itchin. I NEEEED to go backpacking. I know, I know, it's a little late in the year for most trails I want to go on, but thats ok, because if you know me very well, the idea of me with a 50 lb backpack for days is slightly hilarious, slightly pathetic. Suffice to say-I am not in backpacking shape. But screw that. I can dream. And get in shape. What I REALLY want to do is summit Rainier. But, since I am not into self-torture, I would rather wait until I am ready. So, in the mean time I am making a list of place I do want to try. Let's start with the smaller hikes, shall we?
-Mt. Neahkahnie Trail, 7 miles along the Oregon Coast. Can we say gorgeous?
Ok, I got totally distracted and the rest of my list was lost. But that is part of the fun-building lists and dreaming.
I am open to suggestions in Oregon and Washington, whatcha got?
-Mt. Neahkahnie Trail, 7 miles along the Oregon Coast. Can we say gorgeous?
Ok, I got totally distracted and the rest of my list was lost. But that is part of the fun-building lists and dreaming.
I am open to suggestions in Oregon and Washington, whatcha got?
A miracle in my garden.
I have been reading this book instead of studying for my anatomy exam and I am loving it. This book goes along with what I want to do with my life so closely, and is inspiring me to get up and grow my garden, make my own cheese and be more sustainable. I can't put it down. There is so much information between these two covers that it is astounding. There is not only the story of a family making a solid commitment to eat only locally grown whole foods for an entire year, but there is an overwhelming amount of information about farm bills, genetic engineering, the evils of trusting corporations to control our food supply and so much more.
And it's all about food! I love food! The last few years I have slowly come to the conclusion that what I really want to be when I grow up is a housewife to my entire community. I want to feed people and care for people. I want to show them how to sustain themselves while caring for the environment and the people that help us along the way. It's a little surprising to me that I crave such a "traditional" path in life. I want to grow my own food, can it or put it up for winter, I want to spend my days making delicious food made from homegrown ingredients, baking bread, making cheese and tending my garden. I want to homeschool my daughter, or at the very least, spend time engaging in these activities and others that reflect a value and respect for the miracles around us. I want to teach people how to eat simply yet vivaciously and deliciously. These things don't feel like work to me, they feel like giving back, something I enjoy doing.
So how do I make that happen? I don't know yet, but I know that someday i will make it happen.
For now, I will continue to curl up on my couch and read this book, and other books about container gardening on my little back porch, about preserving food, about the wonderful hidden pleasures in homemade cheese and bread. I will drink tea, and little by little accomplish each of these things. And it will be blissful and made of awesome.
And I will insist that everyone read this book.
Monday, October 12, 2009
This is my rant on love.
My life is not a movie. And it CERTAINLY isn't a Disney movie. But damn it all, I was raised in a Disney culture and indoctrinated with the idea that true and instant love exists if you are a pretty, prim and proper princess always perfectly groomed. And if you make yourself that, prince charming will come along, take one look at you and be madly in love. Love will be instantly professed via song, and you will spend the rest of your lives making each others happily ever after come true, after you overcome some obstacle put forth by an overdramatized yet poor excuse for a real life road block. (But you will do it with the grace and poise of a princess, not really putting any effort forth because your MAN is there to protect you.)
This is, of course, total bullshit.
And I have put forth good effort to realize what total shit it all is. Prince Charming doesn't exist. In my experience, anyone who immediately professes love is a complete psycho, has mommy issues, or is so co-dependent and needy that it makes my eyes cross. And being serenaded a profession of love is just embarassing. Furthermore, anyone who thinks they immediately love you generally has some mold or pedestal they have poured you into or stored you on (pedestals often start to feel like shelves after a while too) and it leads to a really frustrating learning curve when you are yourself instead of adhering to their fantasy. (Not that fantasies are ALWAYS bad, but let's face it, sometimes reality just pours in whether you like it or not. The more you accept that, the better things are.) Obstacles don't leave you after a half assed attempt at defeating them with you triumphantly looking pristine and beautiful. You look like hell has drug you through your worst nightmare and abandonded you in the middle a personal barren wasteland. (Or maybe that's just me?) Prince Charming isn't always the brave man he is supposed to be, he wails and hides from spiders, ignores bills he can't pay to gamble, drinks too much or lets you do an unfair portion of the work. People are real. They fart, they have cold feet under the covers at night, they tell off-color jokes sometimes, and can chew too loud or leave hair in the drain. All of which become the straws that break the camels back when the sparkle of new love wears off and one person realizes that the idea of companionship has jaded their vision and told them a lie.
Ok, but that wasn't my entire point here. Where was I going with this? Oh yes. So, in an attempt to shed all those silly notions of love and accept myself as a very non-disney princess type person, I happened to put up a lot of walls to keep the above events from taking place. I am pretty ok with the decisions I have made recently regarding my love life. In fact, damn near proud that I have been able to pay more attention to my needs than ever before, and have made conscious decisions to let people in or keep them at bay. So maybe I have given up on living out my happily ever after with the rich and handsome prince charming, which is ok, because I have a feeling that life gets pretty boring after that movie ends. But how about one about the quirky, opinionated and sometimes pretty unkempt woman who falls for an old friend and spends years with him trying to navigate what the hell it all means and where it goes? And the whole thing is a crazy, fun, not-so-dramatic and satisfying adventure? Because I think I just stepped into that one.
And now that I have spilled my bitter and cold side, I will have to admit that I do think true love exists. More and more all the time. I do believe that there is at least one person out there for me that won't drive me crazy after the honeymoon period, who loves me when I look like trash as much as he or she loves me when I look glorious. Someone who doesn't strive for perfection or material wealth, but contentment and a more simplistic outlook. Someone who doesn't give up when I am at my less patient, compassionate or tolerant. I am just not in such a hurry to get there that I am willing to settle. Or fool myself into believing "Ok, now THIS is the ONE."
And if all else fails, I will grow old amongst friends, wearing purple and red together, and own lots of dogs of which I will talk to like they are just like you and me.
This is, of course, total bullshit.
And I have put forth good effort to realize what total shit it all is. Prince Charming doesn't exist. In my experience, anyone who immediately professes love is a complete psycho, has mommy issues, or is so co-dependent and needy that it makes my eyes cross. And being serenaded a profession of love is just embarassing. Furthermore, anyone who thinks they immediately love you generally has some mold or pedestal they have poured you into or stored you on (pedestals often start to feel like shelves after a while too) and it leads to a really frustrating learning curve when you are yourself instead of adhering to their fantasy. (Not that fantasies are ALWAYS bad, but let's face it, sometimes reality just pours in whether you like it or not. The more you accept that, the better things are.) Obstacles don't leave you after a half assed attempt at defeating them with you triumphantly looking pristine and beautiful. You look like hell has drug you through your worst nightmare and abandonded you in the middle a personal barren wasteland. (Or maybe that's just me?) Prince Charming isn't always the brave man he is supposed to be, he wails and hides from spiders, ignores bills he can't pay to gamble, drinks too much or lets you do an unfair portion of the work. People are real. They fart, they have cold feet under the covers at night, they tell off-color jokes sometimes, and can chew too loud or leave hair in the drain. All of which become the straws that break the camels back when the sparkle of new love wears off and one person realizes that the idea of companionship has jaded their vision and told them a lie.
Ok, but that wasn't my entire point here. Where was I going with this? Oh yes. So, in an attempt to shed all those silly notions of love and accept myself as a very non-disney princess type person, I happened to put up a lot of walls to keep the above events from taking place. I am pretty ok with the decisions I have made recently regarding my love life. In fact, damn near proud that I have been able to pay more attention to my needs than ever before, and have made conscious decisions to let people in or keep them at bay. So maybe I have given up on living out my happily ever after with the rich and handsome prince charming, which is ok, because I have a feeling that life gets pretty boring after that movie ends. But how about one about the quirky, opinionated and sometimes pretty unkempt woman who falls for an old friend and spends years with him trying to navigate what the hell it all means and where it goes? And the whole thing is a crazy, fun, not-so-dramatic and satisfying adventure? Because I think I just stepped into that one.
And now that I have spilled my bitter and cold side, I will have to admit that I do think true love exists. More and more all the time. I do believe that there is at least one person out there for me that won't drive me crazy after the honeymoon period, who loves me when I look like trash as much as he or she loves me when I look glorious. Someone who doesn't strive for perfection or material wealth, but contentment and a more simplistic outlook. Someone who doesn't give up when I am at my less patient, compassionate or tolerant. I am just not in such a hurry to get there that I am willing to settle. Or fool myself into believing "Ok, now THIS is the ONE."
And if all else fails, I will grow old amongst friends, wearing purple and red together, and own lots of dogs of which I will talk to like they are just like you and me.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
a dribble of random
My life is so full of wonderful things right now. I feel so incredibly blessed. And proud of myself for having taken the time to refocus myself and decide where to put my time and energy. This last weekend I was up in Seattle for meetings surrounding youth ministry and also to spend time with really great people. And I came home feeling loved and comforted.
As some background on the youth thing, I took on a district volunteer role as an adult to a group of youth leaders. I was honored when approached about this, but a little nervous. Am I cut out for it? Will I really have the energy to put into it that I would like and that they deserve? I had just resigned from the district board because after two years I still didn't feel like sitting in those meetings was where I was supposed to be. I left the YES (Youth Empowerment Services) meeting this weekend inspired and excited to be working with such amazing people. So, I got my answer. Yes, this is where I want to be, this is something I can and want to do, and it's going to be fun to boot. It feels more like doing good things with good friends than work.
School starts tomorrow. I am ready to move on to the next step in my education, which is good because I just got a letter from the financial aid department that basically says "HURRY THE HELL UP, WE ARE TIRED OF GIVING YOU MONEY WHEN YOU HAVEN'T PICKED A PROGRAM YET!" I am now at the stage of applying to nursing schools and scholarships for said schools. It's intimidating and exciting all at once. I am also applying for some public health programs and the policy, public planning and management program at UO. Because I am just indecisive like that. I am also wavering between a degree in social work related stuff and Spanish. Ahhh options, you are such a blessing and a curse sometimes.
Last week my childs father and I had a conversation about how we should talk more because we, ya know, share a kid. I was so encouraged by this and was thinking "yes! he's has finally let go and is starting to think more about this!" until he said "can you just not date any men?" and my hopes were dashed. I am at a loss as what to do there. It really is important that we communicate more, for the sake of our child, but I am tired of feeling like it all hinges on whether I am in a relationship with someone else. Or whether I am PC enough around him to keep his temper in check. It has been almost five years since we separated and I am tired of being at a place where if I meet someone I could see myself with that I cringe and wait for the explosion. It isn't fun.
Ok, I have rambled enough, time to pick up Em from school...
As some background on the youth thing, I took on a district volunteer role as an adult to a group of youth leaders. I was honored when approached about this, but a little nervous. Am I cut out for it? Will I really have the energy to put into it that I would like and that they deserve? I had just resigned from the district board because after two years I still didn't feel like sitting in those meetings was where I was supposed to be. I left the YES (Youth Empowerment Services) meeting this weekend inspired and excited to be working with such amazing people. So, I got my answer. Yes, this is where I want to be, this is something I can and want to do, and it's going to be fun to boot. It feels more like doing good things with good friends than work.
School starts tomorrow. I am ready to move on to the next step in my education, which is good because I just got a letter from the financial aid department that basically says "HURRY THE HELL UP, WE ARE TIRED OF GIVING YOU MONEY WHEN YOU HAVEN'T PICKED A PROGRAM YET!" I am now at the stage of applying to nursing schools and scholarships for said schools. It's intimidating and exciting all at once. I am also applying for some public health programs and the policy, public planning and management program at UO. Because I am just indecisive like that. I am also wavering between a degree in social work related stuff and Spanish. Ahhh options, you are such a blessing and a curse sometimes.
Last week my childs father and I had a conversation about how we should talk more because we, ya know, share a kid. I was so encouraged by this and was thinking "yes! he's has finally let go and is starting to think more about this!" until he said "can you just not date any men?" and my hopes were dashed. I am at a loss as what to do there. It really is important that we communicate more, for the sake of our child, but I am tired of feeling like it all hinges on whether I am in a relationship with someone else. Or whether I am PC enough around him to keep his temper in check. It has been almost five years since we separated and I am tired of being at a place where if I meet someone I could see myself with that I cringe and wait for the explosion. It isn't fun.
Ok, I have rambled enough, time to pick up Em from school...
Friday, September 18, 2009
Lessons learned in 2009-Not a ball of GO!
I am not one of those people who can go go go go go until all I am is a big ball of working GO. At the beginning of this year I had an awesome job. Awesome in the sense that had I really been cut out for it, I would have done great things. Not that I didn't do GOOD things, I just could have done better. Had I gone for gold, I would have sacrificed a good deal of my time with my daughter, which is not an option, and I would not have been able to be there for my family in the times they have needed me over the course of the last ten months.
This was also a big lesson for the feminist in me because it forced me to accept that I desire more stereotypically 'female' roles in life. I want to stay home and homeschool my kid, or at the very least play. My family is more important to me than my job and nothing can convince me otherwise. I want to cook for people, teach people, heal people. My 40+ hour a week job helping little college activists do their thing was great, but not satisfying in the way I have learned that I need in order to be able to pour my heart into my work. I had to accept that while I want to change the world, I definitely want to do it in my own unique way that is not at that pace. The next quest comes in discovering that.
This also brought along another lesson. I can't do everything I would like to. Especially not all at once. And I have to say no sometimes. This one has been in the making for years. But it definitely came to a head this year. I have had to sit down and really think about how I want to be spending my time and if I take something else on, am I going to be satisified with the time that leaves me for the rest of my life. In doing this I stepped back from a lot of volunteer work, I resigned from the district board, and I have taken less at church and school. The result? I got to spend the summer with Emily with little else to be responsible to. It was glorious. And this has also left room this fall to be involved with her school too. (OH GAWD! I'M ONE OF THEM! next stop the PTA meeting...) I learned all over again the joy and value of having true connection with my little girl, and was reminded over and over in all the small magical moments we shared why this is my priority, why this is what I am meant to be doing right now.
I guess you could say I got a dose of learning to bite off only what I can chew...
This was also a big lesson for the feminist in me because it forced me to accept that I desire more stereotypically 'female' roles in life. I want to stay home and homeschool my kid, or at the very least play. My family is more important to me than my job and nothing can convince me otherwise. I want to cook for people, teach people, heal people. My 40+ hour a week job helping little college activists do their thing was great, but not satisfying in the way I have learned that I need in order to be able to pour my heart into my work. I had to accept that while I want to change the world, I definitely want to do it in my own unique way that is not at that pace. The next quest comes in discovering that.
This also brought along another lesson. I can't do everything I would like to. Especially not all at once. And I have to say no sometimes. This one has been in the making for years. But it definitely came to a head this year. I have had to sit down and really think about how I want to be spending my time and if I take something else on, am I going to be satisified with the time that leaves me for the rest of my life. In doing this I stepped back from a lot of volunteer work, I resigned from the district board, and I have taken less at church and school. The result? I got to spend the summer with Emily with little else to be responsible to. It was glorious. And this has also left room this fall to be involved with her school too. (OH GAWD! I'M ONE OF THEM! next stop the PTA meeting...) I learned all over again the joy and value of having true connection with my little girl, and was reminded over and over in all the small magical moments we shared why this is my priority, why this is what I am meant to be doing right now.
I guess you could say I got a dose of learning to bite off only what I can chew...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
you make me smile/please stay for a while
Love is a really funny thing. It compels us to to what others may deem ridiculous. Like wear cupcake jewelry your five year old made to the grocery store because she is so proud of herself. Or act like a total idiot just to make your best friend smile and forget the stress for a moment. Or drive ridonkulous lengths of time on no sleep just for an extra hour or two with them. Or be insanely patient with a lover who is slowly catching up mentally or emotionally.
Is it painful? Yes. Absolutely. Is it worth it? Without a doubt. Would I do it all again? In a heart beat.
What will love bring next?
Is it painful? Yes. Absolutely. Is it worth it? Without a doubt. Would I do it all again? In a heart beat.
What will love bring next?
Monday, September 7, 2009
humorous
I just had a conversation with my mother about sex in which sex toys, bdsm, and sex positive porn stores were discussed. Sometimes she totally blows me away at what she is open to talking about, or asking about.
Also, post-edit. The two tags below are mom and sexy, and in reference to MY mother, those are not two things I usually put together.
It's all just very amusing to me.
Also, post-edit. The two tags below are mom and sexy, and in reference to MY mother, those are not two things I usually put together.
It's all just very amusing to me.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Emily tells a story: Enza and the three bears Kwaja
Once upon a time there was this flower. And this flower was poisoned and someone picked it and it was she was dead! And, well, her mother came and she saw her dead and didn't feel like, felt like she didn't need a kid anymore. And she cried and cried and cried. Until Goldilocks came, and the three bears came with her and decided to have a picnic with the little girl aaaand, there was this big fox who chosen Goldilocks to eat her up. First she started from the head, *crunch* then he started from her stomach, and then legs. And from all these weeks she was alive and tricked her mom and knowed the way home and she scared her mom by tipping her over! And then, her mother was so excited that she was alive and soon they go to get a lollipop, and some ice cream. And soon they were sick. And then they soon they go to a giants house and scare the dad up and it was a mom. And too bad they scared up the little bear and papa bear. Suddenly they got angry and said "Hey child, you better go home or I am gonna cut off your head!" And then they really really needed some water and they were dead.
And soon they woke up in their bed and they were like "HEY! What happened?"
And the end!
Written by Emily Hatfield.
And send this to Prema please. And please. And thank you. And now I am done.
And soon they woke up in their bed and they were like "HEY! What happened?"
And the end!
Written by Emily Hatfield.
And send this to Prema please. And please. And thank you. And now I am done.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Remember that guy?
Let me start by saying that I don't EVER want to be a teenager again. Ever. No one could pay me enough to go through that swamp of hormones, angst, broken hearts, and dramatic days. Ever.
But.
I really miss some of the friendships. Recently Vanessa brought down a photo album from youth conferences and we pulled out mine as well and spent a good hour or two looking through them, putting names to faces and talking about where all these people went.
"Remember the night I couldn't sleep because of nightmares so you guys stayed up with me all night long?"
"Remember when we got kicked out of the no-talent show because we were laughing too hard and went and rearranged the messages written on the dorm windows with masking tape?"
"Oh my god! I remember that kid! He was so funny!"
"Oh damn. Flattering. That was taken after dancing for four hours straight."
"Hey, I remember this! This was that night we rented the hotel room after the planning meeting and..."
"Hahaha, I can't believe we actually got him to put that on!"
Along with all these come flooding in the secrets, the bonding, the feeling of total acceptance. That feeling of knowing that even though it was going to be at least 6 months until you saw them next, when you did they were still some of your best friends.
And then we all got old. We moved away, went to school, got married, had kids, started our own businesses, passed away, drifted into a life completely our own and totally separate and away from the places we used as a breeding ground of intimate friendships.
I miss them. Well, most of them.
Also, I still have all the pictures suckers! Expect some exploitation coming to a facebook near you.
But.
I really miss some of the friendships. Recently Vanessa brought down a photo album from youth conferences and we pulled out mine as well and spent a good hour or two looking through them, putting names to faces and talking about where all these people went.
"Remember the night I couldn't sleep because of nightmares so you guys stayed up with me all night long?"
"Remember when we got kicked out of the no-talent show because we were laughing too hard and went and rearranged the messages written on the dorm windows with masking tape?"
"Oh my god! I remember that kid! He was so funny!"
"Oh damn. Flattering. That was taken after dancing for four hours straight."
"Hey, I remember this! This was that night we rented the hotel room after the planning meeting and..."
"Hahaha, I can't believe we actually got him to put that on!"
Along with all these come flooding in the secrets, the bonding, the feeling of total acceptance. That feeling of knowing that even though it was going to be at least 6 months until you saw them next, when you did they were still some of your best friends.
And then we all got old. We moved away, went to school, got married, had kids, started our own businesses, passed away, drifted into a life completely our own and totally separate and away from the places we used as a breeding ground of intimate friendships.
I miss them. Well, most of them.
Also, I still have all the pictures suckers! Expect some exploitation coming to a facebook near you.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Whoever created this universe is a Wild Guy.
"I think God loves bootleggers-defiant poets who ferment the air as they sing and lift the corners of our mouths. Words about God should never bore because God is the opposite of boring. And what we say about the Gorgeous One should make Him appear a knockout. Whoever made this universe is a Wild Guy. I think only our ecstasies offer any real clues about Him."
-Daniel Ladinsky in his book "Love Poems from God
Now, I have already admitted my discomfort with the whole patriarchy side of organized religion and the divine in general, but this is a definition that makes me smile.
-Daniel Ladinsky in his book "Love Poems from God
Now, I have already admitted my discomfort with the whole patriarchy side of organized religion and the divine in general, but this is a definition that makes me smile.
Friday, August 28, 2009
It's raining outside. The smell of it mixed with the whimsical mood I am suddenly in makes me want to dance in it. Or at the very least, go for a run. I settle for tea on the back porch instead. As the neighbor kids run for cover and bitterly complain about this weather taking away one of their last days of summer, I chuckle. It's one of the many difference between kid-Amber, and adult-Amber I guess, the practicality of rain at this dry time of year makes sense.
The smell makes me nostalgic for the August days in the town I was born, it reminds me of my grandmothers porch, the way my cousins and I loitered out there constantly one summer, placing bets on which family members would cross the line between loud and obscene at the next family dinner, or sneaking off to puddle jump when Grandma wasn't looking.
It's amazing really, to look back and notice how gradually, yet also so suddenly, life went from puddle-jumping to job proposals, from playing house to keeping one of my own. When I was a kid, it felt summer used to stretch on endlessly. Days would creep by so slowly it felt like you lived an entire lifetime in a week. Now, I am worrying about making it to my daughters swim lessons on time, buying her school supplies for kindergarten, and compiling what resembles a menu for the week so my grocery shopping has some method to it, while maintaining laundry, playdates, and doing homework, all in one day, leaving me feeling exhausted at the end of the day.
Even this summer, despite my best efforts to leave it as structureless as possible has been too full of plans and obligations. Will Em be able to look back and have memories of building the adventure around herself like my cousins and I did as we pretended the lilac bushes were our pirate hideout? Will she remember the freedom of exploring the world around her like I recall?
"Mom, let's jsut go outside and build some fairy homes, that's all I wanna do."
With any luck, and a spirit like hers, I am betting she will.
The smell makes me nostalgic for the August days in the town I was born, it reminds me of my grandmothers porch, the way my cousins and I loitered out there constantly one summer, placing bets on which family members would cross the line between loud and obscene at the next family dinner, or sneaking off to puddle jump when Grandma wasn't looking.
It's amazing really, to look back and notice how gradually, yet also so suddenly, life went from puddle-jumping to job proposals, from playing house to keeping one of my own. When I was a kid, it felt summer used to stretch on endlessly. Days would creep by so slowly it felt like you lived an entire lifetime in a week. Now, I am worrying about making it to my daughters swim lessons on time, buying her school supplies for kindergarten, and compiling what resembles a menu for the week so my grocery shopping has some method to it, while maintaining laundry, playdates, and doing homework, all in one day, leaving me feeling exhausted at the end of the day.
Even this summer, despite my best efforts to leave it as structureless as possible has been too full of plans and obligations. Will Em be able to look back and have memories of building the adventure around herself like my cousins and I did as we pretended the lilac bushes were our pirate hideout? Will she remember the freedom of exploring the world around her like I recall?
"Mom, let's jsut go outside and build some fairy homes, that's all I wanna do."
With any luck, and a spirit like hers, I am betting she will.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
In one end, out the other
One thing I have noticed since my mother moved in with me is the increased amount of waste that comes out of the house now. I never bought paper towels. I think they are kind of pointless. (Although it would be hypocritical of me not to admit that they are lately a huge convenience with a pup in the house. It makes me cringe to realize. And say. And do.) My mother on the other hand, will use at least one every morning in preparing her breakfast and or lunch. There is always one pulled off the roll sitting on the counter with a few smears of food, as if she puts one there just in case she needs it. My toilet paper is now the extra soft double rolls. My energy bill is almost triple that of what it was before there was another adult living in the house. All just small little changes, but they kind of bother me, because they add up, to more money and more resources. It also makes me realize how conditioned we all are to a lifestyle of convenience and that will be our nemesis to change in the end. In taking care of the clothes that are particular about how they are washed, we do twice the amount of laundry with loads sometimes that are just three or four articles of clothing (this is my pet peeve, I will admit. I have never been one to buy clothes that require special care instructions because I am impatient and I think it's a pain in ass, I am much more suited to half assedly sort my clothes and do laundry once there is a full load). In insisting that we smell good, have soft hair, and colorful eyelids and dark luscious eyelashes we use chemicals that aren't good for us, the environment, and make animals suffer to test them, and then wrap it all in plastic packaging that will be around much longer than we will. In order to only spend ten minutes cooking dinner for our families and feeding them (an act that should come out of love) we buy boxed noodles wrapped in plastic, made in China or India, sauce that has ingredients that have seen more of the world than we ever will, and vegetables that have taken more money and put out more emissions than I do in an entire year in bussing to school and back. But who really needs to cook when we can drive thru somewhere that has a meal ready in five minutes? Sure it clogs up our arteries and uses meat that is low-grade and is barely able to be deemed suitable for human consumption. Oy, see, food is my hot spot. Now that I brought that up...
Even when we think we are doing the better thing in buying organic, our values of variety over quality lead to us buying food that normally wouldn't grow here in whatever current season it happens to be, so we buy fruit from South America, or Asia. What is worse, buying local food that may not be organic? Or fruit grown on borderline slave labor conditions in another country that is starving to give us our organic pineapple in January? And then shipping it, flying it, somehow taking it thousands of miles from where it originated from. At least when we buy local, the impact we have is on our own communities, and not those of people living in conditions most of us wouldn't even dream of getting close to. Or the meat, that used to be an animal raised in something smaller than our home with hundreds of other animals, so tightly packed that they are covered in each other's feces, and there is no room to move. Not to mention the environmental impact of those kinds of farms (2,500 gallons of water per pound of beef we consume is just the tip of the iceberg). *it is at this point in my rant that I must be honest and also admit that I am an omnivore, and I eat meat. In my recent efforts to have less of an impact and put more thought to what I am really putting into my body I have discovered some wonderful local farms that have meat CSA's, where I can meet my dinner and actually explore the way they were raised. Yes, it is still consuming meat, which I have issues with, but I also have health issues that conflict with my moral issues sometimes, but that is a blog for another time...end honesty moment*
I guess, I am looking for simplicity. And looking reduce the impact my lifestyle has on other people. And I notice more and more all the time how serious it all really is...
Even when we think we are doing the better thing in buying organic, our values of variety over quality lead to us buying food that normally wouldn't grow here in whatever current season it happens to be, so we buy fruit from South America, or Asia. What is worse, buying local food that may not be organic? Or fruit grown on borderline slave labor conditions in another country that is starving to give us our organic pineapple in January? And then shipping it, flying it, somehow taking it thousands of miles from where it originated from. At least when we buy local, the impact we have is on our own communities, and not those of people living in conditions most of us wouldn't even dream of getting close to. Or the meat, that used to be an animal raised in something smaller than our home with hundreds of other animals, so tightly packed that they are covered in each other's feces, and there is no room to move. Not to mention the environmental impact of those kinds of farms (2,500 gallons of water per pound of beef we consume is just the tip of the iceberg). *it is at this point in my rant that I must be honest and also admit that I am an omnivore, and I eat meat. In my recent efforts to have less of an impact and put more thought to what I am really putting into my body I have discovered some wonderful local farms that have meat CSA's, where I can meet my dinner and actually explore the way they were raised. Yes, it is still consuming meat, which I have issues with, but I also have health issues that conflict with my moral issues sometimes, but that is a blog for another time...end honesty moment*
I guess, I am looking for simplicity. And looking reduce the impact my lifestyle has on other people. And I notice more and more all the time how serious it all really is...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Foodness
Sometimes I produce amazing food. As in cook, or bake. Yesterday I made vegan potato salad and it was awesome. It led to me realizing I have a new all purpose spice: cumin. Have you noticed how amazing cumin is? It compliments almost everything I think.
Anyhow. Potato salad. I used red and gold potatos, boiled them, tossed them with olive oil, vinegar (due to lack of lemons for lemon juice), and raw tahini. Then I added in a little garlic salt (another all purpose spice in my kitchen), pepper and cumin. Yum!
And, for the record, I make bomb chocolate zucchini cake. If you want the recipe, let me know. But it is absolutely amazing.
Hmmm, a blog about food following one about stress...do I smell a coping mechanism? Maybe. But, it could be worse. And I am generous with my food...so there.
Anyhow. Potato salad. I used red and gold potatos, boiled them, tossed them with olive oil, vinegar (due to lack of lemons for lemon juice), and raw tahini. Then I added in a little garlic salt (another all purpose spice in my kitchen), pepper and cumin. Yum!
And, for the record, I make bomb chocolate zucchini cake. If you want the recipe, let me know. But it is absolutely amazing.
Hmmm, a blog about food following one about stress...do I smell a coping mechanism? Maybe. But, it could be worse. And I am generous with my food...so there.
Tides
Life has a way of surging all at once, and a tremendous amount of joy flows in.
My daughter is growing into such an amazing person, and I love that I get to watch her and discover life along with her.
My best friend has spent a good deal of time here with us this summer and it has been so wonderful to have her. We met at youth cons when we were about 15, have never lived closer than four hours away, which is the distance between us now, and sometimes have gone a year or two without being in touch. It is nice that our lives have reached a point in life where we are able to be a bigger and more regular part of each others lives. She has decided after spending so much time down here, that in two and a half years, when she has reached a certain point in her job, she will be moving down here. Yay!
We have a new puppy. Her name is Rosie and she is the cutest thing ever. Now that she has been here for a week we are getting more familiar with each other's rhythms, and its much more harmonious. It has been hard for Emily giving up the vast amounts of one on one time we have together. But all in all, she is a delightful addition to our little family.
But just as the joy rolls in, the tide goes out and in rolls sorrow and pain. Too many of my friends are sick. One has swine flu, another is dealing with the pain of losing her father at the worst but dealing with him being sick at the least (neither good options). Another has just been diagnosed for a second time with melanoma. There are so many people hurting. All at once.
It never seems to come in small waves, but just the big giant ones. At a time in my life where I am realizing how much fear I hold on to, and am trying to let go of, the influx of stress does nothing to help me.
My daughter is growing into such an amazing person, and I love that I get to watch her and discover life along with her.
My best friend has spent a good deal of time here with us this summer and it has been so wonderful to have her. We met at youth cons when we were about 15, have never lived closer than four hours away, which is the distance between us now, and sometimes have gone a year or two without being in touch. It is nice that our lives have reached a point in life where we are able to be a bigger and more regular part of each others lives. She has decided after spending so much time down here, that in two and a half years, when she has reached a certain point in her job, she will be moving down here. Yay!
We have a new puppy. Her name is Rosie and she is the cutest thing ever. Now that she has been here for a week we are getting more familiar with each other's rhythms, and its much more harmonious. It has been hard for Emily giving up the vast amounts of one on one time we have together. But all in all, she is a delightful addition to our little family.
But just as the joy rolls in, the tide goes out and in rolls sorrow and pain. Too many of my friends are sick. One has swine flu, another is dealing with the pain of losing her father at the worst but dealing with him being sick at the least (neither good options). Another has just been diagnosed for a second time with melanoma. There are so many people hurting. All at once.
It never seems to come in small waves, but just the big giant ones. At a time in my life where I am realizing how much fear I hold on to, and am trying to let go of, the influx of stress does nothing to help me.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Dear Emily,
It is just past midnight and as I sit at the dining room table doing homework I think I hear you mumbling in your sleep, calling out for a cuddle, or shuffling out here for a hug. Then I remind myself that you are at your dad's house and it feels emptier here without you. I can smell you on your pillow, in the blankets we curl up in. Your little drawings, letters, and dolls strewn about the house act as a reminder of you. There are bits of your personality and creations everywhere around here and it feels odd when you are gone. Part of me wants to jump in the car and drive to your dad's house just to smell your hair while you sleep. It almost aches how much I miss you during your seven days away.
And for every part of me that misses you tremendously and wants you home with me, there is also an acknowledgment of how lucky you are to be able to spend equal amounts of time with both parents. I am so happy that you have such a strong relationship with your father, it is something I always wanted as a child and feared you may not get. You are such a daddy's girl sometimes, and I mean that in the most affectionate of ways. He is your hero.
The other day you asked me why he and I weren't married and for the first time I was confronted with how to communicate the complexities of the situation to you. What it comes down to is this: We both love you more than words, and we always will. Your father and I are very different people, and sometimes that gets in the way, but there will never be a day where you won't be in our hearts. I hope that as you grow you will never feel like you must choose a parent. While your father and I have our disagreements, you should know that none of them are your fault, and that I will never ask you to choose one of us. I respect and value that you have both of us, and I hope it is always this way.
I am so lucky to have you as a part of my life. And I am so thankful and blessed for the chance to be your mom.
And I can't wait for you to come home!
Love,
Mom
It is just past midnight and as I sit at the dining room table doing homework I think I hear you mumbling in your sleep, calling out for a cuddle, or shuffling out here for a hug. Then I remind myself that you are at your dad's house and it feels emptier here without you. I can smell you on your pillow, in the blankets we curl up in. Your little drawings, letters, and dolls strewn about the house act as a reminder of you. There are bits of your personality and creations everywhere around here and it feels odd when you are gone. Part of me wants to jump in the car and drive to your dad's house just to smell your hair while you sleep. It almost aches how much I miss you during your seven days away.
And for every part of me that misses you tremendously and wants you home with me, there is also an acknowledgment of how lucky you are to be able to spend equal amounts of time with both parents. I am so happy that you have such a strong relationship with your father, it is something I always wanted as a child and feared you may not get. You are such a daddy's girl sometimes, and I mean that in the most affectionate of ways. He is your hero.
The other day you asked me why he and I weren't married and for the first time I was confronted with how to communicate the complexities of the situation to you. What it comes down to is this: We both love you more than words, and we always will. Your father and I are very different people, and sometimes that gets in the way, but there will never be a day where you won't be in our hearts. I hope that as you grow you will never feel like you must choose a parent. While your father and I have our disagreements, you should know that none of them are your fault, and that I will never ask you to choose one of us. I respect and value that you have both of us, and I hope it is always this way.
I am so lucky to have you as a part of my life. And I am so thankful and blessed for the chance to be your mom.
And I can't wait for you to come home!
Love,
Mom
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Show me what is possible
"Touch me with the mornin sun,
when I feel impossible,
show me what is possible,
teach me love invincible."
(Michael Franti)
This morning I woke up to a beam of sunlight shining straight onto my chest, my heart. It was a cloudy morning, the birds rejoicing with song, and a tiny break in the clouds that I was blessed enough to feel. It is moments like these that leave me feeling a little more humble than the day before.
I have been feeling a little helpless lately. I am having an educational crisis in that I have no idea what to major in to accomplish what I want to. There are so many choices, none quite fit what I want to do. I have been feeling such an extreme lack of space at points that I found myself driving the other night just for the sake of feeling the wind brush my face as I sped down the road, so I could feel the space and movement. I am at peace with my decisions to cut certain people out of my life, yet am still dealing with the sorrow of letting go. I am confident and steady as a single person, yet it would be really nice to have someone to curl up next to. I just am not ready to let anyone in. (I am very proud of myself for recognizing that though, and honoring it.)
Last night as I was doing yoga at 3am (insomniacs R'us) I felt all this stress welling up inside of me. It isn't all a bad kind of stress, more of a growing kind of stress, but it is taking it's toll in the sense that my mind won't shut off. As has happened often in times of growth, as I knelt into child's pose, something inside of me burst and tears were rolling down my face. It felt like such a relief to be letting some of it go. I realized I have been feeling like I need to hold a certain composure and air of stability because the other people in my life lately are all experiencing crisis and seeking solace or words of advice and I felt that me breaking down was not an option. I wouldn't let myself express my worries because I felt I had to be the strong one, yet in being strong, I started to ignore myself, forgetting parts of the path I chose to take, hence leading to the helpless feeling. As I stood and entered into mountain pose, the moonlight got brighter, it felt like she was shining right at me, and I was comforted. Suddenly exhausted, I closed my session, and went to bed. I dreamt of my Grandma Emily. We were sitting in her yard, in the grass, looking at the moon. My grandmother said to me "She wants you to know that in acknowledging your weakness, you only grow stronger." She smiled. "And I want you to know that we love you, and are here. Once you let yourself be who you are, all of who you are, and free up the space in your mind and heart, you will be able to hear us and see us better. We are here."
Woah.
Sometimes, the answers we seek have the strangest, yet most awesome, ways of creeping into our consciousness. I am yet again reminded how blessed my life is to be cradled my so much spirit and love, I only need to slow down and breathe to be able to see it, and hear it.
when I feel impossible,
show me what is possible,
teach me love invincible."
(Michael Franti)
This morning I woke up to a beam of sunlight shining straight onto my chest, my heart. It was a cloudy morning, the birds rejoicing with song, and a tiny break in the clouds that I was blessed enough to feel. It is moments like these that leave me feeling a little more humble than the day before.
I have been feeling a little helpless lately. I am having an educational crisis in that I have no idea what to major in to accomplish what I want to. There are so many choices, none quite fit what I want to do. I have been feeling such an extreme lack of space at points that I found myself driving the other night just for the sake of feeling the wind brush my face as I sped down the road, so I could feel the space and movement. I am at peace with my decisions to cut certain people out of my life, yet am still dealing with the sorrow of letting go. I am confident and steady as a single person, yet it would be really nice to have someone to curl up next to. I just am not ready to let anyone in. (I am very proud of myself for recognizing that though, and honoring it.)
Last night as I was doing yoga at 3am (insomniacs R'us) I felt all this stress welling up inside of me. It isn't all a bad kind of stress, more of a growing kind of stress, but it is taking it's toll in the sense that my mind won't shut off. As has happened often in times of growth, as I knelt into child's pose, something inside of me burst and tears were rolling down my face. It felt like such a relief to be letting some of it go. I realized I have been feeling like I need to hold a certain composure and air of stability because the other people in my life lately are all experiencing crisis and seeking solace or words of advice and I felt that me breaking down was not an option. I wouldn't let myself express my worries because I felt I had to be the strong one, yet in being strong, I started to ignore myself, forgetting parts of the path I chose to take, hence leading to the helpless feeling. As I stood and entered into mountain pose, the moonlight got brighter, it felt like she was shining right at me, and I was comforted. Suddenly exhausted, I closed my session, and went to bed. I dreamt of my Grandma Emily. We were sitting in her yard, in the grass, looking at the moon. My grandmother said to me "She wants you to know that in acknowledging your weakness, you only grow stronger." She smiled. "And I want you to know that we love you, and are here. Once you let yourself be who you are, all of who you are, and free up the space in your mind and heart, you will be able to hear us and see us better. We are here."
Woah.
Sometimes, the answers we seek have the strangest, yet most awesome, ways of creeping into our consciousness. I am yet again reminded how blessed my life is to be cradled my so much spirit and love, I only need to slow down and breathe to be able to see it, and hear it.
Monday, August 10, 2009
At what point in life do the tables turn and we become our parents keepers? I signed no note of consent, received no disclaimers nor a heads up. I just somehow find myself in these moments of life where I am coaching mine through moments that feel familiar to what they have once done, or should have done, for me. How bittersweet. I am happy that I can return the support I received growing up. But it is exhausting sometimes. Sometimes, I don't want to play the calm one, I want to throw my hands up in the air, let out a breath of exasperation, or roll my eyes. I want to be the one seeking the solace, I want to be the one being completely honest about what it is that I think I want, or what it is I am scared of. But the truth is, I am scared to. Because what if what I am wanting is exactly what will hurt them the most? How do I reconcile the parts of me that want my family close and familiar with the part that is screaming and begging for a little more space/independence/trust/faith of my own? They don't seem to be compatible at all.
It is then that I take a deep breath and realize that what being in the position of parental guidance provider means is that I have reached a point in life where I am closer to what I would call "stable". And suddenly it isn't so much of a burden, but brings peace into my soul. I CAN do this because I am confident enough in who I am and what I am trying to do with my life that I can provide the love and support to other people. The challenge comes in honoring myself at the same time and stopping to appreciate the moments unbidden that give me a moments quiet reflection to appreciate all that I have, all that I am, and all that is part of life.
I would be lying if I said I didn't get overwhelmed by my living situation. It is crowded. But I have gained a perspective into who my mother is that I would have never gotten elsewhere and while I may get really frustrated sometimes, I don't think I would change it or trade the experience for anything. And I am always in flux as to how I would like my father to stand in my life, but from his misgivings and mistakes I have had a constant visible reminder of what living in fear will do to a person. He may be the most unhealthy person I know, but he is still my father. I can't run away from that, although I have spent the better half of the last 27 years trying. I am always closer to accepting the fact that he isn't the type of father that I would have chosen had I been given the chance, but maybe he is the one I needed in this life in order to learn something. (Or maybe I just got the shit end of the stick...)
For now though, I am sensing a need to focus on me, how I mother to my wonderful child, and the work I do in this world.
It is then that I take a deep breath and realize that what being in the position of parental guidance provider means is that I have reached a point in life where I am closer to what I would call "stable". And suddenly it isn't so much of a burden, but brings peace into my soul. I CAN do this because I am confident enough in who I am and what I am trying to do with my life that I can provide the love and support to other people. The challenge comes in honoring myself at the same time and stopping to appreciate the moments unbidden that give me a moments quiet reflection to appreciate all that I have, all that I am, and all that is part of life.
I would be lying if I said I didn't get overwhelmed by my living situation. It is crowded. But I have gained a perspective into who my mother is that I would have never gotten elsewhere and while I may get really frustrated sometimes, I don't think I would change it or trade the experience for anything. And I am always in flux as to how I would like my father to stand in my life, but from his misgivings and mistakes I have had a constant visible reminder of what living in fear will do to a person. He may be the most unhealthy person I know, but he is still my father. I can't run away from that, although I have spent the better half of the last 27 years trying. I am always closer to accepting the fact that he isn't the type of father that I would have chosen had I been given the chance, but maybe he is the one I needed in this life in order to learn something. (Or maybe I just got the shit end of the stick...)
For now though, I am sensing a need to focus on me, how I mother to my wonderful child, and the work I do in this world.
Friday, August 7, 2009
I am gonna preface this with the disclaimer that I absolutely without a doubt believe that angels and spirit beings exist and visit us all the time. Why you may ask? Because of experiences like the one below.
Ever played scattergories? That game with the annoying buzzer that goes "tick tick tick tick" incessantly and makes you lose all words that were in your brain a moment ago? Yeah. I have never ever used that damn timer. But, I did take the game to a recent event and for some reason, instead of putting it away I stuck it on my bedroom floor.
Last night I am laying in my bed trying to fall asleep and I hear it go "tick tick". Strange, I think. That's never happened before. "Tick" Hmmm, there it is again. "Tick tick tick tick" So then I sit up and it stops. "Is someone there" "tick tick tick tick" I lay back down. "tick tick" Who is it? "tick" I wonder if it's Grandma Emily? "tick" *whoooosh* *intense heat penetrating the right side of my head* Awesome, I wonder if she is trying to tell me something. "tick tick tick tick tick"
She has never done this before. I used to have dream conversations with her for years before Emily was born but haven't heard from her since, until last night. There were several times where I was almost asleep and the "tick tick tick tick" would happen. Everytime I would sit up, it would stop. Sometimes it was only a tick or two, sometimes longer. One time, it did the whole three minute she-bang complete with faster ticks and a gong at the end. I'd like to think this was her sense of humor because at the time I was trying to think "what is she trying to say?" Then, my daughter Emily mumbles in her sleep something I don't understand. Then she giggles. Then she says clear as day "I'm Emily too!" And flails her arms up in the air. Then she sighs contededly, smiles, and drifts into a quiet sleep.
See, now family visists like this, I can totally handle.
Ever played scattergories? That game with the annoying buzzer that goes "tick tick tick tick" incessantly and makes you lose all words that were in your brain a moment ago? Yeah. I have never ever used that damn timer. But, I did take the game to a recent event and for some reason, instead of putting it away I stuck it on my bedroom floor.
Last night I am laying in my bed trying to fall asleep and I hear it go "tick tick". Strange, I think. That's never happened before. "Tick" Hmmm, there it is again. "Tick tick tick tick" So then I sit up and it stops. "Is someone there" "tick tick tick tick" I lay back down. "tick tick" Who is it? "tick" I wonder if it's Grandma Emily? "tick" *whoooosh* *intense heat penetrating the right side of my head* Awesome, I wonder if she is trying to tell me something. "tick tick tick tick tick"
She has never done this before. I used to have dream conversations with her for years before Emily was born but haven't heard from her since, until last night. There were several times where I was almost asleep and the "tick tick tick tick" would happen. Everytime I would sit up, it would stop. Sometimes it was only a tick or two, sometimes longer. One time, it did the whole three minute she-bang complete with faster ticks and a gong at the end. I'd like to think this was her sense of humor because at the time I was trying to think "what is she trying to say?" Then, my daughter Emily mumbles in her sleep something I don't understand. Then she giggles. Then she says clear as day "I'm Emily too!" And flails her arms up in the air. Then she sighs contededly, smiles, and drifts into a quiet sleep.
See, now family visists like this, I can totally handle.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
this moment right here...
"In crisis, you are somehow enabled to get in touch with sources of life deep inside yourself-sources you never knew were there. And then mysteriously, like the blades of grass, you begin to know how to grow." (Bill Cane in his book Through Crisis to Freedom).
The last few years of life have brought me an incredible amount of experience. I have felt a deeper pain, a higher happiness, a stronger desperation, and a more vast sense of joy than I ever thought possible. I read this quote this evening in a book for one of my classes and felt it's truth. I wish I had had this taped to my bathroom mirror during past times when even taking the next breath seemed like work. I want to be able to look back on my life and know that I didn't take it for granted. To be able to see the moments in which something larger than myself cradled me in my moments of weakness, or served as inspiration to move me into the next adventure. I want to be able to reflect on what it has all taught me, no matter how hard it all was. I don't want to miss anything. I just want to live.
The last few years of life have brought me an incredible amount of experience. I have felt a deeper pain, a higher happiness, a stronger desperation, and a more vast sense of joy than I ever thought possible. I read this quote this evening in a book for one of my classes and felt it's truth. I wish I had had this taped to my bathroom mirror during past times when even taking the next breath seemed like work. I want to be able to look back on my life and know that I didn't take it for granted. To be able to see the moments in which something larger than myself cradled me in my moments of weakness, or served as inspiration to move me into the next adventure. I want to be able to reflect on what it has all taught me, no matter how hard it all was. I don't want to miss anything. I just want to live.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
More Book Fail to work on.
See this is where not going to a traditional high school really failed me- lit class. If this were a list of must-reads from Japan and India? I bet I would have a healthy start. This is from the BBC, a must-read list of books. They say that most people will have only read six of the items on here. The X's are ones I have read. A lot of them are on the other list that I had started, and have been working towards, so maybe we'll just go from this one? Either way it's fun.
1 Pride and Prejudice -
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien -X
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte - X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling - X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee - X
6 The Bible - X
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte -
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell - X
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman -
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens -
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott -X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy –
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller -
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare -
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier -
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien - X
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk -
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger -
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger -
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot -
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell -X
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - X
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens -
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy -
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams - X
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky -
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck -
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll - X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame -
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy -
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens -
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis - X
34 Emma - Jane Austen -
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen -
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis - X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini -
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres -
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden - X
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne - X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell -
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown - X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving -
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins -
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery -X
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy -
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood -
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding - X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan -X
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel -
52 Dune - Frank Herbert -
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons -
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen -
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth -
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon -
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens -
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley -
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night - Mark Haddon -
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck - X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov -
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt -
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas-X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac -
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy -
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding -
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie –
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville -
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens -
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker -
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett -X
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson -
75 Ulysses - James Joyce -X
76 The Inferno – Dante -
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome -
78 Germinal - Emile Zola -
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray -
80 Possession - AS Byatt –
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens -
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell -
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker -
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro -
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert -
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry -
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White - X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom -
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton -
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad -
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery -X
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks -
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams -
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole -
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute -
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas -
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare -
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo -
So far? 27.
1 Pride and Prejudice -
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien -X
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte - X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling - X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee - X
6 The Bible - X
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte -
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell - X
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman -
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens -
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott -X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy –
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller -
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare -
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier -
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien - X
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk -
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger -
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger -
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot -
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell -X
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - X
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens -
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy -
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams - X
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky -
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck -
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll - X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame -
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy -
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens -
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis - X
34 Emma - Jane Austen -
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen -
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis - X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini -
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres -
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden - X
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne - X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell -
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown - X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving -
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins -
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery -X
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy -
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood -
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding - X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan -X
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel -
52 Dune - Frank Herbert -
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons -
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen -
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth -
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon -
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens -
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley -
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night - Mark Haddon -
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck - X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov -
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt -
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas-X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac -
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy -
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding -
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie –
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville -
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens -
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker -
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett -X
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson -
75 Ulysses - James Joyce -X
76 The Inferno – Dante -
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome -
78 Germinal - Emile Zola -
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray -
80 Possession - AS Byatt –
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens -
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell -
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker -
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro -
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert -
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry -
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White - X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom -
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle -
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton -
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad -
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery -X
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks -
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams -
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole -
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute -
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas -
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare -
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo -
So far? 27.
Emily teaches me how to make fruit punch
Tell me how to make fruit punch...
"get a big bowl..aaaaand put juice in it and mix it. Put. And. You have to wait for a minute to let the stuff inside it, it supposed to be cold, but you can do whatever you want. And then you start stirring it up. Then you put ice in it, then you put in the freezer, or the 'fridgerator. Aaaaand. And, thats about it. And then you drink it! It's ssUPER yummy!"
"get a big bowl..aaaaand put juice in it and mix it. Put. And. You have to wait for a minute to let the stuff inside it, it supposed to be cold, but you can do whatever you want. And then you start stirring it up. Then you put ice in it, then you put in the freezer, or the 'fridgerator. Aaaaand. And, thats about it. And then you drink it! It's ssUPER yummy!"
How could anyone ever tell you...
There are always people in your life that you may not be close enough to call at random just to see how they are, or that you even communicate with at all on a regular basis, yet you still consider them to be friends. I had the privilege of attending a C*UUYAN ConCentric business meeting in the summer of 2007 where I met several people like this. Beautiful people. Some that I haven't talked to since then, one of which I never will. Katie was a generous, warm, friendly, musical spirit. Upon meeting her she hugged me with a wonderful smile upon her face and a warm and genuine "So glad to meet you". She was there as I eased my way into an overwhelming experience with comforting words or a hug in passing. And she had the most beautiful voice.
Katie was on her way home from GA a few weeks ago when a on-coming car crossed into her lane and struck her head on. She did not make it. It's always a shock when someone makes a sudden departure like this, even if you didn't know them very well. I would like to think that she did not suffer long, and that she has moved on to do bigger and better things with her amazing spirit. She touched so many people during her time here that I can't believe that she would be doing anything else.
I will remember her with her smiling eyes as she sang a song that so many remember her for...
How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful?
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole?
How could anyone fail to notice
that your loving is a miracle,
How deeply your connected to my soul...
Rest in Peace.
Katie was on her way home from GA a few weeks ago when a on-coming car crossed into her lane and struck her head on. She did not make it. It's always a shock when someone makes a sudden departure like this, even if you didn't know them very well. I would like to think that she did not suffer long, and that she has moved on to do bigger and better things with her amazing spirit. She touched so many people during her time here that I can't believe that she would be doing anything else.
I will remember her with her smiling eyes as she sang a song that so many remember her for...
How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful?
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole?
How could anyone fail to notice
that your loving is a miracle,
How deeply your connected to my soul...
Rest in Peace.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Leaving space for the divine.
So many times in life have I felt like the rest of the commitments or pressures outside of my home were sucking out the spiritual aspect of parenting and putting too much focus on the practical and the "must-do's" like making sure meals are made, baths are given, clothes are washed, play dates are organized, etc. And I let it happen. And I think this is a shame because some of the most magical aspects of being a parent for me have come when sharing with my daughter an experience with Spirit. So, I leave this book by my bed where I see it everyday, and this is a nice reminder to me to not get too bogged down in the practical so that I leave room for the spiritual, divine, and magical. I also pick it up from time to time and read it, which is even better! I get so worried sometimes about crushing the more sensitive parts of my little girls spirit, and this book has provided me much comfort and creativity in honoring the parts of her that are in tune with parts of the world most people don't see. And honoring and getting in touch with those parts of myself.
I believe that I last wrote about my experiences with discomfort in the god language with principle number one, Know that God Loves You. (I have accepted the fact that one of my biggest spiritual tasks is getting over my past experience with "GOD" and getting to know the presences looking out for me in a way that is purely my own.) I think because of this I put the book down for a while. But since getting beyond that principle I am only continually inspired by what this book is saying. It was almost as if Principle #2 catered to the UU in me. It is "Trust and Teach That All Life is Connected" and is something I wholeheartedly believe to be true. And it is a principle that is definitely at work in our home. My daughter spends a good portion of time trying to better the lives of bugs, animals, people, and plants that we see everyday because "if I were a ladybug on the sidewalk Mommy, I would want someone to help me home and not squash me!" And while reviewing the suggested journal ideas and activites to get us more involved with our community, Emily delighted in quite a few of them. Watching her express her concern for the world around her tugs at my mommy pride heartstrings, as well as moves me to help her make the world she will be living in a better place.
Principle #3 has had a most profound affect on me. It is quite simple. And it is something I really strive to do more of. It is simply "Listen to Your Child". What a difference it makes too. Lately, I have made a point to not do any work during the day while Em is home with me because that was the whole reason for not taking any classes aside from online ones this summer, was to give myself the freedom to be with my child, to see the world from her eyes, and discover where that takes us. I realize how impatient of a person I can be when I know that there are things I will need to be doing next, or when things aren't moving fast enough for me, and I believe one of the lessons I have to learn from my child is how to slow down. The other day while laying in bed at rest time, Emily put a hand on each side of my face, looked me deep in the eye and said "Mommy, I love you. And it makes me happy to play with you and not have to wait while you work." These little gems are my child revealing to me her needs, wants and desires. It was a wake up call to the fact that I was unintentionally telling my child that homework came before her. One thing I hope to foster in my relationship with my daughter is an unquestionable respect for each other and the ability to be able to say things like this to each other, now, and as she grows. I plan to re-read this chapter and try some of the suggestions they have for building in "Listening time" to daily routines with children; and also to let the very concept of making room for listening become built into my life. I don't ever want her to feel like she won't be heard when she voices her thoughts.
In following the principles and ideas picked up from this book, tomorrow I will be packing a lunch, some pens and paper, and a blanket and heading out to the arboretum where we have been watching frogs grow from eggs, to tadpole, to full-blown frog, and just taking our time to be together, to watch nature, and to draw or write what ever comes to mind. Emily has been so interested in telling stories that incorporate what she is seeing in the world around her, and I want to give her the chance to process parts of the world outside of the media obsessed world she sees on a daily basis.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Emily tells a story: Make Believe
There was a dark forest and only two bears. The momma one and the poppa one. They didn't have any babies so thats why they went in the forest and lived in the forest. Goldilocks went into the forest and heard "RAWR! Who's in our forest?" She came closer and it came louder "WHO"S IN OUR FOREST???" Until she fell down and she woke up and she wasn't in Kansas anymore. She was in a forest. She got out of bed. And then ate some cereal because she was getting starving! AND she also took a drink of water and she read a book, she made a book, AND she drawed a picture. And then she walking and heard "Eerrrrr" She saw this store and she went inside and the two bears were having a baby and his name was little baby and then they walked to get her out of the forest and back into Kansas and then she ate food and make food, made drinks, and from all that stuff she made she even made pudding. She laid on the couch. She heard a "knock knock" and she got up and opened it, invited all her friends, all her friends came in the same pile, brought presents and ate cake. She made a cake. Then she opened all her presents and then the last present she had to get was MAKE-UP!
"And that's the end of MY story. Wrotten by Emily H."
"And that's the end of MY story. Wrotten by Emily H."
Friday, July 10, 2009
Emily tells a story: Goldilocks and the 3 bears. Again.
"I'm thinking.......Goldilocks and the Three Bears."
"You already told this one!"
"No! It's a different one."
The three bears ate oatmeal. And Papa said "let's go for a walk" Baby bear said "I love going for walks!" He runned up ahead and the mom and dad catched up to him. And they...Goldilocks came and she saw oatmeal and she cracked in the door and said "hellloooo?" and no one was home. SO she sneaked in and she said "this oatmeal is toooo hot!" and she tried the other one and she said "this one's toooo cold" and she tried the other one and she said "this ones juuuust right!" and she went off to watch tv. She tried the first one and said "this ones tooo hard", she tried the second one and she said "this ones toooo soft" and she tried the third one and said "this ones juuuust right!" And she tried the second-(did I already say that? Oh! Ok...) And she was getting tired so she went up and did some, and watched tv. She said this bed tooo hard, and she tried the second one and she said this ones tooooo soft, and she tried the last one and it was juuuust right. She turned on the tv and heard the bears crack open the door, they came and she was still, the poppa said "someones been sleeping in my bed", and the momma said "someones been sitting in my bed" and the baby one said "someones been laying in my bed and she's still there!" And then the three bears, they went close to Goldilocks, she woke up and she screamed! Her legs carried her allll the way home! And yelled "I'll never come back to this house. And the bears locked a big chain on the door so no one could come in.
"And thats the end of my story, and it's wrote by Emily Rabbit!"
"You already told this one!"
"No! It's a different one."
The three bears ate oatmeal. And Papa said "let's go for a walk" Baby bear said "I love going for walks!" He runned up ahead and the mom and dad catched up to him. And they...Goldilocks came and she saw oatmeal and she cracked in the door and said "hellloooo?" and no one was home. SO she sneaked in and she said "this oatmeal is toooo hot!" and she tried the other one and she said "this one's toooo cold" and she tried the other one and she said "this ones juuuust right!" and she went off to watch tv. She tried the first one and said "this ones tooo hard", she tried the second one and she said "this ones toooo soft" and she tried the third one and said "this ones juuuust right!" And she tried the second-(did I already say that? Oh! Ok...) And she was getting tired so she went up and did some, and watched tv. She said this bed tooo hard, and she tried the second one and she said this ones tooooo soft, and she tried the last one and it was juuuust right. She turned on the tv and heard the bears crack open the door, they came and she was still, the poppa said "someones been sleeping in my bed", and the momma said "someones been sitting in my bed" and the baby one said "someones been laying in my bed and she's still there!" And then the three bears, they went close to Goldilocks, she woke up and she screamed! Her legs carried her allll the way home! And yelled "I'll never come back to this house. And the bears locked a big chain on the door so no one could come in.
"And thats the end of my story, and it's wrote by Emily Rabbit!"
Emily tells a story: Goldilocks and the 3 bears.
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Goldilocks, and the three bears. The three bears went on a walk and to let their oatmeal cool off. And then, an then when she Goldilocks came, she said "this soup is too hot!" and she tried the other one and it was too cold, and she tried the other one, and when she got to the perfect one she ate it all up! Then she went to the room to watch TV. She watched TV and she got tired and she went in the beds and she said "this beds too HARD" and she tried the other bed "This beds tooooo soft" and the other one was just right. And she saw the three bears coming home and said, the poppa one said "Someones been eating my oatmeal" and the momma said "Someones been eatin my oatmeal" and the baby said "Someones been eatin my oatmeal and she ate it allllll up." And Goldilocks heard talking and she tried, she jumped out of the window, and runned home, and she said "I'll never come back to this house ever again!"
The bears saw her running out of the window and yelled "Wait! We're nice bears!" So she came back, and they all had a dance party with marshmallows and graham crackers and chocolate, they had s'mores, and lemonade, and pudding. Chocolate pudding!
And that is the end.
*as told verbatim by the divine Miss Emily Rabbit.
Letter to my future 12 year old. #2
Dear Emily,
Today you were dancing, and it struck me again how intense my love for you is. And how fast life is going. You will probably hear this innumerable times in your life, but it feels like you were a newborn nuzzled in my arms just yesterday.
Sometimes it moves so fast that I become afraid of not getting all the essentials done. And I get so wrapped up with meeting those needs that I fear I lend to the speediness of life. I know that in my stress I have hurried your explorations in this world, such as when we were on a walk the other day and you stopped to save a ladybug and I got slightly frustrated. It makes me sad to think that I got frustrated at your honest curiosity and kind heart. The truth is, I love that you do those little things. That you are so naturally curious and happy. I love that you dance, that you make up your own little songs to make me smile. I love that you cuddle in your sleep. Feeling your arm wrapped around me at night has come to be the most comforting sensation I know. I love your confidence in yourself. I love YOU. All of you.
I want to be the mom that lets you explore who you are, and the world around you. Even if it means our walk home from the grocery store takes a little longer and dinner is served a little later. Because when it comes right down to it, it doesn't matter what time we eat dinner, it's that we get to eat dinner together, and that you have the room to be you, and know you are loved for it.
Thank you for being patient with me, and for helping me discover this world through your eyes. I am honored to be your mom.
Today you were dancing, and it struck me again how intense my love for you is. And how fast life is going. You will probably hear this innumerable times in your life, but it feels like you were a newborn nuzzled in my arms just yesterday.
Sometimes it moves so fast that I become afraid of not getting all the essentials done. And I get so wrapped up with meeting those needs that I fear I lend to the speediness of life. I know that in my stress I have hurried your explorations in this world, such as when we were on a walk the other day and you stopped to save a ladybug and I got slightly frustrated. It makes me sad to think that I got frustrated at your honest curiosity and kind heart. The truth is, I love that you do those little things. That you are so naturally curious and happy. I love that you dance, that you make up your own little songs to make me smile. I love that you cuddle in your sleep. Feeling your arm wrapped around me at night has come to be the most comforting sensation I know. I love your confidence in yourself. I love YOU. All of you.
I want to be the mom that lets you explore who you are, and the world around you. Even if it means our walk home from the grocery store takes a little longer and dinner is served a little later. Because when it comes right down to it, it doesn't matter what time we eat dinner, it's that we get to eat dinner together, and that you have the room to be you, and know you are loved for it.
Thank you for being patient with me, and for helping me discover this world through your eyes. I am honored to be your mom.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Ooooh life.
Lately, I feel a little squished by it all. My attempts at escape or vacation have rendered me more stressed out than when I embarked, which is incredibly frustrating. Em has the chicken pox and until they popped up and were diagnosed I was at a loss as to why she was so out of sorts and emotional, which set me off and mixed with my mothers concern made for such a tense atmosphere the dog was suffering.
Death and serious illness has been everywhere I turn lately. In addition to all the celebrity death I see a lot of people distraught over, a friend was killed in a car crash, there have been several cancer diagnosis or suspicions, and so much more.
Taking four classes online, which I maintain was still a good idea because going to class would just suck ass, bring an incredible reading load that I am keeping up with but I am getting a little tired of it all.
But today, I am letting it all go for awhile. I am going to drink tea, listen to Nat King Cole and remember how to breathe, I am going to play with my sick kiddo. I am going get my car looked at so I can get it fixed and take her out to the woods. I am not going to worry about the dishes, the laundry or any other chores that just have to be done. I am going to take a nap, make popcorn and watch a movie. Unless I don't feel like it, then I won't. I am just letting it all go today.
Death and serious illness has been everywhere I turn lately. In addition to all the celebrity death I see a lot of people distraught over, a friend was killed in a car crash, there have been several cancer diagnosis or suspicions, and so much more.
Taking four classes online, which I maintain was still a good idea because going to class would just suck ass, bring an incredible reading load that I am keeping up with but I am getting a little tired of it all.
But today, I am letting it all go for awhile. I am going to drink tea, listen to Nat King Cole and remember how to breathe, I am going to play with my sick kiddo. I am going get my car looked at so I can get it fixed and take her out to the woods. I am not going to worry about the dishes, the laundry or any other chores that just have to be done. I am going to take a nap, make popcorn and watch a movie. Unless I don't feel like it, then I won't. I am just letting it all go today.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Things I have learned recently
-Running on the beach? Not glamorous. The wind nearly and literally took my breath away until I felt definite lack of oxygen things happening.
-Running with my hair in a ponytail? I get secret joy out of feeling the swish of it back and forth. I know, it's silly, but it is one of those things that bring me small joy.
-My daughter may secretly be a wood nymph. Or something like that.
-The idea of a vacation outside of Oregon excites me.
-Most of the unbidden spiritual moments in my life, ever, have taken place in the woods, near water. I am thankful for the opportunity to experience such things and shall remember this next time I feel the need for spiritual retreat.
-Running with my hair in a ponytail? I get secret joy out of feeling the swish of it back and forth. I know, it's silly, but it is one of those things that bring me small joy.
-My daughter may secretly be a wood nymph. Or something like that.
-The idea of a vacation outside of Oregon excites me.
-Most of the unbidden spiritual moments in my life, ever, have taken place in the woods, near water. I am thankful for the opportunity to experience such things and shall remember this next time I feel the need for spiritual retreat.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
30 books to read before your 30
I found this list of books everyone should read before they are 30. So far, with 2 years left, I am failing. The small print ones are the ones I have read and actually remember enough to count for something. I read others in high school but was too busy being a bitter unhappy teen to actually try at school, so they don't count...
- Siddhartha
by Hermann Hesse – A powerful story about the importance of life experiences as they relate to approaching an understanding of reality and attaining enlightenment.
- 1984
- To Kill a Mockingbird
- A Clockwork Orange
- For Whom the Bell Tolls
- War and Peace
- The Rights of Man
- The Social Contract
- One Hundred Years of Solitude
- The Origin of Species
- The Wisdom of the Desert
- The Tipping Point
- The Wind in the Willows
- The Art of War
- The Lord of the Rings
- David Copperfield
- Four Quartets
- Catch-22
- The Great Gatsby
- The Catcher in the Rye
- Crime and Punishment
- The Prince
- Walden
- The Republic
- Lolita
- Getting Things Done
- How To Win Friends and Influence People
- Lord of the Flies
- The Grapes of Wrath
- The Master and Margarita
- BONUS: How To Cook Everything
- BONUS: Honeymoon with My Brother
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