The Blogging Blahs

Don't you hate it when bloggers just stop writing and never tell you why and you go through their old posts looking for a possible reason that they stopped writing, but there isn't one, so you think that maybe the blogger died or went off-grid or got stuck in a tornado and is now in Oz?

Me too, people.

I wonder if the Blogging Blahs is an official diagnosis.  It should be.  As a long-time blog reader, I've seen it happen to many a blogger.  One month you're all up in her business, conversatin' in the comments section of her blog, making passive aggressive cartoons about her ex (or maybe that's just me), and looking forward to her next post.  The next month she's just gone.  Totally leaves you hanging.  And you're all, "I bet her asshole ex has her tied up with duct tape in his storage shed.  The lack of wifi is the only thing that would keep her from posting!"  And you're surprised to discover that you really miss her.  Her riffs and rants had become a part of your life.  Like a really dysfunctional daily newspaper.  

So I won't do that to you.

I have the Blogging Blahs.  I admit it.  I remain in awe of the awesome, witty bloggers who can do it every day (like my homie Erin at Oh Honestly, Erin).  Heck, I'm even in awe of people who can post weekly at this point.  I seem to be fresh outta blog inspiration.  Or maybe I'm just really tired.  Maybe it's because I'm anemic or maybe it's due to my vitamin D deficiency.  Crohn's disease affects nutrient absorption, but I don't seem to get the one upside to that (weight loss!).  Maybe it's this %&#*ing neverending fibromyalgia/arthritis flare.  Maybe it's that I'm really loving my life right now (except for the above-mentioned %&#*ing fibromyalgia/arthritis flare) and I'm more into living it than documenting it.  Maybe it's all of that.

I just haven't been feeling very fluent or funny lately.  Plus, that %&#*ing fibromyalgia/arthritis flare is affecting my right thumb.  So typing hurts.  &^%&*%&^!!!!

Tired, cranky me isn't really much fun.  So, when you think about it, by not blogging, I'm actually being kind. I'm being a humanitarian.  (You're totally welcome.)

I'm not depressed though.  I don't want y'all to think that.  Despite my health problems, I've been going to parties and inviting friends over and I just painted Nature Boy's bathroom.  And I've been baking!

Poo Piles

(I was aiming for the "signature swirl" from that DC Cupcakes show here, but I ended up with Poo Piles.)  

 

After the Poo Pile Debacle of 2013, I broke down and bought a cake decorating set with tips and bags and whatnot. The results were so much better!





Oh yeah, aaaaaand Nature Boy and I just got cast in a local production of Godspell!  Woohoo!  We both got principal roles, which was a happy surprise for both of us.  Don't know if you know much about Godspell, but here's a character list if you're interested.  I am playing Peggy and Nature Boy is playing Herb.  We'll be practicing for the next 3 months and the show will be in June.  We are really excited!

I guess I just want y'all to know that I will be in and out as far as blogging goes.  Which is nothing new, really.  But I won't disappear from the blogosphere without telling you first.

Inconsistently yours,
Danielle

P.S.  Today is my husband's birthday!

Spanked by the Bible Belt

This is our 7th year of homeschooling.  It's also our 7th year as members of a non-denominational Christian homeschool support group.  And by Christian, I mean Protestant.  And by Protestant, I mean evangelical.

I've learned a lot as a member of this group.  A lot of good things, about homeschooling and parenting and praying for others.  Several members of the group were a big support while I was taking care of my grandma.

There is another--not so warm and fuzzy--thing I learned as a result of joining my homeschool group.  It is that many evangelical Christians don't consider Catholics to be Christians.

You might be thinking, duh!  But it was news to me.

I've lived in 5 states.  Attended non-denominational Christian churches as a kid.  Went to Baptist church as a teen.  Attended college away from home.  And have lived in the very buckle of the Bible Belt for 15 years. But I never heard that there are fellow Christians who deny the Christianity of Catholics until I joined this homeschool group.

Worse, my 12 year old son has only had to deal with religious intolerance because we are members of this group.  He's never come up against it anywhere else.

So we've decided to leave the group.

I probably should have left the first few times I heard other moms make anti-Catholic comments.  They did it craftily though ("but I know YOU'RE a Christian!"), and each time, I assumed they were just ignorant and didn't represent the group as a whole.

But the comments kept coming.  Little remarks here and there.  Totally different moms.  And then Nature Boy's homeschool co-op friends said some things to him.  It was increasingly getting on my nerves.  Then last month I talked to another Catholic member of the group at a party.  I found out she had experienced the same thing I had, and that she and two other Catholic members had already left the homeschool group for that reason.  

My eyes were opened.

I have always considered my group to be the best one in town, certainly the best Christian homeschool group.  I didn't want to leave the group in an angry huff, so I asked a long-time friend and leader in the group for her perspective.

I was shocked to discover that she felt the same way the other moms did.

I'm grateful that she was honest with me, because now I know why I never fit in.  Why I always felt like an outsider in the group.  Part of it is just that I am more liberal than most of the group members are--but another part of it is that this is a Christian-only group, and several members don't believe Catholics are Christians.

Making the decision to leave the group was a process.  I was pissed at first.  Especially on my son's behalf. I worked through that anger, forgave the haters, and moved on.

Now I feel a peace about it.  It's the right decision.

There are some Christians who seem to have judgment and prejudice as religious doctrines.  As if castigating others somehow makes themselves more holy.  I choose not to hang out with people like that. It's the opposite of my experience of Christianity.  And if I, a Catholic Christian, feel that way, imagine how non-Christians are experiencing these people's attempts to show them Jesus.  

As Tobuscus says, "Fail!" 

The Reluctant Unschooler

This is a post I wrote about a year ago for Christian Unschooling.  I didn't publish it to my own blog at that time.  I'm doing so now--with an update in the next two paragraphs.

Our homeschool is always changing.  My education philosophy can be reduced to two words: whatever works.  I believe that's different for every child and every family.  I'm learning that it's also different for an individual child and an individual family over time.  Our homeschool looks different now than it did a year ago when I wrote the post below.  We're still unschooly, in that there's a lot of flexibility and freedom (and fun!) built into our homeschool.  But we're not purists.  We just do whatever works for whatever we're working on at that particular time.  We discuss our options.  Try a few things.  Discard a few things that don't work.  And basically muddle our way through until something clicks.  (Or until we give up in frustration and go to the zoo instead...)

I love our life.  But it has its anxieties.  I'm forever freaking out about math, Nature Boy's nemesis.  I worry that some family members think that my son's struggles with writing and math are caused by homeschooling.  That if I were a real teacher, he wouldn't still be struggling.  In my heart I know that learning disabilities are real.  Being at school wouldn't magically solve the challenges that come with them. But I'm also aware that I don't know everything.  (Just most things...)  And that's where tutors come in!  We had great results with a spelling tutor last year and currently, with a math tutor.  He's awesome!  He's an engineer, but in a very unengineery way, he is able to get all creative with introducing mathematical concepts.  He gets how my son learns.  It's not formulaic or traditional (duh!), but conceptual and real worldy.  (The technical term.)  He is excited to work with Nature Boy because we don't follow a traditional curriculum for math.  He's not limited to only offering homework help or to one certain way to do math problems, according to what a teacher wants.  I think they are both learning from each other.        

And now for the original post.

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We didn't intend to homeschool.

Our son attended pre-k and kindergarten in public school. I had the typical my baby's going to school all day pangs, but that was the norm, so I dealt with it. Pre-k was fairly smooth, but things started getting bumpy in kindergarten.

One day my little guy came home from school and said, “Mom, would you please homeschool me? School is chaos!” Tears became part of our bedtime routine, crowding out our stories and prayers. I was at a loss. I'd loved school as a child. I couldn't understand what was causing our son so much anxiety.

I started researching homeschooling and began husband negotiations. (He took a little convincing at first.) We agreed to try homeschooling for first grade and then reevaluate. We've never looked back.

Our early homeschooling style was influenced by some of Ruth Beechick's writings. I really liked her simple approach: a relaxed focus on the 3Rs with lots of free time and read-alouds. I followed her guidelines for 1st-3^rdgrade (except for the copy work, as my son has dysgraphia). During this time, I noticed how naturally learning was occurring in other areas.

I also noticed that as time went on, my boy wasn't enjoying learning as much. The more we relied on structured curriculum and worksheets, the more frustrated and learning-averse he became. Once again I was confused. The textbook/workbook method of learning worked for me in school, so why wasn't it working for him? (Apparently I considered myself the Standard of Normal.) :D

I learned about unschooling when my son was in 3rd grade. To be honest, the idea freaked me out! My son experienced public school as chaos, but that's what unschooling sounded like to me. Even so, by this time we'd tried everything else. We'd discovered other learning differences (dyslexia and dyscalculia) and I realized that I was going to have to step outside of my comfort zone and be the homeschool mom my son needed--even if it made me go prematurely gray!

It has taken me a few years to really get comfortable with our nontraditional path. The best advice I've ever been given about homeschooling (and parenting!) is this:

God knows the plans He has for our children. He created them to be perfectly suited for what He is calling them to do in their lives. Our job is to help our kids discover what God's purpose for them is, and to aid them in acquiring the knowledge and skills they need to follow their calling.

If we spend all of our time trying to remediate our children's academic "weaknesses", we won't be helping them to develop their strengths. And their strengths are what God is going to use.

So I used to have a dwarf phobia...

True story.

I'm not proud of it.  But I used to be afraid of "little people".*  They creeped me out.  Much like clowns do. And those Elf on the Shelf demons dolls, which are pretty much like dwarven Chuckies as far as I'm concerned.  (More on that tomorrow.)

And I realize how shitty a dwarf phobia sounds.  Imagine, you say, if some skinny dude came up to you and said, "I used to have a fat chick phobia."

I get it.  I really do.

But it doesn't change the fact that I used to freak out (on the inside) when a little person was around.  Why? Did I think he or she might magically disappear and reappear somewhere close to me like a tricksy leprechaun?  Did I think dwarfism was catching?  No.  It was totally an involuntary reaction.

I don't know why I developed a dwarf phobia.  It's not like I was jumped by a posse of mini-thugs.  (Although I did get "freaked on" by a dwarf at a dance club once.  He looked a little like this.)

I watched Time Bandits like every other child of the '80s.  Could my first experience with little people on the big screen have planted the seed?  (And don't get me started on Oompa Loompas.)  There was a tiny female dwarf who was popular with the guys in college (if you know what I mean).  Maybe that (imagined) visual is what did it.  Or maybe it was that episode of The Jerry Springer Show (What?  Meemaw and I loved to watch that show together.) when a guy with no legs scooted after another guy for sleeping with his woman.  He wasn't a dwarf, but he was little (due to the whole no legs thing).  Could that staged spectacle have pushed me over the edge?

No, I'm pretty sure it's when my youngest uncle (only 10 years older than me) sent me a cleverly disguised link to midget porn as a prank.

Yeah.

I am happy to say that I don't have an aversion to little people anymore.

And I owe it all to reality TV.

It all started with a Little People, Big World marathon.  I was recovering from lung surgery and living with Nature Boy in a hotel (while Tree Guy was supervising renovation work on our house to make it more lung-friendly).  All there was to do was watch TV.

The longer I watched that show, the less averse I felt.  The less weird or different they seemed to me.  Then I watched some of The Little Couple.  They were so cute!

The show that really kicked my phobia's butt was Pit Boss.  I love that show!

In fact, don't tell Tree Guy, but I kind of have a crush on Sebastian.    

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*To the best of my knowledge, the medical term for a fear of little people is achondroplasiaphobia.   If you do a Google search, you'll also find lollipopguildophobia listed as the name.

I'm pretty sure someone made that one up.

Drama: ain't saving it for my mama

I haven't been clicking my way through Blogland for a couple months because Nature Boy and I have been BI-ZAY.  We both got roles in a community theater production of Oliver! The Musical, and theater is a jealous mistress.  It involves so many practice sessions that I don't know how people with actual jobs do it!  They must be exhausted.  I can only do it 'cuz Tree Guy's bank-rollin' this operation.  (Thanks, babe.)

I totally get the draw of theater, though.  So many creative folks go through life doing what they have to do to get the bills paid.  Because of time or family or financial constraints, creative expression gets pushed to the bottom of the list.  I admire the people I'm working with.  They are committed to making room in their lives for creativity.  They are making sacrifices to honor the artsy fartsy parts of themselves (and to entertain the public!), and I'm sure it's not easy.  (I'm wo' out, and I'm a lady o' leisure!)

Me, as Mrs. Bedwin

We only have two more shows.  I'm really going to miss these peeps!  Theater is weird in that for two months, we're spending several days a week with former strangers.  Changing next to them in the dressing rooms, zipping up their dresses, complimenting the job they do on stage, talking about our families and hopes and health.  Then BAM!  Everyone goes his or her own way and it's back to reality.  Doing theater is a close-knit, intense, all-for-one-and-one-for-all experience.  It's like friendship bootcamp.  I hope I am able to keep some of the new friends I've made.

I hope Nature Boy stays in touch with his new pals too.  Theater kids gotta stick together!  Because their brand of awesome isn't really appreciated by their peers when they are children.  They have to wait until adulthood to get that recognition from their age mates.  It's hard.

Nature Boy, as The Artful Dodger

I've learned three major truths by doing this, my first musical in 24 years.  Prepare yourself for this wisdom I'm about to lay down:

#1 - People are basically good.  (And theater people are basically AWESOME.)  
It's okay to open yourself up to new friendships and experiences.  It helps you grow.  And it has major fun potential!  As my regular readers know, I like to say that I tend toward paranoia.  (For real.)  Doing community theater has been a sort of exposure therapy for me.  And I love the results.

#2 - It's possible to overcome stage fright.  

I've written before about my fear of performing in public.  Doing this show has been exposure therapy for that as well.  I can now walk out on stage in front of a theater full of people and belt it.  No tinny, wavering voice.  No 'stache-area sweating.  No backing out.  This has been a lifelong fear, and I am conquering it.  I'm proud of myself, y'all.

#3 - I'm nearing 40, and there's still so much to learn.  (Yay!)

I love learning.  It's exciting to get involved in something new and discover fresh avenues to explore.  I've learned how to project my voice, that even mid-1850's housekeepers need supportive bras, that menthol cough drops right before a solo really help open the throat, that theater kids really need the support of the adults in their lives, that baked goods are always welcome in the Green Room, that stage acting is not the same as film acting (it's more exaggerated), that defining one's brows makes a world of difference, that a bit of brushable hairspray is my friend, and that people in my real life think I'm nice.  (Aww!)          
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What do you do to exercise your creativity?  When was the last time you tried something new? 

White chick + Afro wig = Racist

DANG, y'all.

Apparently, wearing an Afro wig as my (crappily) rapping alter ego, Ms. Crazy Papers, is racist.

That is, according to the majority of the commentors at Before and Afro.  It has to do with the appearance of caricaturing Black features and appropriating racial traits that aren't ours (as White folks) to possess.

Or something like that.

Like the blog author, I view wearing my 'fro wig as an expression of what I really like about Black culture. The attitude, the sass, the unapologetic, Here I am!

Unlike the blog author, I live in the White Capital of the World, so the fact that so many Black people find a White woman wearing an Afro wig offensive has never come up.

As I've written before, I grew up in racially mixed areas.  We moved a lot and in a couple schools I attended, Whites were the minority.  And I always felt comfortable.  That I belonged there.  I was accepted.  I wasn't prejudiced; I was "real"; I could sing, and I was "thick".

In other words, I was down.  (Check out my white girl "fade".)

And I still feel that way.

But I probably don't appear down to folks, since I've been living a very suburban lifestyle in a very Caucasian part of the country for many years.

This cultural juxtaposition is amusing to my White friends, something that I occasionally play up by wearing an Afro wig.  I really didn't know that it was a faux pas.  An incidence of cultural vampirism.  That wearing an Afro wig as a White woman was, in fact, evidence that I was not as down as I had thought.

Damn.

Other than taking Nature Boy and his friends trick or treating in our subdivision last year, I'd never worn my 'fro wig anywhere but at home.  This Halloween, I impulsively vowed on Facebook to wear my 'fro all day.  In the car.  To a jewelry store.  To that bastion of Whiteness, the "country Walmart".

And I was surprised to find that I was really uncomfortable.

For the first time, wearing my wig felt wrong.  I felt like I was misrepresenting myself as a racist.  To the people who know me, who've called me "the blackest white person" they know, the wig was funny and appropriate.  It was an outward representation of  the inner me.  But to people who don't know me, it most likely appeared that I was making fun of Black people.

That was already on my mind before reading the blog post (and the resulting angry comments) at Before and Afro.  Since I am now aware of the offense, Flo the 'fro is going into retirement.

"What?" you say.  "No mo' Flo?!"

I know.

But you know what?

I'm bad enough without her.

5 Things I Suck At

So much of online sharing is the brag-worthy good stuff.  My amazing nostrils, the bounty from some lady's garden, some dude's daughter's karate trophy.

I try to keep it real, both online and in person.  If anything, I overshare--which is huge for someone who tends toward paranoia.  Blogging is my exposure therapy.  (I just have to trust that you guys aren't crazy, stalking loons!)

Since I keep it real, I am now going to share 5 things I really suck at.

You're welcome.

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1.  Planning ahead.

I admit that I fly by the seat of my pants.  I am a fan of freedom and autonomy in all things.  Which sounds all noble, but isn't really conducive to responsible adult living.  I'm probably not the best homeschool teacher, definitely not the best employee, and likely not the ideal volunteer.  And I am most certainly not a money saver.  I usually don't know what's for dinner until 5 or 6pm.  Life with me is always a surprise.

2.  Eating in moderation.

Food is my drug of choice.  Especially sugar.  Especially in baked good format.  I will eat your slice too.

3.  Being reverent.

I know I'm not alone in this one.  Some of us just can't keep a straight face at church, at funerals, during a lecture from an authority figure.  As devastated as I was at my grandma's funeral last December, I couldn't help cracking up until I was sweaty and red-faced when the deacon decided to spend the service talking about purgatory.  PURGATORY!  Like people at a funeral want to hear about that!  Although at least half of my extended family is Catholic, I don't know that any of us even believe in purgatory.  But even if we did, we wouldn't want to hear about it days after losing a beloved family member.

Today's irreverent debacle was also church-related.  There's one older choir lady who is all old school when it comes to singing.  I was in choir growing up, so I know that she's just following the rules of choral singing.  She drops her jaw when singing vowels, seriously enunciates, and makes sure to end her words on a strong sound.  The problem is, no one else in the choir does that--so she really stands out to me.  And today she got a little overzealous.  She added hard "T" sounds to words that end with the letter D.  She was all, "We love you, Lort.  We obey your Wort."

I know I should have been focusing on the Word of God and the solemnity of the occasion, but I couldn't help laughing.  Nor could I be a responsible parent at that moment.  I brought Nature Boy in on it, and we both cracked up for the rest of the song.  Tree Guy doesn't appreciate public nonsense.  We totally got in trouble on the way home.

4.  Being on time.

I am always late.  Sometimes it's for a legitimate reason, but a lot of the time I'm late because I don't leave until it's time to be there.  It's not that I don't respect other people's time.  It's that I come up with 345345763786538 last minute things to do before I leave the house.  There's nothing like needing to be somewhere at a certain time to spur me to get stuff accomplished at home.  (Thing #76687 that drives my husband nuts.)  

5.  Tolerating bullsh!t.

This one's a biggie.  I am not very good at pretending.  I teach my son to ignore annoying people, but I don't always practice what I preach.  See, I inherited a gene from my mom that makes it impossible for me to avoid busting a (verbal) cap in a bully's ass.  When people act a fool, instead of quietly going about my business, I'm drawn in.  I'm all, "I'm your huckleberry."  (Obscure Tombstone reference.)  Which feels all badass at the time, but as I am 5'3", it probably looks absolutely ridiculous.  What I lack in stature, I make up for in crazy, though.  The best piece of parenting advice my mom ever gave me was:  Outcrazy the bullies.

Check.

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What do you suck at?

  

 

That's money, honey

One of my fellow Homeskool Mafia members (a happy mom of 11 kids!) pinned this blog series on Pinterest:  Living on Less than $28,000 a Year.  In the series, The Peaceful Mom shares her tips for living on less with a family of 6, a choice she and her husband made so that they can have more time together as a family while their children are young. 

We're a family o' 3, and our income is pretty average, but I'm still finding a lot of tips I can use.  More than that, it's helping me rethink my relationship with money.

I'm of the belief that if you've got $40 in the bank, you've got $40 to spend.  (My hardworking husband loves that about me...)  When it comes to money, I don't think about the future.  I live in the now.  I've written before that I'm cheap.  But that's mainly because I enjoy the thrill of finding a good deal--and getting a deal means there's money left over for more buying!

I'm not proud of this.  My fiscal flagrancy prevents us from having a nice chunk o' savings for unanticipated expenses.  We don't have credit cards by choice, so if something comes up and we don't have the money for it, we scramble around trying to find a solution.

And to be honest, I'm okay with that.  That's life, says I.  The future will take care of itself.  And retirement?  We all know that we can rely on the government for that, right?  Right?!

Dangit.

It's been on my mind lately, but The Peaceful Mom's blog series is really bringing home the point that I need to make some changes.  In my mindset, most of all. 

I already do some of the money-saving tips in the series.  I have a realistic budget.  I grocery shop on the same day each week.  I plan our weekly menu based on what's on sale that week.  I "price match" other stores' sales at Walmart.  I use coupons when I find them.  I buy generic when the quality is comparable.  I do highlights at home, and I forgo other salon services.  I buy most of our clothes at consignment stores.  I cook and bake from scratch most of the time.  I do Netflix instead of cable or movies out.  I do the library instead of the bookstore.  I drink coffee from home (or even better, I bum it off of Shrinky Dink). 

But if I've got $40, that moolah is getting spent, y'all.  I don't put the money I "save" into savings.  I use it for going out to eat.  Or for some new makeup that will probably fossilize in my makeup bag before I use it 5 times.  Or for something fun to do for Nature Boy and a friend. 

I am not a saver.

And I know that's not fair to Tree Guy.  He works full time as a forester with the electric company, and he has a side job as a landscaper.  He's working two jobs!  I do a lot to get more for our money, but what is that worth when I don't actually save the surplus?         

The Peaceful Mom recommends adding up all the non-monthly expenses that come up during the year (car maintenance, vaccinations and exams for the dogs, Christmas and birthday gifts, clothing and shoes, etc.) and dividing that number by 12 months.  She suggests that families put that amount into a separate checking account each month, so the money is available when those expenses come up.  The goal is to "pay" the non-monthly expenses account just like any other bill.  That way saving isn't an afterthought.  It's budgeted in. 

It's a great idea.  It's not exactly saving for retirement, but it's a huge step in the right direction.   
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What's your money style?  Do you have a savings system?

Slacking: it's not a diet; it's a lifestyle

You know those times in your life when you're just completely exhausted?  When it's all you can do to get through the day, bargaining with yourself over what you have to do versus what you can let go?  That's me lately.

I'm dealing with some recurrent health issues, mostly vitamin and mineral deficiencies caused by Crohn's disease.  I also have an autoimmune form of arthritis.  (A quarter of folks with Crohn's disease develop it as a secondary issue.)  And I have fibromyalgia.  You know, for those times when none of my other chronic or episodic health problems are flaring up.  Fibromyalgia steps in and is all, "She's feeling good lately.  I got this!"

Stupid fibromyalgia.

Actually, fibro's just a grunt.  The big boss, autoimmunity, is the one pulling the strings.  Autoimmune diseases tend to cluster together, like a group of annoying, gossipy preteen girls.  Being diagnosed with one autoimmune disease magically makes you more likely to be diagnosed with another one.  Or two.  Or five.  Our overzealous immune systems are like, "I AM ALL POWERFUL.  I SHALL VANQUISH MINE ENEMY AND SMITE ALL INTERLOPERS."  Only, it ends up smiting perfectly normal tissue and causing disease.

Both of my parents are also the lucky recipients of autoimmunity.  My mom has hypothyroidism and that sneaky bastard fibromyalgia.  My dad was recently diagnosed with diabetes.  I guess autoimmunity is the downside to my otherwise stellar genetic inheritance.  (Except for, you know, the whole mental illness thing and the tendency to collect belly fat.) 

Anyhoo, my goal in sharing this is not to garner sympathy.  Rather, it is to give an explanation for why I've failed to return to regular blogging now that my summer hiatus is over.

I'd planned to resume my thrice weekly posting schedule this month.  But I'm tired.  And the truth is, I liked just posting when I felt like it.  When I had something to say.  So that's what I'm going to do from here on out.  That means some weeks I'll post 3 or 4 times, and some weeks I won't post at all.  But I won't go away forever without giving you the heads up.  So don't give up on me, y'all. 

And if you haven't already, you might want to subscribe to my blog by email.  That way, all my erratic, unpredictable gems will show up in your inbox as they're published--which you will most definitely not want to miss, as I have a new Afro wig and some fresh raps in the works!

Bully Bustin' - A Guest Post

Here's another guest post from my mom.  You know her from such hits as "Shout Out at the Golden Corral". 
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I'm a bully buster. I think I always have been but the only vivid memory of a beginning was when I was a first year student at Collinsville High, old campus in Illinois. I don't recall what grade or even who the boys were. What stands clear in my mind was the look on the face of a girl in "the special class" while these assholes kicked her prosthetic arm down the hall.

I punched the place kicker in the face when I bent down to get her leg and he grabbed my shoulder. Even if he hadn't put hands on me, I don't think I would have gotten in any trouble. I can't prove it but I'm pretty sure the principal was glad somebody stepped up. It was a malicious, unthinkably heinous attack.

I have always "had a mouth on me". My mother's label. It's hard to keep it shut in the face of wrong things. Like, how can one be pro life AND pro war?? Seems it should be mutually exclusive. In my life, I have let things go. Some big. Pick your battles. But a bully is gonna go down if they pull their crap around me when no one else will take the reigns. I don't know anybody else personally who has been spit on by a KKK member. That mental picture is a good avatar for my life.

My daughter calls me fearless. That's not entirely true. I'm afraid to lose someone I really love to senseless random death. But in the face of bullying, she is absolutely correct because I think God's got my back with the bully thing. Bullies are literally everywhere anymore it seems.

Some of you have been blessed to be allowed the choice to stay home and raise your kids. I lived life almost completely backwards and had to live a little different life. Mostly one of mitigating wrong choices.

But what I want to say is that we women seem to lack solidarity in the workplace. We've come a long way baby, to coin an advertising slogan, but are still not finishing the race. Mentoring was a big buzzword in the 80s. No job I have worked at since has any kind of mentoring program for women except for licensed nurses and so, we who are out there, need to make a truce. Form a coalition. Just say NO. STOP throwing other women under the bus! It makes you just a sad little wannabe.

I handled a supervisor bully last year.  I went to our practice administrator 3 times about this woman. She only stopped because I let it be known that with the very next event of snooping, spying and condescension I was going full on to Human Resources and was gonna fight it out. I had previously told said supervisor that the multiple initials behind her name only meant she was more educated than I, not more intelligent. After I tried to bridge the breach like a grown-up.

Bullies don't like to get caught in their nonsense and this supervisor had been there before for the same kind of harassment. It stopped. But just in my case. I saw her do it to at least 2 more co-workers, but they are grown-ass women who let it slide for fear of what?? I assume they had reason. Their jobs maybe. The lack of empowerment. I don't know, but it's not gonna happen to me or mine. No matter the consequence.

I always have to ask why more people don't stand up for right and wrong.

This year I left a medical practice I really loved. At 57. Without a job to go to. It was about folks doing wrong to me just because they could. Even when they legally could have been stopped.

I went on FMLA (family medical leave) a year ago to care for my mom while she died of lung cancer. They took me out of my job, and in spite of my asking nicely twice for them to follow Federal law, they refused. I even pointed out the point of law to no avail. I chose not to file action because the practice doctors weren't responsible for the idiocy and I didn't want to cause them drama. I think the aforementioned powers-that-be took that for weakness. They would be wrong.

I sucked it up and did the work I did because I believed in what we were doing in people's lives, but soon, that would not be enough. My immediate supervisor left. A good person. Maybe the last person in management I really trusted. Her nemesis then came to our office. A supervisor who employees had FLED to other offices to get away from. Now our office had 2 fake bullies. I tried to work with her. In less that 2 weeks I knew she was a phony with less than honorable goals. Uh-uh.

I had been watching the environment since it was made known there was a beautiful new facility being built. And limited space as 3 offices become one. There was a fair amount of mean girl bullshit anyway, but it got uglier as women scratched and clawed for a hopeful spot in the future. When I turned my 2 week notice in, the whole atmosphere seemed to be one of crafty manipulations. No one trusted any of the women in charge.

It's sad because most of us aren't power/control freaks. We have bills and families to raise, so we work. It used to be in this country that if you worked hard and proved yourself an honest person, you got a break every now and then and you always got respect.

We are still making less money than men for the same work and the same degrees.  We need to be helping, not hurting each other.

I quit this job because I couldn't reason with unreasonable people. I was seeing grown women playing games that were messing with lives without so much as a thought. I simply couldn't watch them get away with it anymore. I called bullshit and left 2 weeks later because I know my source. I went out like I came in with my head held high.

God knew the truth. I didn't think it would take Him so long to fix it up, but true to His Word, He did it. In the 11th hour rescue mode, He honored it when I stood firm. After a couple of months I could feel depression sinking in. I had hopes after a couple of interviews but crashed soon after. I have needed my best life back for awhile now.

I like to read my Bible like this: One chapter of Old Testament, one from Psalms for praise and remembering, one from Proverbs for wisdom's sake and at least one from the New Testament.
Sometimes when I am really up against the wall, I will ask God to take me to the verse He needs me to know. Like a spiritual fortune cookie, I open the Bible randomly and read.

At the end of the rope, He had me go to Matthew 15:25-28. When I had just let go and was ready to take my punishment for being me because it always looks hopeless in the 11th hour, He got me a good job. At one of the places I had been hopeful for about a month or so before. After not giving up or giving in, and trusting God. Not some employer or shady woman.

And comparing apples to apples, I will lose about 75 cents an hour but trade up to better insurance benefits and working conditions. In the final analysis, my integrity cost me $27.00 a week, but my less costly benefits are making up for it. It's figure I can live with.

I wrote two doctors I had worked closely with and who really knew me and the essence of who I was. Because to them, it appeared I had left abruptly. I waited just to make sure I wasn't coming from the same skeezy place my supervisors were. I just knew that I had respect for them and if it was my business, I'd damn sure wanna know the senseless games going on while I'm trying to help my patients beat cancer. It was well received, and I hear some things are better now. That they know the truth is awesome.

I can live with that too.

He/she: who's that sitting in your church pew?

There's a transgender "woman" who attends our (Catholic) church.  I can tell that she tries very hard to appear womanly, but shapely legs aside, it's pretty obvious that she was born a male.  She prefers animal prints and mini-skirts and big hair.  Long nails, stilettos, and sunglasses indoors.  She is very glamorous.  And she always sits alone.

Not really her, but close.

It makes me proud that she feels comfortable in our church.  I'm sure there are other churches where she'd likely be asked to leave.  I have gay male friends who once loved their churches, but as they got older and more comfortable with themselves, they got less comfortable at their churches.  My friend John told me that he can't attend a church that doesn't support his lifestyle. 

That never made sense to me, because we are ALL sinners.  Church pews are full of sinners.  So are church pulpits and choir chairs and revival tents and evangelist tour buses.  Sinners are made up of heterosexuals, homosexuals, bisexuals, asexuals, and metrosexuals! 

The Church does not support sin, it's true.  But it does support sinners in our walk with God.

To me, that means that everyone who wants to attend should be welcome at church.

And no one should have to sit alone.

_______________________________________________


"Why are you calling a biological man she?" you ask.

I know.  It's confusing. 

I have a transgender uncle (aunt?) whose name is now Carol.  I only saw my dad's side of the family about once a year growing up, so I didn't really know my Uncle Charlie.  When I was introduced to Carol as an adult, I only knew that he (she) had fathered my cousin.  I saw Carol as a man in woman's clothes.  I didn't know the difference between someone who is transgender and someone who is a transvestite (a cross-dresser).

What I've learned since is that transgender folks feel that they were "assigned" the wrong sex.  Males in body feel like females on the inside, and vice versa.  It doesn't have to be about sexual attraction at all.  "Trans women" (male-to-female) may still be interested in women.  Or they may be attracted to men, but not consider themselves to be gay because they feel that they are really women. 

Is your head spinning yet?

My dad's side of the family told me that we refer to Carol as a "she" out of respect to her personhood.  It's hard enough to be transgender outside of the family.  Family should be a safe haven. 

At first I balked at this.  I jokingly referred to Carol as my Aunt Charlie or Uncle Carol.  Har har har!  It's easy to joke when the pain is not ours.  Carol was barred from her son's wedding.  She doesn't know her grandchildren.  That is the price she is paying for not being who people think she should be.

When I think of it that way, it makes it easier understand that this is not a choice that Carol is making.  Who would choose to be an outcast?  A joke?

Someone who sits alone at church? 

Postscript: a Q & A

Q:  Well hello, Miss Rantalicious.  Feeling better today?  I hope so, because I've got to point out some irony in your post from yesterday.  You wrote, and I quote, "There are many paths to a destination. Any number of them will get you there. The path you choose (or chose) is not the vaulted One Absolutely Correct and Best Choice. It's simply one path." 

My question is:  Don't you think you are holding your parenting philosophy up as the vaulted One Absolutely Correct and Best Choice? 

A:  I am feeling better today, thanks.  Not as ranty.  That said, my views have not changed.

To answer your question, no.

And here's why.  I believe in human rights.  That all human beings should live free from physical, emotional, and verbal abuse.  Adults are (legally) protected (should they choose to exercise their legal rights).  If another adult threatens them or pushes or slaps them, there are grounds for arrest.

I don't think that protection should start at age 18.  I think people of all ages should have it.

We can scream and threaten and hit children because it's what we've always done.  Not because they are any less deserving of human rights. 

And I think that's wrong.

So, this really isn't about my parenting philosophy.  It's about extending full human rights to children.

Q:  Hmm.  Okay, but what about what the Bible says about spanking?  You know, like in Proverbs 13:24: "He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes (diligently)."

A:  Maybe the "rod" is used figuratively to mean "discipline", rather than a literal spanking staff. 

I'm all for (respectful) discipline.  I believe kids need our guidance.  Even a little chasteneth-ing on occasion.  But I don't believe screaming and hitting are the best ways to achieve that.  That's not how we treat adult criminals in our country.  Are our kids worse than criminals?   

Q:  So are you claiming that you have never spanked or screamed at Nature Boy?

A:  I am not a yeller, no.  I'm more the hand-on-hip, turkey-necking, hairy-eyeball-giving type.  I believe a good discussion is more effective than screaming.  I think the message gets lost when people yell at each other.  The fight or flight response kicks in and the actual content of the exchange is processed like we're hearing a maniacal version of Charlie Brown's teacher.  WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH!!!!!!!! W&^$%^$%H!

And the goal of discipline, after all, is to teach right thinking or behavior.  NOT to vent our anger or frustration.

I admit that during Nature Boy's Bam Bam phase (fit-throwing, head-butting, stick-brandishing) in toddlerhood/preschool, I did swat him a few (or 10) times in exasperation.  But I knew that it was because I was losing control.  I always apologized afterward and went back to using time outs. 

I know it's easy for parents to lose our cool.  And that kids can be turds sometimes.  And that it's impossible to be a perfect parent. 

When we make mistakes, we need to apologize--as do our kids.  The problem comes when losing control with our kids is our disciplinary method.   

Q:  Isn't it possible that you are being too sensitive when it comes to people criticizing your kid?  How are kids supposed to learn how to act if adults don't teach them? 

Different people and different situations call for different rules and standards.  How will your child know what the rules are if he's not told?  Are you advocating pint-size anarchy?!

A:  I am sensitive about it because I see the damage excessive criticism does to kids (in general) and to my kid (in particular).  I subscribe to the "magic ratio" theory about positive and negative interactions in our important relationships. 

Am I too sensitive?  Since none of us is the standard of normal, I don't really know what "too sensitive" means.  Am I more sensitive about it than you are?  Probably.  Does that mean that I suffer from an excess of sensitivity?  No. 

I am 100% on board with letting kids know the rules and expectations up front--in a respectful way.  Doing this can prevent the need for correction later.  When kids deliberately break the rules, they need consequences.  Because that's how the world works.  The ultimate goal is to learn from the consequences of their actions.

I am personally a fan of The Hairy Eyeball.  The Long, Boring Lecture works too.  I'm not opposed to grounding kids when they willfully break the rules.  And I think natural and logical consequences are very effective.  One natural and logical consequence for turdy behavior in kids is that they need to GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY so I can preserve my sanity, such as it is.  

Consequences do not need to involve screaming and hitting.  That's all I'm saying.

Wait, actually I'm also saying that I think folks need to pick their battles.  Too often, we lash out at kids because they are irritating us.  Not on purpose, but just by being kids.  But adults get on our nerves sometimes too (or maybe that's just me).  We don't berate another grownup for slurping his soup or neglecting to pick up his trash.  We don't launch into an angry diatribe because the lady behind us is absentmindedly kicking the back of our seat.  (Or if we do, we have issues.)

Kids need discipline, I know.  But if we pick our battles, don't sweat the small stuff, and handle those annoying disciplinary situations with maturity, self-control, and respect, our kids will learn so much more from us.  

Because in addition to learning to follow the rules, they'll also be learning about maturity, self-control, and respect.  

"A person's a person, no matter how small."

I am on a soapbox (read: tirade) tonight, y'all. 

My heart is hurting over the barrage of criticism that so many kids have to endure from the grownups in their lives. 

Kids are kids.  But more than that, they are people.  Not substandard people.  Not partially-formed people.  Or second-class citizens.  Or savages in need of civilizing.  Or criminals in need of judging.

Neither are they our personal whipping boys.

Yet lots of folks think it's perfectly okay to scream at children.  To hit them.  To ride their asses, jumping with sick glee on every bit of evidence that they do not measure up.

And why?

Is it because kids are inherently evil?  Or because everyone knows that a childhood of physical and verbal bullying is healthy for kids?  Or because we think we're teaching them by example how to solve conflicts, make friends, and influence people?

Is it because if we don't scream and hit and ride their asses, they will surely grow up to be serial killers or welfare moms or politicians?

OR. 

Is it because we don't have control of ourselves? 

Could it be that what makes us so angry is that we are unhappy with our lives or our jobs or our marriages or ourselves?

After all, kids are relatively safe places to vent our anger/rage/frustration/disappointment.  They are fairly defenseless.  The Man only has their backs if somebody is dumb enough to leave physical evidence. 

I ask you, does it state anywhere in our country's legal code, "Grownups can kick each others' asses as long as they don't leave a mark"?

NO!  But that's basically the rule for parent-child altercations.

And if a husband (or wife) gets all up in his (or her) spouse's face, screaming and threatening, we call it domestic violence.  When it happens to a kid, we call it discipline.

And that is a ridiculous double standard, folks.

Word.

And thus concludes my time on the soapbox.  (You're welcome.)

But I've got more to say.  And this time it's personal.

Nature Boy is realizing that kids don't get cut a break.  He lives with too much criticism, from the state of his education to his dinner manners to the length of his hair.  If I had to deal with as much nagging and criticizing and b!*&%ing as my son does, I'd have written off folks and taken an alias years ago. 

But I don't have to put up with that mess.  Because I am an adult.

(And I am crazy.  So people tend to be scared of me.)

My kid is not a hard-headed, defiant brat.  He's a good person who tries his best.  Yes, he's forgetful and quite adept at mess-making.  And yeah, he cops an attitude once in a while.  He is also a child.

A child who is fully a person, but one who is still growing and learning.  AS ARE WE ALL.

Yet all too often, he is held to adult standards of behavior.  And that's not fair.

Fun Fact:

If you have not raised a child recently, it is quite possible that you do not remember what normal kid behavior is. 

Fun Fact II:

If you do not particularly enjoy being around children (in general) or my child (in particular), kindly refrain from offering invitations.  Everyone will be better off.

Fun Fact III:

There are many paths to a destination.  Any number of them will get you there.  The path you choose (or chose) is not the vaulted One Absolutely Correct and Best Choice.  It's simply one path. 

None of us is the standard of normal.

What I've Learned

I want to say thank you to those of you who left encouraging comments after my last post.  I love you all.  And I've taken what you wrote to heart.

I've been thinking more about that pull to entertain, to bring joy.  I don't think entertainment is inherently valuable.  It's fun.  It passes the time.  But let's face it, it's not feeding the world or healing the sick.

What is valuable is how entertainment can elevate us.  Can pull us up out of our daily grind.  The worries and stresses and messes.  Even the tragedies.  And for a minute or an hour or a day, life is more than these.  We can escape harsh reality and live in pure feeling.  In our perceptions and in everything those perceptions evoke in us. 

The joy that entertainment can bring reminds us that we are more than survivors.  That there's more to life than meeting basic needs or producing or consuming.  We're more than workers or thinkers or decision makers or givers or takers. 

Joy connects us to the essence of what it means to be human.  And I believe there's value in that.

I also believe that being able to recognize joy is contingent upon having known suffering.  And this is the crux of why joy is so important to me.  I have known suffering.  So joy is sweeter.
___________________________________________________________

From the loss of my younger brother to suicide, I learned that life is precious.  (And people are fragile.)

From my work in nursing homes, I learned that people of all ages need connection.  (And the lonely give love freely.) 

From my struggle with infertility, I learned to appreciate the gift of motherhood all the more.

From my struggle with mental illness, I learned that crazy can be funny.  (But only after the fact!)

From my struggles with physical illness, I learned that there are people suffering everywhere.  (And most of us have no idea.)

From my hospitalizations, I learned that a normal, boring day at home is something to be cherished.

From the loss of my grandparents, I learned that sometimes all we can do is help those we love have a good end.
___________________________________________________________

Because suffering is universal, so is the need for joy.







      

Deep thoughts

Now that I've obsessively analyzed the crap out of my blog statistics, I have the sneaky suspicion that the only folks visiting my blog of late are a trio o' fellow bloggers (Mama, Erin, & Shell), people I know in real life, and people who accidentally stumble across my blog while searching for AWESOME NOSTRIL pics on Google Images. 

Which is fine.  I'm grateful anyone reads my mad ramblings.  And it's a lot of fun to entertain folks you know. 

But on the other hand...

Bloggers live for comments.  (Or maybe that's just me.)  Otherwise blogging is a monologue. 

And I can talk to myself any old time!  (It's one of the perks of being nuts.)

I like making people laugh.  I always have.  When Nature Boy was a baby, I went to a New Age-y retreat where I discovered that my "essence" is joy.  Bringing joy to other people (preferably through Joy's crazier twin, Mirth) is one of my "life purposes".  Deep stuff, that.  (*Insert eye roll here.*)

Anyhoo, I like blogging, but I wish it was more interactive.  Like Facebook.  Does this make me a self-absorbed attention hound? 

Mayhap.  But no more so than any other blogger. 

There are lots of reasons that folks blog.  Some of us are just extroverts who need a platform.  Some of us are all angsty and need a blog to work out all the complicated feelings squished up in our heads.  Some of us are aspiring writers and blogs are great practice grounds.  Some of us are lonely and find connection through the blogging community.  Some of us just want to keep a record of our days for ourselves and our loved ones.

I want to entertain.  To bring people joy.  To do my little part to balance out the stress and the crap we shovel every day.

But I also want to write. 

Really write.  A book, even.  People have been telling me I should write a book for years, but I've never had the confidence.  I have a title and an outline, but that's as far as I got before I freaked out and put my spiral notebook away. 

I freaked out because I am afraid to fail. 

If I don't write a book, I can always think, "I could've written a book."  If I do write one and it's a flop, I will have to say, "I tried and failed."

Why is failure so threatening?  It's not even my greatest fear.  It's nothing compared to loss, and I've survived that.

Has there been a time in your life when you took a deep breath and stepped out in faith to follow a dream?  How did you get over your fear?

Life, or a reasonable facsimile

My first blog lasted a year and a hundred-odd posts.  I have been blogging for about 15 months this go-round, churning out 150 posts before this one.

I stopped blogging the first time because I noticed that I was spending more and more time living a virtual life, and less and less time living my real life.  Technology is a greedy beotch.

Balance is the word I chose for 2012.  And I am not living up to it. 

I'm blogging and Pinteresting and Facebooking and message boarding and emailing and Youtubing and Googling.  It's all too much.

I enjoy blogging because it's a creative outlet.  This blog is "me".  It's all audacity and wordplay and sarcasm and joy-seeking.

But I love my real life more than my virtual life, and I can't seem to walk the line between the two.

~

I've been that mom who stays up really late blogging (3am) and then sleeps too late (11am) only to jump back on the computer to check for blog comments as I'm eating my peanut butter oatmeal.

I've been that wife who says, "Sure, I'll put your clean clothes up when I'm done with this," only to drag my computer-zombie ass to bed with nary a pant hung up.

I've been that homeschooler who creates exciting learning plans for the day only to realize at 4pm that all I've accomplished is the drawing of a bad cartoon and some witty Facebook updates.

I've been that friend who says, "Yeah, I'll meet your kids after school," only to show up 10 minutes late because I "just have to finish this one thing" online.

I've been that driver who returns text messages at red lights, and if I'm being honest, who has even texted while driving a few times.

I've been that family member who plays online like a teenager instead of helping a tired, sore loved one with housework. 

~

I don't do balance very well.

I was already turning this over in my mind when I found handsfreemama.com.  I was really touched by what I read.  Especially How to Miss a Childhood and A Well Loved Child.  

I think I happened across this blog because I needed confirmation of what my heart was telling me.  I need a break from technology.  I want it to be an option, not a daily requirement. 

I need to be more present in my real life. 

So I'm taking the summer off, y'all.  I'm going to spend these months slathering my white ass with sunscreen, reading a lot of good books, splashing at the pool with Nature Boy, and enjoying BBQ with my family and friends.

But do not despair, dear readers.  I'll be back come fall with plenty of steaming fresh crap to say.

Have a wonderful summer and stay tuned for weekly oldie-but-goodie reposts!

 

Of conventions and crap I don't wanna hear

Are y'all tiring of my homeschool-related musings?  Are you all, "Enough already with the namby pamby kumbayah crap! Get back to making fun of people and writing songs and poems about poop and idiots!"?

Well, too bad.  'Cause I'm finna break it down again, homeschool-style. 

I can't help it.  I'm fresh from a homeschool convention.  Nah, not a hippie unschooling convention.  Much as I'd like to go!  I've been drooling over a certain unschooling conference for 3 years now.  But alas, I'm too broke to attend.  The Rethinking Everything conference is all about freedom.  Only it costs $150 a person to go, including children. 

Which proves the point that freedom is, in fact, not free.

So Nature Boy and I attended a more affordable convention for the bargain price of $49.  (Tree Guy couldn't go because he has to work to bankroll us freeloaders.)  We both had a good time.  A lot of moms go to homeschool conventions for the curriculum booths.  They get discounts on next year's curriculum if they buy at a convention. 

I go for the beer.

(Just kidding.  Beer is gross.)

(Now, if they offered Lambrusco....)

On a serious tip, the real reason I go to homeschool conventions is the sessions.  Attending those classes takes me back to my nerdy 4.0-having school days.  I LEARN new stuff, and I get to TAKE NOTES!  (Wheeee!)  Sometimes a speaker really, er--speaks to me.  There were two women at this year's convention who opened my eyes/mind/heart.  I'll share about one of them today, and the other in a separate post.

One messenger I felt like shooting spoke about being the mother of teen boys.  She said there's a change a-coming, and we have to roll with it or get left in the dust.  When moms of adolescent boys cling to their itty bitty cutie-poos, what often happens is the opposite of what they intended. 

She said, "We can choose to try to hold on to what we cannot keep (the little boy), or we can embrace that which has to come (the man he is becoming)."  And she said that if we don't let go, we will either end up with a grown up little boy who forever needs his mommy, or a son with a hardened heart who continues to push us away.

And I was like, DANG!  I don't want to give up kisses and hugs and spontaneous hand-holding and hair-smoothing and snuggling on the couch and deep conversations.  I love that stuff.  I live for that stuff.  It makes me tear up just to type it.  To think that in a few short years, my boy will be pulling away.  To think that that's exactly what he is supposed to do! 

How do moms survive the heartbreak of the teenage boy?  Of snubs.  Of avoiding kisses and hugs.  Of suddenly being embarrassed to be seen with mom.  You know, the woman who gave you life and changed your poopy diapers and let you in her bed when you had a nightmare and stayed up with you all night when you were sick and wipes all your tears away and is your biggest fan and would die for you!  (Ugh, tears again.)

Yet, according to this speaker, letting go is necessary.  It's essential to let our adolescent boys take the lead in determining the amount of closeness and affection and sharing.  If we desire a close and loving relationship with our grown sons, we have to accept (endure!) the inevitable separation from us that is part of becoming a man.   

And that sucks!

But it's probably true.

Which does not make it suck any less. 

Have you gone through the teen years with your son and lived to tell the tale?  If so, please share!

 

My kid's a genius. And so is yours.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid.” ~ Albert Einstein

______________________________________

I love Albert Einstein's views on learning.  He was an out-of-the-box thinker.  And a little bit of a goofball.

The quote above really speaks to me.  (Thanks, Al.)  What an affirming message for kids who struggle with our society's limited definition of childhood success. 

Kids basically have 4 ways to be declared a pint-sized success.

Society's Magic 4:

1.  Be an athlete.
2.  Be a music or art prodigy.
3.  Be really attractive.
4.  Get really good grades in school.

When they meet one or more of these criteria, life is easier.  They get kudos and gold stars and blue ribbons and good report cards.  People smile at them more often.  They have more friends.  Their parents brag in their hearing or put bumper stickers on their minivans.

(P.S.  Nature Boy totally nails #3, so please don't mistake me for a bitter parent.  :D )

 

The truth is, there are many, many ways to be a success.  Our kids need to hear this.   Over and over.  And we need to believe it. 

How do we help our kids find their inner superheroes?

The best place to start is right where they are.  "What the world needs now" is whatever gift your child brings to the table.  If he's a fish, let him be a fish.  If he's a tree climber, let him climb the s#!t out of that tree. 

But it doesn't stop there.

We have to learn to value whatever it is that makes our kids special.  We have to look beyond society's Magic 4 and celebrate our kids' inherent awesomeness even if they have two left feet, can't play a note or hold a paintbrush, and have giant Charlie Brown heads. 

If we value more than the Magic 4, our kids will too.

So I propose a revised list of possible childhood success markers.  Feel free to add your own.

Hey, Kid!  You Rock If...

You are genuinely a nice person.
You help others when you can.
You are polite.
You have eyeballs.  (Everyone's eyes are gorgeous.)
You are kind to animals.
You have a good imagination.
You help around the house without attitude.
You stand up for what is right.
You are nice to the kids other kids don't like.
You have a good sense of humor.
You smile at folks.
You persevere.
You passionately follow your interests.
You create things.
You build things.
You take things apart to see how they work.
You laugh a lot.
You make other people laugh.
You are friendly with old folks.
You are patient with younger kids.
You don't litter.
You recycle.
You care about the environment.
You like spending time in nature.
You are curious.
You are a fast learner.
You take your time.
You are a good conversationalist.
You are a good storyteller.
You are a good listener.
You take good care of your stuff.
You like to work with your hands.
You follow the rules.
You respectfully question the rules.
You love music.
You love art.
You love politics.
You love animals.
You love books.
You love people.
You care about the less fortunate.
You try your best.
You have a strong faith.

And my personal fave:
You think your mom is cool.

Signed, the pet police

I don't think I've ever gone off on irresponsible pet owners on this blog.  Which is surprising, really, as neglectful owners are a major "pet" peeve of mine.  (Har har.)

I own up to the fact that I am a long-time member of the Pet PoPo.  I have strong opinions about what responsible pet ownership is, and it shouldn't surprise you that I share these opinions when need be.

Which doesn't exactly win me friends now that I live "out in the country".

But I don't think I'm really that hard to please.  While it's true that my Labrador mix has had acupuncture, and ate home cooked chicken and rice with fresh chopped parsley from the garden and plain yogurt with flax seed meal and scoops of Balance IT doggie vitamin powder mixed in for 4 months last year to help her heal from a mystery illness, I don't think my standards are too high.

I've been laughed at for my canine cuisine, and Tree Guy complained that our dog was eating better than he was, but I believe I just did what any dog mama worth her salt would do in my situation. 

Right?!  Right.

So, surely you understand my frustration with pet owners who slack.  People who don't provide regular vet care, who don't spay and neuter, who don't let their dogs and cats inside the house, who don't bother to put identification on a pet's collar.  WHO DON'T BOTHER LOOKING FOR THEIR PETS WHEN THEY GO MISSING!!!

My first year as a suburban transplant has taught me that there's a distinct difference between country folks and suburban folks when it comes to lost pets. 

City folks are all, "$$$REWARD!$$$  Help us find our little smoochie poo!  She's on Royal Jelly and homeopathic treatments for her anxiety and she needs her meds or she will have a nervous breakdown and have to go to Betty Ford again!"

Country folks, on the other hand, are all, "...(crickets chirping)..."

Nothing! 

And if, by some miracle, the (saint of a) dog rescuer does happen to reunite a country dog with its owner, the response she gets is something along the lines of, "If you would have left him alone, he would have come back home after a few days.  He always does."  Like their dog was KIDNAPPED FROM THEIR YARD OR SOMETHING!

To that I say, you're welcome, muthafu*^%r!  Don't make me sick Bob Barker on you!  (Surely you saw the Bob Barker beatdown in Happy Gilmore.  Bob is all about responsible pet ownership.)  

Anyhoo, check this little guy out.  We found him roaming our neighborhood 4 days ago.  With a collar, but no tags.

Shrinky Dink's keeping him at her house for now.  I've been calling shelters, posting ads, and searching for lost dog postings online and in person for 3 days now.  With nary a response. 

He's a friendly little dog.  Likes kids.  Not a barker or a digger.  Not a fan of Shrinky Dink's boundary-ignoring husky/pit mix, Balto (which is kind of understandable...), but still.  He's a good dog.  And no one is looking for him?!  His owner can't be bothered to put up a flyer or call the city shelter or post on Craigslist?

We are now assuming that he was dumped, so we're trying to find him a new home.  With an owner who values him enough to actually seek him out.

(Why do people think dumped dogs fare better out in the country anyway?  Don't they know there's coyotes in them thar hills?)   

Sigh.   (Stepping down off my soapbox now.)

Confessions of a Homeskool Mafia Queen

I'm just gonna say it:  I don't think I'm a very good homeschool mom.

For real.

(P.S.  This is a self-flagellation instrument.)
(P.S.S. Don't ever try to look for self-flagellation images on Google.  Just don't.) 

I don't homeschool because I think I can do a better job than people who have trained for years.  I don't operate under the delusion that under my superior tutelage, my son's learning disabilities will magically disappear.  I don't think that homeschooling is for everyone.  Or that it is a panacea for society's ills.  Or that it produces high-achieving super children who will one day rule the world.  Or that people who don't homeschool are subpar, half-assed parents.

I homeschool because that's what my child needs. 

And (most of the time) it's fun.

And (some of the time) it's satisfying.

I don't think I'm alone in occasionally wondering, Am I really the kind of person I want my kid to be around all day?!

Sometimes the answer is a straight-up NO.  I'm moody and sarcastic and tired a lot, and I have an irreverent sense of humor.  And I suck at consistency.

This lack of consistency is at the heart of my assertion that I'm not a good homeschool mom.

My son likes my zaniness, my we-don't-need-no-stinkin'-rules approach to life.  He's grateful that I don't force him to try to be someone he's not.  That I'm more than OK with quirks and goofball antics and controversial statements.  That I value humor and creativity.  He admires that I stand up for what is right (as long as I don't embarrass him in the process!).  He likes having a fun mom.

But does Fun Mom get things done?  Does Fun Mom cover all the stuff that her kid is going to need to get into (and stay in) college if he decides to go?  Is Fun Mom the ideal homeschooling parent?

The Magic 8 Ball says, "Reply hazy; try again."

The truth is, I don't think I'm the ideal anything.  I just don't know that I can be different than I am.  I don't think I can be that person who sits at a table for 4 or 6 hours reading through textbooks and going over workbook pages. 

My son is not that person either.  He needs to be interested in what he's learning.  He needs to move around and change course and interrupt.  He needs to create and laugh and roam.  Sometimes he needs to have his head on the floor and his feet in the chair.  None of these traits are conducive to a good classroom experience.

Even though I know this, I still worry.  (Oh, the ANXIETY!)  I so wish I could be a confident homeschooling mom.  I don't know how they do it.

Can an imperfect, moody, inconsistent mom be a good homeschool mom? 

If homeschooling was a competition, I certainly don't think I'd win any awards.

I can only hope that I am a good enough homeschool mom.  That my imperfect way of teaching and raising my boy is the right way for him.  I have to endeavor to be the mom and teacher that he needs--even if it means I don't measure up to the professionals.

I can only trust that God knew what He was doing when He gave us each other.

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