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.

Bedtime, I hate you. Bedtime, I love you.

This is what it's like at night:
"In 5 minutes, you need to be upstairs, getting jammies and brushing your teeth."
"Okay - upstairs!"
"Hey, turn that off now. It's time for jammies and teeth."

The cajoling plea "Oh, 2 more minutes? I'm almost done with this level! Please?"
"No. Turn it off"

The feet go slowly up the stairs, and enter the bedroom.

Random bickering. Random "No!" shouted at a sibling.  Sound of toys.

"Hey, jammies or teeth brushing! No toys!"

The baffled silence of kids wondering how their mom knows they aren't getting jammies on.

They have their 5 minute window, and then I head upstairs, or the teeth brushing never happens.

Daughter is usually brushing her teeth,  not yet in jammies.  Son is usually 1/2 way in his jammies, but still gets stuck in his shirt with all the gawky awkwardness of his age.

They argue over who gets to spit in the sink first.  They laugh at spit bubbles.  They count loose or missing teeth, and ask when they first got teeth.   Delaying tactics, but also the routines of childhood, marking milestones in their lives.  This is the sign that the bickering is done, and the teasing, and the "No!"  The sign that the part of bedtime I hate is done.

They've been asking for the same stories these days - a strange milestone for me, accustomed to daughters love of chapter books when son was bored by stories that didn't have pictures.  And now they both read for fun, and they both pick the same book so they can have 2 chapters every night and find out the story faster.  One chapter on son's bed.  One chapter on daughter's.

I tuck them in.  I turn off the light.  I sing a song for both of them - usually it's a hymn, though sometimes it is just a lullabye.  Then I sing them each their own song - sometimes one they choose, sometimes one I choose,  sometimes a silly song I make up on the spot as a reward for the rare night when there is no dawdling in getting to bed.  Then... oh then - the part of bedtime I love the most. The 5 quiet minutes of any kind of questions, or talk, or worry, or love, or dream they want to share with me while I snuggle with them in the safe place where they sleep.   These moments - I would not trade them for anything else.  This time is when I truly get to know my children,  when I can offer reassurance about their fears, or answer their hardest questions,  and they feel safe enough to ask.  Bedtime, I love you.

And then... it's a last hug, and a last kiss, and a last little caress of their cheek, and I have to wish them good sleep and leave, when my heart's wish might be to just stay there, and watch them slumber, and love them as big as the universe can hold.

Girls *should* ask

- because asking for what you want is okay.
- because asking for a date is about as terrifying as asking for a raise
- because asking means speaking up.
- because using your voice is the best.
- because waiting for something to come to you is not the way to get what you want
- because sometimes, the hero doesn't have a horse

I've been done with that whole "wait for what you want, it will come to you" crap for a very long time.  I hate that cultural programming for girls, who then turn into women who expect that if they are good enough, or nice enough, everything they ever dreamed of will be theirs.

Nope. Sorry nice girls, sorry nice women.  If you know the dreams you have - it's totally fine to go out adventuring on your own to seek it.  The more you stay, waiting - the easier it is to stay waiting.
Go find your dream. Chase it. You can be nice on your adventures, but you have my permission to kick people in the shins if they get in your way.