Dru Blood - I believe in the inherent goodness of all beings: June 2005 Archives

I work for a non-profit that serves a diverse array of people. I would expect to be fired if I were to publically post information attached to my name that would make it seem as though I have serious issues with the client that I serve.

J. Matt Barber has written at least one article that makes him look like he has some issues with at least 10% of the population. Not only did he make idiotic, untrue, and insensitive remarks about gays (Notice that no lesbian activity is discussed in his article at all. How odd!) but he also showed a fundamental non-understanding of how race and gender work in our culture, as well. And he got fired. Maybe now he can find a nice Christian organization to work for who will allow him to denigrate potential clients.

It seems like a simple economic manouver to me. And when God and money are your two main platforms, you really don't have a lot of wiggle room on this one.

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I am smitten + random mama tidbits.

June 28, 2005

We have a new Executive Director where I work, and she seems absolutely dreamy. In our first meeting today, she revealed some things about herself and her philosophy that made me feel like I'm really working someplace that I WANT to be, and that I can be appreciated. I don't want to go into too much detail, just because I don't know who reads this blog, but in spite of the fact that I *already* felt pretty darn comfortable in the workplace, I feel even MORE comfortable now. Not comfortable as in complacent, either. More like comfortable as in "now I feel like I can make an effort and my experience and expertise won't be minimized or rationalized based on factors that have nothing to do with my experience, expertise, or effort."

That, my friends, is really cool. And I hadn't even thought a great deal about it until today, when I realized that opportunities that I thought were totally not open to me might actually not be as closed as I had thought.

So, yeah. The new boss lady is rad, and work in general is pretty...VERY good. Things, in general, are actually pretty damn good.

The kids are doing really well. Monk is in an Aikido class, and I finally had the chance to observe him and was very impressed. He says he's interested in taking more martial arts classes, and today he meditated. He explained meditation to Coley this way "It's like your mind is a teapot, and the tea is your thoughts." I thought that was really cool, and he claims he thought it up on his own. Any which way, I'm pleased that he has something that he enjoys. He has needed that.

I'm not sure if it's the presence of that influence in his life, or brainwashing by the hippy children he's around all of the time, but he has denounced his support for George Bush and is now against war. He says that human beings are uncivilized, and that we are destroying the planet. McDonald's seems to bear the brunt of his ire, but he is, in general, suddenly becoming a little radical. He did, however, make it clear to me today that he will not be attending any protests in the near future because they are "boring." And, lest I think he was losing all of his misanthropy, before he went to bed tonight he came into my office and, rather than hugging me, POKED me goodnight.

I am glad that I don't have to listen to him extol the virtues of war and fighting anymore. However, now Coley insists that he is going to be a soldier when he grows up. Perhaps this is the real reason for Monk's sudden shift, as he seems to be greatly motivated by being Coley's polar opposite.

In researching classes to enroll the kids in for the fall, we decided that Coley wishes to take a martial arts class like his brother. I fear this will be expensive, but I will see. He really wants to take a hip-hop dance class. I was trying to get him interested in a modern dance class for kids, but he insists that he will not take any class that does not use "cool style" music, like Spearhead.

They are both suddenly into music. I gave Monk one of my copies of the Sludgeworth CD and he listens to it all of the time. I might actually go out and buy him the new System of a Down CD. It would be nice if he maintains at least marginally good taste in music. Coley, thankfully, seems to like ska and punk as well. His favorites are the Ramones and the Clash. Monk likes Operation Ivy. Monk, however, does not like Michael Franti. One. Bit. I have been on another one of my Spearhead kicks and Monk groans whenever we have to drive anywhere, because it's all I listen to in the car.

Isn't it funny how they grow and learn and become their own little beings? Gah. I just love them to pieces. I spent a day out on the town last week with Monk and Cole and Pansy's two kids, and I had the best time with them. Seriously. Like, I didn't even stop for a second and wish I had adult company, I was enjoying being around my little herd of children so freaking much. I love the way Pansy's kids push my kids to grow & vice versa. They are such a lovely little extended family. I feel very lucky in so very many ways.

The other day, when I was walking behind Lu and Monk on the way from the park to the house, I watched them do a really cute, innocent, poignant little dance of touch. Their hands were dangling by their sides, and they would periodically hold hands, squeeze fingers and let go in the most delicate and endearing way. Describing it in words would never do it justice, and I don't even think capturing it on film would provide the context it deserves. It was just such a warm series of gestures between two exuberant, emotional, sensitive, loving boys...and I was so happy that they felt free to express themselves to each other in such a sweet and loving way. When I told k8 about it, she said they would never have done such a thing if they weren't homeschooled. That public school would have driven a tendency for such honest tenderness right out of them by the ages of 8 and 9. I wish I could disagree with her, but I don't think I can. When I think about the boys that I know who are in public school, I can't imagine they would be so unself-conscious. Is that my bias showing? Is it me being cynical? I truly hope so.

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She just doesn't ever stop, Does she?

June 27, 2005

Destroying PBS

I was watching the PBS science program "Nova" the other night and spotted the liberal bias right away. I knew it would be there because Ken Tomlinson, the Bush-appointed chairman of the board of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), says the network is riddled with leftist leanings. Sure enough, in a program on tsunamis and what causes them, the show blamed it on shifting tectonic plates in the earth's surface. Then the graphic shows these two tectonic plates grinding against each other -- suddenly, the one on the left sort of falls down, and the big, aggressive plate on the right jumps on top of it, causing a killer tsunami. See? Wouldn't have happened on Fox.

(and I, for one, am glad of that)

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kindergoths

June 25, 2005

so, so cute!

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In Your FACE, mom!

June 24, 2005

Thanks to a smidge of peer pressure and some feigned ambivalence on my part, my kids are FINALLY learning to swim. Coley is suddenly fearless in the water. Before yesterday, every time his face would go under water, he would breathe IN, which is totally counter-intuitive, not to mention damn scary! Yesterday, it clicked for him, and he kept letting go of me so he could sink under the water and attempt to bob back up.

Monk, too, was spontaneously water-adventurous. First, putting his entire face in the water and then attempting to do the front crawl over and over again, squealing "Look mom! Look at me!"

All of this was most likely due to the presence of our friend Lu, who is one of Monk's dearest friends and Coley's personal hero. Lu was gently trying to convince Monk that swimming is cool, and took turns with me guiding coley out to the deep end. At one point, Lu yelled out to me "He kept himself afloat for a full second!" and Coley turned to me and said "In your FACE, mom!" and then turned back to Lu and said "Now, Let. Me. Go!"

It was adorable and sweet and empowered and wonderful to see my boys suddenly take to the water. We've just had the best week ever here. We had some difficulties last week with anger. This week, we performed a solstice ritual. I had all of the kids draw pictures of scary monsters as symbols of their bad (or unproductive or negative) feelings and (after explaining that feelings aren't bad, but they can cause us to feel bad and sometimes we do bad things because of our feelings) we said goodbye to our monsters and I burned them in our sink as an act of letting go. The kids loved it, and I think we will continue to perform this ritual every year on the summer solstice.

It's been a productive week, emotionwise. Coley called yesterday a "learning day." For me, it's been a learning week. I'm growing as a parent; finding new ways to approach issues and problems. It's difficult, but not impossible. I'm so thankful for the little guys who share my dna, and for the other little people who are part of my life, as well.

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Am I hopelessly behind the times?

June 22, 2005

Why have I never heard of Common Sense Media?

I was a bit jarred by the fact that their rating system includes a category for social interactions (particularly focusing on cultural diversity), and one of the reviews had this gem of an observation:

confusing gibberish about the earth's spirit that does not do justice to the beliefs of environmentalists or pantheists.

A movie review site for parents that takes cultural/racial issues, pantheism and environmentalism into consideration is pretty freaking cool in my book. Plus they include really great discussion points.

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Comments Are Down

June 20, 2005

Thanks to everyone who has attempted to inform me that my comments are down. I am aware of the problem and can do nothing to fix it at this time. If you would like to comment on something, please trackback or e-mail me (drublood at mindspring dot com). If it's interesting enough, and if I have time, I will post your comment and my response.

I'll leave this message at the top of the page until comments are available again.

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Girl's night.

June 18, 2005

I had to miss the southern girl's conference. I want to blame the person who was hitching a ride with us and had offered to pay for the gas, but that would be a copout. We had a difficult (understatement of the year) time coordinating our schedules so we could meet up, and I think she just gave up. I wasn't terribly disappointed that I couldn't go, but I feel like every single time I make plans that involve finally getting to meet my mamafriend Coleen, something like this happens, and I feel like I've made a million excuses to her.

Ah, well. At least I was compelled to get all of my car repairs taken care of. I even got the car cleaned and detailed last weekend, in anticipation of the event. Now I have a nice clean car and not so much of a dent in my wallet.

And I got to hang out with the girls last night anyway, which was so fucking refreshing, I can't even begin to describe it. It was talk and laugh and talk and chocolate covered strawberries and talk and more talk and more laughter and...yeah. If I could marry all of the girls, I would. It makes me want to say fuck it all about the house and the pressure and all of the bullshit in my life and just join a commune of women and bring those boy children of mine up RIGHT.

And, speaking of the boy children...I get so caught up in how strange and potentially damaged they are, and I look at my mama friends around the table and I think of what little freaks all of our children are, and how truly awfully wonderful all of those little freaks are, and I think all is NOT lost. Not even hardly.

And 3 in the morning arrived without even a yawn. That's how much I love the mamas. I could have stayed another 3 hours, but I was tired of sitting still and wanted to get home because I knew I would wake up early anyway and wanted movement in the next day (today) so home and sleep I did and, of course, up at 8 AM and at the pool by 10. I did 40 laps today.

And here's where I get all metaphorical and shit. I was thinking about all sorts of stuff. Like about the fact that I called my mom yesterday and my fucking sister answered the phone. My fucking sister who VIOLATED me when I was SIX YEARS OLD and now is angry at ME because I had the NERVE to bring it up. The FUCKING sister my mother keeps trying to get me to forgive and make amends with. Of course, that's MY fucking responsibility because I'M the one who started talking about all of this shit. And my FUCKING sister who responded to my cordiality (I wasn't warm, but I was cordial) with a snide "Hello, DRU." and offline "Mom, it's the OTHER daughter." And after a brief conversation with my mom I had to go and felt so dragged under by it. It's the same bullshit feeling I feel whenever I have to deal with L. He comes over and he's all haughty and pissed at ME. PISSED AT ME! You know? After doing things that are basically inexcusable towards another human being, why is it that these people feel that they have a right to act pissy with ME? I don't even act pissy with THEM...why should they act that way with me?

But anyway, the metaphorical...so, while swimming today, I had all of this stuff going through my head. And I swam HARD, mamas. I swam lap after lap after lap after lap. And while I was swimming, I was thinking about the traumatic way I was taught to swim. You know the story, as so many of you were taught this way. I'm clinging to the ledge and my mom is out 5 feet from me telling me to "swim! swim! swim to me...Come on! You can do it!" and I'm swimming but it feels like drowning and I'm swimming and swimming and, damn, it seems like she was a lot closer than that, and my 4 year old self is going under and somehow managing to resurface and I finally make it out to my mama and I look back and that bitch has been walking away from me THIS WHOLE TIME. And, sure, I learned how to swim, but I also learned that I can't trust my mother. That I am going to have to somehow keep my own damn self afloat somehow because she will always be backing away from me while I'm thrashing around in the water.

And, you know what, I'm damn glad I learned how to swim. I love the way my body feels in the water, and I love the way my body feels out of the water. I love that I can keep myself afloat, and I love that I won't let it drown me. But it was a HARD lesson to learn at 4, and it's not much easier at 18, 21, 30, or 35. And I want better for my kids.

So I get home after this epiphany, and one more lap of swimming FULL-OUT SPRINT, which I haven't done in quite some time. and I take off my suit and I yell and scream and cry and I cry out "NO!" and I yell out "I am NOT going to let that asshole fuck up MY children!" I will not let them drown and I will not make them feel as if they have to keep themselves afloat. I want them to feel my hands on them, gently, encouragingly, until they feel empowered to keep themselves afloat. And when they feel themselves going under, I am NOT going to back away. I'm going to be there with my hands outstretched, offering whatever resources I can to help them. Offering whatever I have in me to help them feel strong and healthy and capable. And I think about those beautiful boys and I cry at their oddness, and I laugh at their beauty, and I know they are going to be OK, because *I* am their mama. My mama is not their mama. My sister is not their mama. Their PAPA is not their mama. It's me. And I have strong hands. And I know how to swim. And I can teach them, without making them feel like they are drowning.

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It's nice to get reassurance

June 17, 2005

Regardless of the source, it's always nice to get reassurance of some kind that perfection is not an achievable goal of parenting. I welcomed that reassurance today in the form of a quote from How Children Learn by John Holt, talking about teachers (as in paid school teachers) who attempt to put on a front of perfection with their classes:

There is a paradox here. Many of the adults who hide themselves from children, pretending to be some idealized notion of "Teacher," might well say they do this in order to make themselves consistent and predictable to the children. The real me, they might say, is capricious, moody, up one day and down the next. It's too hard for the children to have to deal with that changeable, unpredictable real person. So instead, I will give them an invented, rule-following, and therefore wholly predictable person. And it works exactly backwards. Children, unless they are very unlucky, and live at home with adults pretending to be model parents (which may be a growing trend), are used to living with real, capricious, up-one-day-and-down-the-next adults - and with their sharpness of observation and kenness of mind, they learn how to predict these strange huge creatures, and to read all their confusing signs. They know the complicated emotional terrain of the adults they live with as well as they know their room, their home, their backyard or street. But trying to deal with adults who have tried to turn themselves into some kind of machine is like trying to find your way in a dense fog, or like being blind. The terrain is there, but you can't see it.

He then continues, after talking about how his students learned to recognize when his patience was growing thin...and I laughed out loud at the following while I was reading...

Children can detect and understand these subtle human signs and signals much better than they can figure out our rules - which half the time we don't stick to anyway.

I dunno, it was just so refreshing to read one of my favorite child development experts fully admitting that parents are imperfect (possibly neurotic), children know that, and they learn to deal. I've made a commitment to re-read many of the child development books I read when Monk was young. I feel like I'm making some mistakes with Coley that I wasn't challenged to make with Monk, and I'm finding a lot of solace there. When Monk was younger, I just didn't see him in any of the books. He was not a textbook kid. I see Coley, though, and many of my responses to him.

Being a parent is so freaking HARD, you know? Monk intimated to me, in not so many words, that he is somewhat bored. But he's so difficult to please, I'm not sure what tools I need to give him to help him expand himself. I need to go back to the drawing board. I'm glad this is coming up now, though, as the summer solstice approaches and I rethink our strategy and recommit to things that I have slacked off. I think with Monk I just need to keep changing things up, and yet he is so comforted by routine and rhythm that I have to change things up without shaking things up too much.

Fuck. It's hard to be a parent! I'm glad Mr. Holt has my back.

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Friday Random Ten - Untitled edition

June 17, 2005

You know the rules:

(I am too cool to use a coolness scale)

Ziggy Marley - Island Warriors 343
Green Day - Westbound Sign
Public Enemy - Shut Em Down (The Functionist Version)
Velvet Underground - What Goes On (closet mix)
Bikini Kill - Anti-Pleasure Dissertation
Bjork - Isobel
The Raincoats - Shouting Out Loud
John Lennon - Jealous Guy
Rolling Stones - Goodbye Ruby Tuesday
The Searchers - Hearts in Her Eyes

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Big news!

June 17, 2005

My friend burning door has posted about his impending fatherhood - and as he is not the first to give me similar news in the past month or so, I figured it might be time to list my favorite books about childbirth and parenting:

Immaculate Deception is an excellent starting point for women who are pregnant and would like to be informed about the process of giving birth in the hospital with a ob/gyn vs. homebirth or some other form of midwife-attended birth. This book contains lots of statistical evidence that points to homebirth and midwife attended birth as the safer, healthier, more spiritually fulfilling option. And, at least in my experience, less painful.

Birthing From Within is a guide to help women overcome obstacles (mostly mental/emotional) which tend to interfere with the birthing process. It's sort of like the old-fashioned "method" birthing approach, only broad-based and unspecific. Rather than providing you and your birth partner with rigid instructions, England and Horowitz instead provide activities and exercises to prepare a woman and her partner for birth in ways that are specific to their needs. From what I remember, the book is also compatible with single motherhood. I found this book to be EXTREMELY helpful. In combination with my midwife (who was absolutely wonderful) I was able to work through some very serious trauma from my first birth, as well as situational trauma during my pregnancy and have a very healthy, productive, empowering birth experience.

Wise Woman Herbal for the Childbearing Year provides solid information about herbal remedies for conception, birth, post-partum - the entire childbearing year. It's a reference that I returned to time and time again throughout my pregnancy and breastfeeding experience.

Summerhill: A Radical Approach to Child Rearing was the first book I ever read about parenting/education LONG before I ever considered having children. If you ignore all of the Freud stuff, this book provides a solid foundation in child-led learning and freedom. My favorite take-away from this book is "freedom, not license" and even though my philosophy has evolved over the years to a more collectivist approach to parenting, I still reread this book on occasion to achieve focus and balance the pervasive "the parents are always right" atmosphere present in most parenting books.

Magical Child I have not read Jean Leidhoff's _The Continuum Concept_ but this book is also based on the idea that children are to be nurtured and provided for. Babies are not consciously selfish beings, although sometimes it seems that way. Pretty much ever desire a child from birth-3 has is also a need, and should be attended to as much as possible. Sticking to this philosophy is often carried out to ridiculous extreme by some attachment parents, but I think the basic premise is a good one. It flies in the face of the "cry it out" "toughen them up" "don't give a child too much love and attention or you might spoil him or her" method of parenting that many of us were raised with and are constantly encouraged to adhere to.

You Are Your Child's First Teacher - I think it's great that people will buy this book assuming that it will give them ways to ENHANCE BRAIN POWER! MAKE A BETTER, SMARTER, MORE SUCCESSFUL BABY! ETC. Instead, this is a simple book that provides strategies for building a bonded connection with your child and learning together naturally from your surroundings.

Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting - written by Myla Kabat-Zinn and John (Howard's brother) Kabat-Zinn, this book provides a step back from the daily task-oriented life you will come to know as a parent and encourages reflection on the whole parent and the whole child. Never admonishing, always gently encouraging...reading it is like taking a break and sipping tea in the garding of parenthood.

Anything by John Holt - John Holt is the founding member (or at least, he's recognized as such) of the American liberal homeschooling revolution. His books will give you hope and understanding.

The Teenage Liberation Handbook - This book is NECESSARY reading for anyone who has a child, might possibly have a child, or has BEEN a child. It's an amazing acknowledgement of the difficulties of being a teenager, and provides excellent solutions and support for those who wish to "quit school and get a real life and education" as well as those who wish they had. You should also read the companion book Real Lives, which chronicles the lives of 11 children who DID just that.

I also got a lot out of the Sears books, mostly because the provide foundational information about pregnancy childbirth, breastfeeding, and development without all of the horrible advice about letting kids "cry it out" or "tough it out." If you want a good "how-to" guide to parenting and what to expect, the Sears books are the way to go, and stay FAR away from the "what to expect..." series.

I also really enjoyed How to Talk so Kids Will Listen and Listen so Kids Will Talk.

Don't forget to nourish yourself with some mama wit, too:

The Hipmama Survival Guide

The Mother Trip

Breeder

The Big Rumpus

Operating Instructions

Those are all I can think of off the top of my head, without getting into the age-by-age development stuff and the homeschooling resources I have. Please feel free to e-mail me or trackback if you think you have something I should add to this list.

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Where are the Male Bloggers?!

June 16, 2005

Conversations are erupting all over the place about women and rape and men and society...and, yes, there are some men commenting, and a handful of men linking. But, what the fuck? Is rape, also, a fringe issue? Can we not have a cross-gender, cross-blog discussion about this issue?

Where ARE the male bloggers?

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Womanhood and Risk Management

June 16, 2005

Pinko Feminist Hellcat adds her voice to the discussion about women's role in rape culture. I was thinking about this very thing while I did the dishes this afternoon. About how frustrated and inarticulate I feel when attempting to decode and deconstruct people like Cleek in the comments at Pandagon. Something inside me says "what you are saying makes no sense, and it's totally obvious to me why it makes no sense, but I can't articulate it...perhaps because it is so obvious to me."

And then I think about all of the times in my life that I've put myself "at risk" in the eyes of these people who want to say that women need to "avoid risk." Of course, people only click their tongues at women who "take risks" when those risks result in someone else committing a crime against them. And I would imagine, statistically speaking, that risks are less likely to result in rape and more likely to result in having a nice time or enjoying oneself or opening oneself up to a new and pleasant experience or even, Meh, no big deal.

Here are some risks I have taken that could have very well ended up with me being raped:

When I was 17, I went to Michigan to visit a pen pal of mine. I stayed in his dorm for a week. I didn't know anyone else there but him. I had a great time and got to know a really special person whose friendship I enjoyed for many years. I did this all with my mother's consent, although...as a single mom, I'm sure she would have been condemned as harshly as me for "allowing her daughter" to take such a risk.

Many, many times, when I was 15 and 16, I would meet people at the teen dance club I frequented and hang out with them, often alone. Many of these people were men. I enjoyed their company and, thankfully, these particular male animals were the kind that didn't find it necessary to rip all of my clothes off in spite of the fact that there may have been an attraction in that direction and it might have been mutual. At the time, it would have seemed bizarre to not trust these people. They seemed nice, and I had a nice time with them. I am glad I was allowed to assume that the people I met had honest intentions, and was able to form friendships with men that did not involve fear or caution.

When I was 18, I moved out of my mom's house and into an apartment with a female friend and two men I had never met. Those were some of the best years of my life. Thank maude no one assumed that I was giving tacit permission for anyone to have sex with me because I was living with them. Thank maude, too, that I didn't have to assume that the men I lived with were people I needed to fear.

I can't even count how many times strangers in bands came through town and crashed on my floor...or how many people I have met out at clubs or elsewhere and invited over or gone out with to get to know better. Of course I didn't know them well when I invited them into my home or my life...And just about every experience I have had with strangers that I have invited into my life has enriched me in ways that the fear of rape could never take away.

Then, of course, there was the one time I invited someone to my house, and he wasn't so nice. I'm not sure I would exactly call it rape, but I was made to feel powerless and defeated by this person, and it was a pretty horrible experience.

Does this one experience make me an irresponsible person who "should have known better?" Was I "just lucky" all of the other times? I can tell you that the bad experience wasn't any different from any of the other experiences. I didn't get a different "vibe" from this person, nor did I feel particularly unsafe in his presence.

I refuse to believe that I, as a woman - or anyone, as human beings, should have to be held accountable for the bad behavior of other people. It's easy to look at a crime after the fact and judge the victim of the crime as being incautious. But hypervigilance isn't a fun state of mind, and blaming rape victims for their "incautious" behavior is tantamount to telling people that it is ALWAYS better to be "safe" than "sorry." When being safe doesn't even mean that you will never be sorry, anyway.

To me, it seems like the investment people have in telling women that they need to avoid "dangerous" situations is just another way to oppress women (duh!) I refuse to accept that. I refuse to lock myself up in my house at night, fearful of going for a walk around the block in my own fucking neighborhood not only out of fear that someone might violate me, but out of the corollary that I will be blamed for that violation after-the-fact.

I think about all of my positive experiences in the presence of men (and women) that could have turned out badly. I think of all that I have gained from these experiences, and the thought that I might have been compelled to miss out on these experiences for fear that "something bad" might have happened to me is even worse, in my opinion, than having suffered "something bad."

To belabor this point a bit longer, I have a son who is inexorably cautious, to the point of being occasionally counter-productive. I remember having observed this hypervigilance in him early on in his life, and I remember the first time I articulated concern about it to him. We were on a beach in California (I was in the middle of a road trip from Texas to Portland, down the California coast and back to Taxas, that I took the children on BY MYSELF which is also one of those zany risks that enriched my life immensely but that people thought was just plain weird at best and horribly dangerous and Not Worth The Risk at worst) and he was afraid of the water. I remember watching him standing on the shore, obviously wanting to play with his cousins in the water, but feeling tremendous fear about doing so, and crying. I told him something that I have had to repeat to him frequently in his young life. I told him that fear is healthy and normal and it can help you make informed choices, but you can't let fear hold you back from doing something that might feel good or teach you something or otherwise enrich you. I realized, as I was telling him this, that, like many mantras I repeat to my children, I was also reminding myself of the same thing.

I don't know if man can understand this, and it makes me angry, sad, confused, and frustrated all at the same time.

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Motive for Rape

June 16, 2005

Alley Rat conducted an interesting experiment on the motive for rape, and posted her results here.

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Why I love Dawn

June 16, 2005

You might think it's because she addresses issues of adoption with intelligence and equanimity, and that she responds even to her critics with an obvious intent to understand before being understood. You might think it's because whenever an issue of race, class or gender arises, she totally "gets it" and expresses herself in ways that put me in awe. You might think it's because she is a fellow homeschooler, and has all sorts of interesting things to say on the subject.

But mostly it's because she's a mama, and she's honest, and damn funny, and she says stuff like this:

See, this meta stuff -- the theoretical, big issues -- is easy compared to the getting through the day stuff. For example, Noah is now at the age where he wants to talk to me about the things that interest him. Great, right? You know, to have a kid who confides in you? Fantastic, right?
Well, no.

Because listening to Noah talk about the things that interest him makes me want to pluck out my eyeballs, fry them in oil and pop them back into my head while they're still hot. It's excrutiating and try as I might, I think that sometimes I wince when he says, "Did you know that NIghtcrawler doesn't just go invisible but actually disappears?"

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Validation

June 16, 2005

Sometimes it's the tiniest thing. Like yesterday. My kids spend one evening a week at a friend's house out in the country, 40 miles away. I leave work to pick them up and arrive there late. The kids are always sleepy and they always fall asleep in the car on the way home.

We have a game we like to play. I ask them if they had fun and they tell me they did and I tell my friends "What are you doing allowing my children to have fun! You know there is NO FUN ALLOWED!"

Coley has picked up on this game, and he loves it. When I ask him if he had fun, he says "No! I had a miserable time!" And I say "good," and we all laugh.

Last night it was the same game. And after, I strapped Coley into his carseat and Monk was all buckled in and we started to drive off. "Mom?" Says Coley from the back seat. Sheepishly. Grinningly. "Yes, shmoopie?" I reply.

"We have fun with you, too."

I reach behind me and squeeze his leg. Soon after, he falls asleep. But it means a lot. He's making sure that I know that he understands the joke. That I am invested in their enjoyment of life. That I WANT there to be fun in their lives. That I am capable of accepting the fun they have when they are not in my presence. These things I understand him to understand, and he wants to make it clear, above the joking, that he knows it to be true.

Damn, I love those kiddos. I drive home, listening to the Decemberists with two sleeping children in the backseat and tears in my eyes.

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Steve Gilliard is at it again.

June 16, 2005

You'd think he would learn that he has no fucking clue how to approach issues that have anything to do with women. But still, he persists.

On the bright side, there were some excellent comments at Alas and Pandagon. I particularly clicked with this:

5. It’s insulting to tell women that they are fools to consider men their friends. We know who our friends are. 6. We consider men sexually ourselves. Even our friends. 7. You can be friends and respect someone you have “considered sexually”.

It's amazing how much I discover that I've internalized about my view of sex as a woman.

But the thing that strikes me, really, is this idea that we somehow know instinctively who the "good guys" are. Is it really unheard of that someone might leave a party with someone or someones without even considering that sex was about to happen? Is sex REALLY a foregone conclusion?

I feel like the fact that I have have to ask those two questions is utterly ridiculous. I know that I've left parties with people that I have just met. Sometimes these people were *gasp* men. I guess my level of carelessness can be judged by whether or not those men chose to rape me?

WTF?

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Reality Bites

June 15, 2005

He found it on the front porch and was instantly delighted. "Look, mom! It's just like the spyglass the Baudelaire parents left for their children!" He exclaimed, giving me that exagerrated look of mystery and intrigue.

I knew what it was, but I played along, careful not to disturb a rare bit of magic in the life of an 8-year old for whom magic had been, lately, difficult to come by. He carried his "spyglass" around with him for days, anxious to show his friends, my friends, passing strangers, and especially his father.

Finally, the weekend arrived. He packed the "spyglass" lovingly in his suitcase, anxious about revealing his discovery.

He came home 2 days later, holding the object loosely in his palm. "It's not a spyglass, mom. Dad says it's the spigot of a hose." He dropped it on the ground, and left it there. Just like that. How fragile magic is!

Today, while mowing the lawn, I spied it again. He had put it on the end of the hose.

Where it belonged.

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Warning: This blog post may make you believe in the inherent goodness of all beings.

June 14, 2005

I love it! In response to this fucked up shit:

I propose a call for action.....a call to come up with a series of warning labels for gay people that express truly what people need to be warned about when talking to us...and then put them on T-shirts that we can wear and other things as statements of the TRUE dangers of associating with gay people.

Brilliant! Thanks to Lab Kat for the linky.

(um, notice I'm not clever enough to think of any warning labels of my own. Sorry! I'll try to come up with some later.)

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Still more fucked up shit.

June 14, 2005

Yay, Texas!

Update: Now! With Pictures! And Commentary! And Utter Idiocy!

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Rumsfeld: Poverty Root Cause of Terrorism

June 14, 2005

A recent BBC article quotes Rumsfeld:

"The people in Gitmo... 99% have the best food probably, the best medical treatment, they've ever received in their lives," the defence secretary added.

FINALLY, some honesty from our unelected officials. It's about time they cop to the root causes. Now, let's talk about that little "image problem."

There are many issues involved when looking at global poverty and inequality. It is not simply enough (or correct) to say that the poor are poor due to their own (or their government's) bad governance and management. If fact, you could quite easily conclude that the poor are poor because the rich are rich and have the power to enforce unequal trade agreements that favor their interests more than the poorer nations.

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If that's LOVE, I don't want anything to do with it.

June 14, 2005

Sheelzebub posts about Love In Action. Why is it that my only response to news items anymore is "That is some FUCKED UP shit."

What the fuck is UP with these freaking people? Have they NO fucking respect for life?

Gah. I can't do it anymore. I just can't even look at the religious right without wanting to explode with fucking rage.

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Why I love blogging.

June 13, 2005

because I get responses to posts like these that connect me to my past in ways that I would never hope to experience any other way.

So far, in my blogging history, I have heard from:

The girlfriend of the brother of a friend of mine who committed suicide - she was seeking help in dealing with her boyfriend's depression

A college radio dj I used to have a crush on.

A person (now 2) in obscure bands that I thought I would never ever hear about again.

The author of a really obscure and rare gardening book.

A handful of old friends who I never thought I would hear from again, one of who took me on a wild poetic romp for a time before disappearing off into the sunset.

Um, my current boyfriend, who was also a friend from my past.

old zine friends

and probably more.

How freaking cool is that? Has anyone else had cool "found me through the blog" memories?

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Coining a new phrase...

June 13, 2005

It's NOT about the pie fight, stupid!

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Cry me a fucking river

June 13, 2005

I was about done with the whole Kos thing when Steve Gilliard jumped in with about the most assinine defense EVER:

Ok, who here works 80 hours a week for themselves?
What you had is a lot of people talking about an issue they didn't understand. Oh, he's a sexist, oh he was nasty.

Grow up.

You are free to work 80 hours a week and start your own blog and deal with issues in your own way.

Steve, you can call me and my ilk "humorless scolds" if you would like, but 80 hours a week writing crap on the internet (for the good of the PARTY no less) is not something that constitutes hard labor or excuses thoughtlessness and idiocy. If anything, I would expect someone who gets paid to spend 80 hours a week writing crap on the internet would take more time and put more thought into what he writes so as not to alienate those he is allegedly working so hard to invite to share that "great big tent."

Then again, you are the idiot who accused me (and my "ilk") of being Ivory Tower intellectuals because I wanted to exercise my right to make a real choice. It's so funny how everyone who argues with you becomes more advantaged than you. I could tell you what I spend my 80+ hour work week doing, and we can compare the sizes of our penises that way, if you'd like...but yr simply not worth the effort.

Thanks to Ms. B and Lauren for raising my ire factor this fine afternoon. I just love being a whining, hairy arm-pitted, hen-pecking harpy on a monday.

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Yearly Plan, and rambling about my weekend.

June 13, 2005

I really need to sit down and plan a vacation...and I think I'm finally in a place where I can do a yearly plan - an outlook of where I want to be a year from now and the steps I need to take to get there.

Actually, it will most likely be a two-year plan...or year and a half plan. Because my one major goal that I have my sights set on in the upcoming years is to take the kids on a roadtrip to the northeast coast during leafing season in 2006. But I have financial goals for them and for me that need to be set according to the final divorce orders.

In other words, I think I finally feel my life coming together. I feel more stable. I feel cohesion. I am taking baby steps, but I am more assertive at work, and I'm more sure of myself as a mama. I'm sure this helps the kids, as I have the particular strain of children who will take mealy-mouth and run rampant all over her. I have had to be a lot more firm with them than I had ever thought would be necessary, and they seem to respond at first with resistance (always with the resistance, which when viewed from outside of the immediate situation, is a good thing.) and then with almost relief. "Mama says" needs to be phrase that sticks, and means something. And, in line with that, what mama says has to be important. The line has to be clear AND constructive. Damn, it's hard being the mama.

This weekend, I discovered that I've done a good job of letting go of the feelings that are engendered by the subtle tattling the kids do between dad and me. Monk, at one point, said "Papa says that you are the one who starts all of the arguments." I've been fairly good about deflecting these things, no matter how hurtful, or in this case just plain wrong it is. I have, however, had to frantically call people up to get advice on how to deal with things like this. When Monk said the preceding, I handled it with aplomb. "How does that make you feel, Monk?" "Bad." "Do you think it's possible that I start all of the arguments?" "No." "I'm sorry you are placed in that position in the middle, sweetie. The grown ups in your life should not be talking with you about grown up issues, as they have nothing to do with you." ETC. I always respond with a "How does that make you feel?" Later, I follow up with a "If I make you feel that way, I want you to let ME know, so you don't have to tattle on me to someone else to let those feelings out. I feel like I'm dealing really well with those situations, though they are incredibly difficult to deal with.

It was truly a togetherness weekend this week. On Friday, we were feeling to hot and lazy to leave the house. The kids came with me to work on Saturday, and then we went to the movie night at Deep Eddy. We didn't watch the whole movie, though. The water in the pool was cold (and, frankly, I was a little grossed out by the fact that the guards spent an good deal of time fussing over something that they were cleaning out of the pool right before the movie started. I know people poop in the pool all the time, but...um...I don't like to be reminded of it right before I get in to frolic and play with a bunch of unsupervised children) so we stayed primarily on our towel. It was difficult to follow the movie, so the kids got bored with it. Next time, we will bring our own snacks, bug spray, a bigger towel, and another adult, perhaps, so the kids could do two different things if they desire.

After the movie, we grooved on over the Magnolia, where we had appetizers. It was 11 PM when we got home. Cole was asleep and Monk was sleepy.

Monk spent the entire weekend reading Pendragon, which was sent to us by a friend, and which he LOVES. He spent most of the time he was reading it telling me how great it is. I'm thrilled that he seems to have graduated from his obsession wight Goosebumps books into something a bit more substantial, and it makes my heart warm to have a little boy in the house with his nose buried in a book. I'll have to look into the rest of the series.

Coley spent the entire weekend bouncing around like a little bug and being adorable and impossible all at the same time.

On Sunday we took the car in to get washed, and I paid a little extra to get an "express" detailing. The guy gave me a deal on it, and I figured, what the heck! That poor car hasn't been cleaned in a long time, and it could use a little TLC. The man who detailed it ended up spending about 2 hours on it, while my children ran rampant around the lobby, watching car after car go through the car wash and befriending carwash kids all the while. Now my car is sparkly shiny, and I have no complaints about the value of the detailing, but I was thinking it would be a 30 minute trip and instead it knocked a huge chunk out of my day.

We forged forth to the grocery store, took care of our shopping and came home. Monk helps me with the groceries now. He's so freaking sweet. He told me to save some bags for him because he didn't want to feel like I was doing all of the work. He put half of the stuff away, too. He's such a great helper.

I should say that Monk and I had a little talk about inherent goodness while watching the movie on Saturday night. The movie was Raiders of the Lost Ark, and there's that weird Nazi storyline that I had totally forgotten about. I was trying to explain Adolph Hitler to Monk, and did a fairly good job, I think. However, I started talking about how they were "bad" people, and Monk corrected me "Mom. People aren't bad. All people are good inside, but some people choose to hide their goodness by doing bad things." I was somewhat amazed about this, and felt renewed hope that Monk's obsession with all things war and hatred is really just his way of counteracting his extreme sensitivity and tenderness. Later, I asked him where he came up with the idea that all people are good inside, and he said he just figured it out on his own. That might be true, but I hope I had a little influence on him.

Sunday night I made corn bisque and the kids made and decorated a late birthday cake for J, who came over to enjoy dinner and dessert with us and attempt to convince Monk to do his writing practice which had caused much conflict earlier in the day. Monk was throwing temper tantrum after temper tantrum over that damn assignment. Finally, after John left, Monk came to me and asked for an amendment to the assignment. We talked about how dialog is so much more constructive (and productive) than temper tantrums, and we were able to get the assignment done before he went to bed.

So there was some turbulence, but we ended the weekend on a good note, and everyone went to bed happy and peacefully. I feel like once I have my plan and roadmap, things can only get better.

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chore buster

June 13, 2005

This - Chore Buster - The solution to household and flat chores - looks interesting. I'm saving it for later.

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My heart is breaking...

June 12, 2005

My heart is breaking for a bunch of mamas here in Austin and surrounding, and all of the people who were touched by one particular mama who is no longer with us. I don't feel that it's my story to tell, but if any of them are reading this - my love to you. Please, please e-mail me if you think there is anything at all I can do to help.

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I frequently forget myself.

June 11, 2005

I feel like I'm about to enter another phase of my life. I feel resistances being shed and frustrations on the verge of being acted upon. It's like looking down and suddenly realizing, fuck, I'm in shackles...and I have the fucking key! No, wait...it's actually like staring at a key in my hand, thinking "What the fuck is this key for?" and then realizing I'm locked up, and I've actually been this way for awhile without knowing.

I think the problem has been that there are so many weird external circumstances in my life that I have no control over. People exerting pressure, both positive and negative. I was just thinking of drawing a diagram to illustrate this, and I came up with a crude diagram of all of the people in my life who seem to be imposing limits on my life encircled by a fence, and I'm out there in the open, surrounded by freedom. And I thought "Boundaries, not limits."

What's the difference? Boundaries are demarcations left for other people to respect, limits are brick walls preventing exploration. Boundaries are healthy forms of communicating and applying control over how people treat you. Limits are obstacles. And, it's funny, because the two people who I am having the most difficulty with right now seem to have no boundaries (and/or no respect for my boundaries) but many, many limits.

So in the picture in my head, I have them all corralled into a little pasture marked by their limits, and I roam free outside that space. Seeking. Exploring. Learning. Enjoying my fulfilling life.

And then I had to read this poem, to remind myself:

Slake

Satiate or moderate you offer sips, I opt for slake. I give to give for you to take. Libate licentious raucaus rake. Upend the mug in throated draughts no subtle grins but belly laughs. My cup of tea philosophy is sweet deep drinking anarchy. Entire seas between the knees...a-drip, a-drop, a-turn-at-ease. You tell me "yr too much" I glee! "noway. I'm absolutely free!"

I've been doing that a lot lately, reading over old writing. What am I looking for? There are times that I do it to maintain myself. Because I have a tendency to forgive and forget, even if forgetting (if not forgiveness itself) is self-destructive) I need to remind myself that I have been wronged and I am awaiting acknowledgement and, hopefully, reconciliation. There are times when I do it to examine myself. To look at this person who wrote these words through a telescope of time and situation. Sometimes I don't recognize myself. Almost always I am impressed with myself. It is funny, isn't it? I always think that what I'm writing now is sheer crap that is nothing worth reading, yet it never fails that when I read over it two years later I will be impressed with the strength of my voice, or its honesty. Sometimes I wonder if I really am a writer. If maybe I'm like the person who thinks they know how to sing and sings loudly and everyone else hears screeching caterwaul. So I read over to make sure I'm not making a fool of myself. And sometimes I am embarrassed, but not often.

But I reread also to look for breadcrumbs. Little wisdoms that I do not always even understand when I drop them, but that become apparent as I gain experience. Like reading a book at different times in your life, my life has different meanings each time I read it. It's strange and wonderful and scary and beautiful and informative and true. It's all of these things. And I'm glad to have the reminder.

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PostSecret

June 10, 2005

Every once in awhile, you stumble upon something special. PostSecret is something special.

Some of them made me smile, and some of them made me cry.

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Fucked up Shit.

June 10, 2005

Marian's Blog: The tasering of (just happens to be Black) Malaika Brooks, dropping her son at school

And I keep wondering "what if." If you begin to enforce "the law" by physically grabbing a person (an unarmed, pregnant mother for example) from behind the wheel of her or his car (having verified, as U.S. police usually do, that it is their car), then you shock them 1, 2, 3 times with 50-thousand volts of electricity applied against the neck or throat (a very sensitive part of the body) - where do you go from there?

I don't think I want to know the answer to that question.

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Pansy is so rad.

June 10, 2005

I can't believe I missed this post when she first wrote it.

Please encourage her to write more, and talk to her about buying her mosaics, because she's a fucking talented artist.

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Makes me want to run out and find a republican boyfriend...

June 10, 2005

FreewayBlogger Weblog

I don’t care how old you are, how much you weigh or what you look like. I don’t care if you like cuddling by the fire or being slathered in mayonnaise with a clown mask on. So long as you have a significant other who cares for you deeply and voted for Bush, I can promise you without hesitation the very best sex you have ever, or will ever have: brain-scrambling, soul-shattering, scream-to-the-heavens sex that will leave you not only walking funny, but mumbling incoherently for days. And believe me, it’ll be nowhere near as good for you as it will be for me.

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Friday Random Ten - Version "Talking to Cecily"

June 10, 2005

in case you don't know the drill:

Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again (Naturally)
The Fixtures - War For Your Soul
The Decemberists - Grace Cathedral Hill
They Might Be Giants - Mr. Klaw
They Might Be Giants - Birds Fly
The Velvet Underground - Cool It Down
Social Distortion - Story of my Life (live)
Bauhaus - Hollow Hills
Velvet Undergrond - Jesus
Michael Franti & Spearhead - Rock the Nation

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I swear I read this AFTER I wrote that last post...

June 8, 2005

If I had read it before, I could have just said "what she said."

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Sorry for the outburst...

June 8, 2005

...in that post below about Coley's math achievement. I'm just a little fed up about people in my life who SHOULD really be getting homeschooling, but do not. I have a suspicion that the main person in my life who asserts that the children are not getting enough school "time" is someone who is more invested in degrading my abilities and the credit I am due for the work I do than in protecting the children.

At any rate, I've run across a few people lately who don't seem to understand what homeschooling is all about. I think a lot of people have the perception that homeschooling is merely about location rather than an entire revolution in structure. The word homeschooling is such a misnomer, because most of the learning does not happen anywhere near home, and school is such a loaded word that brings so many preconceived notions about learning to mind that it's really no wonder that people don't "get it."

So I'm feeling it is necessary to explain my educational philosophy and how it aligns with homeschooling, if only for my own personal reflection and edification. You, gentle reader, are merely along for the ride.

In my mind, public (and even private) schools have some inherent shortcomings that I feel could be damaging to the well-being of my children. First, my eldest son appears to be both gifted (intellectually) and "learning disabled" (I say that in quotes, because I think he's just behind the curve and will catch up, rather than having a problem that will follow him for the rest of his life. However, I feel that his "disability" would be labeled as such in a school setting and would cause at best stigma and at worst serious long-lasting damage to his ego and ability to overcome)(fine motor skills.) It has taken a lot of work for me to get to a place with him where I am comfortable that he is getting the encouragement that he needs while still being held accountable for "learning stuff."

Could Monk succeed in school? Probably. Would I feel that he was getting the best education that could be offered to him? Probably not. I just don't feel like his particular issues are compatible with a public (or even private) school model.

My youngest is a different story. He's a bit young for me to really fully understand his particular strengths and weaknesses. He seems to have better fine motor skills than his brother, but he also seems to have a very different learning style. Monk is almost strictly and audio/visual learner, which is sort of strange. He doesn't like to do projects, and doesn't seem to gain anything "extra" when he does them. Coley, on the other hand, seems to be very kinesthetic in his learning. He has (and has always had) his hands in everything. If there is paper, he will cut it and fold it and paste things to it and write on it. I imagine our homeschooling days will be filled with diaramas and art projects as he gets older. However, Coley also is a mover and a shaker. He almost never sits still. Of course, this could change as he gets older...but we all know how quickly kids are labeled "hyperactive" these days.

Another thing about public (and private - perhaps even moreso with private than public) schools that I take issue with is socialization. How's that for turning the tables? I don't think kids are meant to be socialized in huge groups. I think Monk and Cole have an ideal social group and are leaps and bounds ahead of their "schooler" peers in terms of managing group dynamics, conflict resolution, and teamwork. They are also not nearly as peer-centric as most kids seem to be. They have close relationships with the grown-ups in their lives, and I think those relationships are difficult to nurture with a child who is in school all day.

Quite honestly, I think my kids would be fine without any curriculum at all. However, providing structure to their day has helped to give them stability through unstable times, and I feel they have benefitted from that. And having them do written work helps me to not get overly anxious about what they are and are not learning. I fully believe that radical unschooling is a completely valid (and preferable) way for children to learn, but it doesn't work with my family for circumstances both within and outside of my control.

I talk a lot on this blog about how fun and easy homeschooling is, and I believe that to be true. My kids are, 90% of the time, an absolute joy to be around. However, this does not mean that I don't put a lot of thought, effort, and intention into what I do. My kids are happy, healthy, inquisitive, and learning to their full potential. I am a damn good parent (although definitely not perfect) and my kids are damn good kids. Homeschooling is not for everyone, but it is for me and my family, and I have sacrificed a great deal to make it happen because I honestly believe it is the best way for my children to achieve what they want to achieve in life.

There. I feel much better having said that.

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Wednesday.

June 8, 2005

Today will be good. I'm taking the gang of kiddos to the auto mechanic. I'm hoping they will give us a tour, but at the very least, I hope they will fix my brakes. I've always felt good about the "groovy" mechanics, even before they were called "groovy" automotive. They treat me well there. The owner used to be a customer at the Kinko's where I used to work, and he's a super nice guy.

So, after we are done there, we're going to walk around that area a bit, I'm thinking we will look at gardens and I would say we could sketch some flowers or something, but I don't want to lug a bunch of art supplies around with me in the heat. We'll probably head up to the rec center so we can play some ping pong, and if the car is going to take a long time, we'll catch the bus home. My little car-privileged children still think the bus is a fun novelty, so that will just add to the adventure. Plus the bus, unlike my car, has air conditioning.

It should be, well, pretty groovy.

Tomorrow, I will be meeting up with a potential travel partner for a short little road trip I'm hoping to make (providing my car repairs aren't terribly expensive). She seems very cool...it should be a fun trip. Three girls in a minivan, conquering the world. I need a road trip. I need a LONG road trip.

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Artboy does math.

June 7, 2005

Coley just ran up to me, out of the blue, and exclaimed: "Mom! Mom! Three Plus Three Equals Six!"

This spawned a discussion about addition and subtraction, and I'm thrilled to say that Coley GETS IT. He fully understands the concrete basis of addition and subtraction. YAY! I'm so elated for him!

(The preceding cognitive leap was brought to you without the aid of any educational tricks, traps, or trinkets. Coley came to this understanding sheerly through an abundant interest in his surroundings and an unrestrained love for learning. I give him all of the credit for his education, and I would take all of the blame if he wasn't learning anything. So fuck you to anyone (without mentioning any names) who feels that they can take any amount of credit for the natural development of cognitive thought. And double fuck you to anyone (not mentioning any names) who feels that a child has to sit in a chair for 7 hours a day and be "taught" stuff.)

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