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Old Fashioned Play...

February 24, 2008

LOVED this article:

"Because of the testing, and the emphasis now that you have to really pass these tests, teachers are starting earlier and earlier to drill the kids in their basic fundamentals. Play is viewed as unnecessary, a waste of time," Singer says. "I have so many articles that have documented the shortening of free play for children, where the teachers in these schools are using the time for cognitive skills."
It seems that in the rush to give children every advantage — to protect them, to stimulate them, to enrich them — our culture has unwittingly compromised one of the activities that helped children most. All that wasted time was not such a waste after all.

Posted at 9:53 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Comparative Booger Eating.

January 10, 2008

It's been a rough couple of days for everyone. The boys returned from a 2-week stay with their dad, ending my blissful beginning to a gentle new year and heralding the return, for them, of more coarse behavior that is not allowed in the presence of their father. They tell me he is more strict than me, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't beat them, so I am not sure why they have all of this errant energy. Most likely, it's just the result of transition. They are acclimating to being with me, and I am acclimating to sharing my space again.

16 hours ago, I twittered: "Wondering why all of these small people have invaded my home and are demanding things of me. It's a really difficult transition." And that was at the BEGINNING of my day. By the time chess club was over and I was picking up Cole's friend to bring them to their afternoon activity, I had had it. I was beat. Here's just one example of the kind of stuff I am dealing with...

I got the other 7 year old into the car, Cole made some reference to having a finger in his nose, and the following conversation took place:
M (age 11) (in an attempt to shame his brother): Cole eats his boogers.
P (age 7) (the friend...absolutely unfazed by this fact): Oh yeah...me too. They're good, but you just can't chew them.
C (age 7) (the perpetual star of the sickening circus): One time? I pulled a big booger out of my nose? And it was in the shape of a ladle? And I was eating SOUP. So I used my booger as a ladle...and spooned my soup with it.
Mom (age 38) (gagging!): Uh...guys. That's REAL impressive, but you are making me want to urp. Can you please not compare your booger eating experiences in my earshot?
(snickering as all three boys plot their next momnoying topic of conversation)

I guess it just goes to show that amidst the delirium-inciting chaotic tedium (no...that is not a contradiction. Just try living my life for a day and you would understand) there is always a conversation that reminds me that there is a tremendous amount of rich entertainment in parenting...even if it does turn my stomach.

And with that, I close the book on the day and go to sleep, in hopes that tomorrow will be slightly less shellshockishy.

Posted at 1:05 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Plans

August 8, 2007

I am nearing the end of my precious time of solitude, and I have a lot of thoughts about what I need to do from this point forward. Whenever I think about what I want, and feel a strong inclination towards something, I wonder about this inability some people have to know or act upon what they want. For me, the act of writing something down feels like I am exposing myself as a possible hypocrite if I don't follow through or if I change my mind.

The thing is, I think some people get hung up. They think knowing what one wants means knowing all of the whys and hows of achieving it, as well as all of the potential outcomes. Rather than acting, they calculate the odds and worry over strategies. And it's not always the other person they worry about...it's their own shifting desires. What if I want something, start to work towards it, and then change my mind?

I am fortunate enough to be able to, at least somewhat, put those things out of my mind. 90% of the time, I have no clue how I am going to go about getting what I want...nor do I have full confidence in the fact that what I want today is what I will want tomorrow...or weeks, months, or years from now. But I know I am resilient, so I will always recover. I know I am a good person, so if the object of my desire is a person, and those desires change, I will treat that person with the appropriate amount of care and respect. I know I take good care of myself, so I will not desire things to the point of hurting myself over them. Also, I know my priorities...and just because I have to sideline something for a bit to accomplish other goals, it does not mean I am a failure. Well, not usually, anyway.

So, with that preface, and after hours and hours of staring at the walls in luscious aloneness...here is the list of things I feel like I need to change in my life:

1. Movement - this one appears on all of my lists forever. At this point in my life, I tend to gravitate towards stillness. The kids and I need to move more often.
2. Environment - it really is time for me to work on the physical environment of my immediate surroundings.
3. Intention - More planning is necessary for me to accomplish all of the things I want to do.
4. Alignment - I need to work on aligning my actions with my ideals.
5. Integrity - This goes along with alignment. Too often, I think especially when I am not planning ahead, things get fragmented and I don't accomplish what I set out to accomplish.
6. Constant connection with my creative self, and an outlet for that creation - None of this "the kids interfere with my creative life" bullshit. They need to be included. I have plenty of time to create when they are asleep or I am away from them. I don't need to worry about being time-limited so much.
7. Community - Damnit, as much as I have loved the solitude, I need to be more active in my community...of friends, and on the whole.
8. Education - Both the kids and mine. We need to continue to create opportunities for learning and trying new things...even if we sometimes fail miserably.

***

There are actual activities that go with these actions. For one thing, to handle the issues of movement, environment, creativity, community, and education...as well as integrity, I am going to work with the kids to clean up our landscaping and create some nice garden spots in our yard...a little at a time. And document our progress in some sort of creative way as we haphazardly take on this project together.

In terms of community...I have often had the idea that I should start doing my monthly potlucks again. I get so freaked out about large numbers of people in my house, though...so I think I really just need to put forth a good effort towards inviting friends over to make food with me and have more intimate dinner gatherings more often. I have been saying this forever...but I think it's really time for me to make good on it. Sometimes it feels so freaking overwhelming to have to live my life AND to have to socialize with the people who make my life worth living (not to mention possible, because in a lot of cases, these people are providing me with a good bit of support, and they deserve to be catered to on occasion!) If I plan it, I can make it work.

In terms of my personal creative life, I think I am in a good place with that. I have several outlets and a wonderful creative partner who inspires me. I feel very lucky and I have no desire to mess with that other than to just keep things going.

I will be thinking about more of this stuff later...as the day progresses, I will slowly formulate a plan. The kids will be home tonight, all bubbly and no longer tired of their tired old mama, who herself will not be tired to receive them. We will hug and bubble over and read and kiss goodnight, and tomorrow morning, we will embark upon a new season together, with new ideas, new rhythms, new habits and patterns...and renewed love and appreciation for our little life together.

----------------
Now playing: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Nobody's Baby Now
via FoxyTunes

Posted at 11:05 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Single Parenting

August 6, 2007

I have had a productive few days. Cleaning, creating, thinking about stuff. It's been wonderful and I feel very rested and ready to resume the full-on rush of childrenness in my life that will begin again as of Wednesday night or Thursday morning...I am not sure if we have decided which.

I am thinking, though, that in spite of the fact that all of this solitude has resulted in a great deal of positive productivity on so many levels...perhaps there is a reason why people choose to plan vacations that add stress to their lives rather than sit around the house during their time off. I basically have gone off the stress cold turkey, and now I am looking at welcoming it all back and I'm fucking terrified.

Thankfully I had the foresight to extend my vacation from work to overlap a bit with the return of the children, so we all have time to get acclimated before I have to start doing the whole logistical nightmare part of single parenting.

To top it all off, I have been thinking lately about relationships. About how it wouldn't be so bad to have a man in my life. Maybe. If he was tolerable. But mostly the idea of adding a relationship to the mix just seems like more stress to me, and yet at the same time I feel all of this pressure to try anyway because maybe it might also make things easier, and anyway when I start to get all weepy like I am right now it would be kind of nice to at least be able to call up a romantic interest and say "Hey. I need someone to fucking hold me. Get yr ass over here." (yes, I am All Class.)

I don't fucking know. It pisses me off that I have to choose a romantic partner who is compatible with my life and can somehow serve a utilitarian purpose. It pisses me off that I can't just love who I love without having to worry about the fact that I am overworked and overstressed and could use another set of hands around here. And the idea of finding a partner stresses me out in other ways because I feel like it would jeopardize some very intimate friendships I have that I am just not willing to give up for some man who may or may not stick around.

The thing is that I feel like I have HUGE True Real Love in my life right now. Love that fulfills all of my romantic needs, save the more practical ones. I don't know if it's fair to ask that love to fulfill the more practical needs...it doesn't seem like that's feasible, at least not at this time. And I am too lazy/stubborn/finicky to want to spend time finding anything that compares to that love and also fulfills the other.

So, whatever. The choice is already made, really, by virtue of me not wanting to invest the energy. My kids will come home. I will hug them a lot...maybe stress out a little about not having enough time for everything I want to do. I will find a rhythm and ride it. It's not so bad, really. In a few years, the hardest of the hard work will be over with. I'll survive, and I'll use those frenetic, frustrated bursts of energy to create things that will remind me of my strength when I am feeling weak like I am right now.

For now...I guess I will let myself cry it out a bit. Then I'll get myself up, put on my walking shoes, and wander around the neighborhood listening to music, crying a little, talking into my voice recorder, and enjoying as best I can the waning hours of my vacation from motherhood.

Posted at 11:49 PM • Comments (4) • TrackBack

Monk and the Constitution

July 18, 2007

Monk declared chores unconstitutional today. He was so excited after reading this little pocket version of the constitution and declaration of independence that he CALLED ME to tell me that he wouldn't be doing his chores anymore because it is "involuntary servitude."

When I replied that I would no longer be buying his groceries under that same amendment, he insisted that parenthood is voluntary. HA! So I told him if he didn't want to do his chores, he could, instead, write a 5 page essay on the constitution...and that's NOT involuntary servitude, it's COMPULSORY EDUCATION.

Posted at 2:22 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

My Boys, The Twits, and Me.

May 21, 2007

It's funny. I will have weeks and weeks with my boys, feeling like I have done everything wrong as a parent and I can't possibly keep doing this...and then there is a day like today, when I realize that I have actually somehow managed to give two boys a good start towards leading fully compassionate, empathic lives.

I have had a rough day...a rough weekend, kind of, in ways that are difficult to explain. Just a lot of unpleasant, unwelcome, and unproductive self-examination. The boys were at their dad's all weekend, and when they came home this morning, I just thought "Oh, fuck. I am just not cut out for this job today."

But I did what I know best to do...distract them. Hahaha. I took all of our various portable media devices out with us for an early morning exploration walk, and then we stopped at the park and I tried not to cry my eyes out from exhausted sadness while the neighbor lady played hide and seek with Monk and her kids, and Coley made me various "poisonous" concoctions from sand in the sandbox.

In spite of my gratitude for both of these things, I was still feeling like crap. And, of course, when I feel like crap and I am trying to parent...I feel like double, triple, exponentially compounding crap because, on top of all of the other shit I feel like I am doing a crappy job of, parenting goes to the top of the list because, damn, I just can't get it together to have fun and enjoy my babies for a bit.

Well, I muddled through, trying to be honest with them about how I'm feeling, without putting too much responsibility on them for causing and/or relieving my upset.

There are little snippets throughout the day, though...I know they know when I am down. Coley thrusts plucked wildflowers at me...Monk gives me a rare hug. They argue less...not out of fear, but out of empathy. It's nice. It's really nice.

By story time tonight, I was feeling much better, thanks to a couple of good friends and some time spent at an event that moved me out of my selfish self-pity, as well as viewing an exhibit that inspired me artistically and politically.

We are reading the twits...and we were at the chapter where they Dahl describes Mrs. Twit, thusly:

If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it.

Coley interrupts me here...he says "Mom, do you ever have ugly thoughts?"

I'm thinking "Good fucking lord, kid...ALL FREAKING DAY! And then some." Because damnit if I'm not worried that if Mr. Dahl is correct, I am about to sprout a couple of disgusting boils on my face. But I respond "Well, honey...I think everyone has bad thoughts sometimes."

Coley examines my face for a minute, and we both turn back to the book. I continue reading:

A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

Cole looks at me again. "Mom," he says. "You must think good thoughts all of the time, because I think you are beautiful."

And this makes me so happy that I forget to point out that this is a rather simplistic way to introduce the complexities of emotional make-up to small children. In fact, I don't point out anything at all. I just smile, hug both of them closer, and continue reading.

Thank fucking maude for my boys, is all I have to say. Thank fucking maude. I am so not worthy of them.

Posted at 10:47 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Lessons learned on my vacation

March 26, 2007

I assume this will be added to throughout the week, but here goes...

Lessons I have learned while traveling with the kids:

Necessary Hotel Amenities: indoor pool, in-room refrigerator, in-room coffee maker, television with cable. Beds? Optional. (Coley ended up sleeping on the floor both nights after falling out of the bed the first hour of the first night.)

Kids Eat Free means you have to choose from a very unhealthy menu and you still end up paying for it.

No matter how subtle the incline, if there is grass, the kids will find an excuse to roll around in it.

You actually can skin your face, if you are Coley.

There is nothing cuter than a pair of giant river otters...except maybe a whole mess of penguins.

Evidently, I am attractive to parrots.

Always always always eat a meal before going to the art museum.

Never bring your fragile-egoed 6-year old aspiring artist into a gallery of youth artwork. He WILL fall on the floor and cry about how he will NEVER be that good...and he wants to go home NOW.

If you are at a truck stop rest room, and the boys have to use the bathroom, better to bring them in the ladies room than chew your fingernails while you watch countless seedy-looking men stream into the restroom you just sent your boys into.

No matter how much you spend and how much effort you exert, the boys will talk endlessly about how great the hotel was (and the swimming pool) (and the cable television) and not mention anything else. You can count this as a victory. You did, after all, choose the hotel.

Also, three days after arriving home, when you spend a simple day at the park and get stuck in the rain and your impossible to please 6 year old tells you "This day was more funner than most other days." Don't take it personally. Just smile, and nod in agreement...and muse over his ability to stay in the present.

Posted at 9:31 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

The life of the mother of a rock star?

October 21, 2006

I was awoken at 5:30 in the morning one day this week and proceeded to spend the next 2 hours cleaning up vomit and shit in various forms.

I am either the mother of a rock star, or of a weak-stomached nearly-6 year old. You decide.

Posted at 9:18 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Ladies and Gentlemen...

August 23, 2006

The Wiggles Guitar is back.

There needs to be some sort of hitman for annoying toys.

I swear.

Posted at 10:57 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

(for)giving 'til it hurts

August 22, 2006

I had another one of THOSE conversations with my mom the other day. The one where I am telling her about all of the mishaps I have managed to get myself into and all of their joyful resolutions. I was telling her about a friend of mine and I who were in the midst of a falling out, and I was saying that I felt compelled to forgive this person. That forgiving makes me feel good, and NOT forgiving makes me miserable. And that I have to believe that the right thing to do is the thing that makes me feel good.

Of course, this led her to request...insistently...that I forgive my sister. Or make amends. Or whatever in her mind needs to happen between me and my sister so she can feel at peace with her role as a mother.

*sigh*

"Mom" I said "Did I not just say that I tend to err on the side of forgiveness more than anything else? What about what I just said would lead you to believe that I am not in touch with myself enough to know when to forgive and when to NOT forgive."

"How would you feel" she retorted "If your boys got into a fight and couldn't forgive each other."

"That is not fair, mom. I have no idea how I would feel. All I know is how I feel about this situation now. I can't forgive someone no matter how much someone else wants me to. I am sorry."

She was disappointed, but resigned. I was...a little pissed. It's hard enough for me to hold my ground with people. To not allow myself to be stepped on and mistreated. To stand up for myself. She has witnessed that many, many times. And I have given my sister plenty of chances in our lifetimes. I finally quit. Damnit. I quit. Quitting is so freaking hard for me...but I quit trying with my sister. Just like I quit trying with my father. And I am at peace with that decision. And if there is a time when I feel not at peace with that decision, I will know it is time to forgive.

I mention this now because Monk and I had a big blowout tonight. It was about some homework thingy that I assigned to him yesterday that he has been flopping around complaining about for 2 days and adding that tiny extra bit of stress to my life that I just don't freaking need right now. I tried to punish him by sending him to bed, but he just sits up and reads. How do you force a child to go to sleep? And anyway, I yanked the boombox out of his room so he could no longer listen to his book on tape (which is 1066: The year of a conquest. The child listens to freaking HISTORY tapes for freaking ENTERTAINMENT. I mean, how dumb is it to punish him for not doing his homework by forcing him to NOT listen to a heavy history lesson? Gah! Being a parent forces me to do the dumbest fucking things sometimes, I SWEAR!) and then I sat in my room staring at the computer screen feeling miserable that my little man and I were fighting with each other. He is SUCH a great kid. And he is trying so hard to be sweet and cooperative and helpful. He's a stubborn ass sometimes, just like his wonderful mama...and it drives me crazy, but he's not torturing small animals or anything.

So, I went with my instinct. 80% of the parenting books in the world tell you that you need to make a punishment stick. I say, fuck that. I say, listen to your instinct. If forgiving makes you feel better, then forgive! Forgive! Forgive!

I went into his room and pulled the book from his hands and turned it upside down on the bed. I held his precious little face in my hands and I said "Are you sorry?"

Tears were brimming in his eyes. "Yes."

That's all I needed to hear, but of course I am still a mom, so I went into overexplaining/overasking of questions mode. And he responded affirmatively to all of my mommy questions until I finally said "are you really saying yes, or are you just trying to shut me up?"

He laughed.

I laughed.

All is forgiven. I love that child. Fuck 80% of the parenting books. I will be able to sleep tonight, and so will he. And I'm pretty sure he will turn out OK.

Posted at 9:56 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Why do I even worry?

August 16, 2006

Due to aforementioned heartache, I have spent the majority of the day bursting into tears at random intervals. Actually, I have spent much of the past three weeks doing the same and finding any number of things to blame other than the situation which was actually responsible...the situation which I have been suddenly and painfully (but perhaps, thankfully) forced to extricate myself from. And then today, with multiple unrelated events crashing down upon my already unstable little world...It has been a rough month for me, but I am slowly finding clarity and figuring out what lessons to learn. And what to leave behind and what to keep.

In the meantime, I am hurting like fuck. Crying a lot. And trying to deal with parenting through tears.

As always, my children amaze me. Monk, especially. It seems like he is compelled to be his best when I am at my worst. Of course, I feel terribly guilty that they have to witness me in this kind of pain. I want them to think of life and love as joyous events that do not cause suffering. Ever. But, whatever. How freaking unrealistic is that?

So I am trying to explain the best way I know how, and the simplest. "Someone I care about a great deal has hurt me a great deal. Which sometimes happens. And I have to decide whether I want to keep that person in my life and keep myself open to possibly being hurt some more, or lose that person and miss out on all of the wonderful things about this person just so I won't have to hurt anymore."

Because sometimes hurt is part of caring. I don't care what anyone else says. I am willing to accept that loving some people presents painful challenges. And I am often up for those challenges, but not when I am hurt more than I am loved. Unfortunately, it is up to me to decide that, and I am in no position to be making decisions about such things right now. hahaha.

At any rate, the children are so sweet in their ways as I navigate this. It can be difficult to be in such close proximity with other people while I am trying to work through a significant amount of pain. And the pain does not only spring from current events in my life, but also from all of the residual pain from the past that the present is triggering. Not the least of which is the pain of watching my mother endure pain, and witnessing her depression and sadness, and feeling absolutely helpless in the face of it. So it can be difficult for me to receive consolation from my boys, even though I kind of need it.

Today, flopped on my bed, Monk put his arm around me and told me for the nine zillionth time that I am a great mom. He told me he understood I am having a hard time, and that I shouldn't worry about him feeling sad because of it. He understands what I am going through. How on earth he understands, I do not know...but I will have to take his word for it.

Getting ready to go, I asked Monk "Do I look just awful? Like I have been crying all day?" The child guffawed and looked askance, knowing way better than to answer. I laughed. I was like "You know, Monk, wow. You sure can recognize a loaded question when you hear one."

In the car on the way to pick up his brother, he said it again. "You are a great mom, mom." I replied "I don't feel like such a great mom" as I burst into tears again. "Mom, right now it doesn't matter how YOU feel. Right now it is important that you know how *I* feel."

This, of course, only served to make me cry harder.

Later, holding his hand, I asked him "How on earth did you get so wise, son?"

"You really don't know the answer to that question, mom?"

"No. I honestly don't."

And the child who beat me at Mancala twice today - and has beat me at chess in less than 4 moves - told me "I got it from you."

My sweet boys.

In the car on the way home, Coley in his offhandedly metaphoric fashion, started thanking his entire immune system.

"Thank you white blood cells, and thank you red blood cells, and thank you..."

"Coley, what are you doing?" I ask.

"I am thanking my body, because it always knows just what to do to heal."

Again with the tears. Pouring down my cheeks. What did I do to deserve such wonderful boys?

"I sure hope to hell I deserve you guys." I cried.

"Oh, mom. You do. You deserve us and more." said my wise son.

"yeah" said my sillysweet poet son.

And, you know what? I guess I do.

I may not have ever had a decent model of what to expect from a man in my life, so I might as well start paying attention to the boys I have raised, and looking for the same amount of kindness, stark love, and empathy in the men I fall in love with that I have miraculously managed to instill in the boys I birthed.

Posted at 6:29 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

The Metaphorical Coffee Cup

August 10, 2006

Coley needed a cup for his soymilk, and he was in one of his "I want a SPECIFIC, but as yet unnamed cup" moods.

So, I pointed at a couple of cups and received negative feedback from his majesty. And then:

Me: How about this cup with your papa's name on it.
Coley: YEAH! OK!
...pause to pour soymilk...
Coley: Is papa famous? Is that why his name is on this cup?
Me: Not really. I just brought the cup home for him once when I was in Las Vegas, as a memento. And then the handle broke.
Coley: And then you got divorced. And you got the cup in the divorce.
Me: I guess so, yeah.
Coley: So, the handle is kind of like you, then...it got divorced from the coffee cup.
Me: hahaha. I suppose that is true, Coley dear. Yes.

Posted at 6:03 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Take the Children Bowling. Take them Bowling.

August 5, 2006

I have decided that I am going to do a P.E. unit with my children on BOWLING. What fun! We went bowling yesterday for the first time in a long time and, well, basically...I SUCK, but I have a wonderfully good time sucking, and the kids seem to enjoy it, too. Even Monk, with his "I can't be happy unless I am winning even though I am not at all interested in learning HOW to actually bowl with any sort of technique and basically I just roll the ball all willy nilly down the lane without really thinking about it" attitude. hahahaha. He was getting all raw and emotiony about everything and I finally had to throw up my hands and say "Listen, dude. I don't know what I can say to actually help you through this...so you just let me know if there's anything I can do. In the meantime, I am just buttoning my lip and enjoying me some fun bowling."

Then there's Coley who bowled one game and got "tired."

And P, our guest bowler, who is a 5-year old jock extraordinaire. He beat me the first game! Of course, he had bumpers and I didn't...but in the words of my smartass sidekick "your superior adult skills should beat out bumpers"...so I beat him in the second game, but BARELY. and, really...the bumpers only came into play for him every once in awhile. That kid can throw a freaking bowling ball! He just gets up there on that line and gives it a good send off and the pins just all seem to bow down to his awesomeness. hahahaha. I admit to feeling pangs of regretful jealousy over his talent. And I think I mistakenly said "Well, it is clear that our family just lacks the jock gene." which only served to piss Monk off more.

So, yeah. In the interest of teaching the children a lesson in "practice makes perfect" or, at least "practice makes one a lot less sucky" I am instituting a weekly or maybe bi-weekly bowling tournament. We will track our scores. Maybe make charts to see if we are improving. We will read books about bowling technique. Talk about the science of bowling. Figure out how in fuck to score a game (we rely so much on that silly computer to do all of that for us). Practice. Practice. Practice. And measure where we are at the beginning vs. where we end up.

I think it's going to be a fun time....if I can endure Monk's pissiness. hahaha.

Posted at 10:47 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Single Parenting

July 21, 2006

WARNING: Whining and self-pity abounds in this post. Go read the fucking news if you want real trauma.

There are weeks where being a single parent sucks ass. This week is one of them. This week is one of those weeks where I would like to slap every single person I have ever known who has even thought to question why women stay in less-than-ideal relationships - even WAY less-than-ideal ones. Because I know why. It's because parenting without another adult is a fucking trial and a half.

I have spent 4 hours in commute this week to and from childcare for my kids, in 100+ degree weather (at least that's what it felt like) in my un-air-conditioned car. The best part is that I live 10 minutes from where I work. Plus I was sick. Am still sick. 4 hours of travel for 8 hours of work.

So, I am wondering why I am laying here feeling restless, but too tired to do anything. And feeling really hungry, but not having an appetite. I very rarely ever have trouble sleeping, but tonight...I can't fucking sleep.

The kids are gone, but they will be back in less than 5 hours, and then I have to be up for errands and a stupid dental appointment for them at which I am sure I will get the guilt trip of a lifetime because Monk's teeth are so messed up. And I have to drive out to Round Rock and back for that appointment in mid-afternoon heat, and pay way too much because hurricane Coley got us banned from the dentist that is actually covered by their insurance (and is 10 minutes away.) haha. Oh, that kid. ha! At least that is making me laugh.

I am just tired, is all. There are weeks like this when I want to say "fuck it" and find the most normal, non-challenging, hard-working sap of a man I can manage to snag and somehow figure out how to con him into co-parenting with me. Just long enough for me to catch my fucking breath. Or woman. Fuck. Even moving to Chicago to live with my mom is sounding appealing to me right now.

Like everything else, this will pass. I am making myself a sandwich to silence my growling stomach, and if I can't get to sleep soon after that, I will just take the damn dog for a damn walk and wear myself out that way.

Fucking goddamn hell ass bitch shit fucking goddamn fuck.

ha! There!

Posted at 2:39 AM • Comments (5) • TrackBack

Emotionally In-Touch Boys.

July 15, 2006

I have been sort of depressed-ish and weepy for the past few days. Mostly hormonally driven stuff, but also the result of dredging up the past in an attempt to make sense of the present. It has been difficult, because I have had the kids with me practically non-stop for over two weeks, and it has been challenging parenting, as they struggle with transitions in their lives and have sketchy sleep habits and more intense needs.

So I have attempted to "protect them" or "shield them" by refusing to dissolve into tears. I held it all in for days, and when they finally did have time at their dad's, I had a friend over and didn't feel like dissolving into tears, so I never got that release. So, basically, yesterday? I couldn't hold it in anymore and spent much of the morning feeling randomly pissed off (not really directed at the children, but barely containable towards other people. And finally working through that anger to the root...which, of course, was really pain and sadness. By afternoon, I had replaced the random rage with random bursts of tearfulness, and kept apologizing to them for being "all weepy."

They were so sweet. And I realize that I probably protect them from my full emotional spectrum too much. It is not like I am telling them they are the cause of it all, and it is not like I am lying in an unproductive heap while they stick their fingers into electrical outlets. We had a full, productive day yesterday AND I was totally an emotional wreck - an exposed nerve - the whole time.

But, here's where the parenting/life lesson came into play. When I finally just admitted defeat and wept openly, tired of holding it all in, Coley approached me all filled with his little empathic tears and put his arms around me. I gently started to push him away, saying "Oh, Coley - you are making me feel more weepy!"

To which Coley brilliantly and astutely responded, horrified, "Well, OK...then I will just stand here and be mean to you!" Which in his 5 year old wisdom is the opposite of trying to hug and love on me...and which made me realize what a fucked up mixed message that is! Basically, I was telling my baby "No. Don't comfort me. It only makes me more said." Which was the opposite of what I was feeling. I am so thankful he verbalized that reaction, because it allowed me to step out of that mode and to state, emphatically, that I was wrong, and that we DO comfort people when they are sad. We don't stand near them disapprovingly and act like their sadness is a burden.

I am so thankful for my wise boys. They proved to me yesterday that they are really OK. They are capable of the entire breadth of emotional responsiveness. That they are sensitive and caring and sweet. That they don't mind that I'm not perfect and 100% strong all of the time. Towards the end of the day I asked Monk "Does it make you feel nervous when I am sad." He admitted that it does. We talked a LOT about holding things in and letting things go. About how sometimes we have sadness that we don't express in the moment, and it comes out later. About how important it is to allow yourself the opportunity to get it all out. About all manner of things emotional. And they were so, so patient with me - even when I grew impatient with myself and them.

This morning, Monk came into my room and the first thing he said was "Are you feeling better today, mom?"

I was able to honestly answer "Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for asking - and for being such a great kiddo."

I am a proud mama of two really wonderful, strong, emotionally in-touch, sensitive, resilient boys. And nothing could make me happier.

Posted at 10:17 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Why I love my coleybird

July 12, 2006

Standing in front of the mirror at a too-early (for me) hour to be rising for work, fixing my hair. Coley walks in and says:

"Yeah. You are great!"

"I am great?"

"Yeah! You look PERFECT!"

My little 5 year old charmer.

Posted at 7:42 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

My Boys.

July 8, 2006

I have had the entire week off from work this week, and sometime around yesterdayish, I started to wonder why I was so freaking tired. It took me a minute or so to realize I have been non-stop mom all week without interruption and, man, it is exhausting.

However, I think my boys have finally really settled in. Our summer "school" rhythm is going to get underway next week...slowly building up. And there has been a nice little change in attitude from my eldest, after having worked out some kinks after our 3-week separation. Monk was very roller-coastery last week and the week before, but he seems all settled in now. Very little arguing and power struggling...lots of good discussion and growth and, actually, emotional expression. I am even finding that he will allow me to kiss him without immediately wiping off my kisses. haha. Coley is Coley. Bouncing around like a little frenetic bug. But he is delightful. Telling stories to me while I do dishes and inventing elaborate weapons and customs for the "people of his planet." Making snowflakes. Creating concoctions with my spices and building intricate devices with tinker toys.

Monk just walked in here and told me that he knows I am going to be tired at the end of the day, because I have so much work to do, so he would like to offer to take us all out to dinner using his allowance money. I wonder if I should let him do this? My immediate reaction is "heavens, no! Don't spend your money on THAT!" But I also feel like, yes...why not? Why not let him do something nice for us all?

It has been that kind of week. hahaha. I suppose there are far worse parenting dilemmas I could be facing.

Posted at 10:59 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

The Boys

May 24, 2006

It is evident that the boys are feeling some stress over their impending 3-week mama vacation. I might say that Coley seems to be particularly affected by it, but Monk has his way of stifling his feelings...or expressing them in odd ways. I have grown somewhat accustomed to it, but it still strikes me sometimes how differently my boys deal with difficult situations.

For instance, Coley has been waking up every night and coming into my room. Today's episode involved him coming into my room, and then crying because he was "having illusions" (his words) that the chair was a monster. I finally had to turn on the light to show him that the chair was, indeed, a chair. And we had a discussion about how it is normal to be afraid of things like that in the night and you need only shed some light on the situation to chase away that fear. Later in the morning, he woke up crying. He is feeling sad because he will miss me when he is at papa's house. There was a lot of talk about how we can have some sadness inside even when we are doing happy things, and that it is important to let that sadness out. So we both cried for a bit, and then Coley felt better and went back to sleep.

I didn't feel much better, though. I know my kids will be fine, but there are some things that their papa is doing in the discipline arena that upset me immensely, and there is really nothing I can do about it. While I feel like these things are incredibly inappropriate, they are not illegal...and it is argued by some that they are actually helpful. It is difficult for me to feel so strongly opposed to these practices...and have my children tell me about them...and have to stand by and allow them when I feel that they are damaging. What do you say to a child when they tell you that the other parent is doing something that you wholeheartedly disagree with, but you don't want to confuse them? I don't want to make the efforts of the other parent futile by being combative, and I don't want to confuse my children, but I desperately want to protect them. I feel like this is one of those things that I am being forced to let go, and I will have to maybe explain to them the best way I know how when they are older. It is distressing to me, though. And I think the timing of the decision on their papa's part to engage in these practices is...disconcertingly...seemingly manipulative.

At any rate. Coley and I have been getting in a lot of snuggle and "I love you" time. I am going to make them each a little picture book to bring with them. Photos of me. Photos of them. Photos of Twyla. Photos of all of us together. Silly photos. And they know my number, and they will be in town almost the whole time. And mama will miss them, but I will also be having fun. My life is complete with them and without them, but they definitely make it more complete.

Coley and I actually talked about emotions and how to express them and how an artist uses emotions to create good art.

And then Monk walks in, in his way, and says "I am going to miss you when I am at dad's house, mom." Which of course makes my heart all melty because Monk is Mr. tough-as-nails-hard-to-get and so rarely expresses emotion that starkly honest. Even though it is so so obvious to me what he is feeling most of the time. But then he adds "Because I won't have anyone to ANNOY."

*sigh* My monk. Of course, he totally had tears in his eyes as he was saying this. So I just smiled and mussed his hair and told him that I would put pictures of him waving his butt at the camera in his picture book, because that way he could look at them and remember all of the times I tried to take a cute picture of him and he, literally, turned tail.

My boys. *sigh*

It is going to be a rough 3 weeks for me. Be on the lookout for a million sappysad posts and/or total silence...or exagerrated silliness. Or other signs of mamaloss.

Posted at 10:40 AM • Comments (4) • TrackBack

My children are wearing me out.

May 18, 2006

Lately, it has been very exhausting being me. I mean, I am by no means considering resignation, but the children are presenting challenges to me that require a lot of strength for me to work through. They aren't very tangible challenges, either...so it is difficult to explain. And I can't even say that one of them is more challenging than the other, as they both have their little ways to make things tricky for me.

I figured out a couple of weeks ago, when Monk and I had that standoff over him cleaning his room, that part of the problem is that, after 5 months of having other adult humans in the house to back me up, suddenly I am on my own. This means that Monk is jockeying for his place in our little household heirarchy. He's testing the limits again and seeing what he can get away with, and it is freaking tiresome. It is difficult enough for me to be authoritarian, but when my authority over every. little. thing. is challenged on an event-by-event basis I start to get kinda cranky.

The worst part about Monk is that he's painfully sensitive, but he tries to pretend like he is not. So I frequently will inadvertantly say things to him that hurt him, and then I have to go back and do damage control outside of the scenario...if that makes sense. I mean, while I am trying to get stuff done around here, I can't spend that time apologizing to him for his hurt feelings. In the moment, it just doesn't work. But I do have to be mindful of how he is responding so we can wrap things up and discuss how to do it better next time.

Also, Monk has some pretty annoying quirks that I am sure would get beaten out of him if he was in public school. I don't have the heart to "beat" them out of him, but I do feel like it is imperative that I inform him of the irritation factor of some of his quirks. Like, for instance, lately he is a LOUD TALKER. I find myself cringing from his words. I'm always like "Dude, I am right here - you don't have to yell to make your point!" I got to thinking the other day that if he was in school he would be forced to BE QUIET, and perhaps he would outgrow the loud talking.

This does not mean that I want to send him to school. Although, on my walk last night, I started thinking about all the ways I could escape blame for his less desirable habits if he was in school. Since I am homeschooling them, it seems like it is all on me. Which is abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous, because I certainly don't feel like I can take any credit for their more desirable habits. For instance...Monk easily knows way more about history than I ever did, and possibly more than I ever will. He absorbs documentaries like a sponge, and reads SO MUCH. When we were reading the Lightning Thief, he was able to predict which gods were responsible for what obstacles that were placed in the path of the heroes, and I was amazed every time. I certainly didn't teach him any of this stuff, and yet for some reason I feel responsible for his loud talking.

Coley, on the other had. Wow. That child. He is absolutely the cutest little ball of energetic mayhem that has ever existed. He has taken to yelling "NO!" loudly every time I attempt to get him to do ANYTHING - whether it is something he has previously expressed interest in or not. My shmoopie. And SO dramatic. On the other hand, I have noticed that this child has an EYE for the most interesting things. Monk has an eye for patterns, and Coley has an eye for texture and geometry. It's evident in the photos he takes, and in just the little things he notices throughout the day.

Homeschooling Coley is going to be the exact opposite of homeschooling Monk. Monk, in spite of his intransigence, takes direction fairly well. Coley...does not. However, Monk NEVER does projects. He HATES projects. Whereas Coley DEMANDS them. He can spend 2 hours "making a recipe" at the kitchen table...or stapling straws into interesting shapes...or cutting up pieces of paper...or...or...or...

Plus, KINETIC! Coley must always be moving. Always.

When I think about my boys in a public school environment, I cringe. They are just not a good fit. I have mentioned this to a family advisor that they visit with on a regular basis who is a proponent of public school, and she has said "They would adapt."

My feeling is that they would NOT adapt...that, instead, they would be FORCED to adapt...which is different. My somewhat socially awkward son would be forced into social situations that would stress him out, and my somewhat hyperactive (NOT in the clinical sense) son would be FORCED to sit still. Either way, they would be labeled and possibly even set up for failure...and that's if they managed to deflect the damage that would come from them changing their inherent nature to get by. If they were able to adapt and "succeed" - they would have to change who they are. I think that is bullshit.

And yet, as I struggle through these days, I wish they would adapt JUST A LITTLE to make things easier for me. I need to remind myself that they are who they are...and the best way for them to learn how to be who they are in the world is by gentle, GRADUAL, persistent guidance by the adults in their lives who care for them. NOT by forcing them into a situation in which they either have to adapt quickly or suffer the consequences.

Posted at 7:59 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Sensitive Child...Spirited Child

May 16, 2006

I am still working my way through Kids, Parents, and Power Struggles. Every time I read a chapter, I feel like I have totally fucked up as a parent, and I want a do over. Last night, I read the chapter on children's temperaments. The questions in the quiz were difficult for me to answer in some cases for one or both of the children, but at least I had teh characteristics in mind as I went about the day.

We hit dinner time. I had made a pepper casserole, thinking Coley would love it. Coley loves bell peppers - he will eat them raw like apples...so, I figured "hey...what better meal than pepper casserole."

He refused to eat it, just like he refuses just about any new food that is placed before him. He even made barfing sounds while me and Monk were trying to eat. I was so furious! I told him "Look, Coley...I just want you to try ONE BITE, and if you don't like it - you can make yourself a peanut better and jelly sandwich."

He still refused, so rather than yell at him throughout my meal, I sent him to his room so I could cool off. I told him that he had it totally lucky because when *I* was a kid, I had to sit at the table until I ate every bite - regardless of whether I liked the food or not.

He emerged from his room 10 minutes later (Of course, I had to check up on him a couple of times in the interim). He agreed to taste the pepper, and he did. He put it in his mouth and he chewed and swallowed and said - "I don't like it...but I don't hate it."

And then the spices hit him. Now, I didn't think it was at all spicy. There was garlic in it, but garlic doesn't freak my mouth out. But evidently it freaks Coley's mouth out and he was all "hot hot hot!"

I realized then that Coley and I have very different tastebuds! Duh! All this time he has refused my cooking - well, HELLO! I am an herb and spice fanatic! I love flavor! I spice it up because, how can ANY kid like bland food.

Folks, you should have seen the look on his face when I told Coley I was sorry that I didn't recognize that he was just very sensitive to spices. He was so...relieved. I told him that I would cut up some vegetables for him to eat, and give him a few cubes of cheese. He could have a healthy alternative to the meal. He agreed enthusiastically, and was so HAPPY that I FINALLY recognized that he wasn't just trying to be a pain in the ass by not eating what I made for him.

How can I argue about food with a child who will eat a bowl full of green peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, and cheddar cheese for dinner without even complaining? He brought me the bowl when he was through. "Sorry, mom..." He said. "I couldn't finish my green peppers because I was already full."

I squatted down to get to eye level with Coley. I said, "Listen, dude...I will make you a deal. As long as you TRY what people put in front of you - I will always try to provide a healthy alternative in case what is offered is too spicy for you."

"OK, mom. " And he hugged me around my neck.

I pulled him away..."And NO barfing sounds."

He grinned mischievously, "NO barfing sounds!"

***

That night, when I was tucking Coley in for bed...I had a lot on my mind. It's not just food sensitivity that we differ on, it is so much more. Coley always scurries around like a little cockroach, whereas I am somewhat more slow. In fact, I have discouraged him from wearing his sneakers and encouraged him to wear his clunky sandals or even his broken roller skate shoes because his "sneakers make him fast" and this causes him to run laps around the grocery store, much to the annoyance of everyone around. Coley is also a project kiddo, but very self-directed. He loves games without rules, whereas I like parameters. He lives in his own little imaginary world, and I am very much of this earth. I mean, even my writing is not ever imaginative. We are just. so. different. It is no wonder we spend a lot of our time butting heads.

So, as I was tucking Coley in, I lay down next to him for a bit, and I said "Gosh, Coley...I have been thinking ever since dinner about how very different we are. And how sometimes those differences make it difficult for us to understand each others' point of view."

Coley didn't miss a beat, "But we still love each other."

"Yes we do, my sweet birdy. Indeed...we do."

And I kissed him goodnight, as well as all of the days' struggles.

Posted at 12:09 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Mother's Day.

May 15, 2006

Coley woke me up EARLY this morning. Actually, WAY early. I think I was asleep when this happened, but he came into my room and started crying about his leg hurting or something. I wasn't fully awake, so I think I said something like "Dude, it's MOTHER'S DAY...you are supposed to let me sleep."

Maybe I dreamed that. I hope I dreamed that.

At any rate, I was treated to a breakfast in bed (of a bowl of dry cereal, courtesy of Cole.) Monk told me that he and Coley would buy me lunch, their treat. Coley, however, had other ideas:

"Mom. My present to you is that you can choose anywhere you want to go for lunch. Only YOU have to pay for it."

I told him "That's harsh, bird...after all, you have more allowance money saved than ANY of us."

"I'm saving it until I have 100 dollars," was Cole's droll response.

Monk chimed in "Yeah...because then he's going to buy a bunch of toys and video games." [insert dramatic pause] "And he's going to buy some cigars and go to the strip club."

*sigh*

Thankfully, when probed, Monk had no idea what a strip club was - nor did he seem particularly interested in finding out. He had heard about it on King of the Hill, he told me. God Damn Motherfucking television!

So the day went. We had lunch at Mother's and home again where we hung out with one of Coley's little friends for a bit until he got tired of being at our house and asked his mom if maybe we could go to his house.

I am kind of getting tired of my house being the pariah house. Yeah - I know it's not the best house in town, but sometimes it would be nice for people to play over here. It just reminds me of when I was growing up and I was always going to my friends' houses...none of them ever really came to my house. It is, I think, somewhat of a curse of the divorced parent. At least that's the way I came to view it. And, yeah, also...being a divorced parent, there are certain household tasks that get neglected. Like mowing the jungle in the backyard. hahaha.

Anyway, I dropped Coley and a Pee-Wee Herman video off at his friend's house and went shopping. The store was suspiciously void of women. Lots of yummy looking men, though. They all looked confused. One guy followed me around the produce section, copying my methods for testing freshness which I, of course, exagerrated to fuck with him.

Then home again & Monk put away the groceries while I first talked to Pansy and then called my mom:

Me: Hey...Happy Mother's day, you MOTHER!
Mom: Yeah, what's it to you?

etc. It's kind of a tradition now for me to say these things on Mother's day. I told mom I was going to buy her flowers, but I thought she would get pissed off. "You are damn right I would!" she said. "Don't waste your money!"

Moms. Nyeesh.

I also spoke with my brother, which was fun. He ditched me for his Wayne's pizza, though. Before he hung up, he wished me a Happy Mother's Day.

"Yeah, Happy Mother's Day to you, too...you MOTHER." I said.

Damn, that joke never gets old.

Posted at 12:25 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

My Mad Scientist.

May 9, 2006

The boys had a doctor's appointment this afternoon, so I was trying to keep them on task in the morning so we didn't have to waste the whole day for one appointment, which is what happens a lot...too much...around these parts.

Monk had this idea in his head to do a science experiment involving flammable liquids. I was dubious about the possibility of setting liquids on fire in my kitchen, but I let him lead the way. My first mistake was to mention the scientific method to Monk, and let him know that there are certain things scientists do to ensure their experiments are done correctly. He wanted to quit once I tried to apply my fascist laws to his whimsical "setting things on fire" project...so I chilled out. I was just like "Look, all I'm saying is it's a good idea to think about the experiment and try to guess what will happen based on what you are doing. He stopped being all floppy after that, and directed me to the tools he would need.

What he wanted to do, basically, was set a candle on fire and douse it with water to see if the water would catch on fire. It didn't work, so I started to look up other experiements we could do with fire on the internet. Monk was pissed. He didn't want to do an experiment someone ELSE has already thought of...he wanted to do his OWN experiment and discover something NO ONE ELSE has discovered yet. I felt empathy for the little dude, but...I mean...we were working in a KITCHEN with a candle and an old jelly jar. I offered to try to set up a field trip with a chemistry teacher at UT and see what we could uncover that way. No. That wasn't good enough. He stalked off to his room and shut the door so he could collapse in a frustrated, mopey heap on his bed.

I followed after him. "Look, Monk." I said. "You have my full attention for at least the next 30 minutes. I have an idea! Why don't we take three strips of paper: douse one in water, one in oil, and leave one dry...and see which one burns fastest."

Monk said "I would have done that if YOU hadn't thought of it!"

*sigh* "OK, bud. I'm going to just leave you in here for a little while, and when you think of a good experiment, we can do it."

He came out 5 minutes later "Why don't we set a jar of oil on fire."

We tried it. Armed with baking soda (Lesson #1: I got to explain how oil fires spread when you try to put them out with water. I even showed him how oil and water don't mix, and explained that fire needs oxygen and baking soda smothers the fire) we tossed a lit match into a jar of vegetable oil. The oil doused the flame before it caught fire.

"You know, Monk..." I said. "I have set oil on fire in this house, but I had to burn it really bad, first." We tried heating up the oil in a boiling pot of water to see if we could safely approximate hot oil. Nope. Nothing doing. (Lesson #2: Using a double boiler to heat up a liquid without burning or scorching it)

So, we resorted to the internet, where we learned that the boiling point of oil is up to 5 times higher than the boiling point of water. We learned that oil actually starts to smoke and becomes dangerous long before it boils or burns. We learned that it would be much more painful to be boiled in oil than it would be to be boiled in water. We learned why foods that are boiled in water have a different texture than foods that are fried in oil.

It is amazing how many lessons we learn in failure. I think THAT was the most important lesson of them all.

Posted at 7:53 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Yesterday's battle debrief, and waxing pissed-offed about whitey.

May 2, 2006

The more I think about yesterday's power struggle with Monk, the more I am convinced that it was, either consciously or unconsciously on Monk's part, a test that I passed.

Today has been so mellow, and the boys have both been terrifically happy. Not fearful. We've gotten through the day without any real conflict...and we've looked back on yesterday with some ideas and plans for how we can better handle situations where one of us feels like a reasonable goal has been set and the other feels...differently about it.

In other words, it has been a good day. And all of the anxiety and fear I felt yesterday about being the worst parent on the face of the planet have been disproven AND...I don't know, I really think Monk was desperate for me to define a limit and hold fast to that limit calmly but tenaciously. And I did. And I am relieved to say that he almost seems thankful for that. He even let me kiss him today. We have come to a compromise that he will allow me to hug and kiss him, as long as he can "wipe my kisses on his butt."

Ah, well. You take what you can get.

In other news, Coley has a new friend he is trying to impress with his eruditeness (is that a word? eruditity? hahahahaha. I suppose I could look it up, but it's more fun to fuck up a derivative of erudite in the name of irony.) His friend is a 12-year old girl who claims she would rather hang out with Coley than anyone else on the playground at park day because he is the only one who has an imagination. I think it is the cutest little friendship in the entire world. Today, Coley got a book called Dragonology from the book store, and he's all excited to bring the book to her house so he can impress her. He walked around all day today, cradling the book reverently. To overuse a phrase, it is the cutest thing in the entire world to see his little 5-year old self walking around with an enormous book under his arm. All he needs is a pair of glasses, and he would be the spitting image of his egghead brother.

And I mean that in a good way! Long live eggheads!

Speaking of eggheads, the eggheaded clerk at the bookstore today INSISTED that we get Lightning Thief because it is, in his opinion THE BEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN. What can I say? I'm a sucker. We are going to start reading it tomorrow. Monk has me all hooked on the Pendragon series, too (note: It is after 1 AM, and Monk is up in his room reading his newest Pendragon book. He will not go to bed...and I can't bring myself to force him. I guess the author is going to be at Book People in a couple of weeks. Monk is already planning out what he is going to say to him. Some kind of greeting from one of the Travelers.) And we also picked up a compendium of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books. I think all five in one volume. It was totally a nerd family shopping expedition.

So, yeah. I guess it was a good day, even though Monk refused to participate in any demonstrations today. I need to read up on all of the happenings tomorrow. I should add that there are a bunch of rumors flying around Austin that immigration officials are patrolling local grocery stores and public schools looking to pick random people up and deport them. I talked this over with some people on Saturday and even though they thought it was probably just a rumor, they have friends and relatives who are not legal who are refusing to leave their houses because, really...you don't know whether or not it is a rumor until someone actually gets taken in. It's fucked up. The climate here is really messed up. The sizes of the classes where I work have dwindled noticeably and I think it is because of this bullshit, and it's really pissing me off.

You know, I really love my job. I work with people who are motivated and dedicated to furthering their education, and it is always so nice to come to work every day and see people who are eager to learn in our classes. Even though our classes are free, I never have the sense that we are providing people with a handout, because the people who take the classes have to devote their time and energy to being there every day. And, for a vast majority of the folks who take classes with us, this is a significant challenge between working or taking care of their families or both. Not to mention those that have to take the bus, those who are senior citizens, and those who have physical or mental challenges, real or falsely diagnosed, to work with.

It's for this reason that a certain racial demographic really pisses me off & makes me ashamed to be one of them. It has never been so fucking obvious that white people are just a bunch of whining, entitled jerks than it has since I have had this job. I don't want to get specific, but I am just tired of it. I mean, we are now living in a country where a segment of the population has to fucking FEAR GOING TO THE FUCKING GROCERY STORE, not to mention coming to our classes, due to immigration backlash, and I actually have white people whining to me about how they are not sure they feel safe coming to our FREE classes in what they perceive to be a "bad" neighborhood.

I have a hint for you, whitey. DON'T COME. How's that for reassurance? If you are scared to drive your SUV to a public fucking school in the evening and walk 50 yards to where you will spend a few hours getting free training that you can already afford to pay for anyway, don't waste my time or the time of the other students who attend our classes. And don't expect me to sympathize, either. I fucking WORK in this community and I CARE about the people here. I'm not going to nod knowingly when you tell me about your unfounded fears. Fuck you.

Sorry. I'm just feeling a bit more displeased than usual with the white race this week. Which, to actually attempt to tie the first part of this post in with the second, is yet another reason why I don't want my son to grow up thinking he's entitled to have the rest of the fucking world clean up his messes for him.

Damnit.

Posted at 1:08 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Battle Fatigue.

April 30, 2006

At some point, several months ago, Monk took to referring to me as "the old battle ax." Boy, do I ever feel that one today. It was a particularly difficult day that included as it's central focal point, a NINE FUCKING HOUR standoff with one Mr. Monk. About his chores. Specifically one chore. Cleaning his room.

Folks, this is where all of that egalitarian parenting crap breaks down. Anyone can talk a good game about taking children seriously or being respectful or what have you...but really in my mind when it comes to enforcing household participation, I don't fuck around. I just don't have time to be the person who does everything around here. And I don't think it's good for my kids (or, really anyone's kids...but you raise yours the way you want to) to just assume that they can get away without doing what is expected of them. I do listen to them when they have issues or complaints to raise, but I do NOT negotiate once an assignment has been given. If it is a reasonable request, I expect reasonable compliance. That's all there is to it.

So, for nine hours today, I had to face a child who absolutely refused to do 30 minutes worth of work, and was willing to lose all manner of privileges to prove some point that I think was totally lost in the shuffle. I STILL don't even know what his point was, other than he was hell-bent on defying me and gaining steam throughout the day.

My early strategies were simple and positive. "When you are done tidying your room," I said, "I can set up the TV and game cube in there." He wasn't falling for it, or the other 3-4 positive consequences. Nor did he particularly give a shit about the negative consequences. It was a full-on stand down. And my stubborn freaking child was NOT budging.

I was determined, too. I was determined to not yell. I was determined to not "kitchen sink" him (which is an unfortunate parenting strategy that involves reeling off a list of really abstract consequences. In my darker parenting moments, these have included such marginal threats as "I am going to burn every last one of your Goosebumps books" to "You will NEVER PLAY AGAIN." - Granted, that last one is usually shrieked humorously a la Burger Meister Meisterburger from the Rankin Bass Year Without a Santa Claus cartoon, but there have been times that it has been tinged with more hopeful truth than I care to admit. Even though I just admitted it.) and I did not do either of those things.

I did, however, spend all day inwardly bemoaning my predicament, questioning myself, feeling like the worst parent on the face of the planet - not to mention the most hypocritical anarchist! Did my mom have such crises of parenting? Did she ever spend an entire day questioning whether her tactics were going to damage her child for life? At one point, I called her and asked her. "No." was her short answer. The long answer was that she had seven children, and she just didn't have time to think about her parenting. Hm.

Late in the battle, I changed tactics. After Monk escaped confinement and decided to entertain himself by tormentnig his brother yet again, I sent him to The Room Without Books. Monk told me I could never break him! That he didn't care if he never played a computer game again or ever EVER got any allowance, he was NEVER going to clean his room! NEVER.

"In fact," said my young upstart, "I'm ON STRIKE."

Damn me for talking about the general strike on May Day earlier in the afternoon!

"OK, Monk." I said, in my explaining voice. "A strike is often a very noble thing...and I can respect you taking a noble stand. However, people who go on strike have to face consequences for doing so, and they need to be very sure that they are striking for a worthy purpose." And then I paused, and added. "I'm not so sure this is a noble thing to strike about."

I skipped the speech about arbitration. I figure there will be more general strikes from Monk in the future (maude help us all) and I can slowly mete out the lessons about labor negotiations and whatnot through his teen years.

Frustrated as I was, I called all of my support people that I could think of to avoid blowing my top with this kiddo - and, more importantly, to avoid giving in. I hate being stubborn like this...but worse than the idea that I spent an entire day battling with my son over 30 minutes worth of chores is the idea that I would battle with my son over 30 minutes of chores only to give in and do them for him. I had two things that were keeping me from bowing to the pressure. First, Monk has told me before that I too frequently give in rather than sticking to it and making the kids face the consequences of their actions. He has said that he actually doesn't respect it all that much when I do that, and that it confuses him. Second, I had spent way too much time the night before reading the blog of some dude who killed a little girl in his apartment complex and was all set to EAT HER and, as ridiculous as it sounds (some of you parents out there will get this) all day in the back of my mind was this idea that "Hell no, my kid is not going to grow up to be a freaking serial killer, and if I give him this battle, he's surely going to end up on a slow slide to sociopathy."

So, the important thing was to stay insistent, but stay as calm as possible. And I did.

Until NINE HOURS LATER. My darling son emerged. I had told him earlier in the day, when I was still in the "helpful suggestion" phase, that perhaps it would be a good idea to ask his little brother for help. So, as I sat here trying to keep myself from blowing my top by playing a mindless flash game over and over and over again, Monk entered his room and said, ever so politely, to Coley "Cole, if you help me clean my room...mom will give us computer time tomorrow."

Coley, somewhat distracted by his play, just said "OK." Simple as that.

Monk then approached me "Mom...is it OK if I PROMISE to clean the room tomorrow after I feed the pets and before I have breakfast."

My heart leapt, however..."Honey, we have an appointment in the morning. That's not going to work."

Monk accepted this somewhat downheartedly, but...still...he seemed to be coming around.

"I'll tell you what," I told him. "If you go take a shower, I will tell Coley that when you are out of the shower, it will be time to clean up and get ready for bed."

Monk lit up. "OK!"

Then he did something super amazing. He went back into the room and told his baby brother "Listen, it's not fair for me to get help from you for nothing...so if you help me, I will let you have MY computer time tomorrow."

Coley agreed to this, and Monk came back into my room, beaming. I have to admit, I was beaming, too. "I'm glad you made the right choice, Monkeyman. For a minute there...I thought you were going to make the wrong choice."

"For a MINUTE?" Monk said. "Maybe I should start this thing all over again!"

I chuckled, somewhat fearfully. "Um...no no no no! OK! For NINE HOURS THERE...I thought you were going to make the wrong choice."

Both of us sort of laughed uncomfortably...I guess we were both a little battle weary.

Damn, this parenting shit is hard!

When all was said and done and the room was passably tidy, I told Monk "You know...that stubbornness will serve a purpose someday, but I just wish you wouldn't practice it so much on your allies. I wish you would reserve it for your enemies."

Monk said "Yeah! Like when I'm protesting!"

"Yeah...something like that."

Woe unto the cop who tries to drag that kiddo off to the paddy wagon. Let me tell you.

Don't you wish you could be a parent, too?

And, with that, I'm totally going to sleep.

Posted at 8:07 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Just some rambling, and a little complaining

April 19, 2006

So you know...I am really tired of spending my day going from one argument to the next about mundane shit like cleaning up the zillion and a half playing cards that are scattered all over the floor, and no you may not have sprite, and please stop griping about what you CAN'T have and appreciate what you CAN have, and oh, yes, you do have to brush your teeth, even if you are really tired, and now it is time to take a bath, and oh, yes...the hair must be washed because you smell like a puppy dog...and on and on. And. QUIT. FREAKING. MAKING. THAT. NOISE. And, dude...my bedroom is NOT in the middle of the house...please stop wandering in here.

Bah! Gah! I sincerely love being a mama, but these children...are driving...me...INSANE!

OK.

Now that that is out of my system...

I spent this morning cleaning up the kitchen and listening to the Go! Team. Damn, they are good. It makes the day happy even when I'm all aneurysmy. And PMSy...which explains the sensitivity I am having to sound. Does anyone else get that way when they are PMSing? any unexpected sounds make me feel tense and nervous. I swear Monk thinks I'm insane. I mean, I'm pretty sensitive to sound in general (which, I mean, try explaining to your 9-year old why clicking the top of a pen over and over again is driving you to the edge of your patience but, like, Einsturzende Neubauten is a pleasant listening experience. I can't do it. Maybe you can.) but at this time of the month, I am a TOTAL freak.

Speaking of freak, Monk has taken to calling ME a nerd. The king of nerds. Calling ME an NERD! Ha! I found out yesterday what happens when I beat him at Mario Kart Double Dash, though. I've been practicing every night after the kids go to bed just so I can beat him, and I DID yesterday. For the first time. It messed up his little world, too. He threw a ginormous temper tantrum and wouldn't talk to me for HOURS. Then he said he wished I would have a seizure because then I wouldn't be able to play the Gamecube anymore.

I thought that was an odd thing to say...but then today I was cleaning up the living room and I found the little "precaution" booklet that comes with the gamecube, and I realized Monk had READ the fucking thing. Ha! Talk about NERD! He will never hear the end of it.

My little reader.

He is now re-reading all of the Lemony Snicket books and finding little clues throughout. This morning, we had a long conversation about "what happens if" the Baudelaire orphans were to come and live in our house. Monk said that he would be happy to have some help with his chores and homework, but that he wouldn't make them work TOO hard.

OK, so I guess it's NOT so bad being here with the kiddos. They are funny and fun and all sorts of entertaining. I just need to pull my head out of my ass and enjoy them. Fully.

And listen to the Go! Team. Because it's impossible to not have fun when the Go! Team are playing.

Posted at 10:38 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

ahhhhhh.

April 15, 2006

I managed to get a ton of work done today, thanks to M, who swooped in, grabbed my kids and my automobile, and took everyone to the Bengalese new year celebration. I spent the afternoon making (fucking) phone calls for the program I work for. Even thought the procedure surrounding the phone calls is a humongous pain in the ass, it's always nice to talk to our clients, and it's especially nice to get work done without interruption, knowing that the usual interruptioners are off having fun throwing rocks in a river.

They came home, only to leave again back to M's house for more fun. Which leaves me...finished with work! Listening to music! Really really appreciating the extra help this weekend.

ETA: M just called and said all of the kids are having a BLAST and that I shouldn't worry about coming to pick them up. I guess I'll start making my wonton soup I have been meaning to make all week. Loud music, good cooking, no kids...what a freaking treat!

Posted at 5:29 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I know! Let's punish the mama!

April 15, 2006

I had the absolutely most stupid interaction with a health insurance provider yesterday. I swear, my brain almost completely exploded. I was intending to write about it all day, but every time I thought about it, I had to go lay down for a minute to compose myself.

At any rate, here's the deal. Like most divorced parents, at least those who are fortunate enough to have some sort of health insurance, my children are insured under their father's plan. It's pretty standard procedure for the non-possessory parent to provide that, and I sort of pay for it through a subsequent reduction in my monthly child support (the cost of the insurance is subtracted from the ex's income before the percentage of his salary on which child support is figured is figured.)

I, as the possessory parent...you know, the one who actually has possession of the kids during the times that they would normally go to see a doctor...am equipped with some (evidently very useless) insurance cards.

So, yesterday I finally had the time to go about setting up a well check up for the boys. (Gah - thank maude it wasn't an emergency!) and I called the insurance company to find out who their primary care physician is (we aren't huge "go to the doctor for every ailment" people here...mostly I just want to get Monk a referral to his eye specialist, and why not make an appointment for Coley while I'm at it?) First of all, I'm directed to a website, which allows me to input all of the information before it politely informs me that children under the age of 18 are not allowed to use the online services.

Great.

So, then I call. And I get this lady who informs me that due to the new HIPAA laws, she's not allowed to discuss my children's plan with me, since I am not the policy holder.

I was pretty furious. I mean, I know it's not the phone ladies fault, but she was so freaking glib about the whole thing. "Can't you just call the father and ask HIM who the PCP is?" She said.

Well, yeah. I probably can. The ex and I aren't exactly best buddies, but he's never been a jerk about anything like this. However, I'm too busy being furious about all of the women out there who are so fucking thankful that at least the system provided them with the right to demand health insurance from their abusive ex-husbands, only to be told that they then need to turn around and try to get information from them. You know?

I'm pretty sure that's NOT what HIPAA was intended to do. But the lady on the phone seemed so gleeful about her ability to make my life more complicated. Like HA HA! How DARE you demand privacy rights! You want PRIVACY rights? We'll give YOU privacy! We'll privacy you right into a total clusterfuck!

So, yeah. For me, it really only took an email to get it set right. The ex is going to look into the matter on Monday and it's no big deal. But I know there are people out there for whom making a request of the ex is a tricky, if not downright fucking scary endeavor.

Gotta love our government. Gotta love the fucking healthcare industry. Woo! Go Patriarchy!

Posted at 9:36 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

What the 9-year old knows about immigration reform

April 11, 2006

Since I'm a total goob and missed the Day of Action entirely, I figured the very least I could do was read some news stories about the important events of the last couple of days to the children as our morning circle reading material. I read this one first:

The crowds at many of the protests also cheered speakers who denounced a system that has driven more than 11 million illegal immigrants into shadowy lives of subterfuge, and who called for a new deal that would extend basic rights to them and a chance of eventual citizenship. Organizers said the protests would not stop until Congress passed laws to improve their lives.
Much of the anger yesterday and at the protests in recent weeks was directed at a bill passed by the House of Representativ

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May 9, 2006

Yesterday's battle debrief, and waxing pissed-offed about whitey.

May 2, 2006

Battle Fatigue.

April 30, 2006

Just some rambling, and a little complaining

April 19, 2006

ahhhhhh.

April 15, 2006

I know! Let's punish the mama!

April 15, 2006

What the 9-year old knows about immigration reform

April 11, 2006