You know when you're awake with your infant at 3 am and you think, "Nobody ever told me it would be this hard"?
Well, I'm hear to tell you that it can also be so sweet. Today there were Spikes of Sweetness, when I literally gasped, stepping out of the situation mentally and looking from a distance at what was happening.
--> driving in the car, turning on my 15 yo's favorite music. Classical. Yes, classical. Angry violins enter the piece and he blasts it, doing air violin (think: air guitar). I am overcome with joy. My 15 yo likes Classical. Does it get any better than this?
--> at REI tonight, shopping for cross country gear. Of course, Kee picks the $40 pair of running shorts and the $45 pair and I can afford it. That feels so good, not because we get them, but because in his eyes and in his words, I can see and hear that he understands the depth of commitment it takes to earn a good living. He wasn't spending frivolously; he was calculating, "Hey, I'm going to be an adult M for a long time. If I buy these $40 running shorts now, they might last a good 5 to 7 years. That's a pretty good ROI." Yes, he knows what ROI means. It's a good thing, overcome with joy again.
--> this afternoon, when Jee was being bothered by a bully, little Jee didn't back down, didn't give in. He said, "That's not right! It isn't right and I'm trying to figure out how to solve this problem!" He understood so many dimensions about the situation -- motivation, anger and its many expressions, compassion, the modulations of friendship, all those nebulous little negotiations that occur in any interchange. Jee walked away with tear stained cheeks, having struggled and not actually won, but having gotten stronger. My heart burst.
--> Vee, when he came home late tonight had the look of a tired man. It was a maturity I hadn't seen before. I asked him how his day was and he actually told me all about it. Joy.
--> Best for last, right? Kee and I ran into some friends at REI tonight. The mom, a physician who takes exceptionally good care of her own children, asked Kory, "So how do you like school?" and I could tell she was expecting a ho-hum response. Instead: "It's great. I love it. I've got great teachers..." (sound of physician's jaw hitting the floor). After a few minutes of discussion, we all had a mutual feeling of "Yeah, this is how it should be. Teens should love their school. This is how it should be."
There is such sweetness is knowing what you want, working for it, and actually getting it.
Darn it, there's one more I wanted to capture. Tonight we went out on a run, Eee, Kee, and Me, all three, in the dark, each with our own music motivating us to run, not walk. Eee takes the lead. Kee actually follows. I get to stretch my legs and remember what it was like to really run. At one spot, I see Eee and Kee in the streetlamp light and just gasp, not because I am out of breath, but because this is something I always wanted, but never thought I would get -- a husband who jogs with his sons; a son who jogs with his dad. This is it. If only I cold imprint this full force on my mind
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tricked Ya!
Imagine this: I spent last night packing lunches, setting out supplies, working out every last little detail. We have the morning departure schedule down to the *minute*, not the five minute segments, but the actual minute.
The kids are dressed; Aee's hair is combed to perfection with a cute little clip; Vee & Kee have their cell phones, house keys, bart cards, bike locks, lunches, money for pizza after school, etc, and so goes the checklist. Jee is in the mix, being so responsible and remembering the routine so well. Shoes on, even with socks.
And get this... everyone is actually fed. gasp.
And fed well. double gasp.
Oatmeal bowls, toast, bananas, bagels, ramen, meatballs, hashbrowns, eggs, blueberry juice, carrot juice, vitamin supplments, wowza. We did it! Good food has been consumed and everyone begins their physical move out the door.
Vee and Kee are biking away exactly 2 minutes before their scheduled time which gives us an extra 120 seconds of breathing room to get Jee and Aee in the car (will be ramped up to biking / scootering by mid-next-week). Eee is standing on the porch steps, saying bye to his sons when he hesitates...
"Where's the minivan?"
Yes, I am so not kidding. The first day of school, when I really, really need to set the tone of peace and prepared calm for the kids and... my parking spot is empty.
I spend 10 seconds looking for the elephant in spots where the elephant really couldn't be hiding. Alongside the house, along the other side of the house, um... Nope. It's not where I put it.
Thankfully, Eee has a great ability to maintain calm (I was in poorly veiled panic) and backtracked to last night when I took the BART downtown then got a ride back, leaving my car, you guessed it, at the BART station.
As we're figuring this out on the way to Jee's school, little Jee pipes up, "But someone could have stolen it from the BART parking lot too you know."
Gee, thanks a lot little guy.
The minivan was at the station. Just a funny little hiccup in our morning.
To be honest, I would like to have my adrenaline back. "Where's the minivan?" was so not worth it.
The kids are dressed; Aee's hair is combed to perfection with a cute little clip; Vee & Kee have their cell phones, house keys, bart cards, bike locks, lunches, money for pizza after school, etc, and so goes the checklist. Jee is in the mix, being so responsible and remembering the routine so well. Shoes on, even with socks.
And get this... everyone is actually fed. gasp.
And fed well. double gasp.
Oatmeal bowls, toast, bananas, bagels, ramen, meatballs, hashbrowns, eggs, blueberry juice, carrot juice, vitamin supplments, wowza. We did it! Good food has been consumed and everyone begins their physical move out the door.
Vee and Kee are biking away exactly 2 minutes before their scheduled time which gives us an extra 120 seconds of breathing room to get Jee and Aee in the car (will be ramped up to biking / scootering by mid-next-week). Eee is standing on the porch steps, saying bye to his sons when he hesitates...
"Where's the minivan?"
Yes, I am so not kidding. The first day of school, when I really, really need to set the tone of peace and prepared calm for the kids and... my parking spot is empty.
I spend 10 seconds looking for the elephant in spots where the elephant really couldn't be hiding. Alongside the house, along the other side of the house, um... Nope. It's not where I put it.
Thankfully, Eee has a great ability to maintain calm (I was in poorly veiled panic) and backtracked to last night when I took the BART downtown then got a ride back, leaving my car, you guessed it, at the BART station.
As we're figuring this out on the way to Jee's school, little Jee pipes up, "But someone could have stolen it from the BART parking lot too you know."
Gee, thanks a lot little guy.
The minivan was at the station. Just a funny little hiccup in our morning.
To be honest, I would like to have my adrenaline back. "Where's the minivan?" was so not worth it.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Free as in FREEDOM
Tomorrow morning at 9:01 I enter that bizarre neverland of a recently released-from-duty parent. I will have a full day to work and I am unapologetically excited for the transition.
Technically, I never stopped working, but whatever.
So, for the last 16 years, one month, 11 days, and two hours, I have been in the 24/7 mom mode. I have been "On" full-time. When the kids walk through those beautiful school doors tomorrow morning, one at 8:12, another at 8:20, another at 8:29, and the last one at 9:00 sharp, I will be completely and utterly...
empty?
free?
switched to the next task?
I have been dreaming about what I would do at that pivotal moment that marks the rest of my life. One parent I know went home and slept until time to pick her kids up from school. Another went out shopping on that first day of freedom and spent an obscene amount. I can't imagine either of those working for me. Go running? Go for a detoxification hike in Tilden? Go to Half-Moon Bay and chill my feet? What does one do when presented with such an abrupt life transition?
Wait, it's actually not that abrupt. There's a good chance that someone will forget a lunch and at 11:30, I'll get a call. There's also a chance that the house will need cleaning (ack! vortex incoming!)
Hum... pivotal moment. What to do....
Technically, I never stopped working, but whatever.
So, for the last 16 years, one month, 11 days, and two hours, I have been in the 24/7 mom mode. I have been "On" full-time. When the kids walk through those beautiful school doors tomorrow morning, one at 8:12, another at 8:20, another at 8:29, and the last one at 9:00 sharp, I will be completely and utterly...
empty?
free?
switched to the next task?
I have been dreaming about what I would do at that pivotal moment that marks the rest of my life. One parent I know went home and slept until time to pick her kids up from school. Another went out shopping on that first day of freedom and spent an obscene amount. I can't imagine either of those working for me. Go running? Go for a detoxification hike in Tilden? Go to Half-Moon Bay and chill my feet? What does one do when presented with such an abrupt life transition?
Wait, it's actually not that abrupt. There's a good chance that someone will forget a lunch and at 11:30, I'll get a call. There's also a chance that the house will need cleaning (ack! vortex incoming!)
Hum... pivotal moment. What to do....
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Planning Parties and the GTD Princess
You know how kids pick up on every little nuance of their parent's behavior?
Aee has been having "tea parties" and "planning parties". Planning parties? Where did she get that term? She doesn't watch modern media and I am fairly sure none of her friends would think of having a "planning party".
Did she get it from me, the compulsive list-maker, schedule fine-tuner, the GTD queen? Has she become a GTD princess? Is this a good or bad thing?
I asked her, "What do you do at a planning party?"
"We write things down and talk about them!" (bouncy glee)
"Is the planning part fun?"
"Duh!" (said in a tone only used by siblings of teenagers) "But it is hard work you know."
"Really?" (pausing) "But it's fun?"
"Yeah! We write things down and then we get to do them. We put the thing we like most at the top and we do that first! It's im-por-tante." (hard to capture that in print)
So, we have a little planning party and I realize that she has mastered prioritization and scheduling. She knows well how to identify what she wants most.
Now if only I could get her to be more kind to her brother. =/
Aee has been having "tea parties" and "planning parties". Planning parties? Where did she get that term? She doesn't watch modern media and I am fairly sure none of her friends would think of having a "planning party".
Did she get it from me, the compulsive list-maker, schedule fine-tuner, the GTD queen? Has she become a GTD princess? Is this a good or bad thing?
I asked her, "What do you do at a planning party?"
"We write things down and talk about them!" (bouncy glee)
"Is the planning part fun?"
"Duh!" (said in a tone only used by siblings of teenagers) "But it is hard work you know."
"Really?" (pausing) "But it's fun?"
"Yeah! We write things down and then we get to do them. We put the thing we like most at the top and we do that first! It's im-por-tante." (hard to capture that in print)
So, we have a little planning party and I realize that she has mastered prioritization and scheduling. She knows well how to identify what she wants most.
Now if only I could get her to be more kind to her brother. =/
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Calm as an Effect or an End-all?
K, still thinking about this one.
I have always perceived a calm state of being an an effect of work, not as a be-all, end-all.
Even in various meditation practices, you have to work fairly hard to get your body and mind into a state of calm, ie correct your breathing, get the right body posture, work, work, then, as you get everything in line, you achieve the calm.
I wonder if that holds water that calm is an effect?
I have always perceived a calm state of being an an effect of work, not as a be-all, end-all.
Even in various meditation practices, you have to work fairly hard to get your body and mind into a state of calm, ie correct your breathing, get the right body posture, work, work, then, as you get everything in line, you achieve the calm.
I wonder if that holds water that calm is an effect?
Aligning Desire and Direction
Scenario 2:
Why do we crave quiet?
K, I have a really good one for this and I wrote it all out, but it had the wrong tone so I deleted it all. It really is a great concept, but I just can't publish bad tone.
The bottomline logic is:
--> there is a general cultural message in most nations (Asia and a few other spots excluded) that says that we need to slow down, relax, have a calm day
--> does this message gel with what I want out of life? Not really. A while back I wrote out what I wanted out of life and part of it was a list of minutiae that I knew would make each day satisfying. After I had this list it was infinitely easier to do what I needed to do each day. What I, myself, personally wanted and what I actually did each day were in line. I got what I wanted and I recognized it. Huge ah-ha all things considered. Anyway, here is an updated version of that list:
* I want each day to contain one fire, one particularly scary emergency, because I know that when I don't deal with scary things on a regular basis, my ability to handle them becomes weak. I actually become scared of the scary things. But, if I deal with it daily, it's like a muscle. Something awful happens? No problem. I can do this because I did it yesterday and the day before and the day before. The fear is gone.
* I want each day to contain at least five moments of bliss, you know those moments when you look in your child's eyes and you see a really brilliant person blossoming inside. At least five moments, whether it is an exceptionally good breath of fresh air, a runner's high after a good run, an ah-ha moment with a good friend, whatever. Moments of bliss.
* I want music, but not too much music. I want running around, but not too much. I want storytimes, table times, floor times, and dinner times. But it is excessive, so when it gets overwhelming I focus on the fact that one of these days I am going to blink and my kids will be grown and gone. Blink. One blasted blink and they'll be gone.
* I want (oooo, this one is my favorite!).... It requires a little background. One of my college professors once said, "If you do not go to sleep every night completely exhausted, if you don't walk in your door and collapse on your bed from sheer exhaustion, then you haven't tried hard enough. God gave you that body and that mind. Use it! When you do give it your all, you will be blessed beyond measure and you will find time and time again that you had more strength than you ever thought possible. You may not finish each day's work, but when your head hits the pillow, you will have that utter sense of calm that you gave it every last ounce of energy you had. Fulfill the measure of your creation, whatever that may be."
Fulfill the measure of your creation. Sounds delicious. I think I shall go do a few more things before letting my head hit that pillow. ;-)
Why do we crave quiet?
K, I have a really good one for this and I wrote it all out, but it had the wrong tone so I deleted it all. It really is a great concept, but I just can't publish bad tone.
The bottomline logic is:
--> there is a general cultural message in most nations (Asia and a few other spots excluded) that says that we need to slow down, relax, have a calm day
--> does this message gel with what I want out of life? Not really. A while back I wrote out what I wanted out of life and part of it was a list of minutiae that I knew would make each day satisfying. After I had this list it was infinitely easier to do what I needed to do each day. What I, myself, personally wanted and what I actually did each day were in line. I got what I wanted and I recognized it. Huge ah-ha all things considered. Anyway, here is an updated version of that list:
* I want each day to contain one fire, one particularly scary emergency, because I know that when I don't deal with scary things on a regular basis, my ability to handle them becomes weak. I actually become scared of the scary things. But, if I deal with it daily, it's like a muscle. Something awful happens? No problem. I can do this because I did it yesterday and the day before and the day before. The fear is gone.
* I want each day to contain at least five moments of bliss, you know those moments when you look in your child's eyes and you see a really brilliant person blossoming inside. At least five moments, whether it is an exceptionally good breath of fresh air, a runner's high after a good run, an ah-ha moment with a good friend, whatever. Moments of bliss.
* I want music, but not too much music. I want running around, but not too much. I want storytimes, table times, floor times, and dinner times. But it is excessive, so when it gets overwhelming I focus on the fact that one of these days I am going to blink and my kids will be grown and gone. Blink. One blasted blink and they'll be gone.
* I want (oooo, this one is my favorite!).... It requires a little background. One of my college professors once said, "If you do not go to sleep every night completely exhausted, if you don't walk in your door and collapse on your bed from sheer exhaustion, then you haven't tried hard enough. God gave you that body and that mind. Use it! When you do give it your all, you will be blessed beyond measure and you will find time and time again that you had more strength than you ever thought possible. You may not finish each day's work, but when your head hits the pillow, you will have that utter sense of calm that you gave it every last ounce of energy you had. Fulfill the measure of your creation, whatever that may be."
Fulfill the measure of your creation. Sounds delicious. I think I shall go do a few more things before letting my head hit that pillow. ;-)
OK Mister, you asked for it
You really want to know what I think about the "common cultural knee jerk wish for quiet"?
Scenario 1:
For one minute, follow along with me. Use your imagination to see if this scenario sounds good to you.
What is....
* quiet, utter quiet, so quiet you can hear your own heart beat
* consistent, day in, day out, no surprises, always calm
* no one can bother you. no one can yell. no sounds interrupt your thoughts
* there are no obnoxious smells. the only smell that you can remember is a bland whiff of regular air
* no one can spill juice on your pants
* you have no financial responsiblities. none. not even for yourself. no taxes, no paychecks, no doctor's bills, no rent or mortgage, no surprises
* no one depends on you for anything. you don't fix breakfast, do bedtime, clean up, nothing. not a single responsibility is on your plate, not even for yourself
* the roof over your head and food on your plate are simply taken care of
* your living space is never messy because there is nothing to mess it up, no one to mess it up
* life is utterly free of responsibility
What is it? Can you name it?
Yeah, you got it. Solitary confinement.
Scenario 1:
For one minute, follow along with me. Use your imagination to see if this scenario sounds good to you.
What is....
* quiet, utter quiet, so quiet you can hear your own heart beat
* consistent, day in, day out, no surprises, always calm
* no one can bother you. no one can yell. no sounds interrupt your thoughts
* there are no obnoxious smells. the only smell that you can remember is a bland whiff of regular air
* no one can spill juice on your pants
* you have no financial responsiblities. none. not even for yourself. no taxes, no paychecks, no doctor's bills, no rent or mortgage, no surprises
* no one depends on you for anything. you don't fix breakfast, do bedtime, clean up, nothing. not a single responsibility is on your plate, not even for yourself
* the roof over your head and food on your plate are simply taken care of
* your living space is never messy because there is nothing to mess it up, no one to mess it up
* life is utterly free of responsibility
What is it? Can you name it?
Yeah, you got it. Solitary confinement.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Underestimation
I underestimated Jee's ability to handle trauma. He acted like it was an everyday affair.
Needles? No problem!
It was a great day. I should wipe the calendar like that more often.
Just kidding. To be honest, I saw the bottom of the barrel today. It was so quiet, so uneventful that it made me realize again and again and again that
that I actually built the life I wanted.
I like my everyday life.
Yes, I want to have lots of exciting things happening around me all day. Wishing for quiet is only a common cultural knee-jerk reaction. Sure, it's nice to relax, but it only feels good if it is not a constant. Plus, there is exactly 62 seconds of relaxation built into my every morning. It's called brushing my teeth and it is perfectly calm, meditative time and it is more than enough thank you.
By the end of the day, both Jee and I were cured of any desire to take it easy. Life is too short. Death will probably be too long. But I really should ask Th about that. He would know.
BTW Th, if you are reading this, my kids "wrote" a funny book yesterday after we found out about the impending surgery. TMBG's ABC album spiked it and before we knew it we were writing (verbally):
D is for Death and Disease (how fun!)
Back up, A is for Appendicitis like E had! And AIDs! And Apples! (that last one from a kid who didn't quite get what we were doing)
B is for (you don't want to know)
C is for cataracts and cancer. Yes, CANCER
D, we covered D
skip a few
G is for Grave's disease and goiters
H is for Hypothyroid and Hyperthyroid at the same time! And hernias! Hernias that are bursting!
It went on and on and on until we had covered every sad and disgusting medical term they could think of. It might have been a cathartic way for them to relieve fear & tension. I'm not sure. I just know that we had a heap o' fun.
Needles? No problem!
It was a great day. I should wipe the calendar like that more often.
Just kidding. To be honest, I saw the bottom of the barrel today. It was so quiet, so uneventful that it made me realize again and again and again that
that I actually built the life I wanted.
I like my everyday life.
Yes, I want to have lots of exciting things happening around me all day. Wishing for quiet is only a common cultural knee-jerk reaction. Sure, it's nice to relax, but it only feels good if it is not a constant. Plus, there is exactly 62 seconds of relaxation built into my every morning. It's called brushing my teeth and it is perfectly calm, meditative time and it is more than enough thank you.
By the end of the day, both Jee and I were cured of any desire to take it easy. Life is too short. Death will probably be too long. But I really should ask Th about that. He would know.
BTW Th, if you are reading this, my kids "wrote" a funny book yesterday after we found out about the impending surgery. TMBG's ABC album spiked it and before we knew it we were writing (verbally):
D is for Death and Disease (how fun!)
Back up, A is for Appendicitis like E had! And AIDs! And Apples! (that last one from a kid who didn't quite get what we were doing)
B is for (you don't want to know)
C is for cataracts and cancer. Yes, CANCER
D, we covered D
skip a few
G is for Grave's disease and goiters
H is for Hypothyroid and Hyperthyroid at the same time! And hernias! Hernias that are bursting!
It went on and on and on until we had covered every sad and disgusting medical term they could think of. It might have been a cathartic way for them to relieve fear & tension. I'm not sure. I just know that we had a heap o' fun.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Snowball Effect
Don't you love it when things start snowballing in a certain direction until it all gets so big that you just know it's going to squash you? And you know that when you first formed that snowball in your little hands, it was so adorable and promising?
Today's snowball ended with the doc saying my little Jee has been scheduled for emergency surgery in the morning. If only that had been the worst announcement of the day...
So, on the particularly bad days, I try to find the silver lining:
1. When Jee is sick, he will snuggle for hours. I will get to read to him for most of the day while the anesthesia wears off, forgetting about the appointments on the board.
2. I don't have to ask anyone's permission for time off to take my son to the hospital.
3. I have a really cool new laptop to play with while Jee is in surgery and there is a teensy little chance (but still a chance!) that it's uber-ness will give me a few moments of respite while my son is being brutally ripped at. Maybe a few seconds. I doubt it, but maybe.
Ok, fine there are not many good aspects of this sort of thing, so maybe look elsewhere:
4. My daughter adores me. I adore her.
5. My eldest son is fully capable of yelling at the top of his lungs in front of everyone, "I LOVE YOU MOM!"
6. My husband is my best friend, my closest confidant, and by far, the most intelligent person I know. Still.
Today's snowball ended with the doc saying my little Jee has been scheduled for emergency surgery in the morning. If only that had been the worst announcement of the day...
So, on the particularly bad days, I try to find the silver lining:
1. When Jee is sick, he will snuggle for hours. I will get to read to him for most of the day while the anesthesia wears off, forgetting about the appointments on the board.
2. I don't have to ask anyone's permission for time off to take my son to the hospital.
3. I have a really cool new laptop to play with while Jee is in surgery and there is a teensy little chance (but still a chance!) that it's uber-ness will give me a few moments of respite while my son is being brutally ripped at. Maybe a few seconds. I doubt it, but maybe.
Ok, fine there are not many good aspects of this sort of thing, so maybe look elsewhere:
4. My daughter adores me. I adore her.
5. My eldest son is fully capable of yelling at the top of his lungs in front of everyone, "I LOVE YOU MOM!"
6. My husband is my best friend, my closest confidant, and by far, the most intelligent person I know. Still.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Top Three OWTFBITFOSP
Top three biggest bang-for-your-buck ways to feel better in the face of Officially Stinky People:
1. Do NOT give it any brain space.
2. Run around with your kids. Laugh. Run like your bum is on fire.
3. Lose yourself in service for an hour or two. Just dive on in and help someone willingly. Don't hold back; let go & express love.
And before you know it, aaahhhhh, it feels so much better.
1. Do NOT give it any brain space.
2. Run around with your kids. Laugh. Run like your bum is on fire.
3. Lose yourself in service for an hour or two. Just dive on in and help someone willingly. Don't hold back; let go & express love.
And before you know it, aaahhhhh, it feels so much better.
Ouch! Ouch? Cranial Elasticity
What I would give for more elastic cognitive processing.
One minute -- "Mommy, where's my snuggly?"
Next minute -- "...you're gonna need to have an injection mold tooled, about $5 to 10,000, cost depends on the number of cavities, so if you do four cavities per mold, you get a lower unit cost, but it increases the cost of the tool... you probably want ____ (term I have never heard of, I doubt it's even English) plastic and ___ (again, not English) coating or maybe you want to do pad printing..."
Next minute -- "Mommy! I need to pee! Girls pee together!"
Next minute -- "Can you do 10,000 keys for me? A key compatibility chart? Sure, let's send free keys out to everyone who helps us test."
Next minute -- "Mom, look at me!" (he's touching the ceiling with both hands, using his legs in the doorway to hold himself up)
On a good day, when I get a good run in, then I can flip back and forth and it feels oh, so good. On a day when I don't get that exercise, then the flipping just feels like whiplash.
One minute -- "Mommy, where's my snuggly?"
Next minute -- "...you're gonna need to have an injection mold tooled, about $5 to 10,000, cost depends on the number of cavities, so if you do four cavities per mold, you get a lower unit cost, but it increases the cost of the tool... you probably want ____ (term I have never heard of, I doubt it's even English) plastic and ___ (again, not English) coating or maybe you want to do pad printing..."
Next minute -- "Mommy! I need to pee! Girls pee together!"
Next minute -- "Can you do 10,000 keys for me? A key compatibility chart? Sure, let's send free keys out to everyone who helps us test."
Next minute -- "Mom, look at me!" (he's touching the ceiling with both hands, using his legs in the doorway to hold himself up)
On a good day, when I get a good run in, then I can flip back and forth and it feels oh, so good. On a day when I don't get that exercise, then the flipping just feels like whiplash.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Worshipping Intelligence
I love our family tradition of going to the library on Sunday afternoons. There is something so blissful about being inside those walls where all different shades of truth reside.
So, today, with the Top Tier of the family gone camping, I got to take the little ones to the downtown library all by myself, strolling down the sidewalk slowly, entering the library with that brisk little rush of much-appreciated cold air. Man, it feels good to walk into a library.
The best part -- I saw my littlest get that little glimmer in her eye for the first time. You know that glimmer. If you are a library lover too, then you know that glimmer. She didn't say anything about her love-of-the-library other than the typical, "Let's get this!" but it was there, growing just like it did with me.
I spent a good chunk of my teenage years on a bicycle, pumping about 40-50 miles one-way to the University of Washington just so I could slip into their main library and disappear for the weekend. I would eat a sandwich at about 5 am, whole wheat, peanut butter, banana slices, sunflower seeds and raisins. I wouldn't eat anything while I was at the library, but I would head home in the early evening, stopping by a market and get a head of lettuce and an individual serving bag of Doritos. I would put one Dorito inside of each lettuce leaf then eat it. Crunch. Sitting on the sidewalk, letting all the day's books sink in.
I couldn't check anything out from the UW library, but just being there... Why are libraries so thrilling?
So, today, with the Top Tier of the family gone camping, I got to take the little ones to the downtown library all by myself, strolling down the sidewalk slowly, entering the library with that brisk little rush of much-appreciated cold air. Man, it feels good to walk into a library.
The best part -- I saw my littlest get that little glimmer in her eye for the first time. You know that glimmer. If you are a library lover too, then you know that glimmer. She didn't say anything about her love-of-the-library other than the typical, "Let's get this!" but it was there, growing just like it did with me.
I spent a good chunk of my teenage years on a bicycle, pumping about 40-50 miles one-way to the University of Washington just so I could slip into their main library and disappear for the weekend. I would eat a sandwich at about 5 am, whole wheat, peanut butter, banana slices, sunflower seeds and raisins. I wouldn't eat anything while I was at the library, but I would head home in the early evening, stopping by a market and get a head of lettuce and an individual serving bag of Doritos. I would put one Dorito inside of each lettuce leaf then eat it. Crunch. Sitting on the sidewalk, letting all the day's books sink in.
I couldn't check anything out from the UW library, but just being there... Why are libraries so thrilling?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Purpose throughout Life's Cycles
I am uncomfortable around unemployed post-mothering women. Up until yesterday, I had no idea what caused that unpleasantly edgy feeling. The coin flipped too quickly:
Heads -- mothering (and fathering) are The Ultimate professions. You are allowed to retire at some point.
Tails -- What? Your youngest enters school and then you do what exactly with your time?
It seemed so sad to me. Maybe it is just because I love working, I love my job, and I can't imagine not being purposefully engaged. When I had two bouncing babies in my shopping cart as I hunter-gathered my daily necessities, I saw these ghosts of former mothers wandering the aisles of the stores during the day and honestly, I couldn't look.
But it all makes sense now. It was an acquaintance's sig line that provided the ah-ha.
"In the absence of a clearly-defined purpose, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of trivia."
Ka-ching!
When you have kids you have purpose with a capital P, well, a lot of pee in general really. When those kids are gone, they leave a void and you can quickly become "strangely loyal" to things that simply hold no meaning for the greater good.
This isn't a criticism per se -- I suspect I will spend tonight strangely loyal to at least one act of trivia. It is simply an observation. Now that my youngest is entering Kindergarten, I am aiming for purpose with a capital P.
Man, now that I look at it, I am strangely loyal to all sorts of junk that doesn't mean much.
Heads -- mothering (and fathering) are The Ultimate professions. You are allowed to retire at some point.
Tails -- What? Your youngest enters school and then you do what exactly with your time?
It seemed so sad to me. Maybe it is just because I love working, I love my job, and I can't imagine not being purposefully engaged. When I had two bouncing babies in my shopping cart as I hunter-gathered my daily necessities, I saw these ghosts of former mothers wandering the aisles of the stores during the day and honestly, I couldn't look.
But it all makes sense now. It was an acquaintance's sig line that provided the ah-ha.
"In the absence of a clearly-defined purpose, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of trivia."
Ka-ching!
When you have kids you have purpose with a capital P, well, a lot of pee in general really. When those kids are gone, they leave a void and you can quickly become "strangely loyal" to things that simply hold no meaning for the greater good.
This isn't a criticism per se -- I suspect I will spend tonight strangely loyal to at least one act of trivia. It is simply an observation. Now that my youngest is entering Kindergarten, I am aiming for purpose with a capital P.
Man, now that I look at it, I am strangely loyal to all sorts of junk that doesn't mean much.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Owned!
As my teenage son sits snuggling his fuzzy cat, he smiles at me and I can't help but mutter, "I love you."
Such a reply:
"I love you MORE. You've been TOLD."
How does one respond to that? "I love you despite your adorably abrasive, potentially competitive, highly unpredictable verbal outbursts of professed mutual adoration."
I actually just said that back to him and he did that divine laugh that makes his hair jiggle.
Ah, the joys. A great read: "Between Mothers and Sons: Women writers talk about having sons and raising men".
Such a reply:
"I love you MORE. You've been TOLD."
How does one respond to that? "I love you despite your adorably abrasive, potentially competitive, highly unpredictable verbal outbursts of professed mutual adoration."
I actually just said that back to him and he did that divine laugh that makes his hair jiggle.
Ah, the joys. A great read: "Between Mothers and Sons: Women writers talk about having sons and raising men".
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Geeking Out
In the car, eldest son is driving me looney with his weird remarks. I put up my hand up in a "talk to the hand" gesture and he thinks I am high fiving him.
He high fives my reluctant hand and says, "Interdigitate!"
Of course, in my feeble, fumbly brain, I slowly split out the word: prefix = inter, root word = digit. Interlocking fingers?
I should have said an energetic "Cool new vocab word V-man!" but instead I mutter, "Stop geeking out on me. Interdigitate yourself."
Which of course he does and all his siblings follow suit with a round of "Look I can interdigitate!" "I'm interdigitating, whoo, whoo, look at meeee."
And I'm slowly driving down Cedar thinking:
I have the geekiest car on the road right now.
If I open the window so people can hear what is being said, will they stare? (I opened the window. People stared.)
What if I just cave into this, gave up my lazy, hazy approach and try it? Sure enough, it's way more fun to join a hand to another hand (whether it is yours or someone else's) when you call it "interdigitating".
And yes, I guarantee on the first day of school this year, each and every one of the kids will use the word "interdigitate" along with other equally geeky words and their teachers will have a moment of "Wha...?"
I can see it now.
He high fives my reluctant hand and says, "Interdigitate!"
Of course, in my feeble, fumbly brain, I slowly split out the word: prefix = inter, root word = digit. Interlocking fingers?
I should have said an energetic "Cool new vocab word V-man!" but instead I mutter, "Stop geeking out on me. Interdigitate yourself."
Which of course he does and all his siblings follow suit with a round of "Look I can interdigitate!" "I'm interdigitating, whoo, whoo, look at meeee."
And I'm slowly driving down Cedar thinking:
I have the geekiest car on the road right now.
If I open the window so people can hear what is being said, will they stare? (I opened the window. People stared.)
What if I just cave into this, gave up my lazy, hazy approach and try it? Sure enough, it's way more fun to join a hand to another hand (whether it is yours or someone else's) when you call it "interdigitating".
And yes, I guarantee on the first day of school this year, each and every one of the kids will use the word "interdigitate" along with other equally geeky words and their teachers will have a moment of "Wha...?"
I can see it now.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
...with the Brakes On
We went with friends to the Marina tonight to shoot Koosh balls & golf balls out of a potato launcher. First launch = 200 ft; second launch = lost.
Vee & Kee's friend built the launcher and since we are friends with the Dad and Jee & Aee have never seen a pototo launcher, we thought we would all tag along. What a great night; what a great show. They were launching from the big dirt piles area by the bridge over 580. Pictures on Flickr soon.
The wind turned cold and Jee & Aee huddled in the chariot (the little trailer thing you pull behind your bike). While everyone was looking for the lost projectile, I realized that I needed to take my shivering little Jee & Aee home. Jee and Aee normally split up with one riding on the tandem and the other in the chariot. But, I needed to get them both home as fast as I could and I can only pull one bike, so they both piled into the chariot.
Note that no one in the family has pulled both kids in the chariot which now adds up to about 140 lbs of kid & trailer. Somehow I thought I could support this on my own wobbly, geeky legs.
As I was leaving, Tom pumped up my tires for good measure -- the chariot tires were completely flat, possibly because I thought that pulling a chariot with non-flat tires would just be too easy.
Nobody thought I could do it, but they didn't want to do it, so they weren't volunteering, just showing doubt. Gee, thanks a lot. My parting comment was meant to be reassuring: "Never underestimate the verocity of a mother caring for her children."
I pulled my not-so-little ones up the bridge. Since I was on Kee's bike-with-bad-brakes, I went down the other side with the brakes on. Once I hit the streets, I slowly realized what I had gotten myself into. Even the little hills were painful, but it was getting dark --fast-- and I wanted to get my babies home. Adrenaline with a boost of momma-power.
After a 1/2 mile, the dark hit like a blanket & I stopped to get the reflective vest out of the chariot. The kick stand didn't hold & bang, the bike hit the pavement. When I picked it back up, the brake was jammed ON.
Now, how am I going to get two freezing little kids home without leaving all my gear (bike, trailer, all the equipment inside)? Walk the bike? I tried pushing it and it barely budged.
What would you do?
What solutions come to mind?
Stuck in a dangerous part of town, dark out, with some expensive gear (expensive camera, obviously cheap bike) and two little kids who would have me carry them. Hum.
M.U.'s talk flashed, "When you are biking, you can always go just one more inch.... endurance... you choose when you stop." There wouldn't be any giving up for me tonight.
But what to do?
I threw the bike back down on the ground to see if that would fix it.
Yeah, I know the rest of you would have tried fidgeting the brake, kicking the tire back into alignment, but you see, I know this bike. I know how screwed up it really is. And I know that it hates me.
So I threw it back down with a, "You won't defeat me" flick of the wrist.
And then I kicked it, "How dare you mess with a mother trying to get her kids home."
And here's the cool part -- when I picked it back up, the tire was back in alignment.
Sorta.
I'll spare you all the gory details of how badly messed up this bike is. At least I could move forward, but the brake was still technically "on". As long as I could move forward.... Now what did M.U. say in her talk? You choose when you stop.
With my legs screaming, "Hey, you set the resistance too high! Back off or we're going to send you some nasty lactic acid!" I started praying pretty hard. As I got close to each intersection, "Oh please, tell the people to stop for me."
They did.
At every light, "Oh please, let it stay green or turn green. I don't care, just let me see green."
They were all green.
I didn't stop once and I was able to get going at a fairly good clip. It was at the razor edge of "...never give you more than you have strength to bear." Never too hard, but I couldn't stop. I knew that if I stopped, I would change my mind and I don't know, ditch the bike? Try to carry the kids home? It sounded so much easier than what I was doing grinding the tires one rotation after the next.
When I pulled onto our street, I could hear J & A cheering for me out of the chariot, "Way to go mom! You made it!" With my legs shaking, I pulled into our driveway and...
...hit our minivan. The brakes didn't work at all. I already knew that the right brake was disconnected, but the left brake handle hung off like some child's nearly-lost tooth hanging on by a thread. I hadn't noticed that the brake wasn't where it was supposed to be because I had never felt for it to use it.
A lesson in endurance? Painfully so. A lesson in gratitude? No doubt.
Vee & Kee's friend built the launcher and since we are friends with the Dad and Jee & Aee have never seen a pototo launcher, we thought we would all tag along. What a great night; what a great show. They were launching from the big dirt piles area by the bridge over 580. Pictures on Flickr soon.
The wind turned cold and Jee & Aee huddled in the chariot (the little trailer thing you pull behind your bike). While everyone was looking for the lost projectile, I realized that I needed to take my shivering little Jee & Aee home. Jee and Aee normally split up with one riding on the tandem and the other in the chariot. But, I needed to get them both home as fast as I could and I can only pull one bike, so they both piled into the chariot.
Note that no one in the family has pulled both kids in the chariot which now adds up to about 140 lbs of kid & trailer. Somehow I thought I could support this on my own wobbly, geeky legs.
As I was leaving, Tom pumped up my tires for good measure -- the chariot tires were completely flat, possibly because I thought that pulling a chariot with non-flat tires would just be too easy.
Nobody thought I could do it, but they didn't want to do it, so they weren't volunteering, just showing doubt. Gee, thanks a lot. My parting comment was meant to be reassuring: "Never underestimate the verocity of a mother caring for her children."
I pulled my not-so-little ones up the bridge. Since I was on Kee's bike-with-bad-brakes, I went down the other side with the brakes on. Once I hit the streets, I slowly realized what I had gotten myself into. Even the little hills were painful, but it was getting dark --fast-- and I wanted to get my babies home. Adrenaline with a boost of momma-power.
After a 1/2 mile, the dark hit like a blanket & I stopped to get the reflective vest out of the chariot. The kick stand didn't hold & bang, the bike hit the pavement. When I picked it back up, the brake was jammed ON.
Now, how am I going to get two freezing little kids home without leaving all my gear (bike, trailer, all the equipment inside)? Walk the bike? I tried pushing it and it barely budged.
What would you do?
What solutions come to mind?
Stuck in a dangerous part of town, dark out, with some expensive gear (expensive camera, obviously cheap bike) and two little kids who would have me carry them. Hum.
M.U.'s talk flashed, "When you are biking, you can always go just one more inch.... endurance... you choose when you stop." There wouldn't be any giving up for me tonight.
But what to do?
I threw the bike back down on the ground to see if that would fix it.
Yeah, I know the rest of you would have tried fidgeting the brake, kicking the tire back into alignment, but you see, I know this bike. I know how screwed up it really is. And I know that it hates me.
So I threw it back down with a, "You won't defeat me" flick of the wrist.
And then I kicked it, "How dare you mess with a mother trying to get her kids home."
And here's the cool part -- when I picked it back up, the tire was back in alignment.
Sorta.
I'll spare you all the gory details of how badly messed up this bike is. At least I could move forward, but the brake was still technically "on". As long as I could move forward.... Now what did M.U. say in her talk? You choose when you stop.
With my legs screaming, "Hey, you set the resistance too high! Back off or we're going to send you some nasty lactic acid!" I started praying pretty hard. As I got close to each intersection, "Oh please, tell the people to stop for me."
They did.
At every light, "Oh please, let it stay green or turn green. I don't care, just let me see green."
They were all green.
I didn't stop once and I was able to get going at a fairly good clip. It was at the razor edge of "...never give you more than you have strength to bear." Never too hard, but I couldn't stop. I knew that if I stopped, I would change my mind and I don't know, ditch the bike? Try to carry the kids home? It sounded so much easier than what I was doing grinding the tires one rotation after the next.
When I pulled onto our street, I could hear J & A cheering for me out of the chariot, "Way to go mom! You made it!" With my legs shaking, I pulled into our driveway and...
...hit our minivan. The brakes didn't work at all. I already knew that the right brake was disconnected, but the left brake handle hung off like some child's nearly-lost tooth hanging on by a thread. I hadn't noticed that the brake wasn't where it was supposed to be because I had never felt for it to use it.
A lesson in endurance? Painfully so. A lesson in gratitude? No doubt.
Dysfunctional Writer -- Four Reasons
One of my many quirks is an inability to look at the fact that people read my work. Is it because I am painfully shy? Is it because of some fractured attempt to hide parts of myself? Who knows.
I opened up comments on my blog today. Those of you who have known me for a while realize this is no small baby step. I think I have kept my pen name / no comments / hidden address for so long because:
* Information management -- If I had published under my real name in the 1998-2004 time frame, I would have suffered a deluge of mail and other nasty intrusions that would have disrupted my life as a mother. One book in particular got an enormous amount of attention, became required reading at several universities and the international mail, well, I learned about places I had never heard of before. It was weird, like some monster banging on the other side of the wall.
I am so glad I put that wall in place. There is nothing I hate worse than an interruption when I'm playing Go with my boy (mostly because he moves pieces when I'm not looking). If I am private, hidden, secure under my pretty little pet rock, I do not have to mess with the publicity that flows from that work. Nice. Hear the quiet?
* Purity -- If I could die before anybody read my work, that would be ideal. I would not have to worry about anyone pointing out flaws. When you publish a work (at least traditionally) it is far past the editorial phase. When I am in the editorial phase, I actually get all the editing I need, thank you. Why would I want someone pointing out a flaw in my logic when it is too late to change it and it will be another year or two before they do a reprint? That is just not fair.
* Editorial Hell -- There is something torturous about not being able to actively edit your work. Once you put it out there for the world to see, you can not pull it back. At least, in some forms. (In this blog, I can edit to my heart's content so maybe that is why I am opening up?) When I give a presentation, I suffer at least a week's worth of obsession over, 'I forgot to include..." and "That sentence was poorly structured. It should have been..." and then in my tired mind's eye the words copy & paste, dancing around as I see the presentation restructure itself, but there is no release. I have been tempted more than once to ask that a meeting reconvene just so I can get it right. It is agony, sheer agony, I tell you.
* I question whether or not I really want to know what others think. One one hand, I crave that social-emotional high that comes from people recognizing and responding to me. In particular, I crave the confrontive commentary that puts those particular pieces of my brain in the refiner's fire. Oh, how I love that fire. On the other hand, they are my ideas and when I put them in print, I claim them. Keeping a pen name is a bit of a "Back off. I have enough voices in my life already, thank you."
Now, with that warm welcome, I open up comments.
I opened up comments on my blog today. Those of you who have known me for a while realize this is no small baby step. I think I have kept my pen name / no comments / hidden address for so long because:
* Information management -- If I had published under my real name in the 1998-2004 time frame, I would have suffered a deluge of mail and other nasty intrusions that would have disrupted my life as a mother. One book in particular got an enormous amount of attention, became required reading at several universities and the international mail, well, I learned about places I had never heard of before. It was weird, like some monster banging on the other side of the wall.
I am so glad I put that wall in place. There is nothing I hate worse than an interruption when I'm playing Go with my boy (mostly because he moves pieces when I'm not looking). If I am private, hidden, secure under my pretty little pet rock, I do not have to mess with the publicity that flows from that work. Nice. Hear the quiet?
* Purity -- If I could die before anybody read my work, that would be ideal. I would not have to worry about anyone pointing out flaws. When you publish a work (at least traditionally) it is far past the editorial phase. When I am in the editorial phase, I actually get all the editing I need, thank you. Why would I want someone pointing out a flaw in my logic when it is too late to change it and it will be another year or two before they do a reprint? That is just not fair.
* Editorial Hell -- There is something torturous about not being able to actively edit your work. Once you put it out there for the world to see, you can not pull it back. At least, in some forms. (In this blog, I can edit to my heart's content so maybe that is why I am opening up?) When I give a presentation, I suffer at least a week's worth of obsession over, 'I forgot to include..." and "That sentence was poorly structured. It should have been..." and then in my tired mind's eye the words copy & paste, dancing around as I see the presentation restructure itself, but there is no release. I have been tempted more than once to ask that a meeting reconvene just so I can get it right. It is agony, sheer agony, I tell you.
* I question whether or not I really want to know what others think. One one hand, I crave that social-emotional high that comes from people recognizing and responding to me. In particular, I crave the confrontive commentary that puts those particular pieces of my brain in the refiner's fire. Oh, how I love that fire. On the other hand, they are my ideas and when I put them in print, I claim them. Keeping a pen name is a bit of a "Back off. I have enough voices in my life already, thank you."
Now, with that warm welcome, I open up comments.
Being Early
I walked into my dentist's office at 11:50:23, so dang proud of myself for getting there early for my 12 o'clock. I strutted over to the receptionist: "Hi! For once, I'm early!"
She laughed: "Oh, sweetheart, your appointment was last Tuesday. You're a full week late."
And I thought I was such hot stuff.
She laughed: "Oh, sweetheart, your appointment was last Tuesday. You're a full week late."
And I thought I was such hot stuff.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Flittering
Best moment of the day today: Reaching Grizzley Peak after having climbed (not walked, climbed) straight up Marin.
Even better moment: Having made the walk with a friend at my side. I walk so much faster with a friend. It doesn't hurt as much either.
Best lesson of the day: Our home teacher's co-lessons that Harry Potter showed 1. acceptance of all and 2. love.
Sweetest hug: From my daughter at night after I read her a good story.
Nicest words of the day: From my husband, "Nah, this is easy," when he took over pulling the trailer (about 100 lbs extra weight) as we biked to a friend's house for a farewell party.
Prettiest moment: Seeing a lady in church who I had helped invite there. She actually came!! I had a part in that! So cool.
Biggest hurdle: Staying focused. Knowing what to give attention to and what to ignore. Having so many tasks that are all so, so good.
Best sight: Sitting in church and seeing so many delightfully interesting people, ie people with personalities. Relishing the feeling of lack-of-mold (referring to a mold that makes identical objects, not mold as in gee-it-has-been-damp-in-here-for-25-years).
Saddest moment: Looking at my eldest thinking that I have only 36 more months left with him.
Scariest moment: Biking up a steep hill today realizing that I have not given enough to life lately, recommitting to bike harder, faster, stronger.
Best laugh of the day: The combined laughter of my sons & their friends, heard when I got home from an afternoon party, friends sitting at the big kitchen dining table playing Settlers of Catan.
Best words out of J-boy's mouth: "Mom, can I read you a story?"
Now, that's what I'm talking about -- read *me* a story. In every parent's life there comes a time for payback.
Even better moment: Having made the walk with a friend at my side. I walk so much faster with a friend. It doesn't hurt as much either.
Best lesson of the day: Our home teacher's co-lessons that Harry Potter showed 1. acceptance of all and 2. love.
Sweetest hug: From my daughter at night after I read her a good story.
Nicest words of the day: From my husband, "Nah, this is easy," when he took over pulling the trailer (about 100 lbs extra weight) as we biked to a friend's house for a farewell party.
Prettiest moment: Seeing a lady in church who I had helped invite there. She actually came!! I had a part in that! So cool.
Biggest hurdle: Staying focused. Knowing what to give attention to and what to ignore. Having so many tasks that are all so, so good.
Best sight: Sitting in church and seeing so many delightfully interesting people, ie people with personalities. Relishing the feeling of lack-of-mold (referring to a mold that makes identical objects, not mold as in gee-it-has-been-damp-in-here-for-25-years).
Saddest moment: Looking at my eldest thinking that I have only 36 more months left with him.
Scariest moment: Biking up a steep hill today realizing that I have not given enough to life lately, recommitting to bike harder, faster, stronger.
Best laugh of the day: The combined laughter of my sons & their friends, heard when I got home from an afternoon party, friends sitting at the big kitchen dining table playing Settlers of Catan.
Best words out of J-boy's mouth: "Mom, can I read you a story?"
Now, that's what I'm talking about -- read *me* a story. In every parent's life there comes a time for payback.
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