What kind of mom?

Picture this:

We are on the lower level of the Lawrence Hall of Science for the New Year's party balloon drop and science craft fair. There are little ones and their parents everywhere. I pass the stairs and see a 10-11 mo old baby on the stairs, the *cement* stairs which lead down to the *cement* floor. The wee one is at that phase where he has just discovered what stairs are, can't get down yet, and probably doesn't realize that falling = pain. He's really tipsy.

To make it worse, he has a little balloon under his belly that is bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. He's mouthing it a bit and each bounce builds momentum. I put my hands behind the baby just in case he tips. A mom sees me; I ask her if the baby is hers and she brushes me off with the, "Phft, what a worry-wart."

My worry was well-justified, a baby much bigger and more stable had fallen not 10 minutes earlier and would have been seriously injured if his mom's hands hadn't been inches away to break his tumble. This little boy's mom was six, maybe seven feet away. The baby was, for all intents and purposes, unattended.

So, no biggie, but it did make me think -- how do I react when people comment on my parenting? Do I brush it off or do I hear the comment? Do I allow the blind stranger feedback to seep into how I parent?

You betcha I do.

Strangers have a unique perspective that neither me or my friends can see. I remember one lady, a generation senior to me, commented on one of my children and while her comment was made without the benefit of "the rest of the story", it contained some great insights. I mentioned to my husband who replied, "Hum. She's right. I can't believe we missed that." It was one of those Big Issues that was completed hidden in our blind spot.

So, how to hear these comments, almost always unpleasant and potentially offensive? Sunday before last, I saw it role-modeled. The teacher brought up the issue of using sarcasm with children to let off steam in a safe, unhurtful way. In direct contrast, one lady commented that sarcasm with children is a harmful, awful thing to do to a child who has no defense against it, ie the child isn't cognitively able to grasp it or reply to it properly. The comment was made as a clearly and as directly as possible, no mincing words, no softening the message.

I didn't hear the message as much as I watched the teacher's response. She didn't run away from the criticism; she didn't embrace it either. She considered it. She respected it. It was so awesome!

So, if you want to win your way to my heart, don't give me chocolate, give me a comment or two that will help me be a better mom.

I would rather be the mom who is --grateful-- when someone points out that one of my kids is about to hit the cement.

What I love about today's people

I gave a presentation / talk today at my church and had a blast doing it. For about 20 minutes I got to talk on a subject of my choosing (Gratitude) and got to see people listening or laughing. It was a delight.

But the best part came after the talk. A thin elderly woman, absolutely vibrant with a big, well-exercised smile, approached me and gently grabbed my arm (probably to keep her balance). She told me is trying to increase her technical literacy: "I really want to learn how to blog... my little sister is 83 years old and she showed me how to do my banking online... I sit with my cell phone on one ear while trying to type... I really want to learn how to blog..."

What an awesome image. I love people who don't give up. I love seeing people whose minds and hearts are open to change, even when it's breakneck change. And to make it all work, I love-a-love-a-love people, such as my beloved, who are already ahead of the curve and are patient and compassionate with those (such as myself) who are trying to keep up.

You know, my husband has not once, not even once, said that the house was messy. It drives me nuts when it is and I'm sure the thought is going through his mind, but he has never actually complained about it. I think I may have lucked out in the husband department. I love that he always helps clean up and I love that he never says we need to.

I also love that my kids, when left alone to their own devices, play and laugh (for today at least). There are so many things that can go wrong with sibling interactions. I'm so glad that enough is going right that their default interactions are happy ones.

Be Clean

Last Sunday we had an amazing lesson by an amazing woman. Topic: "Be Clean"

I have been chewing on it all week.

There was one little part of it that I kept "locked away" during this week. The question was, "How do we prioritize between two good choices?" Example: Saturday morning and you are trying to decide whether to take your child to the library or to the park; which is truly better?

My answer to this conundrum has always been, "First, write your over-arching mission statement, then evaluate your choices against it." In this example, my mission statement includes a bit about conveying a love of knowledge to my kids so, bingo, I would pick going to the library.

Easy, right?

Only sometimes.

More often, the daily choices ressemble a tangled knot, but that's a different post.

During the lesson, I realized that one of the reasons why my solution works only sometimes is because I am looking in the past (a mission statement I wrote in the past) for a decision I am making in the *now*.

The teacher made the suggestion that in order to choose between two good options, we can look forward and consider, "In a week / month / year, which choice will you most regret not making?" This approach appealed to me since I tend to be a pessimistic, roses-through-rain type of girl.

Regret? I can foresee regret. Miss Regret and I are best friends.

So, I tried it a few times this week and wow, the ability to look at both the past and the future makes everything more clear.

I love it when people give out nuggets of wisdom like that, making people around them better and more whole. Her lesson was brilliant.

Reason why: I have had such a hard time making decisions quickly, efficiently, and without an undue emotional tax. Today I was in one of those time-warpy moments when I was making a conscious decision literally every few seconds: "Yes, Aee, you can have that" said while processing two other non-verbal decisions that were acted out with my hands, while communicating another decision to Jee through motion, while actively ignoring two other decisions that are screaming to be made N-O-W, plus (pop) brain cells die from overload.

The choices come at me rapid-fire sometimes and I try my best to keep up. It isn't easy. I need all the tools I can get to combat the negative effects of Decision Overload.

Usually, on a good day, I love decisions. If I can keep up with the flow, I get intense joy from good decisions. I just need the right tools. Backward and forward, look both ways before crossing the street. Ha!

Why is it that the best, most useful wisdom can always be boiled down to such a level of simplicity? Thanks to the teacher who presented it -- you gave one mom a fairly powerful new insight.

I love...

1. I love accounting. It feels oh-so-good to have the details smoothed out so crisp.

2. I love (occasionally) staying up late at night with my best friend. It reminds me of late nights in college.

3. I love the fact that I look forward to seeing my kids in the morning.

At 11pm tonight, "I can't wait to see Jee in the morning. I wonder if he'll remember to water his GrassHead (a science experiment)"

At 12midnight, "I can't wait to see Aee in the morning. How much does she like her new bike?" (I haven't had a chance to see it yet.)

At 1 am, "I can't wait to see Kee in the morning. I bet he'll make belgian waffles for us. Or crepes."

At nearly 2 am, "I can't wait to see Vee in the morning. I bet he'll keep everybody quiet until we wake up."

Ha.

Today's best part: seeing "Siddhartha" performed by a 16 & under actor's troop at The Marsh in SF.

(Note: I'm trying to focus on stronger, more consistent gratitude throughout the day. I think it will help ease the tension headaches.)

Gratitude points for today:

* that I got to relax during the show, letting my mind wander
* that my teenagers liked the show
* that we went with good friends who know how to have fun, relax, and have nourishing conversation
* that my daughter does the most amazing "Mommy, you're home!" when I walk in the door
* that my little son can do heart-warming telephone conversations, "So, Mom, what-cha-up-toooo?"

Ah, headache eased. I needed my gratitude fix.

Shifting the goal?

Berkeley has changed how we do Christmas. This year:

1. We ended up with nothing that could qualify as a "toy". Everything given was purpose-driven.

2. The number of gifts was smaller than ever (but still more than enough, even ask the kids!)

3. The decorations are already cleaned up and packed back away.

Weird, but it was just different. I am looking into taking the big Vee and Kee on a trip to Israel and may schedule that for next Christmas. Now *that* would be a change!

Torque & happiness

Yesterday, Jee and his friend Zee were playing a game and asked "What does 'torque' mean?"

In Firefox, they did CTRL T, typed "w", "i", selected "www.wikipedia.org" then searched for "torque". They read a bit then applied it, exploring the concept using their elbows as the fulcrum, and their arms as the lever, each putting force on the other's arm and judging how far they were from the fulcrum, er, elbow.

This made me so blissfully happy because:
1. they can read
2. they knew where to access this knowledge
3. they naturally applied it

Jee and his friend are both 6 yo, teeny little guys, about 42 lbs of human being each and they are exploring concepts such as this. It made me so blissfully happy.

Once I asked a particularly brilliant Econ professor, "Did your parents do anything in particular that helped foster your love for learning?" The answer was immediate and without even the slightest hesitation:

"An Encyclopedia in the kitchen"

I could see it in my mind's eye -- a set of thick hardback encyclopedias spanning the shelves of the big bookcase in my kitchen, but it jarred my mind enough that I could hear the marbles rolling around in my head.

Clink. Clink, clink.

I can't have an encyclopedia in my kitchen. It's stagnant, a set of knowledge that never changes until I throw out that chunk of tree and get a new encyclopedia.

Hum. I have a bookcase in my kitchen, but it is full of living knowledge, tools for creation: coloring books, origami papers, cookie cutters, journals, recipes in three-ring binders so they can be consistently updated as the family's tastes mature. It is an organic bookcase.

For a comprehensive knowledge tool, I can't do an encyclopedia, but I can do the Wiki. I put a dedicated laptop in the kitchen, but due to power consumption issues, I can't leave it on all the time, nor can we boot up a system every time we have a little question.

I haven't found a solution that sits well with me yet and that's why I was so blissfully happy when Jee and Zee did what I was hoping my kids would do -- ask a question, access the answer. Hum. One of the desktops uses only 2 watts. Maybe that would work...

There's a good chance that if Jee is accessing the wiki at this level at 6, by the time he's older, he might wish to be a wikipedian, contributing.

Back to laying groundwork.

Dancing

Jee and Aee had a performance at their school where all the kids performed dances from various regions. They were fully decked out in dance gear and wow, they were amazing little danceurs.

But the best part was seeing the entire school, from K to 5th, all performing class by class on the stage. Jee and Aee had friends from nearly every class in the school! I hadn't yet realized the breadth of their friendship circles .

Breath

Aee's breath -- right now, beside me, breathing deep and dreamy. I can hear the patterns of her thoughts as her breath changes, sometimes fast (maybe thinking about puppy dogs or dancing?); sometimes slow (maybe dreaming about hanging upside down from a branch?)

Vee's breath -- when he was little and I would read stories to him & his bro, Vee's breath would always put me to sleep. Fast. Hard. His breath had a magical, trance-like quality to it. Resistance was futile.

Eee's breath -- he breathes in and I am so glad he's there; he breathes out and I'm so glad he's beside me. For whatever reason, his breath has become louder lately, but it doesn't matter -- it's all a verification that he is near me, with me, and alive.

Kee's breath and Jee's breath -- both of them have ultra-quiet, soft, easy, shy breathing patterns. I don't think I have ever heard either of them breath the deep sleepy breaths. Ever. Interesting.

My breath? From what I hear from the inside, it has a million different incarnations, some consciously driven, some not. Sometimes I direct my breath; sometimes I forget to breathe entirely (and even pass out because of it sometimes). Yes, I have problems. I know.

I think my favorite type of breath is the slow Bunny Breath that occurs when sleeping deeply. When all passages are clear and the sleep is deliciously deep, the breath is so little, so soft that is it that of a bunny, just like Kee & Jee, my bunny breathers.

A way to cover the shfits

Eee and I have been tired since our first one was born and now, only now, have we discovered a way to cover the 24/7 that comprises a parent's range of duty.

He works until 3 am; I get up at 3 am.

Every night when I read stories to Jee and Aee, my eyes get droopy, the melatonin kicks in and I want nothing more than to "rest for a minute". A while back I considered indulging in the urge to fall asleep at 7 pm. It felt wonderful. In the morning, my eyes fluttered open on their own, I had a good, long stretch, and my mind began kicking into action. Wow, that feels good.

For the last few months I have tried this on and off to see if it works for our family. I sleep from 7 pm to 3 am. Eee sleeps from 3 am to 8 am, gets the kids to school with me then sleeps some more.

I wish we had discovered something like this earlier. Every night, when there's a problem in the middle of the night (a child wakes up, the cat tips something over and wakes us up, a phone rings, someone's laptop or phones starts beeping low battery) there is always an awake parent to deal with it.

Night owl meets early bird.

I just wish we had figured this out during the little kid years. Moral of the story = respect your own inner clock. Take societal conventions with a grain of salt. Do what works for you.

Bring it on

We had an amazing talk today about giving and *receiving*. It illuminated a few dark & dusty corners of my mind. It made me think about gratitude (fully accepting a gift, any type of gift) and how that gratitude makes you: 1. healthier, 2. more enjoyable to be around, and 3. open to future benefit.

The talk also made me think (yes, the pessimist came out for a moment): "Well, what if the gift really stinks? What if I don't want the purple sequined blouse with matching sequined socks?" or even worse, "What if I am actually offended by the gift? Like my friend whose husband bought her an exercise machine because, 'Well, aren't you worried about your thighs too?' What if it is an unequivocally yucky gift?"

As the divinely beautiful speaker was filling out the content of her talk (which was far more pleasant than my pessimistic musings in the background), I remembered what Paul said: "Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Everything and I mean everything can be for our benefit if we so choose.

So, today I choose to accept the massive pile of dishes in the sink as a gift of time with my kids (who will help me even if it kills them).

And I choose to accept the challenge of teaching my children to come to me when they have a question rather than bellow "MOMMY!" (Isn't that typically the other way around, mother bellowing for children?)

I choose to accept my husband and children's help with various tasks as the day progresses even if their help is (from a child-who-shall-not-be-named) "Mom can I help?" then s/he proceeds to goof off persistently while in the work area where others are actually completing the work.

The talk covered "receiving the gift" whether it is socks, a beloved heirloom, or the Atonement. You receive; you are grateful; you are blessed. The whole talk centered around accepting loving interaction with others, perhaps as practice for accepting the ultimate?

So, our SSR time is up. Momma must stop blogging and get on with giving and receiving. Kudos to the dear sister who shook a little dust off of this part of my brain. Thank you.

I received your message to the best of my current ability.

Thank you.

Chocolate headache

One our partners sent us a box of chocolates for Christmas. I ate one. On an empty stomach.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Chocolate reduces your blood pressure, which for most people is a good thing, relaxing. But, for someone whose blood pressure is already too low, maybe not?

Chocolate on an empty stomach makes my head throb. The vessels restrict, tighten, like hundreds of little constrictors in my head.

Ouch.

Ouch.

Ouch.

When will I ever learn to respect my body's unique needs over the cultural norms?

From the wikipedia: "Research has shown that heroin addicts tend to have an increased liking for chocolate; this may be because it triggers dopamine release in the brain's reinforcement systems^[22] — an effect, albeit a legal one, similar to that of cocaine."

And I would make a very poor druggie.

I like veggies, good sleep, good exercise, and that whole moderation thing.

Chocolate? Yeah, I know it's great for most people, but not for me.

So, if you ever give me a chocolate treat and I thank you with an "Oh great. Thanks A LOT." please don't take offense.

Shifting perspective

On a popular blog a few years ago, a lady commented that she found Gen Conf boring.

My reaction was "WTF?"

Yes, it was an inappropriate reaction on so many levels.

My question to her: "Why are you bored?"

Answer: "Because I have heard the same msg over and over again since I was a kid."

My suggestion: "Why not try seeing it from someone else's perspective? It helps round out your view of the various principles. For example, if they are talking about repentance, try to pretend you are Jewish, Muslim, or maybe Buddhist and you are hearing this message for the first time. How would your perspective shift? What would your first, second, third reaction be?"

Answer: "But I'm not Jewish. I'm bored."

Sigh.

The conversation continued for too many messages and I got frustrated that some people prefer boredom over problem-solving. Ew.

I also realized that not everyone wants the multiple lenses. I love the lenses, always have.

Tonight's lens shift -- I'm running with Vee and Eee and I have the music blasting in my ears like the soundtrack to some awesome film. I can see Eee explaining something to Vee as they run. I see the crease in Eee's brow, then I see Vee mimic it. I see Eee's hands motion and I can tell by the gesture that he's probably explaining some concept based in mechanical engineering or possibly chemistry. Eee and Vee are completely enveloped in their mutual thought and since I have no sensory input from them other than the visual, my perception of their interaction is amplified. I can better see how they blend with each other without any voice to distract me. A shift in perspective, a different view of their relationship, and I am so grateful for the glimpse.

Then, later, as we're doing the long run home (a stretch of sidewalk past the scary woods part) I pull out in front and even though they are behind me, the moon is casting so that I can see their shadows on the ground in front of me. I feel like some sort of regal queen leading the way with my warriors flanking on both sides. I run faster. They do too. I pull onto the homestretch and sprint, but start to lose it on the last 50-60 feet. Vee sprints past me and motions, "Come on mom, you can do it." I can't actually hear what he's saying, but his motion is enough.

But I don't have it in me to keep going. I slow down.

Then the lyrics in my ears blast: "I just can't wake up." (Sum 41, "Chuck") Those of you who know me know how much I fought that during the tough years. Like the year when I needed 10-12 hrs of sleep a night every night. Like the day when I slept 20 hours out of 24. Yeah, I know what it's like to not be able to wake up. It feels like being under anesthesia while maintaining consciousness. You can hear everybody but you can't move. Your mind is awake and alive, but you can't do anything about it so your mind slowly starts to shut down. Fatigue bites.

"...just can't wake up." The energy surges because I know fatigue and this, my dears, is no where near real fatigue. I have been lax to not be more grateful for the lifting of it. I can push this supposed limit and I do. I caught up to Vee, again with my lungs stretching, cleansing. Man, that feels good.

It took a long time to walk it off.

A shift in perspective is a beautiful thing.

Sharing a particular love

There are few things sweeter than sharing a particular "favorite" with your children as they grow. With Vee, it has always been music, blast-your-body-until-your-insides-shake music.

I remember my first concert. The Police. In Seattle. I wore stardust jeans and danced near the speakers. My entire self vibrated. I glimpsed beauty. I was only 12 or 13 and I went with my brother and his girlfriend. Ironically, my brother has the same persona as my eldest, same loves, same past-times, same compassion, same approach to religion & politics, same approach to life in general. My Vee. I can see the family genes traveling on through. My bro and loud music. Vee and loud music.

In college. Same bro. Primal Screaming. If you haven't tried it, it is worth the effort. You're not fully alive until you can do a primal scream at the drop of a hat. In public. In private. Fully capable. My bro and I drove up (and down) the canyons in Provo practicing. It took me a long time before I could do it. Now I finally can. At the drop of a hat.

You know what cinched it? The remake of the Tears for Fears song, "Shout" done by Disturbed (or Staind?) We played it regularly one summer when Aee was 2 yo, cruising up (and down) the TX freeways. Aee was a headbanger in those days. A little two year old headbanger full of angst and pain way beyond her years. I played the song. I told them about the mechanism behind the primal scream. They got it, each on their own level.

The other day I had a friend tell me, "So, I saw you and your kids cruising down 580 in your minivan." (pause while I wonder why this busy man would bother mentioning something so mundane) "You and your kids were laughing and talking and it looked like you were all... dancing." (I smile my Cheshire cat grin.) "I have never seen a family so happy together." (Grin drops a little.) He meant it. "I have never seen..." Each word was so carefully enunciated like some sort of subconscious confession, a reaching out. "...a family so happy together." How sad.

There's a pause while the realization sinks in that not everybody has fulfilling family lives. Statistically, few people have happy family lives. It can go wrong so easily for a million reasons and it can go right for only one -- hard work. It's a heap-o-work to build strong, healthy ties.

Tonight as Vee and I were going to pick up his bike from the high school (long story, but sometimes his travels lead him in routes where he doesn't get back to his initial mode of transport). In the car, we blasted the dance tunes loud-loud-and-louder.

The lyrics vibrated right through me: "...sick and tired of always being sick and tired..." and I knew with that deep surety that I simply had to run tonight. I needed to run. We got home and 60 seconds later, we were back out the door, dressed in good running gear with one son babysitting and another son walking out the door with Eee and me, all on the dark sidewalks running in sync.

I ran until my lungs burst. One full song. My lungs felt so fully open, stretched, cleansed. It was awesome. There is something about the music vibrating that motivates my body to move and I am bolstered by the fact that my son, my baby, is similarly motivated.

Then the coolest thing happened, a shift in perspective... (see next post above).

Code Monkey

A song that plays in our house several times a day is "Code Monkey" by Jonathan Coulton, a crazy-good musician who releases his songs freely.

Seemingly unrelated: Vee and Kee love their Latin class. With a passion.

Even more unrelated: I need to get back in shape. I'm realizing that my brain is as mushy as my calves.

Possibly related? There's a marathon in Rome. Wait, no, Rome is where THE marathon concept began. (Feel free to mock me for my initial ignorance there.)

Related, unfortunately: I tried seriously plunging back into running again.

Horribly related: Yesterday we went out running: me, Kee, and Jee (little one on a scooter). With ear buds in each person's ears, we stretched, warmed up for a few blocks, then Code Monkey came on for my player.

My thoughts: "Hey! I can run for this entire song, no problem. The rhythm is perfect for running." My words: "Come on kids, keep up!"

Half way through I was breathing very hard, remembering what it was like to really push it. A bit further I was wondering how long the blasted song was. (Three minutes and seven seconds.) By the end, I thought I was having a mild heartache, but I made it and ended with a flourish (sprint). New goal = try to run through the "Code Monkey" song without keeling over.

Pathetic in a geeky sort of way.

Now, let's see if I can tie all these unrelated bits of life together in one sentence:

We're training to run the Rome marathon in March 09 and Code Monkey is the initial get-off-yer-bum motivation.

Ha!

Dream come true

I want to do this so badly, more than anything.

Why?

As a child, my favorite stuffed animal was a squirrel. Yes, a squirrel. Looks like I can get my own squirrel suit now. (New York Times piece)

My 2nd favorite stuffed animal was Dumbo the elephant, you know, the one with the feather that helped him fly?

And if it could possibly get better, my dearest just sent me this. "...une nouvelle dimension..." How appropriate. Ha.

Self-driven action

Those of you who know me understand I am a nut about self-driven action.

I thrive when I am surrounded by people who know what they want and then work towards it.

I am sad when I am around people who don't know what they want and work towards... whatever.

So, this morning, we were (per the last post) all semi-asleep and highly incoherent at 6 am this morning when Kee got up for school. He was like the last man to the battle field, looking around at the wounded stretched across couches, chairs, even the floor. He walked around, saw we were all fairly useless then went and:
1. made his own lunch -- bravo!
2. did his morning chores -- what? and
3. got out the door in time -- three cheers for punctuality-driven behaviors! Kee biked to school fully prepared and thoroughly under-supported. I was so proud.

I think I mumbled something at him when he walked near me this morning. I had one eye open at half-mast with Aee sleeping on my chest, Jee in the crook of one arm and two bowls at the ready for any incoming liquid missiles.

I have a vague recollection of Kee asking if we had any bread so he could make his own sandwich for school lunch. No, we didn't have any bread. Normally, this would have registered as an Action Item in my mind that would have shot enough adrenaline through my body to make me stand up and get to work. But with two kids in arms, I didn't budge and my adrenal gland didn't budge either (thankfully).

The end result (again, gratitude rocks!) was that Kee had a great experience in self-driven action. He could have feigned sickness and none of us would have been the wiser. He could have been "too tired" (biking to school is actually a bit of a feat, all uphill, have to leave early), but no, he took his day into his own hands and molded it.

Lab in the morning, school all day, debate team in the afternoon, work a bit at his job after that. What a cool young man.

There is something so comforting, affirming, and rewarding about being near someone who is able to make good choices.

A feast to remember

We had a splendid Christmas feast on Saturday night as a huge ward family. The place was packed and the food was haute cuisine with fine china, the works.

Unfortunately, 24 hrs later nearly everyone we had dined with was sick. It hit us in the night. First Aee, then Jee, then Vee (Kee was oblivious to it all). I guess the shortest intestines had the shortest fuse on their little exploding tummy timebombs.

Eee didn't get sick. "I'm made of tephlon, hon. That's why I eat all those preservatives. Germs can't grow in me. Have you ever seen a Twinkie mold?"

Can't argue with that logic.

I'm not sick either. I didn't have time to eat. I was gathering kids to the table, arranging things, reminding them that green beans are not projectiles and that under-the-table footsies are only funny if you are kicking your brother, not the gentleman sitting near you who is probably at this moment complaining about his bruised shins.

About 10 minutes into the dinner, I had to leave to take Vee to babysit for a family we know and love. After I get back, I had a full 60 seconds in my seat to catch my breath, relax in my chair and contemplate taking a bite when berrinngg, Vee on the phone. He forgot his book in the car and heaven forbid he should spend an evening without a 400+ pg book in-hand. Must read. Now.

I zoom back and forth until whoops, the dinner has been cleared off the table and I am glad because now I won't be tempted to overeat at such a scrumptious dinner.

The grateful heart is often rewarded.

By about 5 am this morning, the puke has covered six blankets, ruined three pillows, trashed one bed cushion, and made four nasty carpet stains that we took turns scrubbing.

In hindsight:

1. I'm glad I didn't complain about not getting to eat.

2. I'm glad we went to the party even though we paid dearly. It was a memory none of us will forget. It was officially our First Family Puke Bug. (We look forward to the First FULL Family Puke Bug someday.) I got to spend the entire day snuggling with Jee and Aee, bliss. I got to have my husband home all day. (He did 99% of the nighttime care from 11 pm to 3 am and was too wiped to go to work, teehee.)

3. I got to get up early in the morning hours to care for the pukers and I *love* the morning hours. I just have a hard time getting up that early because it's so tempting to sleep and call it "meditation" or "prayer" or justify why I need to rest for one more minute. I got a lot done between 3 am and 4 am and even got some work done inbetween incidents in the 4 to 7 am time slots.

So, I'm thankful. It's beyond pathetic, I know, but I'm thankful.

Trying to be jerky just to fit in

I have a pet peeve. When people start saying, "Teenagers are so ___ (insert unpleasant adjective)... they go through such awful phases... rollercoaster... so moody... "

I have tried various forms of defense:

* "What? Teenage hormones are tough? Have you ever been PREGNANT?"

or

* "Life is just a set of phases, each one unique in its own right. I wouldn't say one phase is inherently more difficult than the next."

or my favorite:

* "Assuming they will be tough only puts the kids in a lose-lose. What if we tried assuming that the teenage years could be a vibrant, productive time?"

So, yesterday afternoon as I was snuggling with my daughter for reading time, an article in Scientific American caught my eye. It talked about how there was no scientific evidence at all that said that teenagers had to be ornery during those pubescent years. It said that our current American Teen is very much a cultural anomaly. They showed how teens in various cultures didn't have the angst and unpleasantness that we tend to assume teenagers have.

--sigh of relief--

And that teenagers from other cultures who move to the US quickly become whiny, entitlist twits. It is a matter of cultural expectation rather than pure physiological cause.

--vindication--

So, I stand a bit more firmly in my belief that the teen years *can* be sweet.

Next time Vee or Kee does something so "normal" like offer to help with chores that aren't theirs or take a new class just because it sounds like fun, instead of feeling that little glitchy worried feeling of, "I wonder... teenagers aren't supposed to be this nice. Is something wrong?" Instead, I'll try to remember to sigh with relief at their ability to not cave into certain societal pressures.

How bizarre is that that we pressure certain segments of our society to be twits?