Stupid animals

There are numerous troubles with pets.  They love you when you feel unlovable. They plop right down next to you, or on top of you when you'd rather just be left alone.   Somehow,  their head seems to end up under your hand, and the next thing you now, the opportunistic attention whores are getting a scalp massage, and you are starting to feel like maybe the world doesn't suck after all.  Stupid animal, ruining a perfectly fine sulk.

As if that wasn't enough, they stalk you. Oh, they'll play it off like they just want to be fed, or hey, what a coincidence that you are sitting on the exact same chair they wanted.  But its a lie.  You feed them, or give up the chair - and they STILL follow you around. Like they like you or something. When you finally do sit down, it's all "Whoops! My head is accidentally under your hand again, I guess you want to pet my head then? Okay!"  Accidental my ass.  You were head-butting my hand until I lifted it up, Cat.  I'm onto you.

Basically, these idiot pets act like you are some sort of amazing, wonderful love-being.  Then you get accustomed to them being all funny, and quirky, and follow-aroundy.  They brain wash you into LIKING IT BACK when they jump on your head, or head-butt your hand,  or groom your ear after you get home.

They save the worst for last though.  After you are fully and totally brainwashed, convinced that annoying little love-beast is necessary for continued daily routine life, accepting their misguided believe in your awesomeness...  the stupid animal goes away.  They leave life behind by getting too old to head butt you,  or too sick to stalk you,  or hit by a car that didn't see them in the street.  And they die.

Then what can you do?  Nothing.  There is no answer to this.  You miss the rotten, fluffy, stupid head butting, quiet companionship.  You pretend it's normal to sit on the couch by yourself with a book, and weep quietly because no one is poking holes in your leg. no one is dropping a soggy tennis ball in your lap, no one looking at you, then at an empty food dish with GREAT MEANING.  You cry, because you think maybe you were an amazing love-being for them after all, but you can't tell that stupid animal "Thank you for teaching me."


In memory of Dixie Diamond, a cat,  and Esther P. Moonshine, a dog.

Adulthood DOES NOT Suck

Things I've been considering lately, that I think suck about current media practices:

• Adulthood doesn't suck, and the glorification of a "carefree youth" is bullshit.  Youth is full of care, and ask any 20 something with college debt what they can get that's free.  They'll laugh their asses off at you.
• Wrinkles, gray hair, and a need for sleep are not bad. 
• Wisdom, yo. What's with the dumbing down of dads and turning them into caricatures of  wisdom? Stop that. It's demeaning, and does nothing to promote positive images of parenthood.  Want fewer single moms?  Stop showing dads as idiots. They aren't.

I know, this is a list. The ideas are not complete, and could use more details and expository text. But, that's all I have time for today, and I'd rather write something than nothing. 

Facts of Life and Death

Cast list:
- Yard bunny
- Cat 1
- Cat 2
- Puppy
- Daughter

Setting:  A suburban yard that boasts dandlions, trees, a picnic table, and a child-designed hammock swing.

Bunny:  "Hey look at that, some new dandelion leaves. Those babies are the best!"
(Bunny hops out of rabbit hole, and begins chomping on dandelion)

Cat 1: "Hey, look at that, a new bunny!  Those babies are the best!"
Cat 2: "Hey, back off! I saw that bunny first!"
(Cat 2 and Cat 1 gang up on yard bunny, preventing escape back to rabbit hole)

Bunny:  Oh SHIT! Oh SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!

Puppy: Oh hey guys! Can I play? Yes! I love this game. I love this game I love this game! Chase is the best!
(Puppy starts chasing cats.)

Cats: Ugh. That puppy. She ruins everything.
(Cats stop chasing, pretend that all along, they were sitting by the picnic table, grooming themselves.  Bunny stops running from cats.)

Puppy:  CHOMP!  (muffled) Hey, cats, I got dis fing you chased. I won? Did I win?

Daughter: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! No! No puppy!! We don't chomp bunnies!!!!

Value Added Parenting

In list format (lists! The lazy way to organize the internet!) these are my assumptions, values, and approaches to parenting.  I'm sharing this, because maybe someday my children will find this blog and want to know WHY.  But probably not.

- Humans start out as savages.  Seriously. Infants are demanding, hungry, uncivilized tyrants who need to be fed on demand, sleep whenever they feel like it, poop themselves and expect to be cleaned, and REQUIRE extreme acts of love and devotion to thrive.  And parents do this because of the cocktail of hormones our brains produce that view the tyrant as the most amazing and wondrous creature in the known universe.  As far as I can tell... it doesn't wear off. My infants are still the most amazing and wondrous creatures, ever. HOWEVER,  as a more experienced human, I also know uncivilized tyrants usually end up dead. So, I teach them general civilization because I'm the parent. Potty training, basic hygeine,  food preparation, saying please and thanks, and why hitting your sibling doesn't end well.

- Kindness, compassion, and listening are IMPORTANT LIFE SKILLS.  This seems to go against most of the cultural programming of modern American life. I don't give a shit if my kids have the highest grades, the fastest times, the newest computer games, the most dance or karate medals, play 4 sports, etc.  I care that my kids know the planet is full of humans, just like them, with hopes, dreams, skills, and abilities.  I want them to know that even if they meet a stupid jerkface, the right thing to do is listen to the opinion, evaluate it against what they know and believe, and engage kindly if possible, or walk away if not.

- Vulnerability is strength in action, not weakness.   To be vulnerable is to say, I am strong enough to share my fears. I am trusting that sharing will make it easier, not harder.  I believe that seeking help is good.

- Failures and consequences are awesome.  Trying new things is fun! Change can be hard, but fear isn't a reason to stop and give up,  fear is a signal to approach it a little differently.  We learn more from failing than we do from success.

- Do your best.  Always do your best. It matters not how another human judges your effort,  but if you have made that effort the best you were capable of - you can be proud.

- Be honest and tell the truth. When you set a precedent for honesty and truth telling combined with habits of compassionate listening - people will listen and trust what you say to them.  Even if they don't want to hear it, honest words spoken compassionately are easier to accept.

- Use your words.  Humans are such complicated beings, with so many amazing abilities, and yet, we can't read each other's minds. (Thanks, God! Appreciate that!!!)  So use words to communicate, to share your thoughts and let the people who love you know what you need.  They won't know if you don't tell.

And that's basically it.

TL; DR version:  Parenting = loving savages enough to teach them how to love.

Family Trees

There's family you grow up with,  and family you give birth to, and if you are lucky  - at some point in your life you realize you have a family that you made.

I have a huge family - related by blood and birth and marriage.  They are a mixed bag of awesome, crazy, obnoxious, and loving.  Some are narcissistic, snobby, uptight.  Some are the very epitome of red-neck trailer trash. It's a very broad spectrum.  Not surprising, I suppose, when the count of first cousins reaches higher than 50 without including in-laws.  It's a big family tree by any measure.  I'm stuck with that family.  I love them, they love me. I'm closer to some of those branches than others, and it's okay.  They are my roots and have helped me to grow strong.

All the same - I'm one of the "strange" fruits on my family tree, and they don't always know what to do with me.  I've bucked the traditions of my upbringing in a conservative church.  I don't agree with or conform to the expectations of my youth.  I choose my own path.  It causes some consternation in my close knit family. I don't rub their faces in my life choices, nor do I let their concerns impede what I know is right for me. I will love them where they are.  They try to do the same for me, as best as they are able.  I will love and support their endeavors to the best of my abilities, even when it requires a love buffer.

And then there's my other family - the dear people in the world who have.... I don't even know the verb I want here.  Helped. Held. Hugged. Loved. Waited. Stood near.  These are the people who have seen my worst and best moments. They are not blood relations, nor people I've known since birth - but they are a group of people who I can only think of as soul siblings - like the spirits that inhabit our bodies just KNOW each other, without words. They offer a sense of resonance and completion whether we are together or distant.  Their presence in the world enriches and strengthens my life.  Sometimes the connection is evident on a first meeting - like love at first site without all that romantic nonsense added by movies.

These people are also my family, and often closer than family.  They are the people who let me be as I am in the world, and they are glorious.  It's like having a forest of family trees.

A Rose by any name

Lately, I've been giving a lot of thought to names.  Specifically, surnames.  Specifically because I'm getting married later in the year.

So, surnames.  Preliminary research says they are based on:

• patronymics - you are the son of John, or daughter of John, or you take the last name your father had. 
• profession - you are a Smith, or a Cooper, or Farmer, or a King
• place - Fairfield, a pretty pasture, or Harrington, the town you came from.
• personality - a trait that describes the person, Quick, Strong, Tall, Blackbeard

Surnames were created to distinguish one Mary from another Mary, one John from another John. Then they were used to demonstrate family connections.  Then make new family connections.  In English traditions, sons kept the family name. Daughters were given away by fathers, and took the name of the husband's family.  A father passed on the care and responsibility of his daughter for another man to assume.

So, names... Juliet told Romeo that a rose by any name would smell as sweet, and he should stop being a Montague so she could love him without family politics. I suspect Shakespeare was a feminist, to tell a man to give up his name.  

I didn't struggle the first time I left a name behind... I ditched my middle name. It was seldom used except in highly formal occasions.  I wanted to keep my family name, and take my husband's family name.  So I did by moving my maiden name to my middle name, and adding a new last name. And I was married. And I had children.  And time passed and crap happened. And I was divorced.  And I kept the name I married into to maintain the connection of a family name to my children, as though the connection of body and blood and birth and love were not a strong enough bond in themselves.

And now what?  Now I am looking at the reality of a name that no longer fits me. I am no longer married to the man whose name I have. I love another man, whose name I respect, but does not feel like my name.  I am come to a time and place where I want my name to be my own, to reflect my own agency and the authority of my self.  I belong to me, not to my father, not to a husband, not to my children.  And yet, I will belong to them through the ties of body and blood.   But I want my name to be mine. To be me. The song of myself, as Walt Whitman put it. 

So what is in my name?  Not a patronymic. While I love my father, I am equally my mother's daughter. And where is her name in me?   My family shaped the person I am, in ways both obvious and silent. I carry them with me everywhere, and that is enough. Perhaps a profession?  Doubtful. Which profession or task names me best? I've been too many things, have too many interests, and don't believe that my work should be the definition of whole self.   Place?  I use it as my twitter handle, @minn_finn. My places of origin, both present and ancestral.  It suffices.  Which leaves personality.

In an attempt to get a handle on my own personality, I asked friends who've known me for longer than 6 months to share a word that describes me to them.  The results were uplifting.  It's not why I asked, but the responses told me that the values I hold and hope to make evident through action are indeed visible. Loving. Gracious. Awesome. Kind. There. Caring. Beautiful. Aunt. Genuine, just to list a few.  It was a long list, but in the end - inconclusive. There was no defining theme of personality to draw a name from. 

So the question remains - what's in a name when a rose by any name would smell as sweet?   What I can say is this; I want to acknowledge my heritage, to have my name remind me of what I value, or who I am.  It may be a name like "Kindness," even if that sounds like a Hippy name.  Or it may be a name like Hauskanainen,  meaning "Funny Woman" in Finnish.  Or perhaps Sulo which means grace, or Nokella, meaning wise, smart, or sharp.  Or maybe just Nainen, woman.

I will keep considering, because I feel as though I have taken a sufficient number of names already in my life, and the next one I assume, I have no intention of giving away again. 

Stuff and Things

This is just a list. Because lists are the lazy way to make random things seem organized.

1. Confession:  I hate this winter. It's too cold, too long, and too annoying.   
2. Confession:  I can't be bothered to know the temperature.  If it's not spring, I don't care to know what the thermometer says.
3. Randomly: I'm learning there are some relationships that aren't ever really over, the feelings are still going to be there, acknowledged or not. 
4. I like my independence, and traveling solo.  Not to say I don't love trips with family and friends too... but a significant part of me needs the adventures of alone time. 
5. Re-discovery:  http://feministbecause.tumblr.com/  I used to follow this, and found it again from a random tweet.  It's good. 
6. Letter writing was hard. It's getting easier.  Am about 1/3 of the way to my goal of 63 letters. 

Kindness and words and poison

I read this post today, on Wil Wheaton's blog.
https://wilwheaton.net/2014/01/dark-days-bright-days/
It's about depression, and how it lies.  (See also http://thebloggess.com/  and http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/  for other bloggers who tell the truth about the lies of depression)

This is the line that struck me:
 I put a drop of poison into myself.

And it made me wish this poem:

I wish for a fountain,
A deep well, of the best words.
Where a soul poisoned by ugly sounds like
idiot  asshole  nigger  fag  retard  stupid 
could find healing by drinking the words
beautiful wondrous brilliant unique human spirit
You are needed. Be here.  Be at peace.  You are loved.



We speak so many awful things to each other,  and to ourselves.  It should be even easier to say the beautiful things to each other.  That we love. That we admire. That we are grateful for the funny creative idiotic things that happen in our lives with these other humans on the planet.

I don't really have a point with this post except to say you are a bright sparkle in the world.  Be kind to yourself.

The BEST kids

I try really hard to not brag about my kids.  Not because they aren't worth bragging about, but because there's more to me than just being a mom and because I don't want them to think they are the center of the universe. But today,  I am going to brag about my kids.  Because I can and because only like 4 people read this blog and I'm one of them.

Today, my kids went to the Children's museum, because they had the day off school.  They each brought some of their own money along, so they could get candy or a toy when they were there.  They didn't spend it all on themselves.  P donated one of her two dollars to the museum fund for low-income families to attend, because "every kid should have this kind of fun, Mom"  R bought candy, but gave half of it to a homeless veteran they met on the street on the way back to the parking garage because "It's super cold today, and he probably doesn't get to have chocolate very often."   I LOVE those brilliant, generous hearts!

Tonight,  R was wondering about being a manly man. He has decided he's going to be a manly man who plays silly pranks.  Except, he's not going to do that to his kids, only when they are grown up and will know he's teasing. I don't know why that struck me as so sweet and funny, possibly because "manly" and "prankster" do not often combine with the image of a man tenderly concerned about not hurting his children's feelings.

And bedtime... I used to have a love / hate thing about bedtime.  The ages P & R are at now... I just love bedtime.  It's when we have conversation about the day, and my amazing little (BIG) children tell me that I'm the best mom in the history of mommies. I got to let them know that the reason I'm the best mommy is because I came from a long history of great mommies,  and that someday - they will get to be the best mommy and best daddy on the planet.  I try to be the best mommy for them, because that's what best kids deserve.    And they do.  And I will keep trying.